The Temporary Roomie (It Happened in Nashville 2)

I narrow my eyes at him (checking him out one last time) and then scoot over dramatically. “Fine. But stick to your own side, or else!”

The mattress sags when Drew gets in, and suddenly, the air is filled with his scent. It’s like heaven and an alpine forest mixed together, and I stay completely still. I swallow, feeling his gaze on my face without even looking. This is torture. If I move even a centimeter, the sides of our bodies will touch, and then I’ll burst into flames and die. What a way to go.

I roll my eyes slowly in his direction until they collide with his. “Stop staring at me.”

“It’s only eight o’clock. I’m not going to be able to sleep.”

“Perfect, then you should get out and go do something!” My voice is shrill.

He grins and reaches over to push some of my hair out of my face. I slap his hand away. “I don’t have anything to go do. Let’s get your phone out and do some shopping.”

My brows crunch together. Did he just say shopping? Because it sounded a lot like shopping, but his eyes say, Let me kiss you from head to toe. “Actually, shopping sounds great!”

I roll away from him to grab my phone from the bedside table, taking the opportunity to blow out a full breath of air. When I roll back, he’s still looking at me with an expression that makes me want to lean forward and kiss him. I know he’d let me too, which makes it all the more torturous. Instead, I hoist myself up on my elbows then scoot so my back rests on the headboard. Drew does the same, and now our shoulders and arms are smushed together. His skin is still hot from the shower, and it’s transferring to me. I want to fan myself, but that might be a tad bit too obvious.

“Why are your hands shaking?” he says, leaning even closer to pull my phone out of my trembling fingers.

“No reason.” That sounded guilty. “I mean they’re cold. What are we shopping for?”

“Baby stuff,” he says casually, eyes focusing on the phone screen.

My heart stops.

“Baby stuff? Why?”

He grins lightly, and my stomach barrel-rolls. “Because you need baby stuff,” Drew says with a relaxed laugh that doesn’t match how I feel inside. I want to squirm away. Hide from reality. Build a fort around my mind that separates me from what’s coming in life—but I’ve done that long enough. I can’t keep locking myself away from scary things.

Drew takes my hand and squeezes it. “Where do you want to start?”

“Umm, car seats?” I ask, my tone making it evident that I have no idea where to begin. Not a single clue.

Luckily, Drew is one of those people who knows everything about everything, and he starts adding items to a registry so I can buy it later. He angles the phone toward me occasionally and asks my favorite color. At some point, my head lolls to the side and lands on his bare shoulder. “How do you know so much about baby gear? Do they teach about all this in medical school?”

He chuckles. “No. I learned it all through experience with Lucy. She lived with me while she was pregnant and after she had Levi. She needed me a lot during those years, so I got pretty familiar with bottles, car seats, and all the baby stuff.”

I quietly process his words for a minute. “Drew?” I say in a soft tone that makes him look down at me. “Do you ever get tired of having it together all the time? Being the guy who takes care of everyone?”

He lowers the phone to his lap and contemplates my question. “Sometimes. It gets to feel pretty heavy when I stop and think about how many lives I’m responsible for, how many people count on me in my professional and personal life. But it wasn’t until recently that I realized I even needed a break from it.”

“What happened recently?”

He smirks down at me. “You.”

“Me?”

He nods. “You steamrolled your way into my life and reminded me how good it feels to let go a little…to fight, to play, to laugh. I don’t think I’d really done any of that since I started med school. My life became very objective-based, and then I met you and…”

“And I taught you the meaning of life?”

“You snuck your underwear into my laundry just to make me mad. And you eat a million milligrams of sodium every day. And you wanted the Frosty mug just as much as I did.”

A laugh spills from my mouth. “None of that sounds like a lesson you’ve learned.”

“Exactly. You don’t teach me lessons—you help me rest.”

I am speechless, because I’ve never been anyone’s rest before. A burden, yes. Expendable, yes. And even though I know without a doubt that my grandaddy loves me and always has, I still can’t say I’ve ever been restful to him. He didn’t choose me; he was given me. He certainly made the most of it and I’ve never felt anything but adored by him, but still, there’s something about hearing Drew say I help him rest that stirs my heart. I feel warm and bubbly and like he just wrapped a big comforter around my heart.

Drew’s eyes skate down the front of my body to land on my belly.