The Temporary Roomie: Extended Edition (It Happened in Nashville #2)

Chapter 35

CHAPTER 35

Drew

It’s been a day. A good one. A great one, actually. I feel Jessie’s walls coming down more with every passing minute. She’s slowly trusting me, and I don’t take it for granted.

Except now I’m standing in her childhood room, staring at a wall completely dedicated to NSYNC, and I’m thinking there’s a lot about Jessie I still don’t know, a lot I’m scared to know based on this shrine dedicated to the young boy-band members in white tanks with spiky bleached hair in every pose possible. There’s one in front of a graffiti wall. In tuxes at an award show. A few behind-the-scenes photos scattered in of them recording in the studio with dramatic faces and headphones over only one ear. It’s a hodgepodge of images printed off the internet, pages ripped from magazines, and premium posters all pasted together to look like one elaborate sheet of wallpaper. Now I see why Jessie wouldn’t let me in here. I tried to open the door earlier today, but she just got in front of me and gave me her scary-eyes death glare—so I was forced to sneak in while she’s putting away the leftovers from dinner.

“Oh no,” Jessie says from behind me in the doorway. She races to throw her body in front of the wall, arms and legs sprawled out like that will keep me from seeing this freak show. “Don’t look at it!”

“Too late,” I say, shaking my head slowly, unable to peel my eyes from her teen fantasy creation.

“You weren’t supposed to come in here without me! I was going to prepare you! Now you’re in shock. Do you need one of those shiny thermal blankets? Should I call 911?” I don’t reply. Just keep staring. Jessie leaves the wall to come put her hands on my face. “Drew, look at me. It’s going to be okay, you just need to look away from the wall.” She starts gently turning my shoulders away, but I crane my neck, unable to escape its hypnotic spell, until finally I’m forced to snap my gaze forward.

I blink several times at Jessie. “So many pictures.” At least two hundred. I’m not kidding.

“It was a different time, Drew. My teen years were confusing. Everyone was doing it . . . I couldn’t resist the temptation. I’m so sorry.” The seriousness in Jessie’s eyes is what finally makes me crack. My smile spreads wide and slow, and before I know it we’re both laughing.

“You crazy woman,” I say, taking one final look at the shrine.

She grins up at me, wrapping her arms around my waist. “Don’t act like you didn’t have photos of swimsuit models pasted above your bed.”

I shake my head firmly. “No, ma’am. Obviously you don’t know my mom and dad. They would have whipped me if I had put up a degrading photo like that.” Jessie narrows her eyes until I wag my eyebrows. “That’s why I kept it under my mattress.” I know she’s going to try to pinch me, so I catch her hand preemptively. “Come here,” I say, pulling her up close to me. “I haven’t kissed you enough.”

It’s a rare thing to see Jessie blush, but she does now, and that’s the first place I aim my lips. She laughs as I kiss the apples of both her cheeks. “I don’t think that counts as kissing.”

“Quiet. I’m just getting warmed up.”

I lower my head, preparing to drop a soft, sweet kiss on her mouth, but Jessie meets me halfway, her lips crashing into mine. It’s a jolt straight to my nervous system that I wasn’t expecting. I’m a pretty controlled guy. I can keep my cool in high-pressure situations, and rarely do I ever feel out of my head. Right now, though, I’m nowhere near conscious thought, because Jessie has taken control of me and decided my fate without asking my opinion. Thank goodness. One of her hands hits my chest and backs me up against the NSYNC wall as the other slides up under my shirt to feel my abs. I cradle her jaw and grab her hip. The push and pull of our mouths is not soft. Not tender. It’s mad—teeth clanking, out of breath, full of desire and passion. I’ll be honest, it’s not something I thought would be in the cards until well after this baby comes, but I am here for it.

Everything is breath, and heat, and skin, and lips, and taste. She kisses my neck, and when her tongue touches my skin, I lose my mind. I’m done for. Toast. Suddenly, Jessie has my shirt above my head and helps me whip it off. Cool air rushes across my chest and her eyes rake over me before they snag on my tattoo. She runs a finger reverently across the ink, and heat burns through me. She kisses her way up my tattoo and then my neck. Once she finds my mouth again, I decide it’s my turn to be in charge.

I put my hands on Jessie’s hips and slowly devour her full mouth as I guide us away from the wall. I’ve never, ever needed a woman like I need Jessie. The moment gets away from me, and the next thing I know, I’ve backed Jessie up to her bed. She sits on the edge, and then her head falls back against the mattress. Her smile is not nervous but rather excited as I plant my hands on either side of her face and hover over her. I brush her hair away from her neck and then trace the line of her collarbone with my finger. Her eyes greedily take in every inch of my available skin. I can’t bring myself to care that we’re in her childhood room right now or that this dinky bed might not be able to support the weight of both of us. My mind is lost in a haze of want, and all I can think about is how unfair it is that she has on more clothes than me. Time to level the playing field.

I reach for the bottom edge of her shirt, then suddenly her door flies open and Jessie’s grandaddy, Harold, steps inside. Jessie squeals, and I jump off her, feeling like a dirty teenager who will be grounded for the rest of his life. I mostly blame the teenage-nostalgia scenery.

“Grandaddy! Knock first!” Jessie screeches and tosses a small pillow at the door, also looking and sounding like a guilty teen. We’re so dead. Definitely not going to junior prom without a chaperone now.

“I’m so sorry, sugar!” Harold says with a hand over his eyes as he backs out of the room. I would give anything for a black hole I could jump into right now. Anything.

“Oh my goodness, you don’t have to cover your eyes like that, Grandaddy! That makes it so much more embarrassing,” she says with her hands on her cheeks to cool the flames.

I would say something right now, but nothing in particular worth saying comes to mind. I’m torn between wanting to shrink into a ball and climbing out the window to drive one hundred miles per hour until I’m home and far away from this humiliation. Instead, I laugh, because this is hilarious. Poor Harold. His cheeks are the color of raspberries, and he bumps into the wall while backing up with his eyes closed.

“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 farther 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 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:

M E: Do I have to?!

J ESSIE: Yes.

M E: Are you sure?

J ESSIE: Quit being a baby.

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

J ESSIE: 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 onto 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 eyebrow.

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, amazed at how fortunate I am that the universe 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 an eyebrow. 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 up 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 fairy tale. 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 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.