Roommate Romance

by Maggie Riley

  My heart twisted.

  “Hi,” he said, walking towards me.

  “Hi.” I adjusted the flowers in my arms, suddenly feeling incredibly awkward.

  “Great show,” he said, stopping in front of me. He was close enough to touch. But he didn’t. And I didn’t.

  “You saw the show?” My mouth felt dry and I was pretty sure he could hear my heartbeat pounding in the quiet lobby.

  He nodded. “And the speeches afterwards.”

  “I’m not leaving the theatre,” I told him. “I turned down the job.”

  He smiled. “I bet Reagan and Joanna were happy to hear that.”

  I jerked my head in a nod. Right now, it wasn’t their reaction that I was interested in.

  “What do you think about that?” I asked, hating how small my voice sounded.

  “Well.” Shane dug a piece of paper out of his pocket. “It means I’m going to have to revise this a bit.”

  I squinted, trying to read it upside down. “Is that—is that a list?”

  He flashed me a grin. “You see”—he stepped even closer, and I could feel the warmth of his breath against my cheek—“someone once told me that there isn’t a problem in this world that can’t be solved with a good old-fashioned list.”

  “Someone told you that?” I felt breathless, my knees weak.

  “Someone very smart.” He reached up and tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “And pretty.” He placed a soft kiss there. “And kind.” He kissed my jaw. “Do you want to know what I made my list about?”

  I nodded, because I seemed to have lost the ability to speak.

  “This is my list of reasons why I would be a really, really great roommate.”

  I looked at him, confused. Roommate?

  But he winked at me. “One.” He held up a finger. “Because I’ll always cook dinner. Two: because I’m very handy around the house.” He waggled his eyebrows at me. “Three: I’m very good at keeping the bed warm. Four.” He looked up. “This is the one I’ll need to revise. Four: I’ll make sure to visit whenever you have to travel for your job. And five.” He put the paper away, taking my face in his hands. “Reason five is because I don’t want to live anywhere that you aren’t.”

  “Shane—” My voice came out in a whisper, but he wasn’t done.

  “You know what Reagan said? About you being the heart of this theatre? I knew exactly what she meant. Because you’re my heart too.”

  My breath caught.

  “I love you, Allie,” he said.

  The world spun in dizzying circles around me as Shane took me in his arms and kissed me. And I kissed him back. When we broke apart, we both looked a little dazed.

  “What did you think of my list?” he asked.

  “I loved it,” I told him. “And I love you, too.”

  He smiled and took my hand. “What now, Allie?”

  I kissed him again. “Let’s go home.”

  Epilogue

  6 months later

  ALLIE

  Two weeks into rehearsals and things were already falling apart. The wrong fabric had been delivered for the costumes, the main actress had food poisoning, and an unflattering article about Joanna and her tense relationship with her family had ended up on the front page of the society section. Everyone was stressed and exhausted, myself included.

  But when I stepped through the doors of our new apartment, every problem just seemed to melt away. Especially when I got swept up in the arms of a particular hunky handyman that had just finished unpacking the last box.

  I rented the apartment Joanna’s realtor had found, which worked out perfectly since it wasn’t long before Liz had returned from her show out of town. She seemed delighted that her mistake had ended up so well for us, but I couldn’t help notice a little twinkle in her eye when she commented that she always thought we would be a good pair. If I didn’t know any better, I would have thought she might have planned the whole thing. But then again, Liz couldn’t plan her way out a paper bag. Could she?

  “Mmm.” I pressed my nose to the side of Shane’s throat. “Sawdust.”

  “Sawdust?” He gave me a kiss on the forehead.

  “You smell like sawdust,” I told him. “I like it.”

  “Huh.” He swatted me on the butt. “No wonder my workshop got you all riled up the first time we fu—”

  I shut him up by putting my lips over his. He didn’t seem to mind, cupping my face in his hands, his tongue plunging into my mouth. Sliding my arms around his waist, I pulled him close, feeling him hard and throbbing against my stomach.

