Room Mates_The Series

by Kendall Ryan

  Mason

  “Almost done,” I called as someone knocked on my door.

  My assistant always got antsy at this time of day—not that I could blame her. By rights, she should have been able to leave an hour ago.

  The door creaked open and I glanced up to find Trent standing in the doorway, a bottle of pills in his hand.

  “What’s up? Something wrong?” My heart rate ticked up a few notches, but Trent shook his head.

  “Just some prenatal vitamins. Just in case.” He shook the bottle, then set it on my desk. “You seeing her anytime soon?”

  “I was going to stop by the zoo on my way home, actually, so I’ll bring these with me.”

  “The zoo?” Trent raised his eyebrows.

  “She’s a conservationist there. Works with the endangered animals.”

  “You nerds all know how to pick each other.”

  “You’re a nerd, too, dude” I pointed out.

  “That doesn’t mean I like my women brainy.”

  “I’m pretty sure your only qualification for a date is that she have a working vagina. And a heartbeat.”

  “Even that isn’t a deal breaker. I’m happy to do a little extra work.” Trent winked and I let out a little laugh.

  “Right, well, I’m…so glad I know that now.” I moved the paper I’d been working on into my out-box and shrugged off my lab coat in favor of my leather jacket. “Come on, walk out with me.”

  Together we walked down the carpeted hall to find that the rest of the nurses and assistants had already left for the day, and I shook my head as I locked up behind myself.

  “Guess they all had places to be,” I said.

  “On Friday night? No kidding,” Trent said.

  “Who asked you?” I shot back. “Actually, I’m shocked you’re not on your way to some hot date.”

  “Hell, no. Ever since your last hot date, I’m worried that I’ll wind up like you.”

  “Handsome and successful?” I asked.

  “Strapped to the train tracks of parenthood, my friend. No thank you. I can’t wait until they come out with a pill for men. There aren’t enough condoms in the world to make me feel safe after all this.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I might be having a baby. I’m not enlisted in a war.”

  “Oh, but you are. It’s a field of land mines and pitfalls waiting to happen, my friend. I wish you the best of luck with your little situation, but I wouldn’t trade lives with you for all the money in the world right now,” he murmured, tipping an imaginary hat in my direction.

  We reached the parking lot and said our good-byes, and I made my way to the zoo, thinking over Trent’s words. In truth, I’d never seen parenthood as an obstacle or a curse like so many of my male friends. To me, it seemed like a gift. Something to look forward to—so long as you were sharing the load with the right person.

  Again I thought of the envelope sitting in the drawer of my bedside table. The night before, I’d held it in my hands, staring at it for at least an hour while I thought about the rest of my yogurt date with Bren. She was funny, smart, beautiful. Everything I’d want my child to be.

  But she was still, in so many ways, a stranger.

  And that needed to be fixed.

  I pulled up to the zoo and snagged a space in the front row of parking before making my way through the gates. When I reached the ticket desk, I said, “I’m looking for Bren Matthews?”

  The thin man behind the counter nodded but tapped the buttons on his keyboard all the same. “Twenty dollars, please.”

  I reached in my wallet and fished out a bill before slapping it on the counter and waiting for my wristband. The man handed it to me with a too-wide smile, and I nodded.

  “Thanks.”

  “Enjoy your visit.”

  I walked through another set of gates and glanced at the directory, trying to remember what Bren had told me about her day. Though now that I thought about it, I remembered that she’d hardly told me anything at all.

  No, she’d mentioned only the cheetahs—which meant I had only one place to look.

  When I got to the exhibit, a man stood on the outside of the glass-enclosed cage, writing on a clipboard as he surveyed the animals. He was a tall, handsome kind of guy with slicked-back blond hair and a square jaw. Almost like the villain from any ’80s movie ever made.

  “Excuse me,” I said. “Do you know where I can find Bren Matthews?”

  The man looked at his watch, then nodded. “Carlisle went into the nursing enclosure about twenty minutes ago. If I were a betting man, I’d say she’s there.”

