My phone rings as I park. “What’s up, Dom?”
“Hey, bad news, man. The golf tournament is off tomorrow.”
“What happened?” I hurry to catch the elevator before the family of three inside closes the door. I reach over and press four for my floor.
“I forgot I promised Will the last spot. I figured you’re not much of a golfer anyway, so you wouldn’t mind.”
“That’s fine.” It’s not like I paid yet anyway. I like golf, but I’m not that good and the other guys usually wind up having to pick up the slack for me.
“You should use the time to get to know Emily better. If you catch my drift.” He laughs, but he’s completely serious. He could never have a female roommate. He’d sleep with her, dump her, and be searching for a replacement within a week. I’m not making that mistake.
“The elevator just reached my floor. I’ve got to go,” I say, stepping out and starting down the hall. “Good luck in the tournament tomorrow.”
“Thanks, man.”
I hang up and pocket my phone so I can grab my keys. I switch the beer to my left hand since I’m not good at doing much lefty and open the door. I toss my keys onto the table and put the beer in the fridge. Then I strip out of my work clothes.
“Oh, shit!” Emily’s voice makes me jump, and I stupidly turn around, facing her in all my naked glory.
“Sorry!” I say, using the shirt clutched in my fist to cover my penis. “I’m so used to doing that I didn’t even think.”
She doesn’t attempt to cover her eyes or anything. Instead, she closes the door and studies me appreciatively. “You’ve been working out.” She nods and places her purse on the table.
I’m not sure what to do at this point. Do I back out of the room so she doesn’t have to watch my naked ass walk away? Do I ask her to close her eyes until I leave the room? Or do I drop the shirt and rush over to claim her lips with mine? My cock stands at attention at the mere thought. Damn it!
Emily laughs. “As funny as this is, I’m going to let you go put some clothes on.” She walks by me to her room, but she turns back and catches a glimpse of my bare ass. “Nice,” she says before disappearing inside her room.
I curse myself as I walk to my room in search of comfy clothes. That couldn’t have gone worse. The last thing any man wants a woman to do when he strips in front of her is laugh. But maybe this is a good thing. Maybe it’s what I need to get me to stop thinking about Emily this way.
Chapter Seven
Emily
I’m practically hyperventilating when I pull my phone out of my pocket and dial Tara. I step into the closet, which is just deep enough for me to fit, and bring the phone to my ear as I shut the door.
“Hey—”
“I saw his penis,” I blurt out before she can finish her thought.
“Yes, I know. You dated the man,” Tara says.
“No. I came home, and he was getting undressed. I guess he usually strips in the living room after work and he forgot I was living here too now.” I push my sundresses aside to give myself some more room. “He must have put in some serious time in the weight room after we broke up, because the guy is ripped.”
“Do you think he did it on purpose? You know, to get a reaction out of you? Show you what you’re missing out on after breaking up with him?”
I didn’t think of that. It would make sense though, after the way I openly flirted with Alex right in front of him. “It’s possible, and I guess I might have done something to deserve it.”
“What did you do?” Tara uses her mom voice on me, which is funny since I’m technically older than she is now that I’ve turned twenty-three. That’s just her personality, though. She’s a lot of fun to be around, but she can act like my mother at times, too.
I recount the incident at the paper with Alex. Poor Alex. It was obvious he didn’t like being caught in the middle of the game David and I had been playing. “One of the things I’ve always liked about David is that we can tease each other. It’s fun, you know?”
“Sure, until one of you develops real feelings for the other one. Oh, wait. David already has, which is why you broke up with him.”
“Cold, Tara.”
“Sorry, but you know I never agreed with you on that one.” She sighs into the phone. “You’re roommates now. If you don’t get this attraction under control, you could wind up homeless.”
I’m well aware of that. “Stop telling me what I already know, and help me figure out what to do. I like the way things were between David and me. I’m not sure I want that to change, but how can’t it now that we share an apartment?”
“I’m not sure. Sorry, Em. Hey, I have to get ready for my date. Text me in an hour to make sure I don’t need saving, okay?”
“Sure.” It’s what we usually do when one of us dates someone new. The old “I have an emergency and need to leave” excuse in case the guy is too awful to withstand a full evening with. I hang up and look around the dark closet. This is ridiculous. I’m hiding in a closet. I open the door and step out, listening for sounds of the shower running. No water. I breathe easier and change into comfortable clothing. Unlike Tara, I don’t have a date this evening. Though maybe that’s the answer. Maybe I should date someone. If I were involved with someone else, things with David would go back to normal. We’d be able to flirt, knowing that it was completely harmless.
I text Tara.
Emily: Last Call tomorrow night? I need to meet a man to get my mind off David.
Tara: You got it.
I smile to myself, feeling better now that I have a plan. After changing out of my work clothes, I leave my room and head to the bedroom. I need to eat something.
“Oh, hey,” David says when I enter the kitchen. “I ordered Chinese before I showered. It just arrived. Want some?”
I eye the two white cartons in front of him. Did he purposely order enough for two? “I don’t want to steal your dinner,” I say, walking to the refrigerator for a bottle of water.
