Room Mates_The Series

by Kendall Ryan

  I’d thought about that conversation for the rest of the night, wondering what exactly he meant by wanting stability and a home. If he hadn’t been with Dylan’s mother long, was it because she wasn’t the right woman or was it because he flitted from girl to girl? If he wanted a place to lay his head down at night, did that mean he was looking for commitment and love and all that?

  I didn’t know, but I also couldn’t avoid the fact that it was none of my business either way.

  But he was attracted to me . . .

  Every day since he’d called me beautiful and told me that he wanted me, I couldn’t keep it from my mind. When I handed him his coffee in the morning, it was the first thing I wanted to say, almost like a child who wanted validation. I’d turn around and think, Do you still want me today? Do you still want to show me what it’s like to be a woman?

  Every time, it made my cheeks heat and my palms sweat, but I couldn’t drive it out of my mind. And as if that weren’t enough to handle, I could tell his unspoken answer by the way he looked at me.

  It was hard to describe, really. I’d had men look at me with interest before, but this was completely different. Sometimes, it was as though he could see me, all naked and raw in front of him, and other times it was as though he could see even further than that—into my soul.

  I’d been on the point of saying it to him too. Like one night, when he’d put Dylan to sleep and I’d put on some brainless Netflix show just to have something to look at. It had been a long day and Dylan had been fussier than usual, but once Max sat down next to me and offered me a glass of wine, it was like my nerves were quelled and charged all at once.

  “Who were you on the phone with?” he’d asked.

  I blinked, remembering the phone call I’d taken while making dinner.

  “Oh, my friend Lara. She wants to hang out this weekend.”

  “You can invite her over, you know. This is your house too.”

  I shook my head. “No, no, it’s fine. You and Dylan deserve some time alone without me in your hair.”

  “You know, at first I thought you were talking to your mother.”

  I laughed. “Lara would love that. Her greatest joy is bossing me around. No, my mom doesn’t pick up the phone much. She works for the CDC, and it keeps her pretty busy.”

  “That’s gotta be tough, not hearing from her.” His eyes softened, and I blanched.

  “It’s okay. I’ve got other things.” I looked at the TV, trying to focus on the show, but I knew his eyes were still on me, surveying me. I felt like he could read my mind, could feel my memories, and if I was honest, my hurt. With each conversation, I was feeling closer to him and more torn up inside about it.

  But I couldn’t focus on all that. I had a good thing here, and I wasn’t about to blow it over a crush.

  Why, oh why does it feel like so much more than a crush?

  Some time away from Max was exactly what the doctor ordered so I could get my head on straight again. Lara would help me clear my head.

  With a sigh, I looked around Dylan’s newly finished room. I’d painted a few stencils on the walls and set up all the new furniture. Beside her rocking chair was a record player with the Bob Dylan album hanging above it. Sometimes I’d play her a song in the middle of the day and rock her there. Other times, I sat in the chair and watched her paw through her brand-new toy chest. I had to admit, I’d done good with the room.

  My hands on my hips, I nodded to myself and then headed down to the already bustling kitchen.

  When I walked through the archway, I found Dylan in her high chair, halfway through demolishing her pile of pancake bits, and Max in a chair in front of her. He turned to face me, and his eyes sparked with something I couldn’t name.

  Desire, maybe? I pushed the thought away.

  “Dylan’s room is finally finished, and I’m going to head out.”

  “Already? You can’t make us pancakes and then not have any yourself,” Max argued. “There’s still coffee too.”

  “It’s okay. I’ve got an hour’s drive ahead of me, so I want to get on the road.”

  “At least take some coffee with you in a thermos.” He motioned to the pot, but I shook my head.

  “If you’re on your own with her all day, you might need that,” I said.

  “You’re probably right.” He stood from his seat and walked toward me. Slowly, the clean, fresh scent of him took over my senses, and I held my breath to keep from getting dragged into the storm of wanting him. When he was only inches from me, I stiffened.

  “Sorry, I just wanna get to the coffeepot,” he murmured.

  I glanced beside me to see the pot and let out a little sigh of relief mixed with regret. “Oh, right.”

  “Look, I know I’ve already said it, but thank you so much for taking care of Dylan’s room like that. I really appreciate it. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

  His gaze trailed over me, and I felt that all-too-familiar heat creeping up the back of my neck, ready to flood my cheeks.

  “No problem at all, really. Well, I better be off.”

  I kissed Dylan good-bye and waved to Max, then scooped up my bag and rushed to my car.

  When I was safe behind the wheel and on my way, I cranked up the radio and rolled down the windows, letting the warm early September air fill my lungs. Without Max around, I finally felt like I could breathe. Use this time to be myself without the eggshells and worries. Some time to reflect.

  For the better part of the drive, though, all I could manage to do was reflect on him.

  What was his deal? I knew that he was fond of his mother, had done well in school, had been friends with the same group of people for most of his adult life, but the one thing he never mentioned? Women.

  Aside from Dylan’s mother, there was no hint that he’d ever been with someone, and yet . . . A man like that had to get around, didn’t he? Between his rich, dark hair and his deep, dark eyes, women probably threw themselves at him pretty regularly. Did he go along for the ride, or was he a relationship guy?