  I frowned, not sure what Carlisle had to do with anything or who he was, but I nodded and gave him my thanks before following the signs that led to the nursing enclosure.

  When I got there, I found a tunnel of leaves and a big, hand-painted sign announcing the newest babies at the zoo—Nancy the koala, Ferdinand the wombat, Henry the baby orangutan, and Daisy the baby gorilla.

  I stepped inside the little space and spotted Bren immediately. Nestled in her arms was a baby animal. Bren fed her a bottle with the gentlest expression on her face, nodding as the man beside her spoke.

  This guy, too, was blond and handsome, though less tall and tanned than the one I’d just met.

  “The thing drives like a dream,” he was saying. “You’ll have to come out with me and try it some time. I’ll even let you drive.”

  Bren nodded, lips curved into a smile. “Maybe sometime.”

  I raised my eyebrows and cleared my throat, fisting my hands at my sides because I felt like throat punching him. In my heart, Bren already belonged to me and this guy’s blatant flirting irritated me to no end. “Hey.”

  She looked up and her cheeks flushed a pretty pink, although she didn’t take the bottle from the tiny pink creature. “Oh, hey. What brings you here?”

  I resisted the urge to hand her the clearly marked prenatal vitamins from my pocket to get her colleague to stop drooling over her but instead forced a grin. “Just thought I’d stop by to see you in action.”

  She cocked her head and nodded to the baby pig in her arms. “Well then, welcome to my world.”

  Her companion glanced from me to Bren and back again, his face falling a little. “You want me to take over?” he asked, gesturing to the pink.

  Adorably dressed in a diaper, the pig was nestled in close to Bren’s chest and she leaned to press a kiss to its nose. “It’s okay, sweetie. I’m not going yet.” She turned her attention to the man in front of her. “I’m good from here, actually, if you want to go punch out.”

  “Oh, uh, yeah. I was gonna get going anyway.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and skirted from the little enclosure. “I’ll see you on Monday, Bren.”

  “’Kay, see ya,” she said to the other man, who hesitated and spent one moment too long staring at her.

  Yeah, see ya, chump.

  The guy, I could only assume was Carlisle, looked so deflated as he trudged away that, for a second, I almost felt sorry for him.

  Almost.

  I pulled the bottle from inside my jacket and handed it to her. “Actually, the other reason I came was that I thought you could use these. Just as a precaution.”

  “Oh, uh, thanks.” She went a little pale as she balanced the formula bottle and pig in one hand and snatched the bottle of pills with the other. She shot a look around before quickly shoving it in one of the many pockets of her khaki cargo shorts.

  “I didn’t mean to interrupt,” I said.

  “No, no, we’re just finishing up for the day. It’s time to punch out, but I like to feed the babies before I go.”

  I shot a glance at Carlisle’s retreating back in the distance and then faced Bren again. “How long has he been after you?”

  “What?” she scoffed. “Carlisle? Are you serious?”

  “He was asking you to go for a ride, and I’m pretty sure his car is option B. Option A was a ride on his d—”

  “I get your meaning,” she cu
t in, her cheeks turning red. “But Carlisle isn’t like that. We’re just friends.”

  She set the baby pig back in its pen, treating me to a glimpse of her firm ass as she bent over.

  “Trust me, when it comes to women like you, all men are like that.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Oh, yeah? Even you?”

  “Especially me.”

  A sizzle of tension rolled down my spine. Damn it all if I could figure out how she even made her lime-green zoo polo look like the sexiest thing in the world. Her pretty golden hair was pulled back in a ponytail, emphasizing the crystal clearness of those bright eyes, but when I spoke, she looked away from me, focusing instead on the baby in her arms.

  Which, of course, made her look all the more irresistible.

  As she stared down at the little lump in the pen, she practically glowed, and when she smiled, it seemed like she was grinning with all of her body. Like she was truly, blissfully happy. Like she loved her job more than life itself.

