Cutie and the Beast: A Roommates to Lovers Single Dad Romance (Cipher Office Book 3)

by Smartypants Romance

  Elliott leans back against the wall, her hands behind her. She looks comfortable here already. That’s a good sign, I think.

  “I think there might be a”—she looks up to the ceiling, considering her words. “A generational gap, if you will.”

  An image of my grandpa sitting on his porch and yelling at kids to get off his lawn runs through my head. The best part is the kid was Mabel and he still sounded like a grumpy old man.

  “You mean the whole ‘children should be seen and not heard’ thing?”

  “You do know what I’m talking about,” Elliott says with a laugh.

  Channeling my Pop’s voice, I respond with, “Spare the rod, spoil the child.”

  Elliott keeps laughing. “Ohmygod, yes. I mean, sort of. My mom isn’t one for corporal punishment, but she is much more uptight than I am with parenting. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all about teaching Ainsley respect and boundaries and how to be kind. But I also don’t want her thinking she is only the sum of her mistakes and has to be the picture of perfection at all costs. I want her to have room to make those mistakes, so I can guide her to be better in a way that doesn’t create anxiety.” I nod because that all sounds reasonable to me. “My mother, on the other hand, raised me to respect my elders and be obedient no matter what. To a degree, I understand and agree. But I also know that style of parenting created so much anxiety in me and my mother never realized. Growing up, trying desperately to be perfect, was a challenge at times, to say the least. I want to do it differently. I want to hear Ainsley’s side of the story when there is a conflict, even if there’s an adult involved. If something is wrong, I need to know to protect her. But if Ainsley is in the wrong, it gives me a better ability to help her sort through her mistakes so she can do better next time.”

  “Wow.” I’m impressed with how much she’s thought through her role as a mom. I’m lucky if I remember to feed and water Mabel. “I can see how those two styles don’t mix.”

  Elliott blows out a breath. “It’s hard, that’s for sure. But I love my mom and don’t want our relationship to suffer forever over a difference in parenting styles, ya know? I’d rather put a little space between us so we can be close again.”

  “I think that’s actually a really solid plan.”

  “You do?”

  “Sure. I could never live with my parents. They’re the total opposite of your mom, which drives me bananas. Super lax. No regard for bedtime or healthy eating or even manners.” I can’t help but chuckle to myself. “It’s a wonder I have the ability to get to work on time, let alone get Mabel there.”

  Elliott bites her bottom lip, holding back a smile, before it pops out from underneath her teeth. “You do understand my dilemma.”

  “Oh yeah. I would rather live under a bridge than with my parents. They’re amazing people and holidays at their place is unbeatable. But trying to raise a small human there? No way in hell.”

  Just then, said human screams up the stairs. “Daaaaaaaaaad!”

  “Yeeeeees?” I yell back.

  “We want some juice!”

  “Thanks for telling me!”

  Mabel goes silent momentarily until she finally realizes her mistake. Or Ainsley tips her off. Either way, she fixes her verbiage. “I meeeean, can we please have some juice?”

  “Juice boxes are in the fridge.” Looking at Elliott, I say playfully, “See? Can you imagine how bad that would have been if she had fewer boundaries?”

  “You probably wouldn’t have any juice in the fridge and not even know it.”

  “Or Gatorade. Or water bottles. Or milk.”

  We begin the trek downstairs to where the girls are as we continue to chat about our daughters. Logistically, this could work well for both of us, because they’re in the same grade at the same school. I don’t want to get ahead of myself, but it’s nice knowing there are two of us who’ll get the same information and alerts about weather delays and field trips.

  They’ve been here for about an hour and it’s getting late, but I also don’t want Elliott to leave until I know what she thinks about moving here. It’s not that I want to pressure her, but I also don’t want to waste time I could spend looking for someone else if she’s not interested.

  “How soon would we be able to move in?”

  Well, there’s my answer. I guess Elliott is as ready to move forward as I am.

