Forbidden Roommate: Her Dad's Best Friend Series Set

by Penny Wylder

  I laugh and reach over to try and slap his back, but he’s already out of reach, waving over his shoulder at me. “Remember, date night tonight,” he calls before he ducks into the far tent, the one marked Surgical over the flap in bright red Sharpie.

  As if I could forget.

  Still shaking my head and grinning a little, I duck into my own tent. The wing set up for caring for the patients in recovery after surgery. The nurse whose shift is ending as I duck inside takes one look at my face and rolls her eyes with exaggeration.

  “Let me guess,” she says, her smile only a little bit rueful. “That sexy older man of yours woke you up with a little breakfast in bed… or, wait, no.” She squints closer at me. “Breakfast sex in bed? You have that glow.”

  I snort and waved her off. “Oh, please.” But I can’t really deny it, either. Before my walk and Russ’s shower time, we did enjoy ourselves a bit…

  “Girl, you really have life figured out,” she insists, still chuckling and shaking her head, even as she passes her chart over to me to start going through the patients list.

  The rest of the day passes in a pleasant, if hectic, blur. We have a pretty damn good day today, actually. We don’t lose anybody, which is always a good sign. And two of our patients who have been flat on their backs ever since the hurricane first hit, due to the severity of the injuries they sustained when their house collapsed over their heads, are finally able to take their first wobbling steps toward freedom.

  It’s days like today that remind me I did the right thing in coming here. And that, no matter what, I’m following my heart. You never know when a hurricane could explode right in the middle of your life. You never know what the future holds, either. So you can’t afford to just wait around for life to get on the same page as you, or for your dreams to finally be within easy reach.

  If you wait for your dreams to come to you, it will never happen. You need to go out and catch them yourself. Which is exactly what I came to Puerto Rico to do, and exactly what I’ve been able to learn how to do since I arrived. With Russ at my side, we can accomplish any dream we set our minds to.

  By the end of the day, I’m aching from head to toe, but I’m happy, too. Even happier when I wash my hands in the sink out back of the tent complex, then get to step into the warm stream of my twice a week warm shower. I sigh with relief, sticking my head under the heated current and basking for a moment in the marvels of modern life. The rest of the week I’m stuck with freezing cold water, not the drinkable kind either, and our showers can only last a minute max. Right now I have five whole minutes, which feels luxurious.

  After the shower, sparkling clean, I change into my civvie clothes, as we’ve started nicknaming our regular outfits, and I feel like a whole new woman. I emerge from the shower and pad over to the cabin that Russ and I share. It’s a little larger than the single ones, which is why we opted for it, even though we knew it might be fast to move straight to living together when we got here.

  After all, back at home, I spent the last six months living back at my parents’ place while we were getting all of our paperwork in order and making preparations. But more often than not, I wound up crashing over at Russ’s half the time anyway. So it’s not like moving into the same cabin here was a complete stretch.

  And surprisingly, despite the atmosphere and the fact that we’re living somewhere harder than usual, for most new couples testing out cohabitation for the first time… it’s been easy. More than easy. It’s felt right, being here with him. I duck into our cabin, and I spot a note on top of our bed. I stash my scrubs in the closet before I pick it up, feeling a little flutter in my stomach.

  I hope it’s not bad news. Some nights we make plans as best we can, but last minute Russ will get called into the OR for an emergency, if a patient takes a turn for the worse. We have to keep ourselves flexible, to work around our schedules so we can do the work we came here to do. It’s rewarding, but that doesn’t mean it’s not frustrating and exhausting sometimes.

  But when I flip the note open, I relax, a smile spreading across my face.

  Meet you at our place? Is all it says, signed with a little X. Unable to keep myself from grinning, I grab a light jacket from the peg. Sometimes it gets breezy down on the beach, even despite the near constant tropical heat. Late at night, anyway…

  Then, all showered and fresh and clean, I pick my way back down the street toward the beach where Russ caught me this morning. It’s become our unofficial spot. Or maybe official, since I’ve heard a few of our colleagues talk about how often they see us heading down there. At what point does something like that become official, I wonder?

  When I reach the beachfront, I think I have my answer. I stop dead in my tracks, my jaw dropping.

  Russ has set the whole place up like a restaurant. There’s a table and chairs set up, and a big awning draped in fairy lights. I recognize the lights as a set that one of the new arrivals brought with her, a nurse who loves to decorate her cabin back in the compound where we all stay. But the awning and the tables, I have no idea where on earth he scrounged those up.

  Or where he got the food he’s serving, because to judge by the scents wafting toward me, if it’s anything like it smells, it will be delicious.

  “That doesn’t smell like Taco Shack,” I point out, as I stride across the sand toward my man, waiting beside his creation with his arms crossed, looking far too pleased with himself.

  Out over the water, the sun is just starting to set, casting orange and pink lights on the fluffy clouds at the horizon, and making the waves on the ocean seem to sparkle with light, like each one is a tiny gemstone, studded in brilliance. The view takes my breath away.

