I love rain, but, fuckin’A, I freaking hate thunder. Have ever since I was a kid. Not sure why though. Probably because it was so traumatic, I blocked it out.
The rain is coming down hard, so I jump out of bed to close the window I’d left open to let in the cool night air. Large puddles are already starting to form in the street and small sections of my front yard.
BOOM!
The lights go out and I let out a shriek, covering my ears as I rush downstairs to the kitchen to find a flashlight and some candles.
Nearly tripping over a box I haven’t unpacked yet, I fumble through the dark. The kitchen seems impossibly far away, but I make it there without breaking my neck, which feels like a win.
“Stupid thunder,” I mutter, yanking open a drawer near the sink. “Goddamn storm. Fucking power outage.”
My fingers brush against something that feels like a candle, and I pull it out triumphantly. A few more seconds of rummaging produces three more. Thank god for my obsessive need to be organized.
“Ha!” I set them on the counter, arranging them in a row before digging through another drawer for some matches. Lightning flashes again, illuminating the kitchen just long enough for me to spot the flashlight on top of the fridge.
“Thank god,” I whisper, stretching up on my tiptoes to grab it.
Just as my fingers close around the plastic handle, another boom of thunder shakes the house. I let out a squeal and nearly drop the flashlight, fumbling to turn it on with shaky fingers.
The beam cuts through the darkness, and I let out a sigh of relief.
Suddenly, someone is pounding on my front door, and I can hear Jax yelling over the storm on the other side.
Rushing across the room, I yank it open.
The Adonisfrom next door is standing on my porch shirtless and barefoot, wearing a pair of basketball shorts—which seems to be an ongoing theme with him. Not only is he soaking wet, but he’s out of breath and his chest is heaving from running over here.
My eyes stay glued to the water droplets trailing down Jax’s bare chest, following one particularly lucky drop as it slides over his abs and disappears into the waistband of his shorts.
“Hey, you okay? I heard you scream.”
“I… um…” I swallow against the nervousness stuck in my throat. “Yeah, I’m fine. The thunder just startled me, and then everything went dark.” I wrap my arms around myself in an attempt to stop the shivers. “Sorry if I woke you.”
Another crack of thunder has me jumping again, and I drop the flashlight with a squeak.
“Fine, huh?” He bends over to pick it up, and when he straightens, I have the sudden urge to stick out my tongue so I can catch the fat drop of water currently threatening to drip off his chin.
A chuckle snaps me out of my daze. “Can I come in? Or would you prefer we continue this conversation with me drowning on your doorstep while you eat me alive with your eyes?”
“Sorry.” I step back, waving him inside. “Yes, please come in. God forbid you catch pneumonia.”
Jax hands me the flashlight as he brushes past, bringing the scent of rain and something woodsy that I’m sure is coming from him, inside. I take a cleansing breath as I close the door.
“Let me get you a towel,” I say, pointing the flashlight toward the couch. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be right back.”
I scurry down the hallway to the linen closet, grateful for a moment alone to catch my breath.
When I return with the biggest, fluffiest towel I own, Jax is still standing in front of the door, water pooling at his feet onto the tile.
“Here.” I toss him the towel. “Sorry about… screaming. You didn’t have to come running.”
Catching it with one hand, he swipes it over his face and chest, mohawk pulled back into a flat ponytail at the back of his head. “No worries. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
In a half-hearted attempt to keep myself from gawking as he continues to dry off, running the towel over his bulging biceps, I concentrate on lighting the candles and placing them around the room.
Needing something else to do with my hands, I ask, “I think this calls for whiskey. You want one?”
“Wouldn’t say no.”
