The One I'm With (A Sweet Somethings Novel Book 3)

by J. Lynn Rowan

  “Wow,” Ava says. “Just watch out, Marissa, or you could end up falling in love.”

  “Doubtful,” I tell her. “He’s here on business. When it’s over, he’s gone. At least I can have fun with him while he’s here.”

  Mel comes around to my other side. “If that’s what you want.”

  “It is.” With a deep breath, I step away from my friends. “I seriously don’t want you all getting stuck in my ditch, especially now that it’s gotten so dark.”

  “Say no more.” Ava grabs her purse off a nearby stool and rummages for her keys. “We’ll text you when we get back into town so you know we aren’t neck deep in mud off the side of the road somewhere.”

  I follow them to the door and stand on the porch while they get into Ava’s car and start down the driveway. The rain doesn’t quite come down in sheets, but I still have trouble tracking their taillights after they make it halfway to the road. I wait a few extra minutes before going back inside and locking the door, but I keep my porch light on just in case.

  Keeping my cell on the counter, I buzz around the kitchen and clean up from my friends’ visit. I’m just about to shut the lights when my doorbell rings. My heart jumps into my throat as I scurry through the house in my socks, sliding on the hardwoods in the front hall.

  “What happened? Are you okay?” Panic laces the question as I yank open the front door.

  And come face to face with a dripping wet Josh Mattingly.

  Who gives me a half-smirk of a grin and says, “I don’t think I’ll melt. But I wouldn’t mind coming in.”

  For a moment, all I do is stare at Josh.

  To be more accurate, I try not to stare. His clothes, a dark blue button-down shirt and a pair of gray dress pants, are plastered to his body from the rain. Drops of water fall from a lock of hair hanging askew over his forehead, the rest raked back and sticking wetly together. I don’t even want to contemplate the cost of the black leather shoes the downpour has likely ruined. He has a backpack slung over one shoulder, which also looks pretty soaked. Hopefully there isn’t a laptop inside.

  “What are you doing here?” I step back and usher him in, but make no move to let him further into the house.

  One eyebrow arches. “Hello to you, too, Red.”

  My question is a fair one. “We didn’t have plans tonight.”

  “When the storm hit, I got a little worried about you. Just wanted to make sure you were okay out here.”

  “How’d you know I’d even be home?”

  “Figured it was worth the drive over. I assumed if you ended up being out, you’d be with your friends and would at least be accounted for by somebody.” His glance shifts around my front hall. “Did I just miss somebody? Sounded like you were expecting someone when you opened the door.”

  I sigh. “The girls just left literally ten minutes before you rang the bell. Did you pass them on the road?”

  “I passed a car on its way back toward town. I didn’t see any other cars before I reached your driveway.”

  Relieved to think my friends are probably fine, I notice the damp spot on my entry rug that’s slowly growing under his feet. Frowning, I let my gaze slide back up to his face, taking in the full extent of his waterlogged state. “Even in this weather, there’s no way you got this wet just going from your car to the porch. What happened?”

  Josh laughs, a soft sound deep in his throat, and lets his bag slip from his shoulder onto the floor. “I kind of missed the end of your driveway.”

  The bottom drops out of my stomach. “I’m sorry, what?”

  “It was getting hard to see out there,” he explains. “Luckily I was using my GPS instead of trusting my memory. I think I’m technically on your property. Just not quite in the driveway.”

  “You drove into the ditch, didn’t you?”

  He lifts his hands in an oh well gesture, pulling a self-deprecating face along with it.

  I smack his arm. “Are you at least off the road?”

  “I think so. I left my flashers on, which will probably drain the battery, and set out a couple flares from the emergency kit I found under the seat. Kind of the rental car agency to provide those, wasn’t it?” He shifts his weight, water squishing inside his shoes. “Of course, the flares won’t do much good in the rain. Probably already out.”

  “Have you called a tow truck yet?”

  He grimaces. “I tried, but my cell’s low on battery and the signal’s spotty out here. I thought you might let me use your phone.”

  The spotty cell service is one of the few downsides to living outside of town. “I keep a landline active for my business.”

  I start to point him in the direction of my office at the back of the house, but then envision the puddles he’ll leave on my hardwood and the area rug under my desk. Glancing from his bag to his shoes, I make a split second decision that I hope I won’t regret.

  “You don’t by any chance have a change of clothes in that bag, do you?”

  Josh catches my drift and quickly toes off his shoes. “That’s why I brought it up from the car. It’s handy to have a fresh outfit within reach if I get stuck overnight at the office, but in this case it’ll keep me from leaving watermarks all over your house.”

  Now another decision has to be made. I can show him the powder room on the first floor, but he’ll have no way to dry off. The only other option is to show him to the guest bathroom upstairs, where he’ll have access to a towel and can toss his wet clothes into the dryer.

  The thought of him changing clothes anywhere in my house kicks up an unsettling whirl of excitement in my stomach, along with a degree of panic. Other than a handful of clients, I haven’t had a guy in my house at all in three years. The fact that Josh is pursuing me in a romantic sense doesn’t help matters.