  So does Russ. He dressed up, I realize, wearing slacks and a button down shirt, though he left the top few buttons undone. His only concession to the tropical climate we’re in.

  He looks good. Better than good. The sunset highlights the silver lines in his hair and along his jawline. He grew his beard out here, mostly at my insistence, because damn, if you thought the man looked like a silver fox before he let his beard grow, then you have no idea how sexy he looks now.

  “You did all this for me?” I ask, as I skip across the last few feet of sand to reach him.

  He sweeps me up in his arms and spins me in a little half-circle, before he sets me lightly back on my feet and leans in to kiss me.

  Every time he kisses me, I swear, time stops. I loop my arms around his neck, run one hand through his thick, full hair, as his hand twines through mine, too.

  When we part once more, we’re both breathless, our eyes alight, glazed with desire. “I called in a few favors,” he explains as he breaks away from me to pull out my chair. I take a seat and let him push it back up to the table’s edge, before he crosses around to sit on the other side of the table.

  The food smells even better up close. “What, did you fly your chef friend out here as a surprise or something?” I chuckle.

  He grins, eyes twinkling. “Not quite. But I did convince one of the best chefs on the island, whose wife we treated for severe internal bleeding earlier this month, to make us this meal.”

  My mouth waters. Puerto Rico is not just beautiful, it also has some of the best food you’ll find anywhere. But it looks like this isn’t even the traditional Puerto Rican food we’ve been dining on at our local spots for the past few months since we arrived. When Russ lifts the lid off the tray with a flourish, my eyes go wide.

  “You didn’t.” I burst into laughter. On the plate between us sits a full American style meal: perfectly cooked burgers topped with avocados and some sauce that smells spicy. A plate of ribs in Southern BBQ sauce. Even Cajun spiced French fries. “Oh my god.” I reach for a fry and pop it into my mouth before he can even react. I let out a groan of appreciation at the explosion of flavors.

  “I asked you what food from back home you were missing,” Russ says softly. “This is everything you mentioned.”

  My eyes widen. There’s ev
en a plate of dumplings, just like the ones I love so much at Vanessa’s back in New York, near campus, where I used to eat all the time in nursing school. My eyes water as I realize how closely he paid attention to that conversation. “You remembered,” I whisper.

  “Of course.” He reaches over to take my hand and squeezes lightly. “I remember all the important things, when it comes to you,” he says. “I always have.”

  He’s right. In the year since we started dating, he’s remembered so much about me that I never even knew he would. My favorite outfits, the style I wear my hair on nights out, my favorite foods, bands, books, movies. I’ve never had a partner so attentive before, and it makes me all the more grateful to be with him now.

  I don’t know what I’d do without him.

  As if reading my mind, Russ catches my eyes and smiles. “I’m so glad we made it here, Maggie. Together.”

  “So am I.” As gently as I can, I extricate my hand from his, unable to resist the mouthwatering scents anymore. “But we should probably eat… Before it gets cold. You know.”

  He laughs, and winks at me. “Dig in,” he says, not even bothering to tease me for my appetite.

  I’m sure he can’t blame me. After all, like I said, Puerto Rican food is delicious… but sometimes you miss home cooking. Or at least, home restaurant food. I dig in, and groan with appreciation at every new bite and flavor I taste. All the while, Russ explains how he talked the chef into making this for us, and a local worker who’s rebuilding one of the houses up the road lent him the gazebo to bring down to the beach as a makeshift roof. He borrowed the chairs and table from another volunteer, too.

  So many favors and so much effort, all to make me smile. “I hope I’m worth all this,” I joke, when he reaches the end of his long explanation.

  But the words only make Russ tense, his eyes go wide. “Maggie. You’re worth every bit of effort I spent today and a million more. I don’t ever want to stop making you smile.” He glances out over the water. In the distance, the sun is just starting to set. The sunsets here are always pretty too, much like the people and the food and the culture. But tonight’s sunset looks like it’s really going to be something extra special.

  From the brilliant rays it casts out over the ocean, I can tell it will be an unforgettable night.

  And that’s before Russ slides off his chair.

  “I have something to confess, though, Maggie,” he says, in a voice that makes me hesitate where I sit, and then slowly, staring at him, lower my burger back to my plate. I reach for a napkin to wipe off my hands, as Russ holds my gaze.

  Then he sinks down in front of me. I’m so shocked that I don’t even process it until later—but he’s only kneeling on one knee.

  “I didn’t just bring you out here tonight for a fun time. Well, okay, I also brought you for that, but.” He winks. “I brought you here because I wanted to ask you a very important question.” He reaches out, and I still don’t get it, because I am completely oblivious.

  But when he gently picks up my left hand from my lap and draws it out to hold it in his left, I start to realize. “Russ…” I clap my right hand over my mouth, my eyes starting to water.

  Is this real? It feels like a dream. Like a fantasy I could have dreamt up. In fact, if I’m being honest, I have dreamt about this moment. About what it might look like, what I might say, if Russ popped the question. I just never imagined he would feel comfortable enough and sure enough about our love to do it this quickly. I thought he’d need another year or two with me to feel sure about things.

