17. Chapter 17
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 respond to 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 a two-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.
“This place is gorgeous,” I say, still in awe. It’s like he went into my head and built the house I’ve been dreaming of my entire life. It’s an open floor plan masterpiece with vaulted ceilings. To my right is a massive fireplace flanked by two windows. In front of the fireplace, he has what looks to be the coziest rug. I have to stop myself from running to it to feel it under my feet. He also has big, comfy reading chairs artfully placed by each window and a huge sectional taking up most of the room. On one wall he has a painting and the other a library; a library that’s actually filled with books. I take a note to ask him about that later.
To my left is a staircase that brings you up to what I’m assuming are the bedrooms. I keep walking deeper into the house, noticing a small powder room before I get to the kitchen. Like Levi, he has everyone’s dream kitchen, with dark wood cabinets and a deep black farm sink under a huge window overlooking his backyard. A nice long island with multiple leather seats that look more inviting than they should resides in the center, and to the left of the kitchen, behind the staircase, is a formal dining room with a table that easily fits ten people.
“This is quite the bachelor pad.” I gape as I take a small spin around the place again.
“Thanks,” he quietly says, blushing even more, looking almost uncertain with himself. I’m starting to realize I’m getting to see a side of him I’ve yet to discover. Usually, he’s the biggest person in the room, or at least to me he is, but right now he seems shy almost, like he doesn’t want to overstep. It’s as if I make him nervous, and there is no way that a girl like me is making a guy like him nervous.
“Thanks for letting me stay here tonight. I don’t know who told you I was afraid of thunderstorms . . . I really appreciate it,” I say as I place both bottles of wine on the counter.
Unpacking the food, he tells me, “You told me. The first time we met, you told me you were terrified of storms.”
Looking at him in a whole new light, I say, “You remember what I told you the first night we met?”
Completely ignoring my question, he says, “The wind and the rain are getting pretty bad out there. How about I pop this in the oven while we shower and put on some dry clothes in case we lose power?”
“You think we’re gonna lose power?” I say, hearing the shake in my voice.
“No, but I would rather play it safe. I have a generator, but I prefer to use it for the necessities only,” he says as he puts the food in the oven.
“Yeah, I guess that makes sense, and I’d love to get out of these wet clothes.”
Halfway up the stairs, I realize I forgot my bag in his truck. “Shit! I forgot my bag in your truck!”
“No worries, I’ll go grab it,” Ian says as he goes to turn around.
Stopping him with my hand on his forearm, “I’m not gonna make you go out there. I’ll—”
“There’s no way I’m letting you go out in this weather to get your bag. I’ll go get it,” he interrupts me.
“Well, there’s no way that I’m letting you go out in this weather either,” I object, still holding onto his arm.
Laughing, he shakes his head and says, “Fine. I’ll grab you a T-shirt and stuff. That okay?”
“That's exactly what I have in my bag, so it’ll do,” I say with a smile of my own.
Once we’re at the top of the stairs, he points to the second door on the right and says, “Here’s the guest bathroom, towels are in the closet and everything you need should be in the shower. My sister sleeps over often, so she has me stock it with everything she likes. There are also extra toothbrushes in the first drawer. I’ll just leave the clothes on this side of the door.”
“Perfect, thank you,” I answer, closing the door behind me.
Grabbing a towel and hanging it on the hook by the shower, I turn the water on before taking off my clothes. Looking at myself in the mirror above the vanity, the doubt starts creeping in. All I can see, as I try to wrap my mind around why Ian came to pick me up and why he went out of his way to seek me out tonight, are the tits that are no longer as perky as they were when I was twenty-three, and the slight stretch marks and cellulite dotting my ass and thighs that come with being almost thirty. The longer I look in the mirror, the clearer it gets that Ian is just a nice guy under all that big-dick energy, he just really didn’t want me to spend the storm alone. I’m sure Levi called him to make him babysit me.
I’m pulled out of my thoughts by a knock on the door. “I brought you a T-shirt and some sweatpants.”
“Thank you,” I answer, shaking my head once more as I step away from the mirror and into the shower. Tilting my head back and closing my eyes, I let the water wash everything away. At least, that’s what I tell myself to let all those insecurities wash away. Really, who cares about less-than-perky tits, it’s not like he’s going to see them.
I think you protest too much , the little voice in my head says.
“Oh, shut up,” I say out loud as I grab the bottle of shampoo. God, his sister has good taste, and she doesn’t go for the cheap stuff. Smart girl.
Once I’m towelled off and securely wrapped in what I can only describe as a cloud for a towel, I open the door and see a neatly folded pile of clothes. Grabbing it, I can see that he brought me a T-shirt, sweatpants and a pair of boxers. I slip on the shirt and it smells vaguely of him. Even his smell is attractive.
Sliding on the boxers, I grab the sweatpants and immediately notice that they’re gonna be way too big. I put them on, but even with folding the waist a few times, I can see that they aren’t going to stay up. Deciding to just leave them on the counter, I double check to make sure that I’m fully covered in only the shirt and boxers. The shirt ends a few inches under my butt and the boxers are even longer, hitting me mid-thigh. Nothing different than the baggy T-shirt and bike shorts I had in my bag.
After braiding my hair real quick, I head down stairs.