The Temporary Roomie: A Romantic Comedy (It Happened in Nashville Book 2)

by Sarah Adams

  “I’d rather keep ’em covered, thanks.” His outstretched arm is flailing around trying to find the threshold of the door, but he’s just getting further away. I take pity and put my hands on his shoulders to guide him out. One glance at Jessie tells me she will never recover from this. I give her an apologetic smile as I run my hand through my hair, and she gives me the stink eye in return.

  “Drew,” Harold says once he’s out of the room and facing the opposite wall in the hallway. “I was actually coming in here to see if I could talk with you a minute.”

  That sounds ominous. My eyes fly wide open, and I look to Jessie. Our expressions facilitate a silent communication that goes like this.

  Me: Do I have to?!

  Jessie: Yes.

  Me: Are you sure?

  Jessie: Quit being a baby.

  Me: You’ll pay for that insult later. *eyebrow wag*

  Jessie: I hope so.

  And that’s the moment I realize our relationship will be combustible—which I mean in the best sense.

  I angle my face a little toward Harold, keeping my eyes on Jessie. “Of course. I’ll be out in a minute.” It’s a good thing he has his eyes closed so he can’t see the sexy eyes his granddaughter keeps giving me.

  Harold shuts the door, and I let out something between a puff of air and a laugh before I sink down on the bed beside her. “Well, that was eventful.”

  Jessie whips her head to me. “It’s all your fault.”

  “Not true. You’re the one who took off my shirt.” I stare up at her with grave seriousness. “I can’t believe you were about to steal my innocence. What a harlot.”

  She bites her cheeks against a smile and greedily takes in the sight of me lying on her bed without a shirt. Heat kindles in my chest under her scrutiny, and it takes everything in me to change the subject and not pick back up where we left off.

  “Do you think I’m in trouble? Is he going to ground me or something?” I run my hand slowly down her arm and wrap my index finger and thumb around her wrist just because I can.

  She watches my weird display of affection with an amused smile. “He’ll probably make you go pick a switch off the tree out front so he can swat you with it.”

  “Did he do that to you?”

  “No. He was a big softy with me. I was punished by getting one less scoop of ice cream after dinner than normal.”

  I pick up her hand next and trace each of her fingers until two of my own land on the pulse point below her thumb. I set my watch, and a fifteen-second countdown begins.

  “Why are you always checking—”

  “Shh,” I reprimand softly and continue counting. She watches me with a gentle tug on the corner of her mouth and waits until I’m done checking her resting heart rate. I’ll check it every day for the rest of her life, because I can already feel myself becoming obsessive. Although some women might find it annoying, I think Jessie needs someone to obsess over her a little.

  “Healthy?” she asks with a taunting raised brow.

  I smirk up at her. “I wish I had my stethoscope. We could listen to the baby’s heartbeat.”

  She stares down at me with a look of disbelief. She can’t believe that I care about her baby—about her. It’s something she’s going to have to get used to, because my adoration is only going to grow from here.

  After I lightly yank on Jessie’s arm a few times, she concedes and lies down beside me, letting me run my hand affectionately over her stomach. I brush my fingertips across her collarbone and mentally map every freckle, every scar, every bend and dip of her skin. I lean in and kiss the base of her neck slowly, brushing my lips up and down the gentle curve between her shoulder and jaw. She sighs and shuts her eyes, a contented smile on her lips. I nuzzle her skin with my nose, breathing her in and finally letting myself believe she’s…

  “Mine.” I finish my thought as a whisper against her skin before giving her a soft love bite on the top of her shoulder.

  I prop myself up and stare down at this beautiful woman, wondering how fortunate I am that God apparently took enough pity on me to drop her into my life when I never deserved her and never will. She gives me a warm, loving smile, her hair fanned out around her and face tilted to look at me.

  “I really hope Grandaddy doesn’t kill you.”

  Right.

  Much needed mood killer.

  Let’s get this over with.

