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“Here’s where you’ll stay,” I say, opening the door. Late-day sun floods the interior through the eight angled skylights running the length of the vaulted room. We walk past thesofa, television, and bookcases in the main space until we reach the corner of the L, which makes up the kitchen. Opening the fridge, there’s a few drinks and a bottle of hot sauce. Thankfully, the freezer is stocked with meal kits. That’ll get her started.
“Bedroom and attached bathroom are there,” I say, pointing to the other end. The bedroom comprises a big bed engulfed in a downy white duvet with matching fluffy pillowcases. Everything is generic enough to give the appearance of a trendy hotel suite. I used to rent it out to guests but stopped after I had some of my gear go missing. I motion toward the metal door on the right. “That’s the private entrance you can reach from the garage stairs, so you can come and go as you please.”
I double-check she’s stocked up on linens, toiletries, and towels. From inside the bathroom, I call back to her. “It’s not massive, but you’ll have a private kitchenette, bathroom, living area, and bedroom. No laundry, you’ll have to do that on the main level.” I walk back out, and her hands are clasped as she goes up on her tiptoes, surveying the space. “I’m pretty low maintenance. I promise I’m not as prissy as I look. This is more than enough. It’s only temporary.”
She looks every bit the privileged princess Bryan made her out to be, but her actions are contradictory.
I nod. “If it’s not, that’s okay too. Help yourself to whatever you want. If there’s anything you need, let me know.”
We stare at each other for a moment. Her blonde hair is down, not up like usual, and I like it. Her makeup streaked from tears has some of her freckles peeking through. I wish I could see them all. Even exhausted and puffy, she’s beautiful. My fingers itch to haul her into my arms for a hug. I ignore the urge, but it’s hard to look away. When the silence grows more awkward, Iclap my hands together. “Okay. So, um, yeah. Make yourself comfortable, I’m going to cook some food. I’ll be back to check in on you. Take a few minutes to breathe. Or watch TV. Or whatever. Is there anything I can get you?”Pull it together, man.
“The towels are in the bathroom?”
“Cabinet on the right.”
“I’m going to wash the day off.” She sighs. “Might crash after.”
I nod and exit the space, closing the door behind me. I haven’t had a roommate in a long time. Why am I suddenly so flustered? I don’t mind hanging out with her, but we’ll barely see each other—and that’s fine by me, better we don’t. Keep things less complicated.
While she’s in the shower, I rack my brain with how to handle her ex. If I had it my way, I know exactly how I’d handle him.Bryan fucked up with this one. I plan on dealing with him... I just don’t know when. If I go after him now, it’ll be a dead giveaway to where she’s staying. I travel too often, so it would compromise her safety. I can’t have him showing up or discovering her location while I’m away. Which reminds me, I should have Raquel get the house codes reset. I don’t remember if I ever gave them to him, but I’d prefer to not take any chances.
Back in the kitchen, I get to work on dinner, and my mind drifts to her. I don’t need to know Jordan well to know she has a good heart. She’s silly, playful, driven... gorgeous—not that it matters, but when I think of the words to describe her, it’s hard not to place her beauty toward the top. I’m no stranger to pretty girls, but Jordan has me in a trance. Sheproves my point when she walks into the kitchen after her shower.
When I glance up from the stove, I do a double-take. My whore brain is confused. She looks nothing like the women I go for. She’s not wearing a trace of makeup, her clothes aren’t skimpy, and yet... she’s still a showstopper. I’m not a jealous man by any means, but Bryan’s had a chance with a woman I can’t have... and it pisses me off.
There’s nothing revealing about what she’s wearing, but somehow, it’s doing it for me. She’s in a matching sports jacket and yoga pants that hug her curves, and those brown eyes, pink cheeks, and freckles? Come on.
I can’t look away. She opens the fridge and pulls out one of the seltzers, cracks the top, and takes two big gulps, her throat bobbing.Jesus fuck.She plops down on her seat at the counter.
Shaking my head, I turn to the pot of homemade macaroni and cheese in front of me. I stir the contents and resist laughing. It sounds like sex.What the fuck is wrong with me?It’s like I’m fourteen again.
I clear my throat. “Feel better?”
When she doesn’t answer, I look back and she’s dragging another gulp from the can, wincing. She nods as she swallows. “Yup.”
“Did I get the wrong flavor?”
“No, I always think these are going to taste better than they do.” She looks down at the can, turning it in her hand as she studies it. She takes another sip and smacks her lips together. “It’s like drinking knives. If those knives cut a lime once—four years ago.”
Amen.I have never liked carbonated water, but people lose their fucking minds over it. Makes no sense.
“Fuck, thank you! I think it tastes like your tongue fell asleep.”
“Yes!” She giggles, and it makes me smile.
I dish out the corkscrew cavatappi pasta coated with delicious melted cheese into two bowls. When you eat as much pasta as hockey players do, you learn to perfect certain dishes. I make a mean mac and cheese, and tonight calls for comfort food. The trick is starting with a roux, adding cheddar, Monterey Jack, Gouda, and gruyère... and folding in Velveeta when no one’s looking.
“Okay, enough of this shit.” I peel the can from her fingers and set it aside. “How about some wine instead?”
“Wine and cheese, always a classic combo.” I may have been a little heavy-handed on the Velveeta.Which pairs better with rubber cheese-a-like?
I land on a bottle of chardonnay from under the kitchen island and uncork it, then pour each of us a half glass.
“Cheers,” I say, handing her one.
I sidle up next to her at the kitchen island and hold out a fork and spoon. “Choose your weapon.”
“Fork,” she says, plucking it from my hand. Another thing we agree on. She dives it into the noodles and brings it to her mouth. I have to look away.
