The Roommate Agreement

by Emma Hart

  I had two messages, one from a number I didn’t recognize. I opened it and read it, and it was from my date who said her Uber was stuck in traffic so she’d be late, and she included her name.

  Tess.

  Bingo.

  Thank you, Tess.

  I texted her back that it was fine and asked her what she wanted to drink, then opened the second message. It was from Shelby.

  Shelby: Thanks for dinner. Did you eat?

  I’d just hit the button to respond when the blond-haired girl I’d met earlier today was led over to the table—a girl I now knew to be named Tess. Instead of replying to Shelby, I locked my phone, tucked it into my pocket, and stood to kiss Tess on the cheek.

  And, hopefully, start getting rid of my pesky feelings for another woman.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN – SHELBY

  Everyone Is Responsible For Restocking The Coffee

  I rubbed my eyes and hit the button on the coffee machine with a yawn. The machine sputtered to life, and I froze.

  I hadn’t put the cup under there.

  “Shit!” I yanked open the cupboard and grabbed the nearest cup to shove under the machine. It was emblazoned with the words ‘I’m cute, but I cuss a little’ which seemed fitting for this morning because I’d already cussed at least ten times.

  I’d been awake less than thirty minutes.

  The haunted hotel article was nearly done, mostly because I’d stayed up until three a.m. working on it. Now, it was seven-thirty, and the only reason I was awake was that I had a phone call with a potential ghostwriting client at eight-fifteen.

  As soon as that was done, I was turning in the article and going the heck back to sleep.

  “Morning!” Jay bounded into the kitchen with far too much energy for my liking.

  I grunted and pulled my cup from the machine to get the milk. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and his gray sweatpants were hung low on his hips, but I was too tired to tell him to put some more clothes on.

  “Ah, you got out of bed on the right side today, I see.”

  I shut the fridge and glared at him. “Shush. You’re very loud.”

  He grinned, grabbing his own coffee cup. “Did you work or get drunk last night?”

  I poured the milk into my cup. “Worked until three. Got a call soon.” I took two big mouthfuls of coffee, not caring that it was steaming hot. “Heard you come in at around eleven. Where were you out so late?”

  He leaned against the kitchen counter, crossing his legs at his ankles. His biceps flexed as he grabbed the edge of the countertop. “I had a date, then I met Sean for a beer.”

  My eyebrows shot up as I did my best to ignore the jealousy that punched me in the gut. “You had a date?”

  “I can get them, you know.”

  “Never said you couldn’t. I thought you’d sworn off women after the last girl you dated showed up at your door when you’d never given her your address.”

  “That was six months ago.” He laughed and grabbed his coffee to put sugar in it. “It was just one date. I don’t think I’ll see her again.”

  Damn it. I was way too happy about that.

  Stupid emotions.

  Stupid feelings.

  Stupid Shelby.

  “Was it bad?” I perched on one of the stools at the island.

  He shook his head. “Nah. I mean, it was bad when I got there and found the table was next to my freakin’ parents.”

  I laughed, but my mouth was full of coffee and some of it went up my nose.

  Jay smirked. “Elegant.”

  I coughed, pinching my nose, and motioned for him to go on.

  “Thank you, by the way,” he said, taking the bottle of milk from the island. “For going to see Grams yesterday. She wondered if I was dead, apparently.”

  I nodded. “She did. She wanted to know why you were such a heathen who didn’t visit anymore. I told her you were learning to do your own laundry, and she laughed so hard I think she broke a rib.”

  He shot me a withering look. “Anyway, I’m headed over there after work to repent for being such a bad grandson and clear her yard of snakes.”

  “Corn snakes again?”

  He nodded. “She thinks Alice will bring her a present again.”

  “I swear that dog is actually a cat in disguise.”

  “She does act like it.” His lips twitched. “You’ve also been summoned for dinner. She’s making your favorite because you brought her flowers and made me look bad.”