  I didn’t know. All I knew was this Max, the one who was new to fatherhood. When things settled down and he’d accepted his role in Dylan’s life, would he get back to dating again? And, worse, would he parade these women around the house, right in front of me? Or maybe he would take them to hotels or stay over at their house for the weekend. I’d have to make excuses for him to Dylan, knowing all the while where he was and what—or who—he was doing.

  I gripped the wheel tighter, hating the knot that was tying up my stomach.

  My interest in Max’s dating life was all professional, of course. His relationships with women were sure to affect Dylan in the long term.

  Nice try, loser. Plenty of single parents date.

  Besides, if it was all about Dylan, then why did I feel murderous when I thought about him taking another woman into his arms, or worse, his bed?

  I agonized over that very thought until I reached the parking lot of the salon where I was scheduled to meet Lara. When I pushed open the doors, a little chime tinkled, and I found her sitting in the waiting area, looking up at me.

  “I hate this hour-drive thing,” she said with a scowl. “I like you close.”

  I waved my hand. “Hello to you too.”

  “Well, obviously hello.” She hugged me swiftly, then motioned to one of the girls behind the counter to let them know we were ready. They led us back to a room with a tiny waterfall and a row of chairs with deep, jetted basins for our feet.

  “I signed us up for mani-pedis,” she explained. “Hope that’s okay.”

  “Perfect.” I relaxed into my chair and let out a deep breath.

  “Long week?” she asked.

  “You know how it is starting a new job.”

  “And being constantly surrounded by Mr. Hot Bod? Can’t say that I do,” Lara said, and the woman working on her heel looked over at me.

  I smiled at her, then turned back to Lara with gritted teeth. “Please, for the l
ove of God, don’t call him that.”

  “Fine, fine, call him what you want. How is it going with him?”

  “With my boss? He’s fine. Happy with my performance.”

  Lara waggled her eyebrows. “Oh, is he now?”

  I pinched the bridge of my nose between two fingers. “Do we have to go over this every time we talk?” I’d just spent the whole ride over remembering all the reasons I had to stop thinking about Max, and now Lara seemed determined to drag me back to ground zero again.

  “I’ve just been thinking. You know, it might be fun.”

  “What?” I asked.

  “Getting down and dirty with Mr. Boss Man.”

  “He has a name,” I shot back.

  “Max, then. Do you think he might be interested?” Lara asked.

  She knew me too well for me to hide my blush, so I looked away. “I’m not talking about this anymore.”

  “So he is interested,” she squawked, clapping her hands together gleefully. “Juicy. Do tell.”

  “There is . . . a sort of mutual attraction. But I told you before, I’m done with guys for now. The last time I got involved, I wound up homeless. I live with this guy too, remember, and I’m sure you don’t want me sleeping on your couch again.”

  “It depends. How many pints of ice cream are you going to buy me?” she asked. “I kind of loved having all those flavors in the freezer at any given time.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Lara.”

  She held up her hands. “Fine, fine, you’re probably right. Look, but don’t touch.”

  “Exactly.” I nodded.

  I should get that tattooed on me, just as a constant reminder.

  As the day progressed, though, as much fun as I was having catching up with my bestie, I couldn’t help but wonder how Dylan was. If she missed me. If her daddy missed me.

  But it was exactly that—the thoughts of Dylan and how much I missed her grinning face—that had me feeling more sure than ever.

  Most relationships didn’t work out. That was straight statistics. Which meant that even if Max and I dated, we’d likely fail, and then what? I’d lose my job, again, my home, again, and worse? I’d lose Dylan.

  It was too big of a risk to take, no matter how sexy Max was.

  Look, but don’t touch.

  My new mantra.

  If he could just do the same, we’d be golden.

  Chapter Eleven

  Max

  I rounded my truck and gazed into the bed, wiping a bead of sweat from my face.

  “Shit,” I murmured. I’d forgotten Zach’s favorite beer, and given his reputation for being picky, he wasn’t likely to forgive me for it. Quickly, I pulled my phone from my pocket and texted Matt to bring some with him, then loaded the grocery bags and boxes into my arms and made for my front door.

  I couldn’t deny that a certain amount of guilt was settling in the pit of my stomach—not that it was my fault. I probably should have told Addison that the guys were coming over for the first football game of the season, but I hadn’t wanted to bother her while she was with her friend yesterday. Then, by the time I saw her this morning, she was so harried with cleaning and caring for Dylan that it completely slipped my mind.

  Now, though, I was going to have to give her a heads-up barely five minutes before the guys were due to walk through the door.

  When I got to the kitchen, I called for Dylan and Addison, then settled my bags onto the counter and looked around. The house was quiet, and I was on the brink of heading upstairs to look for them when I heard a shrill laugh through the back window.

  Turning on my heel, I headed for the back door and opened it to find Dylan sitting in a little two-piece pink bikini with white polka dots, her chubby belly jiggling with peals of laughter as a sprinkler moved back and forth, spraying water over her head.