  “It’s a matter of me moving my stuff and cleaning the room for you. I could probably have it done by Sunday.”

  She looks shocked. “That soon? I was expecting you to need two weeks’ notice or something.”

  I chuckle through my nose. “It’s only one room to move around. Well, two if you count taking the desk in the current spare room down to the basement. But Joey and I can do that in five minutes, if I can keep him focused that long.”

  She blows out another breath, this time making her bangs flutter. I give her a moment to gather her thoughts, knowing this is a big decision. While she does, I peek in on the girls in the kitchen.

  “They okay in there?” Elliott asks quietly behind me.

  I shake my head and chuckle, pulling away from my not very hidden hiding spot. “They’re happily blowing air into the juice pouches and seeing how fast the juice squirts in their mouths.”

  “So, they’re making a giant mess we’re going to have to get them to clean up later.”

  “Two kids make triple the work, or so I’ve heard.” Sitting down on the chair in the living room, I gesture for her to take a seat. “Listen, Elliott, I know you need to think about this and probably crunch some numbers. For the most part, I feel like we’re on the same page about everything, but I don’t want there to be any surprises so I’m gonna lay it all on the line, okay?”

  She nods for me to continue.

  “I’m not looking to be a landlord or go into the business of owning a bunch of rental properties. I just need a roommate quickly. If I can’t offset my mortgage somehow, I’m going to lose the house.”

  She gasps, but I ignore it and continue.

  “It’s not as bad as that sounds. I’m nowhere close to foreclosure. I’m just running out of savings while I try to rebuild the clientele I lost in the fire. I’m not a clean freak or anything, but I’m also not a slob. My child is ornery but not mean or aggressive. I don’t have a criminal background of any sort, unless you count that time in college when I was detained at the airport for an outstanding parking ticket.”

  Elliott throws her fingers over her face and giggles. As much as I don’t want to, I see the humor in it as well.

  “Consequences of that lax parenting style.”

  “I see that,” she says with a laugh.

  “I guess my point is, I we could maybe help each other out with our living situation. Not to mention, I kind of like that our lives are sort of already intertwined with the school and all. And the girls getting along is a bonus.”

  “I agree.”

  “But I also know this is an unconventional solution, so if you want to give it a three-month trial period and then we can reassess, I’m totally fine with that.”

  I stop talking and hold my breath. I don’t think I realized until this exact moment how anxious I am about everything. I’m normally a pretty even-tempered guy, but if Elliott says no, I genuinely don’t know what I’m going to do. Selling the house, finding an apartment close to work, and moving before spring weather rolls around doesn’t sound feasible. Not to mention how much harder life will be if I can only afford to live farther away from this neighborhood.

  To my delight, though, Elliott starts nodding.

  “I think once I thought through the ‘weirdness,’” she says, using air quotes to make her point, “it all really boils down to the kids. I had roommates in college. There’s always a transition period. And if it was just me, it would be a non-issue.”

  I wouldn’t know since I never went to college, so I’ll have to take her word for it.

  “The reality is, you parent your way. I parent my way,
” she continues, “but my way is also a collective ‘it takes a village’ effort. As long as you aren’t raising a hand to my kid or talking down to her, I’m never going to flinch if you call her out on bad behavior and make her stop. But be prepared, I’ll do the same with Mabel. It’s in my nature to take care of all the kids, not just mine.”

  “I guess you picked the right job, then.”

  “Who knew my degree would eventually be worthless. I could have saved so much money on student loans.” She grins at me, and I have a feeling we’re moving in the right direction. Especially since we’re putting it all on the table. Having a roommate is hard. But I think most of us can put up with living with another person. The “make or break” is always with the kids. If we can’t agree on how things are handled with them, this won’t work.

  “And what you were saying…” I say, getting us back on track. The louder the girls get, the more I know we’re getting close to all hell breaking loose. It’s time to wrap this up. “I’m in total agreement on the kids. If I’m making lunch for one, I’m making it for both. If one is doing homework, they both are. I’m not offering to be Ainsley’s father or anything. I just refuse to exclude a child from participating in the world around them because I’m not the parent. I find that to be unfair, cruel, and puts them in a really bad position of being on the outside looking in.”