  “Ah, well, I’ve been taking Grams flowers and making you look bad for twenty years now.” Even when we were kids, I’d make daisy chains in her backyard and leave them around her house for her. Now, it’d evolved into carnations every time I needed information for a newspaper article because Betsy Cooper was a walking library.

  Also, she made the best cookies, and she always had some on hand.

  Work was more fun with cookies.

  “Yes, thank you for that,” he said dryly, his bright green eyes twinkling with laughter. “Anyway, like I said, you’ve been summoned for dinner. I figure I’ll head there straight from work, do whatever she needs doing around the house and in the yard, then come back to shower and we’ll head to my parents’ place together?”

  I finished my coffee and got up to put the mug in my sink. “You phrase that like it’s a question. As if I’m not coming when she’s making her spaghetti. It’s the best thing ever.”

  “I know, I was just checking if you wanted to ride together or not.”

  “Why would we take two cars? It’s pointless. Plus, if you drive, I can drink with your mom and laugh at your baby pictures.” I grinned, leaning on the island with my hands flat. “That’s always fun.”

  “Depends what your definition of fun is,” Jay said darkly. “You being drunk is rarely fun.”

  “I’m a great drunk, unlike Brie. I’m still a functioning human being capable of doing things.”

  “Shelby, the last time you had girls’ night here, I came back to you mounting the broom and shouting, ‘Onward, noble steed!’”

  “I want to write paranormal. I was practicing broom mounting.”

  “Sure you were.” He pulled his lips up on one side. “All right, fine. I’ll drive so you can drink wine with my mother and pick out the baby photos to embarrass me with in front of my future girlfriend.”

  I clicked my tongue and winked, despite the idea of him having a future girlfriend being slightly repulsive to me.

  I know. I had a problem. A big one. My feelings had quickly gone from wanting to tickle his pickle to wanting to wrap myself around him and growl at any woman who came near him who wasn’t blood-related.

  The worst part was that I couldn’t even blame it on raging hormones. I was totally clear of shark week. Nope. This was just a regular old attraction to my best friend.

  Ugh.

  “See, this is why you’re my best friend,” I said, opening the fridge and pulling some pre-packaged mango out of it. “You drive me around so I can drink wine and make fun of you. If you’d leave my Oreos alone, you’d be the perfect guy.”

  Jay’s eyebrows shot up. “Look, I’ve done my laundry twice this week and not eaten any of your Oreos. I’m already there.”

  “Yes, but you still have a pair of dirty socks under the coffee table.” I pointed that way with the fork I’d just grabbed. “And I had to clean the sink before I could brush my teeth this morning because you shaved yesterday and didn’t do it.”

  He opened his mouth to say something before quickly shutting it and getting a rueful expression on his face. “Ah, shit. I meant to do that, but there was a delivery I had to go down and sign for. Your delivery, actually.” He pointed at the box on top of the coffee table. “I guess I got distracted after.”

  “Let me guess, that was the last time you used the bathroom?” I raised an eyebrow, spearing a square of the bright yellow fruit.

  “Pretty much. I went to work, then I had my date.”

  “Well, at least you didn’
t bring her back here. If I wanted to hear people having sex, I’d be living with Brie and Sean.” Who were now talking, if the text I woke up to from her was any indication.

  Jay tapped two fingers to his temple. “It’s in the agreement. I remembered. Besides—I wouldn’t do that anyway. It’s simple respect.” He shrugged and leaned forward, pinching a bit of my fruit.

  I shot him a glare. Nobody touched my mango. Much like nobody was allowed to my Oreos.

  I liked food, okay? And I didn’t like to share it.

  “I appreciate it.” I smiled at him. He had no idea how much I appreciated it, and I wasn’t going to mention it. “When are you working?”

  “Trying to get rid of me?” His eyes sparkled.

  “No, but if you’re at work, you aren’t eating my food.” I swatted his hand away as he just managed to grab another piece. “Jay! Cut it out!”

  He shoved it into his mouth, grinning around it. “It’s good.”

  “So buy your own, you thief!”

  Shaking his head, he rounded the island, coming for my fruit. I dropped the fork and pulled the plastic container close to my chest, using my other hand to shield it from him.