  Standing above her, trying to convince her to toddle over the sprinkler, was Addison. Who, as it happened, was also wearing a bikini.

  And it was nearly as small as Dylan’s.

  My cock thickened and I swallowed hard, trying to ignore the long, trim length of her legs and the golden skin exposed by her dark blue suit. My eyes must have been bugging out of my head, and I blinked before I heard the front door open behind me.

  Shit.

  “Hey, where are you?” Matt’s voice echoed through the house as he walked through to the kitchen, swiftly followed by Zach. “I didn’t stop. I just told Zach he was going to have to suck it up and drink real beer for a change.”

  “Just because I like lime in my beer—” Zach started, then he stopped when he found me, still frozen in the doorway.

  “I hope you don’t mind.” Addison grinned at me. “It was such a beautiful day, and I thought we’d soak up the last of the summer sun, you know?”

  Heat pricked at the back of my neck, and I was all too aware that Addison was in full view of both Zach and Matt. They could see, just like I could, all the curves and planes of her body.

  “Why don’t you go put some clothes on?” I asked, my voice curt as I turned back to my friends. “Give me a minute here, guys. Turn on the game in the living room, and I’ll be right in.”

  Zach said, “Fine, I’ll drink your disgusting beer, but I swear to God, if we don’t have hot wings, somebody is gonna get hit.”

  “Save it,” Matt muttered, and nodded at me before he led Zach back through the kitchen.

  Quickly, I crossed the yard and scooped Dylan up from the ground, groaning as her wet swimsuit dampened the front of my shirt.

  “I could have done that,” Addison said, but I ignored her.

  “You could have brought out a towel too,” I grumbled under my breath.

  Instead, though, she was going to traipse through the living room under my friends’ watchful eyes, letting her luscious ass hang out for everyone to see.

  This wasn’t me. Jealousy, macho asshole anger? Just not my bag, but there was no question my blood ran hot with fury at the thought, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t shake it.

  Gritting my teeth, I carried Dylan up to her room and dressed her in a pair of pajamas, then carried her right back down and sat her on the carpet in front of the TV. Handing her some plastic keys to play with, I sat back with my friends and tried to focus on the game.

  “The place looks different,” Matt said.

  “Clean,” Zach agreed, and I nodded.

  “Addison does a lot around the house,” I said, then glanced at the steps. She’d probably come back down here at any minute, and when she did, I’d have to introduce her to everyone.

  No matter what she changed into, though, I knew my friends would see her as I still did in my mind’s eye—all creamy skin and luscious curves. Her bikini top had been too small for her, and her modest cleavage had been enhanced to the point that all I could think about was thrusting my cock in that tight vee and sliding it up and down . . .

  I stuffed my hands in my pockets and leaned back into the couch.

  “Do she and Dylan play in the sprinklers a lot?” Zach asked, his face the picture of innocence. Dylan turned, gurgling at the sound of her name. “And if so, what times of day? Asking for a friend.”

  Matt barked out a laugh. “Yeah, I could probably use some cooling off myself.”

  “That’s enough,” I snapped, and Zach flipped me the bird before focusing back on the game.

  Something was happening on the screen—someone had been fouled or had fouled someone else—but my mind was too busy reeling to keep track. All I could do was think about those damn long legs and how they would feel wrapped around my waist. Her soft brown hair pulled into a high ponytail, and how that ponytail would look bouncing as she sucked my cock.

  This was so not going to work.

  “Actually, I think I better put Dylan down for a nap,” I muttered, then scooped up the baby and hauled her upstairs like I was sprinting for my own touchdown. She babbled a little and I heard my friends cheer from downstairs, but I kissed the top of her head
and laid her in the crib all the same.

  Damn, I seriously hadn’t thought anything through today. It was close to her naptime, but even if she slept, they would wake her in a matter of minutes. Football and babies might not mix. We were going to have to move the Sunday game ritual to a new location.

  One that didn’t include my boys seeing my smoking-hot nanny in her bathing suit.

  As an image of that tight little ass filled my mind again, I groaned, wishing I hadn’t seen her either. What the fuck was I going to do about Addison?

  I had a few ideas, of course, but most of those involved restraints and scented massage oils.

  In the hall, I heard her bedroom door click shut and I waited for a long moment, weighing my options. But how many times could I do this—over and over again and still coming to the same result? It wasn’t working. None of this was working.

  I marched to her door and knocked hard.

  After a slight pause, she called, “Come in.”

  When I walked inside, she was wearing a fluffy pink robe that stopped just above her knees. Her swimsuit was on the floor in front of her, and my mind was momentarily sidetracked by the fact that I knew she was naked beneath her robe.

  All I would have to do was walk toward her and open that belt, let the fabric slide to the floor, and then . . .

  An ache of need rushed to my groin, and my jaw ticked. “This isn’t going to work,” I said, clenching my hands at my side. This was a shit thing to do. I knew it, but damned if I could stop myself.

  “I . . . I don’t know what you mean.” She shook her head. “I just—”

  “This. You working here. It just isn’t going to work.”

  “Wait, I don’t understand.” She searched my face, her wide eyes glassy with a rush of tears. “Did I do something wrong?”