  “Bad day?” he asked when we broke apart.

  I nuzzled my nose against his jaw. “It’s getting a lot better already.”

  He grinned down at me, and before I could say anything, he swung me up into his arms. I let out a shriek as he carried me to the bathroom, closing the door by pinning me up against it.

  “I bet you could use a nice . . .” He began unbuttoning my shirt. “Hot . . .” He pressed his hips to mine. “Long . . .” His mouth dipped downward, his tongue sweeping along the strap of my bra. “Shower.”

  “Mmmhmm.” I yanked his shirt up and over his head. “I do love a hot, long shower.” I slid my hand down the front of his jeans.

  I felt him groan against my shoulder as he eased my shirt down my arms. It dropped to the floor, and he made quick work of my bra and jeans before pulling away. I whimpered with disappointment, but he merely reached back and turned the shower on, quickly returning to kiss me, his hands greedily gripping my hips.

  The bathroom filled with steam as he slipped his hand down my stomach and into my panties, finding me wet, so wet for him.

  “Oh baby,” he murmured, tracing me with a long calloused finger. “I’m going to make your day so much better.”

  I leaned my head back against the door as he stroked me. I was so close to the edge, but before I could reach it, he dragged my panties down my legs, following them to the floor. Then he put his mouth on me, his tongue replacing his fingers, and with only a few long, hot laps of his tongue, I was shuddering my release.

  My legs were boneless, but before they could give out on me, Shane scooped me up and carried me into the shower. The hot water pulsed down on us as I took him in my hand and he captured one of my nipples with his mouth. Soon both of us were moaning, and Shane pulled my hand away.

  “Not yet.” He reached out of the shower, grabbing a condom he had left on the counter. “I want to be inside you when I come,” he said, rolling the latex over his cock.

  Then he spun me around, my hands flat against the shower wall, his fingers gripping my hips as he thrust into me. His groan echoed in my ear as he pumped in and out of me, each stroke bringing me closer and closer to sweet bliss. His fingers entwined with mine, both of them pressed up against the tile, as he took me hard from behind.

  His other hand slid downward, across my stomach and down between my legs, where he touched me in just the right way to send me—gasping and panting—over the edge. In only a few strokes he followed, his cry of release hoarse in my ear.

  I felt his head rest between my shoulder blades, as his arm wrapped around my waist, his strength the only thing keeping us upright. Finally, I was able to support myself, and I turned to face him, kissing his forehead, his cheek, his jaw.

  “This has been a great day,” I purred, the water pounding over us.

  Later, when we were drying off, I noticed that Shane was being unusually quiet. Still wrapped in my towel, I climbed into his lap, burying my face in his neck.

  “How was your day?” I asked him, pulling back.

  “Not too bad,” he said, running his hand up and down my bare leg. “Lots of new orders.”

  “That’s great,” I told him. Business had been booming for him, especially after Joanna had mentioned his work in one of the interviews she often did to represent one of her family’s many charity organizations.

  “I heard from Josh today,” I told him. “He sent me
a list of a few apartments to go check out.”

  “A list?” Shane raised an eyebrow. “You must be thrilled.”

  I pinched his arm. “I’m just happy to help,” I said. “How’s Megan?”

  “Good.” Shane twisted a lock of my wet hair around his finger. “This week she’s decided she’s going to be a history major.”

  “No more marine biology?” I asked. Since deciding that theatre wasn’t her thing, Megan had been bouncing from major to major, driving him nuts.

  Shane sighed. “I hope she figures out what she wants.”

  “I’m sure she will,” I told him, standing.

  But before I could move away, Shane had snagged my wrist and pulled me back against him, his bare chest hard and wet beneath my hand.

  “While we’re on the topic of things people want,” he said, reaching out to our bedside table, pulling out the drawer. “It took me longer than it should, but I know without a doubt that I want you, Allison Lawson, to be in my life forever.”

  He removed a small, hand-carved box. Opening it, I found a sparkling diamond.

