Just Roommates

by Ferrell, Charity

  I glare at it for a moment and then slide it away from me, up the bar. When I turn it on, no doubt dozens of texts from Devin will pop up. I’ll make Ellie delete them later.

  “Drink this.” Maliki passes me a water. “And eat this.” A basket of fries comes my way next.

  I pick up the water and chug it. Luckily, Mikey is working with Maliki tonight and is helping the few customers here. In an hour, the crowd will grow, and Maliki won’t be able to give me his full attention like this.

  He leans back on his heels. “It’s nice, seeing you back here. It’d better become a regular sight again, princess.”

  Don’t say it. Don’t say it.

  “That depends.”

  I said it.

  “Depends on what?”

  The alcohol makes me brave. “If you’re screwing women on desks.”

  He winces, surprised at my response, but quickly recovers. “I promise, no other women when you’re here.”

  “And what if I’m not here with you?” I capture an ice cube from my water, bite into it, and chew it before sucking it into my mouth. Water drips down my chin.

  Maliki’s smile drops, and he tilts his head to the side, as if he’s studying me. I grab another cube and do the same thing. The aroma of his cologne wafts through my nostrils, and I gasp when he comes forward, his large hand cupping my chin. His finger sweeps across my skin, smoothing away the water, and every muscle in my body tenses.

  My lips quiver, and me gasping breaks him away from touching me. He pulls back, placing distance between us, as if he’d temporary slipped faking that we were only friends.

  He clears his throat. “Did you decide where you’ll stay?”

  “Nope.” I snatch a fry and shove it into my mouth, wondering if I made a mistake in coming here.

  The home I grew up in wasn’t happy—still isn’t. And now, thanks to my brother’s new girlfriend, the entire town knows our business. They talk in hushed whispers about my father cheating on my mother and how his mistress is now incarcerated. Thank God I dodged the cheating husband bullet before Devin knocked up another woman.

  “Where do you plan to sleep then?” Maliki asks, annoyance clear in his tone.

  “In my car,” I answer with a shrug and chomp on another fry.

  “The fuck you are.”

  I don’t actually plan to sleep in my car. The backseat of my Lexus is roomy, but I can’t park somewhere and not expect to be murdered.

  I had multiple motives in coming here tonight.

  “Calm down, killer,” I say, growing flustered. “Is your, uh …”

  “Spit it out,” Maliki demands even though I can tell he’s aware of what I’m about to ask.

  “Is your roomie offer still open?”

  “For you? Absolutely. For anyone else? Fuck no.”

  I run my tongue over my lips, blushing and feeling special that it’s only open for me. I play with the splintered wood of the bar, now feeling shy. “Thank you. I need to get my stuff from Devin’s.”

  “I can do that for you.”

  “Horrible idea. He hates you.”

  “And I hate the little asshole. If we didn’t share a common interest, I wouldn’t give a shit about him.”

  I snort. “And what common interest could you two possibly share?”

  “You.” The word slips from his lips in seconds—confident and strong.

  My eyes shoot to his face, our contact locking, and I swear to God, I almost fall off my stool as he stares at me with hooded eyes.

  “Oh …” I frown when our eye contact slips, him doing the pulling away—again. “Ellie offered to help, but I’m not sure if that’s a smart idea. She’s also on the list of people who want to kick Devin’s ass.”

  “That’s probably a pretty fucking long list.”

  Mikey turns up the volume on the TV when a boxing match starts, and I look around the bar, noticing how busy it is now. It’s always packed on fight nights.

  Maliki flashes a smile. “Come on. I’ll help you upstairs, and you can make yourself at home.”

  I yawn, shaking my head. “No. I promised to help you tonight.”

  “You’ll be no help, trust me. We can resume our closing parties tomorrow.”

  He helps me off the stool and claims my hand in his. Dizziness rushes through me as he walks me upstairs to his apartment. It smells of fresh lemon cleaning products and him—a delectable scent. It’s clean, like last time. He doesn’t drop my hand until he shuts the door behind us.