  I don’t know what I’m so nervous about. I’ve spent all day with Harold, and he’s been nothing but sweet and kind. Also, I’m a grown man—a doctor. Surely I can handle talking to Jessie’s grandfather. He probably just wants to get to know me a little more and tell me he’s happy Jessie and I found each other. I encourage myself with these thoughts all the way down the hallway toward the little dining room off the kitchen.

  I felt weird about him seeing me shirtless—hovering over his granddaughter—so not only did I put my shirt back on, I also added a sweatshirt even though it’s about seventy-five degrees in here. I was tempted to also wrap myself in a blanket, but Jessie said that was excessive.

  Ten minutes later, I’m sitting in the dining room with sweat dripping down my forehead, wishing I had left the sweatshirt behind and cursing myself for ever underestimating Harold Barnes. Yeah, that’s right—this man is no longer sweet little Grandaddy to me. He’s freaking Colonel Barnes, decorated World War II hero. Want to know how I know this? Because the first thing he did when I entered the dining room was point to a chair and tell me to sit. And then he told me all of this while leaning across the table, knuckles pressing into the wooden tabletop, leveling me with a terrifying gaze. After that, the old man strapped me up to a polygraph test. I’m not even joking. A real lie detector. Where did he even get this thing? Probably the war…

  He sat down in front of me, crossed his legs, and lifted a brow. Gone was the sweet, meek old southern grandaddy gleefully showing me photo albums. This man has scars from war marking his soul. He tells me he’s not old—he’s experienced.

  “How old are you?” He’s been lobbing some softballs at me so far, but I’m expecting a curve at any moment.

  “Thirty-three.”

  “What’s your favorite color?”

  “Blue.”

  The lie detector flies off the charts.

  “Try again,” he says with a hard stare.

  I sigh. “Pink.”

  It goes on and on like this, and just when I think maybe he’s going to keep this test pretty benign, he kicks it up a notch.

  “Are you a virgin?”

  “No.”

  “Were you in love with any of your previous girlfriends? “

  “No.”

  “Have you ever stolen anything?”

  “No—wait, yes. A pack of gum in the ninth grade.”

  “Are you a trustworthy person?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you taking advantage of Jessie?”

  “No.”

  “Do you love my granddaughter?”

  “Yes.”

  He takes in a deep breath after that last question and sits back in his chair, resting his hands on his stomach. He holds my gaze and now I’m sure sweat is running down my face. Finally, after a painful amount of time, he nods.

  “Okay.”

  He stands from his chair and starts detaching the wires from me.

  “Okay?” I say with a slightly wobbly voice that’s definitely embarrassing. “That’s it?”

  “That’s it,” he says.

  I let out a breath and shake my shoulders out, wiping the sweat from my brow. “So what now? Did I pass? Do I get to live?”

  He chuckles lightly, but I don’t know what’s funny about what I just said. This whole thing has some serious hostage vibes. I mean, I respect it, but I’ll definitely never forget it.

  Finally, after binding up all the cords and setting the polygraph back on the shelf (like he’s planning to use it again next week or something), he comes and sits down beside me. His face is back to
sweet old man, but I won’t let myself be fooled again just yet. He rests his elbows on the table and sets his chin on his fist, staring across the room.

  “Drew, that girl in there is my whole world.” He pauses, and I don’t say anything. “I don’t know what all she’s told you, but her life didn’t start out like a fairytale. And then everything that happened with that Jonathan fellow, well…it tears me up inside.”

  I know the feeling.

  He swivels his aged, knowing eyes to me, and I see nothing but tenderness now. “She deserves the world. Jessie is prickly sometimes because she has a lot of hurt, but underneath all that, she has the kindest, warmest, most giving heart on the planet, and all I want is for her to be safe and taken care of.”

  “I want that for her too.”

  He smiles at me for the first time since the bedroom incident. “I can see that. I trust you, Drew, and I can see that Jessie does too. I think you’ll be good for each other. Just, please, I’m asking you to make sure to put her and that sweet baby first. Because if you hurt her, I might have to kill you.”

  I nod my head and hold his eye contact. “Understandable. I promise to be good to her—to both of them.”

