Storm Watch

She couldn’t.

For a moment, she stood there in indecision-never a good state for her because being indecisive made her do things without thinking.

Stupid things.

Like having sex without a condom.

Way late to rue that decision, she reminded herself. Besides, she was getting a present out of the deal, the best present she’d ever had; she rubbed her belly. “Don’t you worry, baby. You really are the best thing to ever happen to me.”

In response, her stomach banded tightly.

Another contraction.

“Oh, God.” She clutched the hood of her car for balance and breathed through it. Then when it passed, she waddled past the car, knowing there was a manual lever somewhere, which would allow her to open the garage door by hand. She was going to have to risk her bad tires, and drive herself to the hospital.

To reach the lever she had to stand on the bucket of Pretty-In-Pink paint she’d bought on sale last week. She didn’t know if she was having a boy or girl, she’d refused to peek, but she was all for hoping. Buying the paint ahead of time was one thing-it’d been half off, and a deal she couldn’t pass up. But actually painting the walls with the pink had seemed a little bit like taunting that bitch Karma. So she’d waited.

And now she was tempting Karma anyway. Gritting her teeth, she managed to climb up onto the bucket. Barely reaching the lever, she pulled. It was much harder than she expected, and she had to tug with all her might. As the garage door slowly lifted, she lumbered down off the bucket for better leverage, sweating in spite of the chilly wind and rain flying through the opening as it widened.

And that wasn’t the only thing she could see as the door slowly rose.

She saw a pair of kick-ass motorcycle boots, topped by long, leanly muscled legs inside a set of jeans faded in all the stress points.

So not Lizzy.

As she gasped and backed up a step, another contraction hit, and her last thought as she sank to the ground was shit. Her worst nightmare was coming true-she was going to have this baby in front of a perfect stranger, and a bad boy to boot.

Just her luck.

JASON AND LIZZY SLOGGED their way along the streets toward Eastside. For now they were above the worst of the flooding, but she knew that at some point within the next half mile they’d have to turn and cut across the roads, heading down into the areas quickly filling up with runoff water from the hills.

They’d had to stop twice. Once to help a guy climb over a huge fallen pine tree to get out of his driveway, another to help two college students-one of whom had broken his leg-get back to the roadblock to where Sam and Eddie were.

Lizzy took a glance at Jason. In profile, with his hood up, backpack on, face set, he looked like a soldier. Unreadable. Impenetrable.

Unapproachable.

And yet he’d kissed her. Touched her. Talked to her.

He hadn’t been unapproachable then, not when they’d opened up to each other, and not when she’d been in his lap, straddling him, his hands all over her.

She’d never considered herself a particularly sexual woman. She liked sex, even loved it occasionally, but it didn’t happen all that often. Her fault, she knew. It was that whole rely-only-on-herself thing.

And yet from the moment she’d seen Jason again, she’d been thinking about it. It was getting uncomfortable, all the thinking, and when her cell phone rang, she pounced on it.

“Just me,” Cristina said. “You find Cece?”

Lizzy exhaled. “No. We’re still trying to get to her place.”

“We as in you and Jason?”

“Yes.”

“Ah. You jump his sexy bones yet?”

“Hey.” She hurriedly turned down the volume on her phone. “Jesus, Cristina.”

“Oh, come on. Take a look at him and tell me you haven’t thought about it.”

She craned her neck and took him in-tense and edgy, wet and hungry, exhausted.

And sexy as hell.

Yeah, she’d thought about it once or twice.

Or a hundred times.

“We’re a little busy,” she said instead.

“Who’s too busy to think about sex?”

Lizzy rolled her eyes and closed her phone.

Jason raised a brow. “Who was that?”

“Nobody.”

“Nobody made your face red?”

“I’m warm.”

He gave her a “yeah, right” look, but let it go. “No cars, no people,” he noted, looking around.

Lizzy took her mind off jumping his incredibly well put together bones and nodded. “Everyone’s already gone.”

“Which means…”

“Yeah.” She sighed. “She probably is, too. I told you, this is just me being overprotective.”

When a heavy gust blasted them, taking visibility back to zero, he turned them both into the dubious safety of a tall oak along the side of the road. Pressing her back to the trunk, he bowed his body to hers to catch the brunt of the wind and rain.

She held on to him, more out of pleasure and appreciation of that hard body pressing against hers than out of fear.

“It’s getting worse,” he said in her ear.

The storm? Yes. Her ridiculous reaction to him? Double yes. She nodded, her jaw brushing his, and he pulled back enough to look into her face. Lifting a hand, he ran a thumb over her jaw, clearly mistaking her discomfort over how much he excited her for her concern for her sister. “We’ll find her. I promise.”

“I don’t need a promise from you.”

“Humor me.”

She had to work at not turning her face into his palm. “Why?”

A half smile curved his lips as he watched her mouth, making her feel he could read her mind. “Maybe because I want you to owe me.”

She choked out a laugh as he’d meant her to, and they began moving again. She pulled out her cell phone as she’d been doing every few minutes. Still nothing.

“We’re going to have to cross soon, if the flooding lets us. Don’t worry. I pretty much majored in Stubborn-ism. You, I’m guessing, majored in Ornery-ness. You know what that means, right?”

“That we’d kill each other in the long run?”

He smiled. “Besides that. It means we’re going to get there. We won’t give up until we do.”

She looked into his eyes, steely and determined, revealing that while his tone might be easygoing, he was anything but. “Ornery-ness?” she asked.

“Yes, but I realize that it takes one to know one.” He smiled at her, drenched, tired and not leaving her side, and something about him continuously grabbed her by the throat, by the gut.

By the heart.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“What did I tell you about thanking me?” He reached for her hand and squeezed it as they walked. “Besides, I should be thanking you.”

“Because you’re here in the wind and rain and craziness instead of having all that sleep you wanted?”

His mouth quirked. “And the sex. Don’t forget that. But I mean because today, with you, I feel…” He shook his head, searching for words. “Alive.”