  Elliott nods slowly. It appears like she’s in total agreement. “Good. I like that. As long as we agree on how the kids will be handled, everything else is cake.”

  “Caaaaaaaake!” The girls start squealing from the other room and our time is clearly up. They’ve now hit the state of exhaustion called delirium.

  Elliott quirks one eyebrow at me and smirks. “Thank God for the basement.”

  I guarantee that isn’t the last time she will utter those words.

  Chapter Eight

  ELLIOTT

  When I got divorced, I was determined to be the bigger person. Regardless of the fact that my ex had put me through hell with his emotional games and narcissistic tendencies, he is still Ainsley’s father, and for her sake, it’s the right thing to do. Plus, I was just glad to be getting out so I could breathe again.

  In the process of moving back home, I made the decision to leave most of our housewares and furniture behind. He was moving into an apartment and would need those things when Ainsley stayed at his place. I, on the other hand, was moving in with my mother who already had it all. It would have been more effort to store them than it would to just let them go.

  Of course, within a year, he’d moved into his girlfriend’s house and gotten rid of it all. And now that I’m going to my own place, part of me wishes I’d at least kept the bath towels. We’re going to need some in our new bathroom.

  Everything else though? I’m still kind of glad it’s gone. With the exception of carrying out three trash bags of paper and junk from under Ainsley’s bed, packing two bedrooms and a bathroom hasn’t taken long at all. Although in some ways, it feels like it’s taken forever. Mostly because I have “help.” And yes, those are air quotes.

  “I still can’t believe you’re taking my grandchild and moving into that man’s house,” my mother grumbles. But she still pulls the packing tape across the box to seal it shut. I see she’s protesting hard. “How do you know he’s not a serial killer?”

  “I don’t,” I say honestly. “But I don’t really know that about you either and, yet, here we are.”

  She narrows her eyes at me, obviously displeased at my snark. I sigh in response because I probably shouldn’t give my mother crap for being concerned. If it was Ainsley taking her daughter into a similar situation, I’d probably be worried too.

  “I’m sorry. That was rude of me.” Mom nods once in agreement and begins filling the next box with my summer clothes that have all been thrown on my bed. “I promise I wouldn’t put Ainsley in a bad situation, Mom. Abel is a nice man. He’s a co-worker and is raising his own daughter all by himself.”

  And sexy as all get out. I’m not immune to the fact that he’s got solid thighs, a really tight ass, and is probably rockin’ an amazing six pack. I just can’t focus on that since he’ll be my roommate.

  My mother, however, has no problem focusing on anything and everything that could possibly go wrong.

  “But he’s a body builder, Elliott. He could go into a ‘roid rage at any minute.”

  I have to give my mom credit. When she goes completely off her rocker, she doesn’t hold back.

  “He’s a trainer, Mother,” I say, rolling my eyes. Thank goodness my back is turned while I wrap a zip tie around these hangers to hold them in place. I don’t want to get grief for my facial expressions. I’m already getting berated enough. “He’s not a body builder. He doesn’t compete or train for anything. He works out and teaches other people how to work out for health benefits.”

  He actually might train for something. I don’t know for sure. But I’m not opening that can of worms.

  “It’s weird, Elliott,” she continues to rant, making me antsy for when Abel arrives. I need to get out of here for some peace and quiet. The irony of the fact that I’m looking forward to less conversation despite more people living in my new house is not lost on me. In fact, the sooner I can be with those people, the better.

  Since I don’t have very much and we live close, instead of spending the money on a moving van, Abel elicited the help of his friend and our co-worker, Joey. For whatever reason, Joey has a giant Texas-sized truck. In Chicago. Where there is literally no reason to own a truck. But who am I to judge? I’m just going to take advantage of it today.