“I always buy extra so I have leftovers. There’s plenty. I have pork lo mein or chicken and broccoli.” He points to each container as he tells me what’s inside. “Either of those sound good to you? We could split them if you want some of each.”
I uncap my water and take a sip, still not sure if he planned this dinner on purpose. Would he do that? He’s a sweet guy, and he knows I haven’t exactly stocked my shelves in the refrigerator. He’s probably just making sure I don’t starve and I’m reading way too much into it.
“I love pork lo mein, but I’m good with sharing.” I grab two plates from the cabinet over the stove and bring them to the counter.
David dishes food from each container onto our plates and hands me one. “For you, my lady.”
“Thank you, kind sir.” It’s obvious he’s making an effort to restore that ease I’ve always felt around him, so I play along. I bring my plate and water bottle to the couch and sit down before I realize he may not want me to eat on the couch. “Oh, should we eat at the table or at the countertop instead?”
David laughs and hands me a fork, which I completely forgot. “First, you live here now, so you don’t have to ask my permission to sit where you’d like. Second, I don’t mind sharing either, so whatever is mine is yours now, too.”
“Thanks. I’m sure I’ll get used to this.” I avoid his stare as he sits beside me. Unlike me, he keeps his plate on his lap instead of putting it on the coffee table.
“Want to watch TV?” he asks.
I laugh. “Didn’t you just tell me I didn’t have to ask for your permission? If you want to watch TV, go right ahead.”
“Point well taken,” he says, reaching for the remote on the coffee table. He leans right into his plate of food, making it tilt.
I grab for it before it dumps on the couch. “Whoa. Don’t move,” I tell him. His shirt is stuck to the food. I gently pull the plate out without letting anything spill and place it on the coffee table.
“Well, that was
graceful of me,” he says, his body completely rigid as he looks at the food stuck to his clothing. “I’m not sure how to get up without getting Chinese food everywhere.”
“Stay still. I’ll go get some paper towels.” I jump up and rush to the kitchen, grabbing the roll of paper towels from the metal holder. I bring it back and rip off a few, bunching them together. I start using them to pick the food off his shirt.
“I can do that,” he says.
“I’m afraid if you try, you’ll knock noodles onto the couch. Hold still.” I continue to remove the food and pat down the front of his shirt. Then my eyes lower, noticing there are pieces of chicken stuck to his lounge pants. “Um...”
His gaze follows mine. “Better let me get that.” He wraps his hand around the wad of paper towels I’m holding, and our eyes lock.
I swallow hard, and my pulse races from being so close to him.
“Emily,” he says, breaking the uncomfortable silence that’s fallen over us.
“Sorry.” I let go of the paper towels.
“No. That’s not it.” He opens his mouth to say more, but then his head lowers and he cleans off his pants without saying another word.
I stand up, needing to put distance between us. I busy myself with bringing his plate back to the kitchen. When I return to the living room, I expect to find him gone, having disappeared in his room to change, but he’s standing there struggling to get his messy brown-sauce-covered shirt over his head.
I stifle a laugh, thankful for the comic relief. “Here. Let me help you. If you pull the shirt up over your head that way, you’re going to be covered in sauce.” I reach for the neck of his shirt and slide it straight up over his head, carefully lifting the rest of his shirt in the process to keep the mess from his body. Once I’m finished, we stand there staring at each other. Comic relief gone. We’re back to the tension-filled silence.
“I’ll go soak this for you,” I say, but he grabs my arm before I can walk away.
His head dips, and before I know what’s happening, his lips are on mine. I’m too stunned to react at first. David is kissing me. His lips are soft, and his hand presses against the small of my back. I regain the ability to think straight, and I kiss him back, parting my lips to invite him in. His tongue sweeps across mine, and I nearly lose it. I press my hand to his chest, which is bare, smooth, and muscular. I break away from the kiss, my eyes landing on the flesh my hand is touching.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
“It’s fine.” Except it’s not. Not at all. That one brief kiss made me feel more than I should have. I still have feelings for him. This can’t happen. “This shirt really should get soaked before it’s completely ruined.” I hold up his shirt for him to see.
He takes it from me. “I’ll do it.” He walks to the bathroom, leaving me breathless and more confused than ever.
Why did he kiss me? Breaking up with him the first time had been difficult enough. I knew I cared about him. More than I’d cared about the men I’d dated before him. That was the problem, though. I swore I wouldn’t get in a serious relationship before I turned twenty-five. I wouldn’t repeat my parents’ and grandparents’ mistakes. I have to focus on my career right now. I can’t let myself fall for David.
Feeling rejected even though I’m the one who broke away from the kiss, I bring my food to the kitchen and wrap it up. I’m not hungry anymore. Not in the least bit. I retire to my bedroom for the night and try to pretend the kiss never happened.
“So you didn’t talk to him after the kiss?” Tara asks, sliding onto the barstool.
I raise my finger to my lips, motioning for her to keep her voice down. The last thing I need is Caleb overhearing her and him telling Nate all about the kiss. News travels especially fast in a newsroom.
“Sorry, but how did you expect me to react? You should have talked to him. David is nothing if not understanding.”
