As predicted, the wind picks up and it starts raining less than twelve hours later, accompanied by multiple weather warnings of high winds, more rain, possible power outages, and flash flooding that is to come. Decision being made for me, I place an order at my favorite Indian restaurant to pick up on my way to Levi’s house, before the storm really hits.
Chapter 17
You are fine. You’re a big girl. You’ve lived through hurricanes; you can live through a little rainstorm without having a panic attack and hiding under the blankets like a nine-year-old, I tell myself. Although, that’s what I did on the East Coast too; I would freak out and Lucas would make me sleep in the guest bedroom so he could sleep since he didn’t mind storms.
God, I hate storms. Any kind of storm; rain, snow, wind, you name it, and I turn into a child. Thunderstorms have always been the worst though, there’s just something about lightning and thunder that just makes you feel so powerless. Why did Levi have to pick this weekend to leave me all alone?
“Oh God, I need to calm down. It hasn’t even started to rain yet,” I say aloud, turning the TV back on to the news channel.
“City Officials are warning Calgarians to be prepared to be without electricity for at least forty-eight hours, as winds are predicted to blow trees over. They are also asking everyone to stay home, to not use the roadways as visibility will be impacted, trees can fall without warning, risks of flash flooding, and to ensure that emergency personnel can respondto any emergencies. This is going to be the thunderstorm of the year if not the decade, let’s be smart everyone and work together to keep everyone safe.”
Turning the TV back off since it’s not doing anything to help, I hear the wind start to pick up. “Deep breaths, Hannah, you’re okay,” I tell myself before I make my way to the bathroom to make myself a bath, going through with my original plan for this weekend. Levi has been planning this week away for a couple of months now, so I knew he was going to be gone. I told myself it was the perfect time to take advantage of his master bath, with his permission, of course. Seriously, how this man is still single with a bathroom like that is beyond me.
Nice, glass, waterfall shower with black hardware. Not only does the man have a towel warmer but he has a heating light bulb for when you get out of the shower. Nice marble countertop with a his-and-hers sink with gorgeous gold mirrors, but the real masterpiece in here is the two-seater corner jacuzzi tub. I’ve been dreaming of that thing since he gave me an official tour of the house. Hearing the news call for an insane storm over the weekend, I took myself out for a little Sephora therapy yesterday. I got a face mask, new body lotion, a hair mask, and some fancy bubble bath. I even got myself some bath bombs . . . Finally, I stopped at the liquor store for some wine, knowing I would need some liquid courage to get through this storm.
Once the tub is filled, and the entire bathroom smells like lavender, I run back to the kitchen to grab the matches, remembering that I have some lavender candles in my room. Before I get to the drawer, I hear a knock on the door. A little confused, I make my way to the door, and look in the side window to see a lifted, navy blue truck that I easily recognize.
“Ian?” I say, perplexed as I open the door. “What are you doing here?”
“I know you hate thunderstorms and that Levi is away visiting his parents, so I thought I’d come pick you up before the storm hits,” he says, looking away shyly.
“You want me to come with you?” I ask, still a little shocked that he would come out all this way to make sure I wasn’t alone.
“Or, I could stay here. Or leave. Up to you really,” he says, looking a little down on his luck.
I mean, I don’t want to be alone, but is it really a good idea to go to his house? But on the other hand, what do I have to lose? A bubble bath? Levi is gone for another week; the bubble bath isn’t going anywhere.
The problem is the guy is a walking orgasm and you haven’t gotten laid in almost two years,the little voice in my head says. It has a point. The guy definitely has the whole big-dick energy going on. He also doesn’t seem to be the type of guy that needs me to draw him a map to my G-spot, if you know what I mean.
“I can see you debating. If it helps any, this is completely platonic. My sister hates thunderstorms too, so I know how it is,” he says with a soft smile. “Plus, I have Indian take-out in the truck,” he casually adds on with a wink.
That makes my decision for me. With a smile of my own, I say, “You should have started with the Indian food.”
Stepping out of the doorway so he can make his way in, I say “Just let me grab a few things. I’ll be five minutes.”
“Take your time.” He kicks off his slides and makes his way to the couch, pulling out his phone.
I take the stairs two at a time, dash into the bathroom to drain the tub, taking five seconds to mourn my loss, and make my way to my bedroom where I grab a bag quickly. I throw in a sweater, a baggy t-shirt, sleep shorts, some underwear—intentionally skipping the lacy ones and instead going for a middle ground pair; the not lacy but not completely ugly ones either.
Quickly making my way to the bathroom, I grab my toothbrush and hairbrush, throw them in my bag, and make my way downstairs.
Looking up from his phone when he hears me coming down the stairs, he asks, “All set?”
“Yes. Just gonna grab the bottle of wine in the kitchen I had set out for tonight.”
“Perfect. Looks like we’ll make it to my place before the rain gets really out of control.”
The ride to his house is silent, only the worsening raindrops as noise. Not a complete awkward silence, but not far from it. Which is kind of weird, considering he’s usually larger than life and always talking. Every time I look over at him, he’s holding the steering wheel with white knuckles. He almost looks like he’s sweating a bit. God, is he regretting inviting me? Probably thinking he should have called up anyone else on his phone and could be getting laid instead of babysitting me. The thought not only has my hands getting clammy but gives me an upset stomach.
There’s no way I can be jealous at the thought of him having someone else over tonight. It’s not like I’m going to put out. It’s not like he came to pick me up expecting to get laid. I think I made myself pretty clear that I’m too old for him. He’s definitely regretting the babysitting gig he volunteered for though. I should have stuck to my original plan for the night, storm be damned; that bath would have been amazing. Or better yet, I should have just pretended I didn’t hear him knock on the door.
“Perfect timing,” I hear from my left. Focusing on my surroundings, I see that we’re pulling into a driveway as the rain starts to fall faster and faster. Looking around I don’t see any other houses, just what looks like a bunch of trees. Up at the end of the driveway is what looks like a light grey farmhouse with a white wrap-around porch. To the right there’s what might be atwo-car, detached garage the same color of the house. The rain is really making it hard to take in what I can only imagine is the beauty of the house. Before I can comment on the rain, the heavens decide to open up and let the rain fall even harder, if it’s even possible. Heavy rain drops fall in the truck, making it hard to even think. I’ve never seen so much rain at such a fast pace.
“All right, I’ll grab the food, you grab the wine, and we run? Fair?” Nodding my head, he hands me two bottles of wine and grabs the takeout bag. “On three. One. Two. Three!”
We both make a mad dash for the house and Ian unlocks the door within seconds. And even though he’s only parked ten feet from the covered porch, we’re both dripping wet by the time the door closes behind us.
Laughing, we both kick off our shoes and I follow him inside. Once I’m out of the entryway, and I’ve pushed my wet hair out of my face, I’m in complete awe of what I see. Unable to stop myself, I say, “This is where you live?” as I turn slightly to look at him. Going red in the face, he nods his head and makes his way into the kitchen.
