Becoming Rain: A Novel

I hate being woken up by the phone.

“You need to open the garage today,” Rust tells me, his own voice rough after a late night at The Cellar, where I debriefed him on my meeting with Aref.

“Fuuuuuck,” I moan, rubbing my eyes as I read my clock. “It’s seven a.m.!”

“Marie just called. Miller won’t be in today.”

“Who’s Marie?” Then it dawns on me. “Miller’s married?” I can’t imagine what kind of woman would put up with him.

Rust sighs. “Miller went to the hospital last night.”

“Shit . . .” I mumble, sliding my legs out of bed. “Is he okay?”

“They thought it was a heart attack at first but there haven’t been any signs. They think it’s severe stress, coupled with high blood pressure.”

“Stress? What the hell does he have to be stressed about?” I chuckle. And then stop, because the guy’s in the hospital and I’m being a douche.

“He’ll be out for a few days, so you need to keep things running smoothly. Come on, Luke. This is why I put you in the office.”

Miller has never missed a day of work. It’s something of a joke around the garage. “Yeah, no problem. I’m on my way.” Tossing my phone onto my bed, I stretch my tired body and wander forward to my window to stare out at the wall of closed blinds across the way. Rain met me on the path behind our condo in tight pants and a fitted sweatshirt. After keeping up with me for an hour—I had to carry Stanley for most of that, ready to collapse—I asked her back to my place, hoping to drag her into my shower with me so I could lick the clean coat of sweat off that perfect body of hers.

She smiled, lifting to her tiptoes to kiss me with salty lips. And then turned me down for a photography assignment.

It damn near crushed me.

But, at the same time, it makes me respect her more. The girl she was describing yesterday, when I dropped her off? The one who ditched her life to cater to some guy who sounds like someone I’d punch if I had the chance? That girl sounded needy and weak, and that’s not what I want if I’m going to have a woman in my life for more than the occasional night.

I’ve always been attracted to confidence, and I saw Priscilla and those other women as being just that—strutting in, grabbing attention, getting what they want. But now that Rain’s in my life, I realize how stupid that is. Pris is drowning in insecurity. She needs beauty and money and a man to attach herself to in order to feel self-worth. She chooses her friends based on their looks and their lifestyle and what they can do for her. She chooses men who attract her with their money. I know because she’s admitted as much to me.

Priscilla lives with a ticking clock hanging over her head, because when her looks start to fade, all that she’ll have left is a vapid group of girlfriends who trash-talk each other behind their backs and a rich husband who relies on her to wash and fold his socks while he dips into the next generation of insecure, beautiful gold-diggers for his dick fix.

But Rain knows who she is. She’s gorgeous, but she doesn’t wear her beauty like it’s all she has going for her. She can be forward—in a cute, sexy way, like the first day we met at the garage—but she’s strong enough to tell me to back off, to slow down, without fear. That’s confidence and self-respect. That’s telling me that she won’t hesitate to go after what she wants, but she won’t just give herself away. I have to earn my place in her life.

And she’s obviously independent. As in, she doesn’t need a man. Yeah, okay . . . She may still be relying on her father to bankroll that independence. But in a sense, so am I, right now. I get the impression that she has a plan and goals for the rest of her life. I haven’t pushed her on it so far, because I have to be ready to share the same information if she asks me, and I’m still not sure how she’ll take my answer. But Saturday night changed things for us. I felt the distinct shift.

Rain is someone I can trust.

Looking down at my morning wood, coming alive with thoughts of the night in my cabin on the yacht, I consider that maybe I should throw some boxers on if I’m going to stand this close to my window in daylight, like I’m begging to see her. Especially if she happens to peek out from around her blinds. It wouldn’t be the first time she’s done that.

Fuck it, I don’t care if she knows how much I like her.