  And that was a feeling I knew all too well. But even more than that, I couldn’t escape the very real feeling that she would be just as enamored of our own baby…if we were having one, that was.

  Bren cleared her throat, pulling us both from the tense moment my reply had created. “Tell me, Mr. Baby Expert, have you ever fed a baby pig?”

  I cocked an eyebrow. “Can’t say that I have.”

  “Then I think it’s time you learned.” She motioned for me to join her and I followed her instructions, standing so close that our skin brushed as I reached for one of the pig’s siblings. “This little guys is special.”

  “I thought you weren’t supposed to have favorites.”

  “Oh, I have favorites in every enclosure. Like the new koala baby’s mom, Sheila. I love her.”

  “And what makes a koala so special?”

  She shrugged a single shoulder. “She just is. She has the most personality of any of the other koalas, which is why all the males try to imprint on her.”

  “Imprint?”

  She laughed. “You really don’t know much about animals, huh?”

  “Clearly.”

  “When a koala wants to mate with another koala, he excretes a certain pheromone from his chest and rubs it on his intended.”

  “And they say romance is dead?” I murmured, a grin hitching my lips. I always enjoyed my work, but I couldn’t deny, being here with her had been the highlight of my day so far.

  Bren rolled her eyes. “Sheila is the belle of the ball in the koala habitat.”

  I nodded. “So, what’s your favorite animal?”

  “Type or in particular?”

  I laughed. “How about both?”

  “Personally, I’m a big fan of Nibs, the cheetah. But I also like caring for the babies…”

  “Why can’t the piglets mother feed them?”

  Her gaze turned soft and her thoughts looked faraway. “She got an infection in her milk ducts shortly after delivering. Poor thing is on some strong antibiotics and needs her rest so she can recover.”

  “I can see why you like them so much,” I said, still marveling at how cute the damn things were routing around in the hay, and mewling softly as they got cozy.

  Bren nodded. “They’re sweet.”

  “Like you,” I said, and a slow pink flush took over her cheeks.

  When it’s bottle was done, she took the pig from my arms, settled the animal back in its pen, and then locked up the gate before leading me down the pathway.

  “So, look, I don’t know if you had plans tonight, but I’ve got a ton of food in my fridge and nobody to share it with. Interested in coming over tonight and letting me cook for you?” I asked, trying to keep it nonchalant even though my blood pulsed through my body in hot rushes.

  She studied my face for a long moment, apparently considering her options.

  “I won’t try anything funny,” I said, then added, “unless, of course, you want me to.”

  “Let’s see how it goes.”

  “Is that a yes?” I asked.

  “Yeah, why not. Let’s have dinner.” She turned and led me out of the enclosure, careful to make sure I sanitized my hands again on the way out, but I was only half listening to her instructions.

  I’d reverted back into my head, busy planning what I would cook for her—what I would say next.

  What I was going to do to replay that incredible night we’d shared so many weeks before.

  Because today had only sealed the deal for me.

  If I had any say in the matter, Bren Matthews was going to end this night screaming my name and begging me for more.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Bren

  “This is it. Which I guess you know.”

  Mason opened the door to his apartment, and again I was greeted by the cool, modern lines of his penthouse suite that I was sure I’d never see again. The glass wall along the back of the room framed the fading sunset and the outline of the city, and as he flicked on the lights, I was blown away by the crisp, sharp lines of his cream-and-slate-gray furniture.

  After we’d left the zoo, I’d gone home after work for a quick shower and changed into a gauzy sundress in pale peach. Based on Mason’s lingering perusal, he approved of my wardrobe change.

  I slipped off my sandals and then padded toward the kitchen, trying to beat back the memory of the last time I’d been here, half-naked and searching for my clothes, but I couldn’t help it. Internally I cringed at my former self, the guilt of having slunk out like a coward sinking in the more I got to know him.

  “The place is beautiful,” I said, though inside I began to wonder where—in all the glass coffee tables and chrome fixtures—a baby might fit in. Maybe a stainless-steel crib to match the decor?