  “Oh my god,” I gasped.

  “Allie.” He moved me to the bed and got down on one knee in front of me. “I love you. Will you marry me?”

  And for the first time in my life, I didn’t need a list to tell me what to do.

  “Yes.” I kissed him. “Yes, I will.”

  THE END

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  After We Fall by Melanie Harlow

  Keep reading for an excerpt of AFTER WE FALL by Melanie Harlow!

  “Wow,” she said, shutting the screen door behind her. “That was close. Thank you so much.”

  “You’re welcome.” I crossed my arms, wishing I’d thought to grab a shirt. “Want to tell me what you were doing out there?”

  Her cheeks colored. “Um, I was taking a run.”

  “Up a tree?”

  She laughed nervously. “No. Well, I didn’t start out in a tree. That happened later.”

  I cocked my head, unable to resist giving her a hard time. Not so sure of yourself now, are you, Barbie? “Oh yeah?”

  “Yes. See, I left the cottage I’m renting without using the bathroom by mistake,” she began, twisting her fingers together, “and I was planning on running a loop around the farm, but it’s bigger than I thought.”

  “Ah. So you were looking for a bathroom in the woods?”

  “Well, yes.” She swallowed. “Sort of. But then I heard a splash and saw you…” Her cheeks were practically purple now.

  I played dumb. “Saw me what?”

  “Saw you naked, OK?” she blurted, throwing her hands up. “I admit it—I saw you naked.”

  I had no hang-ups about nudity, but I was damn serious about my privacy, and about people sneaking up on me.

  But her embarrassment was funny. The two times I’d seen her before, she’d been so polished and poised. It felt good to put her in her place a little. “So you climbed a tree for a better view, is that it?”

  Bowing her head, she dragged the toe of one shoe across the wood planks of the porch floor. “Something like that.” Then she looked up at me. Took a breath. “I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I was—I mean, I got—I couldn’t—” She sighed, briefly closing her eyes. “I have no excuse. Will you accept my apology?”

  She was prettier without makeup, I decided. And the way she wore her hair off her face emphasized the wideness of her eyes, the angle of her cheekbones, the arch of her brows. Her lips didn’t need all that glossy crap, either. They were a perfect rosy pink, and I wondered if they’d feel as soft as they looked.

  Fuck. I hadn’t kissed anyone in three years.

  Clearing my throat, I took a step back. “Yeah. It’s fine.” Now get out of here.

  She didn’t move. “So you’re not going to fire me?”

  “I never hired you.”

  “I know. But I really want this job. I think I can help, Jack. I know I can.”

  “Suit yourself.” My name on her lips was trouble. Needing some distance from her, I started walking toward the dock to get my shoes and socks, but she followed me. God, she was a pest. It reminded me of the way Steph used to tag along after the boys when we were kids, wanting to get in our games.

  “Are you going to be like this the entire time I’m here?” she asked.

  “Like what?”

  “Moody and uncooperative?”

  “Probably.”

  “Why? Do you hate me that much?”

  “I don’t hate anybody. I just don’t see why we should pay some city girl who’s never set foot on a farm to advise us.” We reached the dock, and I leaned down to get my stuff.

  “I’m not even asking to be paid, so piss off!” she shouted, her voice carrying on the water.

  I straightened. “Oh, you’re working for free?”

  “Yes!”

  “Then you’re an idiot. Or so rich you don’t need the money.”

  “I’m not an idiot,” she said through clenched teeth.

  “So you’re rich, then.” I don’t know why I was being such an asshole. But for some reason, I did not want to let her see another side of me, or see another side to her. “I should have guessed.”

  She crossed her arms. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means you look like you’ve led a charmed life. Like you’ve had everything you’ve ever wanted handed to you. Like you’ve never gotten your hands dirty.”

  “So get them dirty.”

  I almost fell off the dock. “What?”

  “Get them dirty. Teach me about working this farm. I want to learn.”

