The Other Side of Us - By Sarah Mayberry Page 0,18

be around. I may have even been likable.”

She looked sad, sitting there in her soggy pajamas with her ruffled hair, her expression equal parts bemusement and regret.

“You’re not a harpy. Just a bit scary.”

She blinked, then huffed out a laugh. As he’d hoped she would.

“Scary, huh?” she asked.

“In that intense, I’ve-had-too-many-coffees-today kind of way.” He said it lightly and she smiled.

“You know what’s funny about that? I haven’t had a coffee for months. Makes me feel sick now. Which is weird because I used to live on the stuff.”

For a moment they were silent, the first easy, undemanding moment they’d shared.

She stood. “Right, where were we? You were escaping, I believe.”

“I was going to check outside.”

“Like I said, escaping. And who could blame you?”

She started up the hallway and Oliver followed her. The storm seemed doubly furious after the quiet inside, but when they walked to the edge of the porch and peered out, it was clear that the volume of water pouring down the driveway was far less than it had been, and the water around the house had subsided an inch or two.

Oliver tilted his head and assessed the cloud-choked sky. “You know, I think you might be in luck. The rain is definitely easing.”

“God, I hope you’re right.”

Mr. Smith descended to the lowest dry step and crouched to sniff at the encroaching water.

“Back from there, Smitty,” Mackenzie said.

Predictably, the dog ignored her, leaning even closer to the water. Oliver and Mackenzie started down the steps at the same time—just as the dog lost his balance and toppled in. To her credit, Mackenzie didn’t hesitate to jump in barefoot after him, even though there was no risk of the dog drowning—Mr. Smith might be on the ground-hugging side, but the flood was barely a foot high now. She scooped up the wet dog then climbed the stairs trailing muddy water.

“I see an RSPCA medal in your future,” Oliver couldn’t resist saying.

“Whereas I see lots of muddy towels and a wrestle with Mr. Smith in the bathtub.”

He decided he was ready to take his chances. A hot shower and a warm bed were very high on his must-have list right now.

“Send up a flare if you need more help,” he said, tugging on his shoes.

She met his eyes over Mr. Smith’s head. “I owe you,” she said simply.

“No, you don’t.”

“I do.”

“I held a broom for five seconds.”

“You came over in the middle of the night to help out a stranger.”

“Not much else to do when you’re awake at two in the morning.”

She smiled faintly and shook her head. “You’re not going to talk me out of my gratitude, so you might as well go home and get warm and worry about what I might do to thank you.”

Since she seemed determined to feel under an obligation to him, he simply lifted his hand in farewell and descended the stairs. He waded up the driveway and into the street, stopping to marvel at the lake it had become. Once the water subsided there would be a serious mess to clean up.

His feet slipping inside his shoes, he made his way home. Thankfully, there were still embers glowing in the fire grate and he stopped to throw on some more kindling. He stripped in the chilly bathroom, leaving his clothes in the tub before stepping beneath the shower. He closed his eyes as heat enveloped him. Next door, Mackenzie was probably doing the exact same thing, standing beneath the shower, water cascading over her small, perky breasts....

Oliver opened his eyes and frowned at the tiled wall.

Was he really such a cheap date that a few minutes with a woman in a wet tank top was enough to crank his engine, despite the fact he wasn’t sure if he even liked said woman?

He thought about Mackenzie’s breasts again, about how round and firm they’d looked the handful of times he’d allowed himself to peek at them, and admitted to himself that it might be low and base and animalistic, but yes, he was that cheap.

He was a man. He hadn’t had sex in over seven months, and he’d just been in the same room with almost-naked breasts. Some things a guy didn’t have much control over.

It didn’t mean anything. It certainly didn’t mean he was going to be rushing to spend more time with Mackenzie again. Granted, she had apologized for her prickliness and shown a rather charming willingness to mock herself, but whichever way he cut it, she was hard yards.