  I’m not quite sure why I thought that, though. After all, I was sure by the time we boarded the plane to fly to Puerto Rico together. I knew he was the one I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.

  My throat goes tight, so tight I couldn’t say a word if I wanted. But that’s okay, because Russ isn’t finished talking yet.

  “Since I’ve been with you, Maggie, you’ve made me appreciate the world in a whole new way. You’ve made me want to attack life, not just to sit by and be content with where the current takes me. I want to keep up that same energy, the same vigor, that you’ve given me, for the rest of my days. I want to go through this life with you beside me, both of us together making more of a difference in the world than we ever could apart.”

  As he talks, he reaches into his pocket with his free hand, and withdraws a little velvet box.

  “Maggie Owens. Will you marry me?”

  I hiccup. Actually hiccup. In the future, he’ll remind me of that so often it will become a running joke. But then I force through the sound with a laugh and start nodding, before my mouth will even work properly. “Yes. Yes, of course I will.” I barely even notice the ring he slides onto my finger, at least not in the moment. Later, I’ll admire the beautiful diamond, surrounded by tiny little emerald studs, because he knows green is my favorite color, and because he remembered me saying one day that I thought plain diamond engagement rings weren’t unique enough for me.

  Later, I’ll look back and realize how absolutely perfectly he planned every detail. I’ll even appreciate the fact that, apparently, before we even left for our trip he had gone to my father and told him about his intentions, and asked for his permission to take my hand in marriage. He talked to my mother, too, and promised them both that he would take care of me on this trip. That he would never leave my side, no matter what happened.

  He explained that he loved me. The way they loved each other. And they approved, thank god. After all this time, they finally understood us, too.

  Before we even got to Puerto Rico, I’d realize eventually, he’d already picked out the ring, started dreaming about and planning for this moment.

  Later this same night, I’ll learn that he went even farther than just this beautiful little gazebo on the beach and a meal planned just for me. He reserved us rooms at a hotel, a real hotel, far on the other side of the island. He got us permission to take one day off work, and booked a van to take us over there for some much needed relaxation, with rooftop sunset views and a jacuzzi tub and everything. He shipped champagne, real champagne, to the hotel. And he got all of our coworkers and supervisors in on it, with them covering shifts for us and ensuring we’d have time to savor our engagement tonight and tomorrow.

  Later, I’ll learn all of that, and love him even more for it. But none of that is the reason I tell him yes.

  In the moment, all I have eyes for is Russ. Russ, standing up before me, on an island that he followed my crazy life dreams to come to. Russ, tugging me up into his arms, lifting me off the sand with the force of his embrace, so strong and steady against me. Russ, with his mouth against mine, our arms around each other, our chests pressed so close together we could hear our hearts beating through each other’s bodies. Russ, with the kind of kiss that I’ll never forget, for as long as we both shall live.

  He’s all I saw right then. And he’s the only thing in the world I needed to see.

  Finally, I am exactly where I belong. I’m making my own life for myself, my own choices. I’m following my heart. And beside me stands the man of my dreams, doing the exact same thing. Changing the world, just like he said. Together.

  Copyright © 2019 Penny Wylder

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means without prior written permission of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or businesses, organizations, or locales, is completely coincidental.

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  1

  Jenny

  A forest of evergreens flashes by as my parents’ Subaru whizzes through the tight turns of the mountain road. Sun dapples the ground through the leaves and the warm wind rustles my hair from the open window. My parents are in the front seat talkin
g about our trip to the cabin and all the things they may have forgotten to turn off before we left. My little brother sits beside me in the back seat, reading his book. I have no idea how he does it. That would make me car sick in an instant.

  The batteries in my iPod are dead and there’s nothing else to do but scroll through Tinder. There are a lot of cute guys to check out, but I’m struggling because none of the ones my age interest me a bit. I wonder if there’s something wrong with me. The thought of being with someone my own age makes me roll my eyes. They’re so immature. All they seem to care about are a girl’s looks and sex—which isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but I’m a virgin, and I don’t like the thought of being pressured into anything.

  Not that I’d really have to be pressured into it. I want to lose my virginity, actually. In fact, if all goes according to plan, I will lose my v-card this summer while we’re spending the next three weeks at the lake house. I can make it happen. I will make it happen. The lake is bound to be teeming with plenty of good-looking guys to choose from. And not to brag, but I’ve been working out like crazy for the last couple months since my parents told me we’d be going on this little summer vacation, and I look damn good in my little black bikini.

  I can’t help but think about the conversation I had with my best friend Annie’s older sister before we left to go to the lake. She told me that I shouldn’t go off to college being that girl. The goodie-goodie, the prude who knows nothing and will scare off all the boys who are too nervous to be with me because it’s my first time. Annie’s sister, Tulip, said I should take the summer to get it over with. Not that there’s anything wrong with being the pure girl, the virgin. But I don’t want to be that girl. It’s a choice I’ve made and I’m determined to make it happen.

  My mom turns around in her seat to look at me, startling me. I close the Tinder app before she sees it and I put my phone face down in my lap.