  He clasps his hand firmly on my shoulder, squeezes, and then stands and walks out of the room. He didn’t say it, but I know I have his blessing, and I’ve never felt more honored in my life.

  “So you called me your boyfriend earlier,” Drew says, stroking my hair as I cuddle against his chest. We’re not supposed to be in bed together. The look in my grandaddy’s eye when he told us he put an extra blanket in the guest bedroom for Drew said, Don’t even think about it, missy. But I’ve always been a rulebreaker, so ten minutes after lights out, I texted Drew.

  Me: Brrrrrr. It’s cold in here. Are you cold?

  Drew: No. Go to sleep.

  Me: I can’t. So cold. Limbs are freezing off.

  Drew: I know what you’re trying to do.

  Me: Is it working?

  Drew: Nope. You saw the look in that man’s eye before bed. I’m afraid of what he’ll do to me if he catches me in your room again. Did you know he has a lie detector?!

  Me: OH NO! Did he use that old thing on you?

  Drew: Yes. And now he knows way more about me than anyone ever should.

  Me: I’m so sorry. Did it change your mind about me? Do you want to bail now? Is it too much?

  In the next minute, Drew was sliding under the sheets of my full-sized bed and pulling me into his chest. “Not a chance,” he said, kissing my head.

  And now here we are and he’s trying to trap me into a DTR.

  “Ohhhhh. You thought I said boyfriend? Nah, I said it like…this is Drew…he’s a boy…and my friend. But I can see how you were confused.”

  Drew leisurely runs his fingers through my hair and hums, telling me he doesn’t believe my tricks for a second. “Yeah, right. You meant it, and now I get to claim you as my girlfriend whenever I want.”

  “You sound like a 12-year-old.”

  “And you love it. In fact, I think you love me…” His fingers never stop their ministrations, but my heart does stop for a fraction of a second.

  I gasp and tilt my chin up to show Drew how stupid I think that idea is. “I do not! Not even close. Like miles and miles and miles away from love. Tolerance is what you’re thinking of.”

  “Is that why you stare at me when you think I’m not looking? Why you smelled my shirt earlier after I changed?” HE SAW THAT?! “You just tolerate me?”

  I feel like I’m on a sinking ship. Half of it is already underwater and the captain has told everyone to abort and jump into a dinghy, but I’ve climbed to the top of the stern and am holding on for dear life. “Drew, we’ve only been dating for less than 48 hours. How could I possibly love you already?” How?!

  “Time has nothing to do with it, and we’ve been living together for almost a month. Face it, Jessie, you’ve been in love with me since your eyes first landed on all this sexiness.” Thank God he’s cracking jokes, because honestly, he’s not wrong. I’m not ready to face that truth out loud yet.

  I jab my fingers into his ribs and tickle like I’m a merciless tyrant. He struggles to get away, trying to strangle a laugh in his throat so my grandaddy doesn’t hear us, and he almost falls off the bed. Finally, when he can’t take any more, he grabs both my wrists and pins them on either side of my head. His face hovers over mine, and I can see a dangerous mix of emotions swirling in his deep ocean eyes.

  “I don’t know how to put a label on what we are, but I want one. Everything about our relationship is unique, and I realize you’re on the brink of a completely different life. I know going out on dates and physical affection will be limited and maybe even non-existent for a while. I’m completely fine with all of that, and you will find I can be the most patient man in the world. But I want something, even if it’s just a word that tells me you’ve officially let me in, that says we are together and gives me the right to adore you like I want to.”

  I bite the corner of my mouth and roll my eyes toward the ceiling so I don’t cry. It’s no use though; a tear escapes. “I’m so sick of crying over everything,” I say, making Drew laugh.

  He dips down to kiss the spot below my ear, and I sigh with pleasure. He rotates back so his head is on the pillow, pulling me up on his chest again. “Only a little longer…until you have the baby and cry even more than this.”

  I groan. “Terrible.” Nuzzling my face against his bare skin, I breathe in the scent of body wash and deodorant and Drew. “Okay, Andrew, you win. I’ll be your girlfriend.”