  “You don’t know if his wife left him because he’s abusive. Or maybe she didn’t leave. Maybe he killed her and buried her body like that guy on Discovery ID. Did you see that one? He wasn’t smart enough to bury her somewhere far away. Nope. Asked a contractor to come redo the floor in the basement then threw her body right in the wet cement. He would have gotten away with it if he had made sure her sleeve didn’t float to the top and stick out of the floor. Men. I swear they aren’t the smartest.”

  I have no idea what she’s rambling about anymore, but I don’t care because the doorbell rings and my heart skips a beat from excitement.

  “He’s here! He’s here!” I hear the pitter-patter of little feet running to the door. Actually, no. I hear the thumping steps of an eight-year-old girl who is way more excited to move than I thought she would be. I briefly wonder if that’s part of the reason my mother is having a rough time with this. It’s not only me moving out; it’s Ainsley too. We all know once you give your mother grandchildren, you might as well be chopped liver.

  I don’t have time to think about it though, as my child has already opened the door.

  “Ainsley,” I admonish when I make my way down the stairs and find her in the doorway. “You know better than to answer the door without asking me.”

  “But Mama! I knew it was Abel and we get to go live with Mabel today!”

  I should probably push this a little harder to drive the safety issue home, but somehow, I think it’ll fall on deaf ears today. So, I cave. “Fine. But you aren’t ready yet, so go finish packing your clothes in your suitcase.”

  “Okay!” she yells and begins to run off, then thinks better of it. Swiveling around, eyes wide, she asks our new roommate, “Did you bring Mabel with you?”

  Abel snaps his fingers like he knew he forgot something. “Darn it, not this time. But don’t worry, she’ll be home soon to help you unpack all your toys, so you better get a move on.”

  That does the trick. Ainsley jumps up, throwing her hands in the air in victory, then takes off running to her room, squealing the whole way.

  “You know I’ve been fighting with her to pack all morning.”

  “What can I say? I have a way with the ladies.”

  Closing the door behind him, I scoff. “If you never say that again, it would be too soon.”

  “Yeah, it sounded better in my head,” he ad
mits as my mother comes walking down the stairs. Slowly. Assessing Abel as she descends and making sure we know it.

  Trying to avoid the inevitable stand-off, I quickly make introductions.

  “Mom, this is Abel, my co-worker and new roommate. Abel, this is my mom, Rose Donovan.”

  Abel immediately smiles and sticks his hand out to shake hers. I assume after our very intense conversation on parenting the other day, he’s decided to kill her with kindness. Good plan. “Rose, it’s nice to meet you.”

  She, on the other hand, is already in the process of embarrassing me so much I’m flashing back to middle school. In particular, the time when she came into the living room in her bathrobe while the boy I liked was lying on the floor doing homework with me. I feel that level of mortification when Mom puts her hand out in such a way that it looks like she wants Abel to kiss it and replies with, “You can call me Mrs. Donovan.”

  “Mother!” I screech.

  She immediately drops her hand along with the weird act she’s pulling. “Oh relax. I was kidding. You’re still way too easily embarrassed. I saw the look on your face. You were remembering when that Tommy boy was here and I wore my robe, weren’t you?”

  My jaw drops. How does she know? Damn her and her mom voodoo.

  Abel chuckles and answers the door when there’s another knock. This time, Joey walks in. My mother’s eyes widen again, and I know she’s wondering exactly how many men I’m going to be living with. I might embellish the truth if she keeps trying to mortify me before I’m all moved out. It would serve her right.

  Come to think of it, maybe that’s her plan. Rattle me, make Abel think I’m certifiably insane so he changes his mind and I don’t leave, giving her free access to compassion-inducing scenarios she can share with her friends for the remainder of her years.

  She’s a sneaky one, my mother.

  “This is my friend Joey.” Abel introduces him to my mother before turning to me. “Have you guys met yet?”

  “I think we’ve seen each other in passing but haven’t been formally introduced. I’m Elliott. Thanks for helping today.”