The Temporary Roomie (It Happened in Nashville 2)

Drew is infuriating. I already knew this, but now, he’s double infuriating. Ever since we walked through the doors of this lake house, he’s been touchy-feely. He uses every opportunity to touch my hand, my hip, my neck, the side of my thigh. I get we’re in a fake relationship, but goodness. I thought he hated PDA! Something is different with Drew. Something changed after our drive. I don’t know what it is yet, but it’s making me want to become a turtle and pull my head back into my shell.

Right now, we’re all standing on the porch admiring the view of the expansive lake and listening to Henry explain all the renovations they’ve done since buying the property after Richard retired, but I can’t even focus because Drew is pressed up behind me, arms wrapping me up in what some people might call a hug. It’s not, though. Drew and I are sworn enemies. I’ve angered him, humiliated him, and poked his ego more times than I’m proud of, so this absolutely cannot be a real hug. Except, I can feel his heart beating against my shoulders. He feels like a solid brick wall with a pulse, and it’s making the world around me feel fuzzy. Henry might as well be a parent on Charlie Brown right now because all I hear is wah wah wah wah.

My eyes drop from the lake view to the Drew view, aka his tan forearms draping heavily over my chest. I can smell his deodorant and natural skin scent. The two mix and swirl through my senses like a tornado of masculinity wrecking everything in its path. Drew destroys me. I want to drop my chin and brush my lips across the warm skin and let the light hair on his forearms tickle my nose.

“Does that sound good to you, Jessie?” Henry asks, wrongly thinking I’ve been paying attention to anything he’s been going on about.

I must stiffen, alerting Drew to my distress, because the evil man drops his mouth beside the shell of my ear and whispers, “What do you think? Does that sound good to you?”

The hairs on my arms stand at attention, ready to intercept every sensation Drew wants to toss their way. In my fantasy, I lay my head back against Drew’s chest and close my eyes. No…I spin around, hook my arms around his neck, and try to recreate the kiss from the fundraiser. Also in my fantasy, I’m not pregnant, and Drew and I don’t have such a complicated relationship. And maybe he’s naked.

Instead, I put the heel of my tennis shoe on top of his toes and push down. Drew’s hold on me tightens like he’s bracing himself through the pain, but he doesn’t release me.

“Sure, sounds perfect!” I pretend I know what they are talking about, because lying is the polite thing to do.

“Oh good!” Henry claps his hands together once and then pats Richard on the arm. “You can go get the lobster out of the freezer so it’ll be thawed by the time we need to throw it on the grill.”

Wait, what! Lobster?! That’s what I agreed to? BLEH. I despise all things seafood, and while pregnant, I can barely even stand the smell of it. Drew knows this, because one night when I first moved in, he brought home lobster takeout, and I immediately threw up in the kitchen trash can.

Richard scurries off to do his husband’s bidding as Henry stands there staring at us like we are a priceless French painting he wants to hang above his fireplace. Little does he know this is all a sham. We’re not a priceless French painting; we’re a replica, laser-printed and sold for $9.99 at a bargain hunting store.

“You two are just adorable together. I’m so happy you could come this weekend,” says Henry, making me feel terrible for lying to him.

Drew takes a giant liberty and leans down close to kiss my cheek. His scruff feels like sandpaper, and I begrudgingly love it. “We are too.”

I beam at Henry, trying out my best impression of a blushing bride, and raise my hand to squeeze Drew’s forearm affectionately. At least, it looks affectionate. He’ll sense the warning in it when my nails sink into flesh. “So happy.”

Henry remembers another item he needs to pull from the freezer (probably something equally disgusting like pig toes or frog legs) and darts into the house after Richard. I waste no time flinging Drew’s arm off of me and use my shoulder to wipe the imaginary leftover kiss from my cheek. My expression says Bleh, you’re gross, I hate kisses.

“Knock it off, will you? Why are you touching me so much today?”

He smiles curiously. “Because I like touching you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“That’s not the way it works. Unfortunately for you, you don’t get to decide if I like touching you or not.”

I cross my arms defiantly—protectively. “Stop saying touching you.”

He tilts his head, a smile on his mouth. “Why?”

“Because it’s weird.”

“For me to touch you?”

I let my head fall back and groan. He’s the only person in the world who can talk circles around me. “Drew. I don’t know what game you’re playing right now, but I’m telling you to quit it.”

“I’m not playing a game.”

“It feels like one. All week you’ve been pissed at me, barely saying two words, and this morning you looked like you wanted to fight me in the kitchen. And rightfully so! I humiliated you, remember? Tangled you in a lie you’ll never be able to get out of? And I’m so mean to you all the time! You have more than enough reasons to not like me.” Please, don’t like me! Go back to hating me!

“You misread me all week. Fighting is not what I want to do with you, Jessie.”

My eyebrows fly up and my heart rate is a rapid-fire machine gun. Drew looks different today. His eyes are smoldering. He’s definitive. He’s made up his mind, and now he’s going to be the controlling Drew I used to despise until he gets his way.

I swallow and take a step away from him. He looks amused, and he closes the gap between us again. He backs me up against the porch railing and pins me in with his hands on either side. My mouth is the Sahara Desert. All my words are dried up—not an ounce of verbiage in sight.

In the most tender touch I’ve ever received, Drew brushes my hair from my temple to behind my ear. “I don’t think I’ve ever really apologized to you for what happened that morning when I overslept. I’m sorry, Jessie. I truly didn’t mean to, and I was actually looking forward to helping you that day. I was hoping it would mend the strife between us. And then…I made it worse by forgetting.”