  So I shock myself by heading for the stairs, beckoning him to follow. He pauses just long enough to drop his keys and wallet on the little table near the front door before starting up behind me.

  At the risk of my voice cracking, I remain silent until we reach one of the guest suites. “Bathroom’s through that door,” I tell him, pointing. “There are towels in the cabinet beside the sink. Laundry room is at the end of the hall if you want to give your stuff a spin in the dryer. Assuming it’s not dry-clean only.”

  He nods, then touches my shoulder. “Would it bother you if I took a quick shower?”

  Yes. But not because I find it intrusive. “Go ahead. My brother-in-law left some toiletries under the sink last time he and my sister were here.”

  With another nod, Josh disappears into the bathroom, closing the door firmly behind him. As soon as I hear the knob catch, I spin and hurry to my own room to take a quick look at myself in the mirror. I sport yoga leggings and a loose trapeze top. Instinct tells me not to change. It would be too obvious. However, I’m not above scrubbing what’s left of the day’s makeup off my face, applying a quick layer of moisturizer and fresh eye shadow, then brushing my teeth. A few quick swipes with my hairbrush, and I practically sprint back downstairs to fling myself onto the living room couch and grab a random magazine off the coffee table.

  I still don’t have my breath completely under control by the time Josh ambles down the stairs. The sight of him walking toward me, barefoot, wearing a plain black t-shirt and jeans and carrying a pair of sneakers, hair combed back but still hinting at its unruly nature, doesn’t help my diaphragm function any better.

  Clearing my throat, I stand and make a point of calmly meeting him halfway across the room. “Feeling better?”

  “Much,” he says, smiling down at me.

  He looks way too much at home in my living room, like he belongs here. I skim the hem of my shirt along my fingertips, then twitch the seams at either side. “The landline’s in my office. Straight back through the kitchen, double d
oors on the left.”

  He gives me a lopsided smile and sets his sneakers near the doorway. “Thanks. I’ll just be a couple minutes.”

  Letting out my breath, I follow him down the hall at a casual distance that shouldn’t make him think I’m keeping track of him. When he turns to continue through my office doors, I veer to the right and retrieve my cell from the kitchen island. Text messages await from all three of my friends. Everybody’s home safe.

  The charging station’s on my desk, so I have no choice but to join Josh in my office. He stands at the rain-slicked window, the phone receiver to his ear as he speaks to the roadside assistance agency that partners with the rental car company. I plug my phone into the charger and listen as he gives my address, cell, and house numbers, just in case his phone runs out of juice before the tow truck driver calls to confirm he’s on the way.

  While he finishes his call, I riffle through my desk drawer and pull out a few old charging cables. “Will any of these work?” I ask when he faces me.

  Josh pokes through the assorted wires, then chooses one that will fit his smartphone. I plug it into the charging station, but just as he connects his cell, the lights flicker, dim for a moment, then go out.

  Chapter 7

  Truth or Dare

  “That was not my fault,” Josh comments after a couple seconds.

  Once my eyes adjust to the relative pitch black of the room, I grab my phone back off the charger and bring up the flashlight app. “Hold tight for a minute. I think I have a couple camping lanterns in my utility closet.”

  The camping lanterns are right where I think they’ll be, alongside a bin of extra batteries. I grab the lanterns and the bin, depositing the latter on the kitchen island for easy access in case we need it. Josh emerges from my office when I turn both lanterns on, coming to stand on the opposite side of the island from me and bracing his hands on the counter.

  “So now what?” he asks.

  “Well,” I begin. “One of two things will happen. Either the storm will blow through and crews from the power company will be able to get out there and restore the electricity within a couple hours. Or, regardless of what the weather does, we’ll be sitting in the dark until sometime tomorrow.”

  He leans forward and pulls one of the lanterns toward him. “You don’t have a generator?”

  “Unfortunately, no.” Back when Jared and I were doing all our renovations, we talked about putting in a system that turns on automatically if the power’s out for more than five minutes. But when he skipped out on me, funds ran a little short and priorities had to shift. “At least it’s not the dead of winter or the dog days of summer. Then we’d be in for a really unpleasant time.”

  “That gives me hope that you already think spending the next few hours alone with me in the dark will be a pleasant experience.” The lantern sitting in front of him provides just enough light for me to see the spark of anticipation in his gaze.

  My heart makes a wild leap inside my chest. “Let’s go sit in the living room for now. We can open the front windows and at least get a decent breeze. The porch roof will keep the rain from coming in.”

  Josh nods and picks up his lantern. We both start toward the living room, but after a few steps I remember the small cheesecake in my fridge. Pausing, I consider my options. I had fully planned on eating that entire thing tonight, and if the power stays off for more than a couple hours, it’ll go bad. But I can’t exactly eat it in front of Josh without offering to share.

  Having noticed my hesitation, Josh turns around in the arch leading to the hallway. “You okay?”

  I grimace. “You don’t happen to like cheesecake, do you?”

  “Do I—What?”