  “Jay. Cut it,” I warned him, walking backward. “You’re not stealing my fruit.”

  “Is there more mango?”

  “No. I ate it all.”

  “See, this is how you feel about your Oreos. I like mango, too. Share it.” He advanced on me, quickening his pace.

  I clutched the container so hard the plastic bent, and the juice from the fruit splashed against my shirt, but since it was yesterday’s, I didn’t care. “Jay.”

  “Shelby.” He grinned, and something decidedly wolfish and playful flashed in his eyes, making my stomach clench.

  “Stop it.”

  “No.” He made one final dart at me, and I jerked backward with a squeal right into the island.

  The squeal quickly turned to a hiss of pain as the protruding corner of the island slammed into my hip. I doubled over, dropping the mango I’d literally hurt myself to protect, and clapped my hands over my now-throbbing hip.

  “Shit, Shelbs!” Jay closed the final few inches of space between us and crouched down, his hands immediately going to mine. “I’m sorry. I was just messing with you.”

  “It’s fine.” I winced as I moved my hand. “It was an accident. Protecting food comes at a price.”

  “Yes, it’s very admirable,” he said dryly. “Let me take a look.”

  I slowly straightened and moved my hands away. God freakin’ damn it, it hurt like hell.

  Jay reached over and pushed up my shirt, his fingers brushing across the bare skin of my stomach. Despite the pain I was in, I drew in a sharp but deep breath at the contact.

  “Shit—am I hurting you?” He looked up at me with concern filling his gaze.

  I shook my head, pressing my lips together firmly. I didn’t trust myself to say anything else to him. My skin zinged where he was touching me, and a bolt of heat shot through me when he gently pulled down the waistband of my old, ratty fleece shorts.

  His fingertips were soft as they brushed across my hip. “It’s just a graze, but it looks like it’s going to be one hell of a bruise for a few days.”

  I winced right as his thumb touched the really sore bit. “Great.”

  “I really am sorry, Shelbs.”

  I pulled down my shirt so he’d stop touching me and gave him a weak smile. “It’s fine. It won’t hurt for long, then I’ll be okay. Hey—you have any of that freeze gel stuff? Will that help?”

  He stood without moving back. There wasn’t any space between us at all, and I swallowed the lump that was forming in my throat before it made me say something stupid.

  For a writer, I wasn’t all that good with actual words.

  “I have a box of it in my closet,” Jay said, his eyes searching my face. “Gel and spray, but your skin is broken. It’s gonna sting if you put it on.”

  I wrinkled up my nose. “Maybe later?”

  He smiled and nodded his head once. “Maybe try an ice-pack. You hit the counter pretty hard; the cold will bring out the bruising and reduce any swelling.”

  He stepped away from me to turn to the freezer, and I let go of a long breath. I was almost glad I was in pain. I could use it as an excuse for my reactions to him right now if it came to it.

  “Here.”

  I blinked. Jay was standing right in front of me with a bag of frozen corn with a dishtowel wrapped around it.

  “Put this on your hip,” he instructed me. “Like fifteen minutes or so, okay? You can probably tuck it into your waistband.”

  “Right,” I breathed, taking it from him. I almost dropped the bag and had to readjust the towel before I lifted my shirt to expose my side and did my best to put the bag in my waistband. The problem was, I couldn’t hold my shirt, the waistband, and the bag at the same time. It was like juggling wet kittens.

  “Let me help you.” He came over again, extracting the bag from my hand. It took him all of ten seconds to secure the bag properly in my waistband while I held my shirt up. His fingers brushed my skin far too many times for me to be comfortable with such close proximity to him, but there was nothing I could do about it.

  Jay took half a step back and met my eyes. “Better?”

  I nodded, once again not trusting myself to speak.

  “It’ll help,” he said. “At the very least, it’ll numb the area and take away some of the pain you’re feeling right now. Tonight, when the skin has healed up a little, I’ll get the freeze gel, okay?”