  He strolls down a hall, opens a door, and does a ta-da gesture. “This is your new bedroom.”

  It’s smaller than what I’m used to, and the bed is only a full, but it’s either this or sleeping in my car. The biggest benefit of staying here is Maliki’s company. That compensates for the lack of space.

  I point to the bed that’s complete with a blue plaid comforter and matching pillows. “That thing had better be comfortable,” I joke.

  “Babe, anything is more comfortable than sleeping next to cheating slime.”

  Truth.

  He moves to the side, allowing me entry into the room. “I’ll grab you something to sleep in.”

  I look down when he leaves the room and pull at the hem of my silk blouse that I paired with black leather-like leggings and studded gold sandals. I collapse onto the bed and kick off my shoes, exhausted. I need a decent night’s sleep, so I can figure out where I’m going from here.

  Maliki returns with a change of clothes, but I’ve already slipped underneath the blankets.

  “I’m too lazy to change,” I say around a yawn.

  He chuckles, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. “That’s the best kind of drunk. I’ll be downstairs if you need anything. Call. Text. Come down.”

  I nod, giving him a shy smile. “Thank you.”

  My breath knocks against my lungs when he reaches forward, clips a fallen strand of hair away from my face, and tilts his head to the side. “I don’t get it.”

  I blink, shuddering at his touch. “Get what?”

  “How a man could cheat on you.”

  8

  Maliki

  I’m a dumbass.

  That’s the only excuse I have for inviting her to be my new roommate.

  Sierra Lane is an itch I’ve been struggling to scratch for years.

  The first time the barely legal eighteen-year-old snuck into my bar, I owned it less than a year. I had been stressed about pouring all my savings into a business I wasn’t sure would survive. On top of that, an employee pulled a no-call, no-show. I was headed to my office to find a replacement, and there she was.

  I knew her. Everyone did. Her parents showed her off at every town event.

  The first thought when I saw her shouldn’t have been how gorgeous she was while I followed her path. I wasn’t sure of her age, but I knew it wasn’t old enough to be in a bar. When we got face-to-face, I took in her every feature. Her face was slightly sun-kissed, and the only hint of makeup she wore was red lipstick. A sprinkle of faint freckles scattered along her cheeks, and I loved that she didn’t cover them up.

  She stared at me with wide, innocent eyes. I knew she was used to getting her way as she tried to talk me out of not kicking her out. I’d wondered if I was the first person to tell her no—though technically, I hadn’t done that either.

  As much as our cat-and-mouse game pisses me off, it also entertains the fuck out of me. And since then, every time she’s stepped into my bar, my heart speeds up. It’s more than arousal that crashes through me when she plops her pretty ass onto a stool. She pushes my buttons and never fails to make me laugh, and nothing is more attractive than seeing her possessiveness come out when other women flirt with me. I hold myself back from telling her I don’t want them, that I want her.

  The issue is, I shouldn’t.

  She’s too young for me, we come from different backgrounds, and it’d never work. We’re infatuated with each other—and that’s how it’ll stay. We’ll never pass that.
/>
  “Care to explain why Rebel Barbie is dragging an expensive-looking suitcase up to your apartment?” Liz asks, storming into my office.

  There are two entrances into the apartment—an entrance on the other side of the building with stairs that lead straight to the apartment and another at the back of the bar. I’ll remind Sierra to use the side entrance for more privacy.

  Liz is scowling at me when I look up from my paperwork, prepared to hear her bitch my head off. For unknown reasons, she doesn’t like Sierra. Liz said she doesn’t want me to get hurt even though I’ve made it clear that my relationship with Sierra is strictly platonic.

  I lean back in my chair and rest my arms behind my neck. “She left her husband, had nowhere to go, so I offered the guest bedroom until she figures it out.”

  “Have you lost your fucking mind?”

  I shrug. Yes. Yes, I have.