  Drew doesn’t say anything, just lets out a full, deep breath and pulls me in tighter to him. The baby must be squished because it kicks Drew right in the side, making us both laugh. He moves his hand to rest on my belly like he’s already helping soothe my fussy child. I want to stay awake. I want to make out with Drew and maybe even give some of that other physical affection he was talking about a chance. We were well on our way earlier, and I loved it. Drew’s mouth is so intoxicating. If he were an alcohol, he’d be aged bourbon. His kisses are sweet aromatics, his touch is a spice that burns, and his proof is so high I won’t be able to walk a straight line. I want to be under the influence of his lips and hands all night, but the eight-months-pregnant side of me says, Sleeeeppppp, in an alluring siren call. Must. Answer. Its. Call.

  “Good night, Jessie,” Drew says as his lips press against my forehead.

  “Hmm? No!” I say, my protests sounding as if I’ve had somewhere around eighteen beers. “I’m awake. I brought you in here to mess around. Totally game. Let’s get busy.” But my words all slur together.

  I feel Drew’s deep chuckle. “Go to sleep, crazy.”

  And I do. It takes me all of three seconds to completely pass out, which is incredible considering I haven’t been able to sleep in months. With my head rising and falling on Drew’s chest, I sleep like a rock for the second night in a row. I feel safe with him, more than just physically. It’s like my mind exhales and fully quiets with him.

  In the morning, the bed is empty when I wake up. There’s a little note on my pillow that says Drew went for a run, but I know he only did it because he’s a wuss and didn’t want Grandaddy to catch us together. I smile at his horrible doctor handwriting scrawled on the paper and then force myself out of bed to get ready to head back to Nashville today.

  Over coffee and Oreos, I stare at my grandaddy and his white hair and lined skin. My heart aches. I don’t want to leave him behind anymore. “You know…” I say, trying to tread lightly because I know he’s just as stubborn and independent as me and will easily spook. “Your great-grandchild will be here soon.”

  “Is that what that round thing is in your stomach?” He grins and sips his coffee.

  “So sarcastic.” I run my finger over the rim of my mug.

  “What is it you’re wantin’ to say, sugar. Just spit it out.”

  “I want you to consider moving to Nashville.” I pop my eye
s up to his and see the breath physically frozen in his lungs.

  He doesn’t say anything right away. Instead, his eyes travel around the house he’s lived in for so long. His memories are here with my granny and letting go will feel like letting her go for good. I’m sensitive to that, but I also know there’s a new little person about to enter this world and I would love more than anything for him or her to get to know the man who raised me. I want him to be a daily part of my child’s life, not just a weekend visit. It would be one thing if I truly thought he was happy here, but I hear the loneliness in his voice during our phone calls.

  “Someone once told me there’s no sense in looking back while you’re still moving forward,” I say tenderly. “I know you think you’re too old for change, but you’re just getting started. Come to Nashville. Bring all these pictures with you and hang them on new walls. Granny came with me when I went, and she’ll come with you too.”

  He narrows his eyes on me, and a light smile touches his mouth. “I’ll think about it.”

  “Good.”

  After a small pause, he adds, “Thanks for wanting me around, sugar.”

  “Always.” We each pop an Oreo in our mouth to keep from spilling any more emotions.

  A few hours and a goodbye where I blubber like an uncontrollable fool to Grandaddy later, Drew and I pull up into his driveway. No sooner than he puts the car in park do I lean across the console and grab the front of his shirt, pulling me to him. I slept great last night, and I’ve had a whole two-hour ride home to let my hormones’ imagination run wild with desire for Drew. I was too tired last night, but I’m not now.

  Drew’s eyebrows shoot up as my lips press into his, possessive and wanting.

  I intertwine my fingers in the back of his hair and try to turn the heat level up to a thousand. Drew takes in a sharp breath as I coax his lips to part and deepen the kiss. Something he said last night really got to me. There is a very real chance my body is going to be destroyed after this baby comes, and although I don’t particularly relish the idea of being intimate with this huge belly, I also know it’s going to be months before I’m physically able after birth. It’s now or practically never. And no, I’m not being at all dramatic.