Sweet Mischief’s Rollercoaster Romance novel Chapter 1678

Hansen sniffed the air, sensing something was off. He grabbed his little grandson’s hand and quickened his pace toward home. “Big storm’s coming. Let’s get inside, quick.”

They’d barely made it under the porch when the sky opened up and rain came pouring down—like someone had dumped a giant bucket of water from above.

Henry, ever the rascal, wriggled and tried to dash out into the downpour. No one could hold him back.

Andre came out, scolding his son, and just scooped him up with both arms, carrying him back in as Henry kicked and screamed, desperate to see the storm.

“You’ve never seen a rainstorm before?” Andre asked.

Henry, stubborn as ever, wiped his tears and said, “No.”

Mia rolled up her sleeves, ready for action. “Honey, let me handle this.”

She took Henry outside, stuck out her arm from beneath the eaves, and let the heavy rain pummel her skin.

After checking a few spots, she found where the rain hit hardest. She picked Henry up, held him so his tiny feet stuck out under the eaves, and let the fat drops drum down on his toes. Henry yelped—the sting was real.

He started bawling all over again.

“Still want to play in the rain?” Mia asked, fighting a smile.

Henry shook his head, sniffling.

After that, he settled down and behaved.

Stormy weather made the sky darken faster than usual. By three or four in the afternoon, it was as gloomy as dusk, and the house glowed with the warm light of lamps switched on early.

The rain just kept coming. Mia called her parents. “Mom, Dad, it’s pouring out here. I’m not bringing Henry over for the next couple of days—we’ll visit next week, okay? You two shouldn’t go out either. You can barely see the roads in this weather.”

Henry grabbed the phone too, chattering away. “Grandma, I saw a dragonfly!”

Mars said, “Just bring me your keys when you come down. I’m on my way over. Driving in this weather is a hassle, and some streets are flooded. You’d freak if you saw them.”

Lately, Milka had been parking on the street instead of the garage.

She left the office, waved her coworkers into the back seat, and sat shotgun, waiting.

“Milka, who are we waiting for? The director?”

“Wait, is the director really our driver tonight?”

The back seat filled with chatter. “Milka, is there something going on between you and the director...?”

Milka rolled her eyes. “No, seriously, it’s not him. We’re just coworkers, that’s it. I’m waiting for a friend—he’s worried about the rain and coming to pick us up. Don’t get any ideas, okay? Please, don’t start rumors and definitely don’t spread them.”

Realizing they’d jumped to conclusions, her colleagues went quiet, embarrassed.