  “I have cheesecake,” I say with a weak wave toward the refrigerator.

  “And the power’s out.”

  “Exactly.”

  The sound of quiet male laughter rumbles across the kitchen. “It’s not my favorite dessert, but I can take one for the team.”

  We stare at each other for half a second before I turn. “Silverware’s in the drawer on this side of the island.”

  Josh circles around and gets out two forks, while I quickly snatch the cheesecake from the fridge. He takes it from me, peering over my shoulder as the door swings shut. “What’s with the champagne?”

  He’s referring to the three small bottles on the door. Fighting the rush of heat from his sudden proximity, I fumble to explain. “Sometimes I like to include a bottle, along with my flowers, when I finish a job for a brand new client. Sort of a congrats and thank you all in one.”

  “Too bad champagne doesn’t go bad when the power’s out,” he murmurs in my ear.

  If he wasn’t holding a cheesecake inches from my back, I wouldn’t have the willpower to keep from sagging against him. As it is, all my other impulses flare. I whip the fridge door open again and grab one of the bottles. Then I sidle away from him to get a dish towel out of a nearby drawer and two flutes from an upper cabinet.

  “Living room,” I command.

  Carrying both lanterns and the cheesecake, Josh strides ahead of me.

  I stack my magazines and books to one side of the coffee table, then busy myself with arranging our indulgent snack while Josh opens the three large windows. When he returns, he moves the lanterns to the far corners of the table and picks up the champagne.

  “Shall I do the honors?”

  Before I answer, he wraps the dishtowel around the top of the bottle and slowly works the cork out until it releases with a pop. Then he fills each flute just enough to allow the fizz to perfectly expand to the rim.

  “You’ve done that before,” I comment.

  “Many times.” He circles the coffee table and hands a flute to me. “Shall we toast?”

  I smirk at him. “To what? The power outage?”

  “I was thinking more along the lines of good company.” With that, he clinks his glass against mine and takes a sip. “So how are we divvying up this dessert?”

  “Two forks, one cheesecake. Just dig in.” I set my glass down and lower onto one end of the couch. Josh sits next to me, a little closer than I expect, and waits patiently while I open the bakery box and fold down the sides. Then I give him a fork. “Have at it.”

  For a while, the conversation revolves around mild and ordinary topics, like how work has been going for Josh, the low-down on the business my friends are launching this fall, and our respective impressions of the Asheville area. Josh regales me with a couple silly stories about his nieces and several wild ones about his college days. In return, I tell him about growing up in San Francisco and some of my most memorable designing jobs. Both of us dance around anything serious or revealing about our lives, though several of Josh’s comments point directly at the information he leaves out. I’m sure the same can be said for me.

  Two hours, an empty bottle of champagne, and most of a cheesecake later, conversation lapses. We each take a couple more bites before Josh speaks up again.

  “So, why the cheesecake?”

  “Every girl has some sort of sweet indulgence she treats herself to now and then.”

  “Let me rephrase.” He pauses to drain his champagne flute. “Why were you planning on eating an entire cheesecake by yourself tonight?”

  I tap the tines of my fork against the crumbling graham cracker crust encasing the last smear of cheesecake, then stab the whole bite. It’s large enough to let me use the old don’t talk with your mouth full rule to keep from answering right away. Josh and I have been dating for a little over a month, and I really haven’t told him anything personal. At some point, he’s going to get as curious about my romantic history as I am about his.

  He senses my discomfort and sets down his glass. “Would it be easier if we made a game out of this?”

  I swallow.
“What kind of game?”

  “Truth or Dare might be fun.”

  “What are you, a thirteen-year-old girl?”

  He shifts closer to me and takes the fork from my hand. “Truth or dare, Red?”

  For a moment, we stare at each other. The warmth in the room soon has little to do with the humid air wafting through the open windows, and a lot to do with the subtle brush of his fingertips against the back of my hand.

  “Truth,” I whisper.

  “Answer the cheesecake question.”

  My hesitation lasts only long enough for him to slide his fingers off my arm. “My ex was lactose intolerant and since he thought it would be too tempting, he wouldn’t even let me order a slice for dessert when we went out to dinner. Which wasn’t very often because every bit of spare cash we made went into this house. So now, whenever a craving hits, I buy a small cheesecake for a Friday night and skip dinner so I can eat the whole thing without feeling too guilty about blowing my caloric intake for the day.” I edge away from him, just enough to breathe again. “Your turn. Truth or dare?”

  A frown flits over his features, then disappears. “Truth.”

  “Why haven’t you kissed me yet?”

  The question makes his eyes widen slightly, and he sits back. “I haven’t been one hundred percent sure you wanted me to.”

  “You’re the only guy I’ve ever met who’s waited for complete confirmation from me before making the first move. Especially after this long.”

  “Based on the miniscule amount of information you’ve given me in that regard, I’ve gathered I’m the only guy who’s dated you this long, period. The lactose-intolerant-ex notwithstanding, I assume.”

  “So, why are you waiting?”

  He grins and shakes his head. “That’s two questions. Only one per truth.”