  Was she serious? The last thing I needed was to drag her ass around all day, explaining things. Or stare at her ass all day, imagining things. But one glance at her defiant face and I shook my head. “Why do I feel like if I say no, you’ll just keep bothering me?”

  She smiled and clasped her hands behind her back, rocking forward on her toes. “Because I will. I don’t like being told no.”

  “Of course you don’t.” Jesus, she was trouble. A bad apple—smooth and shiny on the outside, spoiled rotten on the inside. But for no good reason, I found myself giving in. “Fine. Go change your clothes.”

  She grinned. “Where should I meet you? It will take me about a half hour to run home, change, and get back here.”

  “No idea where I’ll be then. You’ll have to find me.”

  “Fair enough.” She glanced over her shoulder at the trees. “What’s the quickest route back? Through there?”

  “No. Take the path toward the house to get back to the highway.”

  She turned in a circle. “Which way is the house? I’m not very good with directions.”

  “Jesus. It’s that way.” Jabbing a thumb into the air over one shoulder, I decided I’d better get her going the right way or I’d be waiting around for her forever. “You can cut through the cabin. Come on.”

  We walked back to the cabin and she followed me from the kitchen into the front room. “Hey, I like your place. It’s cozy. And so clean.”

  “Thanks.”

  The cat jumped down from the front windowsill and crossed in front of us, checking out the situation.

  Margot knelt down to pet her. “How sweet. What’s her name?”

  I grimaced. “Bridget Jones.”

  She burst out laughing. “You have a cat named Bridget Jones?”

  “Yeah. What’s so funny about it?” I snapped.

  “I don’t know. Take it easy. You just seem more like a dog person, I guess.”

  “I am,” I admitted, some of the tension leaving my voice. “The cat was my wife’s.” I opened the front door, hoping Margot would take the hint, but not surprised when she didn’t.

  “Have you always lived here?”

  “Since I got out of the Army.”

  “When was that?”

  “Six years ago.”
>
  She nodded, rose to her feet, and glanced around the room. Her eyes lingered on the framed wedding photos hanging on the wall. “Oh, how beautiful. Can I look at them?”

  “I guess.” I let the screen door swing shut as she went over to examine them. God, how long had it been since someone other than me had looked at those pictures? I felt nervous about it, but also pleased she’d noticed them.

  There were three—one family photo; one of us during the ceremony, holding hands beneath a floral arch; and one taken in the barn where Steph stood on a bale of hay so her head would be level with mine when I kissed her. When Margot got to that one, she laughed. “That’s adorable! Look how tiny she is—and she’s wearing cowboy boots with her big wedding dress, I love it!” She pointed at the way Steph was holding up the bottom of her dress to show off her feet.

  “Yeah. She loved her boots. She said she wasn’t a heels type of girl in real life and didn’t need to be one on her wedding day.” I could still hear her proclaiming it with no apology in her voice.

  Margot nodded. “I’m a heels type of girl.”

  “You don’t say.”

  “But everybody should be free to be who they are on their wedding day. I love that she wasn’t afraid to be herself.”

  “She wasn’t afraid of anything.” In general, I wasn’t the kind of guy who opened up to people I didn’t know. Or to people I did. But it felt good to talk about Steph in front of Margot. It felt safe.

  “You don’t look too bad yourself here. You wore boots too, I see.”

  “Yeah, I’m not much for fancy shoes. Or clothes. But Steph said I had to wear the suit.”

  “You wore it well.”

  “Thanks.”

  A beat went by. “I was sorry to hear about what happened.” She kept staring at the picture. “You must miss her.”

  “Yeah. I do.”

  She sighed and turned around. “Well, I guess I better go get changed.”

  Nodding, I opened the door again, and as she went by me, her shoulder brushed my bare chest. Gooseflesh rippled down my arms, and my nipples puckered. Quickly, I shut the screen door in front of me before giving her directions. “Head for those trees straight ahead and stay on the path that runs through them. You’ll see the house on the other side.”