“Want to make a run for it?” Rowan asks.
“Yup,” I agree. “We’re going to get soaked regardless.”
“On the count of three,” he reaches for the door’s handle. “One, two, three!”
We both open our doors, and the weather assaults us instantly. Water drenches my hair, plastering it to my temples as my shoes crunch across the gravel. My clothes stick to me, and I can hardly make out the steps as I take them quickly to get to the cover of the porch.
Rowan is right beside me, and he holds my elbow as he helps me up until we're under the metal roof.
Before I realize it, we’re both smiling at each other. We look like drenched cats as we drip water onto the aged wood beneath us, but the moment feels too light.
Rowan looks at the truck, cursing as he places his hands on his hips. “I have a duffel bag I need to empty out, and I still need to grab our clothes.”
I wring the water out of my hair. “Later. Let’s get checked in first.”
He opens the door for me, and a little bell chimes as I step into a foyer. The floor creaks as I walk, and I take in the paintings and mirrors that line the walls. The air is stale, but it’s not as bad as Loxley’s apartment.
“Oh, hello there!” A woman with dark ringlets waves at me from behind a tall desk. She folds her beige cardigan over her chest before typing on the desktop computer. “I wasn't expecting anyone with the storm. Are you looking for a room?”
Rowan walks ahead, and I trail after him as he pulls his wallet out of his back pocket. His white shirt is soaked, and clings to miles of toned muscles. I can’t see the tattoos beneath it, but I can make out the dark ink that stretches across his shoulders. There’s something else there, kind of like a deep groove beneath his shoulder blade, but as he moves and his shirt shifts, it disappears, and I’m left staring at toned muscles.
Down, girl. No touching.
Never mind that I gave him a blow job just a few short hours ago. It’s something that shouldn't happen again. No matter how badly I want it to.
“Yes,” Rowan answers. “Preferably two.” He turns as if looking for confirmation from me.
“Uh, yes. Two rooms.” I say.
The hostess’s lips draw back in a wince as a deeply apologetic expression crosses her features. “I wasn’t expecting anyone because most of my rooms are going through a remodel, but I'm sure I can grab a pull-out sofa—”
“That’s fine,” Rowan shakes his head. “We’ll manage.” He hands her his card and ID while I look around the front room. The dim, yellow lights overhead flicker as thunder rumbles louder and lightning cracks across the tall windows.
“Just the one night, and here are your keys,” the hostess says, smiling as she hands everything back to him. “Breakfast is served at seven, and if there are any updates on the road conditions, I’ll call the landline in your room. Have a goodafternoon.”
“Thank you!” I call out as I follow Rowan to a grand staircase. He takes us up to the second floor, and I see firsthand how we’re intruding on this poor woman’s renovations. There are clear tarps along the floor that crinkle loudly beneath our shoes, and it smells like fresh paint as we pass a few open doors. Some of the rooms look cleared out, while the others are cluttered and piled high with beds and end tables.
Rowan halts at the last door before sliding the key into the lock and opening it with a loud groan. We both stop and stare at the single queen-sized bed.
Fuck me.
“I’ll take the floor,” he decides before stepping past the threshold.
“I would normally disagree and offer the bed to whoever paid for the room, but I’m pretty sure I saw a roach.” I shiver unpleasantly before walking into the small, standard bathroom. The shower looks big enough for one person, or half of Rowan, if I’m being honest. He’sdefinitelytoo tall for the showerhead. My travel companion stomps by, and I turn just as he opens the door.
“I’m going to grab our bags,” he says on the way out.
I blow out a breath, mentally psyching myself up to pretend there’s no physical chemistry between us all night. Already, it sounds utterly exhausting.
I wander around the room like a ghost, brushing my fingers over things I probably shouldn't be touching, before my attention is drawn to the storm raging outside the square window.
My sight snags on Rowan’s figure as he stands in the bed of the truck. He has the lid of the metal toolbox open, and I watch as he unpacks something into it.
“What is he doing?” I ask myself before grabbing the curtain and pulling it closed. “Not my circus.”
I don't need to know any more about him than I already do. Once this trip is over, I’ll create some distance to get mymind right again. I still have to figure out what I’m going to do in Columbus when I get there.
I pull out my phone before gritting my teeth and tossing it on the bed. “Can’t do a job search with no signal.”