  “She has money, and her family is royalty here. She can find a rental in a day, or I’m sure she has friends or family who wouldn’t mind her staying with them.”

  “Her parents have money, not her, and she doesn’t want to stay with anyone else.” I rub the back of my neck. “Why are you concerned? Do you plan on moving back in?”

  We grew up in the apartment above the bar. Every childhood memory I have is there—good and bad. My dad moved to Florida after signing the bar over to me, and Liz and my niece left a year later. Now, it’s just me—not that I’m complaining. I’ve declined all rental offers until Sierra. Hell, hers was an offer from me.

  I was shocked when I threw out the invitation. I enjoy my space and privacy since I’m surrounded by people all the time. Customers love nothing more than coming to the bar and venting out their sad songs to the bartender. It’s a motherfucking cliché.

  “Negative,” she answers. “My concern is you.”

  “You have no reason to worry about me.”

  “I made it clear she was bad news when she played Little Miss Helper, and it’s an even worse idea to play house with her. If she’s too busy having brunch and manicures with her friends, I’ll gladly look up rentals for her.”

  Shit. The wrath of my big sister has never been pretty.

  “Be nice to her,” I warn.

  She pinches her lips together. “I’ll try to, but I won’t keep my mouth shut if it goes south.”

  “Nothing is going south.” Except for my hand to my dick plenty of times while masturbating to the thought of Sierra in the other room.

  “Yeah, yeah. Now, we have another order of business.”

  “What’s up?”

  “I’m visiting Dad.”

  Just the mention of him spikes my blood pressure. “What now?”

  After my mother left years ago, my father has relied on his children too much, especially Liz. He moved to Florida after meeting a woman on Match.com, and they broke up a year later. Instead of coming home, he decided to stay there—a smart move. He doesn’t do well in Blue Beech. There are too many memories of my mother.

  “He has a new girlfriend, and things went south.” She sighs. “Okay, maybe not another girlfriend.”

  “You’re losing me.”

  “He got married.”

  “What?”

  “He eloped without telling anyone.”

  “Let me guess; shit fell apart?”

  “You know it.”

  “So, he needs help cleaning up the mess, and you’re running to his rescue?”

  “Yes.”

  “Nothing new there,” I mutter.

  Her face softens. Liz is protective and the biggest cheerleader of our family not falling apart. “He’s a heartbroken man, Maliki.”

  “He’s a grown-ass man who’s been heartbroken for over a decade, and might I remind you, his heartbreak is from his bullshit actions. It’s time for him to quit whining over the past. He doesn’t deserve pity from anyone. He was a dick to Mom, chose his career over the family, and didn’t realize his mistakes until after he lost her. Fuck, I take that back. He still doesn’t own up to those mistakes.”

  “Give him a break, okay? Don’t you care? He’s our father.”

  “It’s not that I don’t care. We can’t change him, and our only choice is to either continue to worry about it or move on.” I stand up from the chair and head toward the door. “Me? I’m choosing to move on.”

  “It’s not as easy to move on for some people as it is with you.”

  “Let me know if you need any advice on learning how to.”

  “You’ll be the one asking me for advice when Blondie ruins you.” She taps my shoulder. “Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone, and stay away from her the best you can. The chick was trouble back then and more trouble now.”

  * * *

  “You’re making progress,” I say.

  Sierra smiles up at me with a shirt and a hanger in her hand. “I’m working on it. Ellie gave me a ride to the restaurant to get my car, so I at least have the clothes I took yesterday. I’ll start rental-hunting tomorrow but will most likely have to search out of town.”

  I’m in no rush for her to leave, but that can change. I’ve spent time with her in the bar, but nothing more than that. She might be messy as fuck or do some weird shit.

  “Oh!” She snaps her fingers. “How much is rent?”

  I rest my back against the wall. “Zero dollars.”

  “I can’t live here for zero dollars.”

  “Sure, you can.”

  “Give me a number to write on a check.”

