Tommy gave me a look.
“People are using boats to get from point A to point B right now. We’re on the only road that leads to unflooded land. You can’t go to your house, because I can’t take you there,” he said. “And your car is likely going to be toast once they get to it. There’s a high probability that it’ll go at any minute.”
I bit my lip.
“The longer we sit here, the more wet she gets. And though she seems to be fine with it right now, she’s not going to stay that way.”
“Fuckin’ right about that,” the man on his knees said as he pushed up to his feet with almost laughable ease.
I’d have had to put my hand down to stand up from that position in the state I was in. He just did it like it was nothing.
My legs were burning, my entire body hurt, and I was still panting.
Freakin’ men…making sense and shit.
“Fine,” I finally said. “How we gonna do this?”
“I got it from here, Truth,” Tommy said. “Why don’t you get home before you can’t get there?”
Truth handed off the bags, which Tommy stored in his saddle bags, and flicked two fingers at me.
Truth (what the hell kind of name was that anyway?) gave Tommy a salute, then left without another word.
I watched him walk to his bike where he and Tommy had stopped them in the middle of the road to come to my aid, and ride away through water that was about an inch over the roadway.
“Ready?” Tommy asked.
Tallulah slapped my wet chest, then reached for Tommy.
I relinquished her to him, and he held his elbow out for me to take.
I slipped through the mud and the muck to his bike, and then watched in stunned silence as he mounted the bike, offered his hand, and waited patiently for me to get my wet jean-clad leg over the seat of his bike.
Once I was situated, he handed Tallulah back to me, and ordered, “Sandwich her between us. I’ll drive slow.”
And he did, indeed, drive slow.
Tallulah had a damn good time, while I had a minor freak out all the way to the house he was renting.
Exactly a minute and a half later, even with going slow, we arrived at our destination.
“Big ol’ house,” I murmured as we pulled up to the front door.
And I do mean right up to the front door.
Tommy drove straight up the pathway, and then parked underneath the porch, effectively shielding us from the rain.
“Yeah,” he muttered. “It’s a friend’s house.”
“It’s amazing,” I said. “I didn’t even know that it was here.”
Tommy got off, and I held onto Tallulah who’d finally quieted down from her exciting ride.
She was all grins, even with her baby curls plastered to her head from the rain.
She thought this was the best thing ever, I was sure.
She wouldn’t be doing it ever again, though. Not if I could help it.
Tommy reached for her once he was standing, and I handed her over.
The willingness on Tallulah’s part to go to the man was unsurprising at this point. She was in love and I was not far behind her.
Tommy kept showing up at the worst (and best) times. He was saving me over and over again, and I’m not sure he even realized it.
“Let’s get inside.”
Chapter 10
I’m jealous of girls who can take cute pics while sitting down in bathing suits and not look like a busted can of biscuits.
-Text from Tally to Hadley
Tally
I wandered through Tommy’s house, looking at his things, while he took a quick shower.
I was on the second round of his kitchen when his voice startled me so bad I jumped.
“Here,” Tommy said. “Give her to me and go get your own shower. There are towels on the first shelf in the closet. There’s girly shampoo that my sister left the last time she stayed in there, too. Regular smelling soap on the rail. My soap is in the dish.”
I handed Tallulah over, and she buried her face into his neck.
I nodded my head as he situated Tallulah’s on his shoulder, holding her bottom with one strong, tattooed forearm.
Her eyes were getting heavy, and I could’ve sworn she kissed him on the cheek the moment I gave her to him.
She was clean, dry, and in a new diaper that would hold her over for the entire night.
I, on the other hand, was still resembling a drowned rat.
“Thank you,” I said, trying to forget the way he looked, shirtless, with a baby—my baby—against his bare skin.
“Welcome, honey. Now go.”
I nodded, and then left, heading for a bathroom that was unlike any bathroom I’d ever seen before.
This house was magnificent, and I wondered idly who the hell he’d rented a place like this from.
I’d never seen it before in my life, and I’d lived in Mooresville for years now.
I’d never once suspected that a house was in the hills on this particular dirt path off the road that I’d been on thousands and thousands of times, but I learned something new every single day.
I went to the bathroom, trying to ignore on the way everything that was on the counter and in the shower.
I didn’t want to be a snooper, but Jesus. Honestly, show me one single lady who wouldn’t snoop when using a man’s personal bathroom.
Turning on the shower to hide the sounds of my snooping, I turned and carefully started to open cabinets and drawers.
The first two I opened weren’t so great. Brushes and combs in one, and medical supplies in the other.
The fourth drawer I came to, though, had what looked to be a two-year supply of condoms.
I shut it quickly, and then stared at it in horror.
Why would a man need that many condoms?
Surely, he wasn’t that much of a manwhore that he needed a supply like that.
Surely.
Steam started to cover the mirror as I stared at myself in shock, and I licked my lips before stripping off my wet clothes.
They went into an empty hamper right beside the bathroom door, and I inspected my body.
My legs were red from the way my jeans chafed the sensitive skin, and I skipped right over my belly.
That thing wasn’t anything to write home about.
In fact, just a single look at it made me want to drop to the floor and do sit-ups.
Not that sit ups would help it.
I had a flabby, post-baby belly, and nothing but a tummy tuck would get rid of the loose skin and the stretch marks.
I’ll never be able to get into a bikini again. Not without offending the general population.
My ass and legs were at least still in fairly good shape.
My arms, however, well, they needed some work.
When I waved at people, I always felt like they were staring at my flabby arms instead of my face.
But that was likely just me.
I had a double chin—or the start of one—and I knew I wasn’t attractive any longer.
Not that I was ever anything to write home about.
I was the girl next door, the one who looked pretty when she tried.
Or at least I used to be.
Now it took a lot more than a hairdo and a coat of mascara on my lashes to make this post baby body pretty.