  More nodding from me. Like one of those little fuzzy dogs people used to put on the dashboards of their cars.

  I missed those. They needed to come back into style.

  “Shelbs? You okay?” Concern creased his brow.

  “Yes. Sorry. It’s cold.” I smiled, but even I knew it was weak. The truth was, I’d really hit my hip hard, and I was a bit of a wimp about pain.

  He lifted his hand as if he was going to reach for me, then froze as my phone vibrated on the island.

  Shit.

  My client call.

  “I have to get that.” My eyes widened and I half-walked, half-hobbled over to get it. The number flashed on the screen with a vague familiarity, and I dipped my head to answer, deliberately not looking at Jay as I headed to my room.

  That was enough closeness for one day.

  CHAPTER TWELVE – SHELBY

  Hair Does Not Belong In The Sink

  Unfortunately, that wasn’t enough closeness.

  In the debacle with my hip and then my work call, followed swiftly by a tasty two-hour nap, I’d forgotten all about agreeing to have dinner at Jay’s parents.

  I mean, great. That was what I wanted to do when my hip was still smarting and turning into a rainbow.

  Not to mention that my new client had given me a slightly tighter deadline than I was used to. Never mind that she was paying me so much more in a rush fee that I didn’t even need a roommate this month, it was still overwhelming.

  I thrived under pressure. Unless the pressure was living with a man who I had a major crush on.

  Then I didn’t thrive.

  Then I wanted to curl into a ball in my closet and hide forever.

  But that wasn’t an option, because we had plans. Dinner with his family. Something I usually loved. Don’t get me wrong, I loved spending time with my parents, and I had Brie’s family, too, and her mom happened to be my mom’s best friend, but there was something about Jay’s family.

  It was his grandmother.

  Betsy Cooper was a delight. She stood at exactly five-foot-tall, but she wore three-inch heels to the grocery store and the butchers, had a violet streak in her otherwise bright-white hair, and wore the brightest pink lipstick you could imagine.

  She could also drink a military guy under the table.

  I wanted to be her when I was old.

  Two knocks on my door pulled me out of my reverie. “Shelbs? You rea
dy?”

  I did a double-take at the gruff sound of Jay’s voice. “Yeah. Two seconds. I just need to tie up my hair.” I shut my laptop and got off my bed, moving toward my dresser. I grabbed two hairbands from the pot on the top and used the mirror to tame my dry-shampooed-to-fuck hair into a messy bun on top of my head.

  I looked perfectly presentable in every other way, so I tugged up the waistband of my light-blue, ripped jeans, and readjusted my lemon-yellow shirt so it sat properly again. The jeans weren’t so tight that they put pressure on my sore hip. Honestly, they were more like jeggings than anything.

  And since I was a fan of leggings, jeggings were the next best thing.

  I unlocked my bedroom door and stepped outside. Jay was leaning against the wall that divided the hall from the main living area, focused on his phone while he waited. His legs were crossed at his ankles, and his chin was almost at his chest as he typed furiously on his phone.

  His black t-shirt hugged his lean, toned torso perfectly, and the dark-gray jeans he wore were just tight enough that they wrapped around his upper thighs without giving too much away.

  It was unfair that he looked so fucking hot for a family dinner.

  I hovered, clutching both my wallet and my phone in my hands until he looked up.

  “Sorry. Sean’s been texting me. I’m ready to kill him.” He pocketed his phone and pushed off the wall. “You ready to go?”

  “Yep.” I followed him into the main room and pulled a light jacket off the hooks by the front door. “What’s up with Sean?”

  “Still fighting with Brie,” he said, locking the door behind me and tossing his keys into the air only to catch them again. “I thought they’d made up this morning, but I guess something happened because he bitched his entire shift until I sent his whiny little ass home two hours early.”

  “Why was he bitching? She hasn’t said anything to me. She said they were fine today.”

  Jay shrugged. “Maybe he was just bitching, then. I don’t know. I think I tuned out around the time where he told me why women were the worst.”

  “Ugh. Women are the worst.” I pulled open the door to his truck and climbed in.