  “Zero dollars.” I smile in amusement. “I wouldn’t waste the paper, but if you want, I’ll take that and that only.”

  “That’s taking nothing.”

  I push off the wall and tap her door with my knuckle. “Get settled. I work tonight, but if you need anything, call or come down. The kitchen, both here and in the bar, is open if you’re hungry.”

  “I need to run more errands, and then I’ll be back.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “I might come keep you company tonight.”

  “I have no problem with that.”

  Sierra doesn’t show during my shift, and when I go upstairs after closing, her bedroom door is open. She’s lying horizontally on the bed, sleeping, and the TV is on. I hesitate, unsure if I should wake her. I don’t. Instead, I snag the blanket off the couch and drape it over her.

  9

  Sierra

  “I hope you don’t mind. I’m a stress-cleaner.”

  That’s what I tell Maliki when he strolls into the kitchen to find me scrubbing the counters. I’ve already organized the closet and cleaned the guest bedroom and bathroom, and I’m finishing the kitchen. If he hadn’t been sleeping, I’d have already dragged the vacuum out.

  Stress-cleaning is a gift passed down from my mother. She cleaned when she was worried—a constant occurrence—and my brothers would hardly pick up their dirty laundry, so I helped. Now, I get the same relief from a deep scrubbing.

  I glance at the time. It’s one in the afternoon, and Maliki is just waking up. That’s not a shocker though, given his job requires him to stay up all night.

  I drink in the sight of him standing in front of me, shirtless. He’s wearing gray sweatshorts that hang low on his waist. His hair is a wild mess, and his eyes are still half-asleep.

  “You’ll get no complaints from me,” he says.

  “Although I’m disappointed there wasn’t much to clean. I’ve never seen a guy’s house so spotless.”

  He drags out a stool from under the island and sits. “One of the waitresses likes the extra cash and cleans the place once a week.”

  I slowly nod, uncertain of how I feel about someone else up in my space.

  “I’ll tell her to steer clear of your bedroom.”

  “No,” I rush out. “Totally unnecessary.”

  “Your face dropped at the mention of her. Either you don’t want her around your shit or her in the apartment. Which one?”

  “Both.” I perk up. “How about this? I
’ll clean for the both of us. I’m not paying rent. It’s the least I can do.”

  “All right, but let me know if you change your mind.”

  I jerk my thumb toward my chest. “Stress-cleaner, remember?”

  He frowns. “I hope living here won’t cause you any stress, so let me know if you change your mind.”

  “I will.” I won’t.

  The three waitresses who work at the pub are gorgeous, and I’ve seen them flirt with my new roomie aplenty. I’m the only one allowed to do that in this apartment now.

  At least, that’s what I want.

  Oh my God.

  I’m jealous.

  Jesus.

  I can’t be jealous. I’m married.

  “You don’t work today?” His question breaks me away from my thoughts.

  “I quit my job.” I called in the day I learned about Devin’s affair and haven’t returned.

  He leans inward and clasps his hands together.

  “I’m not irresponsible for not putting in my two weeks.” I’m uncertain why I feel the need to defend myself. “I tried, but his mother rattled on about forgiveness. Then, she used my parents’ situation as an example, which totally pissed me off.” The only thing I’m forgiving is my heart for being so damn dumb, trusting him. “I’m also not fond of working with an ex.”

  It sucks, losing my job. His father’s firm was reputable and had a notable client list, and the pay was great. It’ll be difficult, finding something like that in Blue Beech, so I’ll have to look in surrounding towns.

  “Any other job prospects?”

  “I’ve had a few,” I answer with a frown.

  “Why do you look unhappy about that?”

  “None of them are jobs I want.” All of them are part-time gigs that’ll hardly pay my grocery bills. I have money in savings, but that’s for finding a new place. “Not to mention, the pay sucks. The demand for an interior designer in this town is practically nonexistent.” Some residents haven’t updated their homes in decades.