You sigh out in relief as the last patrons leave the diner. Your shoulders relaxing as you turn on some music and start the usual closing routine.

You walk over to the door, dragging a hand down your face as you flip the open sign to closed, barely noticing the man rushing up to the door through the pouring rain. His shoulders slump as he sees the closed sign, resting his forehead to the glass in exasperation, meeting your gaze briefly.

You stare for a moment, taking in this tall, handsome --- not to mention soaked --- man, not sure how to react as he straightens up again, moving to walk back to his car with an apologetic smile.

Your hand shoots to the handle before you can think it through, the bell chiming as the door swings open and the guy turns in confusion at the sound.

"You don't gotta be a good samaritan. You're closed."

He calls over the pouring rain, running a hand through his hair to unstick it from his forehead.

You know he's right. You should just lock up and leave. But your dumbass decided to walk to work, and walking home in the rain sounds less than appealing

Why not wait out the downpour with some company?

The fact that he's gorgeous and soaked to the bone is just a bonus.