Of course, he’s understanding. He understood I didn’t want a commitment, which is why he let me go without making me explain myself. He didn’t beg me to give him time to change my mind. He simply kissed my forehead, smiled, and said we’d go back to being friends like we were before.
“Are you going to stand there all night, or are we actually drinking? I did cut my date short to meet you, you know.” Tara motions to me, rigid and rooted to the floor.
I force myself onto the stool next to her, accidentally elbowing the man seated on the opposite side of me. He turns and smiles at me as I blurt out, “I’m so sorry! Where did I hit you?”
He rubs his side. “Don’t worry. I doubt you broke more than one rib. You’ve got quite the swing, though.”
“I should have been paying attention.” I shake my head in embarrassment. “Let me buy you a drink.” I raise my hand, trying to flag down Caleb at the other end of the bar.
“That’s not necessary, really.” He holds his hand out to me. “I’m Sebastian.”
I pause, realizing for the first time that Sebastian looks a little bit like Jensen Ackles. And I’d know since I’m addicted to Supernatural, mostly because I think Jensen is insanely hot. I finally recover and take his hand. “Emily.”
“Did I see you punch one of my patrons?” Caleb asks, walking over to us.
“Very funny. It was an accident.” My cheeks get hot, and I look to Tara for help, but she’s too busy laughing at me to come to my rescue.
“Caleb, put Emily’s drink on my tab,” Sebastian says, and then he looks around me at Tara. “Her friend’s drink too, please.”
“No, I can’t allow you to do that after I just hit you,” I say, wishing we could avert the conversation to anything but my clumsiness.
“I insist. You’re saving me from having to drink alone. My buddy bailed on me.”
Tara leans across me. “Is your buddy half as charming as you are?” She extends her hand. “I’m Tara, by the way.”
Sebastian shakes her hand. “He’s more than half as charming as I am. He taught me everything I know.” He lets go of Tara’s hand and looks at me. “I’m sorry. That probably doesn’t make me sound very good, does it?”
“I can vouch for Sebastian,” Caleb says. “He’s one of my regulars. Good guy. Now what can I get you all to drink? I do have thirty other customers to serve.” Caleb drums his fingers on the bar top.
“Amstel Light,” I say.
“Same,” Tara says.
“Make it three,” Sebastian says, smiling at me.
Caleb gets our drinks and hurriedly walks away.
“Do you live around here?” Tara asks Sebastian.
“Yeah, the Oak Grove Apartments on Willow Court,” he says.
“That’s close to where Emily lives now. She just moved into the apartment complex on Crystal Street.” Tara takes a long drag from her beer and ignores the glare I’m aiming at her.
Sebastian holds up his beer. “Then I guess we’re celebrating your new place tonight.” He clinks his bottle against mine.
“I guess so,” I say. I bring the bottle to my lips, but I only take a sip. I’m not about to get drunk and go home with Sebastian, or worse, bring him back to the apartment I now share with David. David... My lips suddenly begin to tingle at the thought of the kiss we shared.
Chapter Eight
David
Emily doesn’t wake up until ten o’clock Saturday morning. I had no idea she was a late sleeper when she didn’t have to go to work, but then again, we only dated for two weeks and didn’t spend a full night together during that time. There’s a lot I don’t know about her. I sip my third cup of coffee, standing at the kitchen counter as she walks in.
“Morning,” she says with a yawn.
“Rough night?” I ask. “I didn’t hear you come in.” Not that I wanted to. Part of me was afraid she wouldn’t be alone. That she and Tara had gone out looking to pick up men at Last Call. Sure, Emily was free to do exactly that, but after she ran out of the apartment after I kissed her... I wanted to explain
myself. Explain that it was a moment of weakness. What if she thought I couldn’t handle living with her and she moved out? I don’t want that to happen just because I did something stupid.
She finished pouring herself a cup of coffee and turned to face me. “Tara and I had a couple drinks and then went back to her place to watch a movie. I fell asleep on her couch and woke up around three in the morning. Her neighbors were having one hell of a drunken fight, so I decided to drive myself home at that point.” She brought the cup to her lips, and I forced myself to avert my eyes. No need to stare. It wouldn’t do me any good.
“That explains why I didn’t hear you. I was asleep long before that.” I reach for the box of Cheerios on the countertop. It’s one of the few food items Emily brought here. “Hungry?” I ask, opening the cabinet to get her a bowl.
“David, I’m not a guest. I live here now. You’re going to have to stop waiting on me, buying me food...” She lets out a long sigh. “Sorry. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but I think we should set some ground rules.”
Like not kissing her? I close the cabinet and put the box of cereal back. “Sure. No problem. I was just used to doing these things for Monica when she lived here. She’s my sister, so I guess I always felt the need to...” I have no idea where I’m going with this because it’s complete bullshit. Besides, she’s clearly talking about me crossing the line with our friendship, and that has nothing to do with my relationship with my sister.
Emily takes another sip of coffee. “Look, it’s probably best if you don’t do things like cook for me, or drive me places, or anything else that’s even remotely like...” She bites her lower lip and meets my gaze.
I Belong With You Page 5