  But we weren’t thinking about babies. We were thinking about…what?

  Ever since I’d thought there was a possibility of this baby, I’d hardly been able to think of anything else. And now, faced with the prospect of having to talk, I wasn’t sure I had a word left to say that wasn’t about custody or how I wanted our potential child to be raised.

  “Thanks,” he said, and for a moment I’d forgotten what he was thanking me for. The apartment, right. I’d said he had a nice apartment.

  He followed me into the kitchen after slipping off his own shoes, then opened the fridge door and pulled out a bottle of water. “Thirsty?”

  I shook my head.

  He closed the door and leaned back against it. “Is everything okay? You’re quiet.”

  “Yeah.” I swallowed. “Just not sure what to say.”

  “Then let me guide you.” He smiled warmly, sending a shiver of awareness through me. “First, tell me what you want to eat that isn’t soft cheese, sushi, or alcohol-related?”

  I laughed despite myself. “Well, uh, I don’t know what you have.”

  He shrugged. “I can make you anything. There’s steak and the makings of tortillas. Quesadillas? Fajitas? Pasta? Or there’s chicken if you’re less into red meat.”

  “Steak sounds good.” I gave him another nervous nod and he pulled the package from the fridge—a rectangular container with two massive porterhouse steaks inside.

  “You were going to make fajitas with a porterhouse?” I asked.

  He grabbed a frying pan hanging from the rack over the island and shrugged. “I was going to make you whatever you wanted. Now tell me, what do you like with your steak?”

  “More steak?” I said, and he laughed.

  “You got it.” He grabbed a bag of slivered almonds from a nearby cabinet, then moved back to the fridge for some green beans. I watched as he moved quietly and quickly, never consulting a cookbook.

  “You actually cook,” I said, recognizing his total comfort in the kitchen with a start. Was there anything this man couldn’t do?

  He nodded. “I do. When my mom was sick, my dad did the cooking and he was god-awful. I figured someone had to figure out how to make edible food or we would all waste away even if she
beat the cancer.”

  I smiled. The story was a familiar one—it was the same thing I’d done when my father had passed away. Of course, I’d been only twelve back then, but with my father gone, my mother hardly ever remembered to eat, let alone to feed me.

  I’d never gotten good enough to make anything fancy without a recipe, but I knew my way around a gas range, which was still more than I could ever say for my mom.

  “What are you thinking about?” he asked, his deep voice breaking through my thoughts.

  “Nothing. Well, I was thinking I should help you. And that it must have been hard, watching your mom so sick like that.” No point in mentioning that I could empathize from experience. I still didn’t know how close I really wanted to get with Mason. I barely knew him, even if our DNA were friends.

  “We all have our trials,” he said, deftly moving the indigents around before he reached for another pan. “And you stay exactly where you are. I don’t want you lifting a finger.”

  “I could get used to that,” I said with a chuckle.

  But you better not get used to it, Bren Matthews. Because if you do, you’ll find yourself flying straight out of the frying pan and into the fire.

  He smiled back at me, then focused in on his work again, heating the pans and sautéing the almonds while I imagined myself falling so far and so deep I wouldn’t know where I ended and he began. No. Not gonna happen. “You know, you’d think that it would have been a huge toll on them, what happened with my mom, but my parents really made the best of it. Every day we did something together as a family. I mean, I know now that was because we didn’t know how many days my mom might have left, but then?” He shrugged a shoulder, then moved back to the fridge for a forgotten ingredient. “It was just, I don’t know, good. To see my parents together and happy together in spite of everything. It makes you feel like anything is possible, seeing two people like that.”

  “I know what you mean.” I’d said the words without thinking—or rather, without realizing what I’d done. I didn’t want to open the door to my past. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

  Of course, he would have to meet my mother eventually, and when he did, the whole sordid affair would come out—how happy my life had been when my parents had been together. And how completely and totally inconsolable she had been since my dad’s passing.