The Temporary Roomie (It Happened in Nashville 2)

“What?” I ask through a sudden lump in my throat. “Is something wrong?” Does he have some sort of OB-GYN sixth sense and can feel in his bones that something is wrong with the baby?!

His jaw clenches before he looks back up at me with an uncertain smile. “No—I just…can I feel the baby?”

Oh sweet heavens, how does he do this to me? Drew makes me feel like I just swallowed sunshine. Like I’m hot and glowing and rays are going to burst through my skin.

I can’t help but smile as I take his hand and lay it across my stomach. It’s not lost on me that a man completely skilled in all things pregnancy-related looks tentative and uncertain as his palm rests against me. I study his deep blue eyes as he studies my stomach. The sides of his mouth slowly rise as he gains confidence and presses in lightly, using the skills he’s trained for. Drew kneads his fingers slowly across the top of my belly through my PJ top. I know what he’s doing because it’s what my doctor did at my last exam when she was determining the baby’s position. I could go ahead and tell him, but I know he’ll

have more fun figuring it out for himself.

He smiles. “She’s flipped, head down and back facing out. That’s great,” he tells me, and then we both laugh when the baby kicks him in the hand. He spreads his fingers out completely, and his eyes are full of warmth and emotions I can’t name—and am almost afraid to.

“You said she. Do you think I’m having a girl? Lucy always says he.”

“I don’t know. That’s just the pronoun that slipped out. What are you hoping to have?”

“A squishy baby.”

He chuckles, and slowly, Drew’s hand slides behind my shoulders before he angles me back against his bare chest. I can feel the warmth of his skin through my shirt, and my eyes go wide with shock. Before I have any chance to freak out that he’s trying to get frisky, he does something even better. Drew’s thumbs press into the tops of my shoulders—firm and yet gentle—and he spends the next ten minutes massaging my shoulders, back, and even hips, somehow knowing every single place that has given me horrible pain over the last few months.

Eventually, he guides me to lie back, and I want to laugh at the ridiculousness of this situation. Normally, a man would be laying me down for a whole other reason. Drew, however, does it so he can pick up my feet and massage my arches and calves. His strong fingers move over me with expert care and tenderness, never crossing any lines that would make me feel uncomfortable. He basically gives me a complete prenatal massage without ever trying to take anything for himself, not expecting anything in return—and THAT is what makes me completely fall for Drew.

My eyes are closed, and I’m halfway to sleep when he kisses my temple then pulls the covers over me, cutting off the light. He doesn’t make a move to snuggle me, which I appreciate, because I’m not ready for that—but he does lay his hand over mine and rub his thumb over my knuckles. Before I fall asleep, I hear myself whispering a question I’ve been wondering.

“Drew, what does Oscar stand for?”

He chuckles lightly and squeezes my hand. “Oscar the Grouch.”

I smile into the night, not offended by the nickname, but rather oddly happy.

“Do you want me to stop calling you that?”

I contemplate it, knowing that would mean asking him to stop playing with me. Stop teasing. Stop flirting. “No way.”

Jessie’s head is in the crook of my shoulder, palm heavy against my chest, leg slung over mine. I’m not sure when this happened and I’m 100% sure it is unintentional on her part, but I’m soaking it up. I woke up about ten minutes ago to her in this position, and I have barely breathed since. I’m afraid I’ll wake her up if I do, and then she’ll shoot out of bed and curse me for tricking her somehow. No tricks, Jessie. You just like me.

Last week was torture. She thought I was angry and moody because of the fundraiser prank. And yeah, I was pissed about that for all of one night. Then I went on a date (unashamedly to gauge her reaction) and Jessie showed up outside the window in her pajamas. That’s when I knew she was full of it.

She does like me. She’s just scared to death of me.

So the rest of the week, I kept my distance while trying to figure out what my next step should be. Deciding to go after Jessie is like deciding to go into war—you can’t take it lightly, and you must formulate a plan. Turns out, I’m moody while drawing up battle plans. Do you know what it’s like to live with a woman you’re crazy about but have to hide every thought, every desire, every hope from her on a daily basis? She’d come out of her room in her little athletic shorts and I’d growl. Don’t come out here in those. She’d sit down next to me on the couch and I’d grumble. Scoot over unless you want me to kiss your neck.

But now it’s time Jessie knows I’m here for the taking if she wants me, and I’ve got loads of time, so I’ll wait as long as she needs. Well, until it starts to get pathetic, or she gets a restraining order. I do have some dignity. But in the end, if she decides I’m not the one for her…okay, that would suck, and I’m not actually ready to prepare for that yet. It might be stupid, but I’m choosing to remain eternally optimistic until she tells me to get lost.

I’m staring down at Jessie’s soft face when I feel a swift kick to my ribs. It wasn’t Jessie; it was the baby. I’m smiling from ear to ear realizing how incredible it is that Jessie is pressed up against me enough that her baby is able to kick me. I know Jessie is concerned to start a relationship with a newborn. I know she’s scared we’ll get close while she’s pregnant and then I’ll take a hike after the baby arrives. What she doesn’t know is that part of me feels made for this—prepared. I love babies. I even loved helping my sister raise Levi. I know I can do this if she’ll give me a chance.

Again, I feel a little foot nudge me. This time it wakes Jessie up, and she stirs with a sharp inhale. I know better than to be awake when she realizes she ditched her pillow to snuggle me all night, so I swiftly clamp my eyelids shut and wipe the smile off my face. Jessie’s head tilts slowly up to me, and it’s so freaking hard not to smile. Somehow, I manage it, and she believes I’m the heaviest sleeper in the world. Ever so gently, she extracts herself from my body and rolls over to her side. It jostles me a bit, and eventually the mattress springs let me know she got out of bed. I’m cold now. I miss her already. I’m pitiful, and greedy, and I want to pull her back down beside me. Stay.

I peek an eye open ever so slightly to see Jessie walking on tiptoes to the bathroom. She hisses when she bumps a shoe and it clunks loudly across the floor. My ability to maintain a straight face is beyond impressive. Jessie shuts the door to the bathroom, and I hear the water turn on. She’s taking a shower. Yeah, that’s fine. I’m fine out here not thinking about her in there. Tohhhh-tally fine.

Nope. I get out of bed and quickly throw on a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and a hat. I need to brush my teeth and put on more deodorant, but that’ll have to wait, because right now, I need to do everything I can to distract me from the woman softly humming a song in the shower.

I grab my laptop and catch up on patient emails. I have forty-five new messages from worried women afraid their periods are too heavy, their period is too late, they might be in labor, is it normal to throw up so much in early pregnancy, is it okay to take headache medicine while pregnant? I work my way through the inbox, reassuring where needed, instructing when I think she should make an appointment, and answering frantic questions, all while listening to Jessie hum. I could get used to this.

Once I’m done, I can’t distract myself any longer. I need to get out of here, because I’ve never been more attracted to anyone than I am to the woman in that shower. I grab my boots and try to hop into them on my way to the door. My hand is on the knob when Jessie’s scream rips through the air. I’m already halfway to the bathroom when she starts yelling, “DREW, DREW!!!!!”

My mind is everywhere. It’s gone to horrible worst-case scenarios, and my body is propelling itself toward her. I’m prepared to find Jessie dropped down and giving birth. I’m NOT prepared to fling open the bathroom door and find a long snake stretched out across the ledge of the shower. Jessie is definitely naked (although I’m not looking at her…more than once) and backed into the far corner.

“DREW, A SNAKE! Get the snake! AH—DON’T LOOK AT ME THOUGH!”