The Roommate Problem

by Mariah Ankenman

  “Yeah.” Mo winced, rubbing her head. “Those things are pretty soft.”

  Unlike him right now. August felt a different kind of heat take over his body. The burn of embarrassment. Shit. Had his grandmother really just caught him about to make out in the supply closet? He felt like a teenage boy being…well, caught making out in the supply closet.

  “I just needed a spool of white ribbon,” Grandma said, holding her hand out, a knowing grin on her face.

  Mo grabbed one of the spools from the ground. “Here you go, Agatha.”

  “Thank you, dear. Now I’ll let you two get back to your talk.”

  Fan-fucking-tastic. Now his grandmother was going to think he and Mo were a thing. He was fairly certain she’d already been trying to push them together with the whole roommate thing. Now there’d be nothing he could say to convince her it was a bad idea.

  And it was a bad idea. He was glad his grandmother interrupted them before he got to taste those lips that gave him such hell. Yeah. Glad. Now if only his dick would get the memo.

  He glanced over at Mo to see the woman covering her mouth. For one horrifying second, he thought he’d misinterpreted the situation, pushed something she didn’t want, until he noticed she was shaking with laughter.

  Her hand slipped down to her chin, a huge smile on her face. “Oh jeez, that was so embarrassing.”

  He found his lips curling up as well. “Yeah. And now Gran’s going to be harping on me to marry you and give her a dozen great-grandbabies.”

  “Oof, that’s way too many kids for me. Besides, I can’t marry anyone who thinks salad is an acceptable dinner entrée.”

  He laughed along with her, sobering when he said, “You know this can’t happen, Mo. Right?”

  “This?”

  “Us.” He waved a hand back and forth between them. “You and me. It’s a bad idea.”

  She nodded, taking a small step toward him. “Stupendously bad.”

  “Phenomenally bad,” he agreed, backing up a step.

  “Extremely bad.” Another step forward.

  “Incredibly bad.” Another step back.

  His back hit the supply room wall. There was nowhere left to go, and he did not like the wicked gleam in Mo’s eyes.

  Well, maybe he liked it a little.

  “You know, August.” Her fingers lightly touched his chest, walking up his throat, chin, brushing his lips. “Sometimes bad decisions make great stories.”

  Then she bopped him on the nose, gave a tiny chuckle, and headed out of the room. Leaving him standing in the supply closet confused, horny, and seriously considering spending the next few months camped out in the shop supply room, because he had no idea how he was going to live with this tempting woman and not cross the line they both apparently desperately wanted to jump right the hell over.

  Chapter Ten

  Mo had woken up in a cranky mood, and it hadn’t gone away all day. Not even at lunch when she got delivery from her favorite Pho place. What the heck was wrong with her when the most delicious noodle soup in the world didn’t cheer her up? Normally, she woke every day with a smile on her face and an earworm on her lips. But not today, and she knew the reason.

  August Porter.

  Things were weird last night at home after the supply room incident. So ridiculous. It wasn’t like they’d even done anything. Unfortunately. Yeah, yeah, she knew it was a bad idea, they lived together and blah, blah, blah. Try telling all that to her raging hormones that kept her up half the night thinking naughty things to do to every inch of August’s body.

  She hadn’t been this sexually frustrated since she had a crush on her oldest brother’s best friend in college. Too bad Darren had a bigger crush on her brother than her.

  But this time, it really stung. August wasn’t putting on the brakes because he wasn’t attracted to her. He was. A lot. Even if he tried to deny it, she saw the fire in his eyes, felt the proof of his hardness pressed up against her in the tiny room yesterday. He wanted her just as badly as she wanted him.

  But you’re roommates. If it doesn’t work out and he leaves early, how are you going to afford your rent?

  There was the financial aspect to think about along with physical ones. Sure, he signed a sublease, but people broke those all the time, and while she went after him for the money he owed her, the landlord would kick her out on her rear if she didn’t pay rent in full. So yes, hooking up was a bad idea even though they both—

  “Moira!”

  Startled, Mo glanced up from the paperwork she was blankly staring at to see Lilly standing in front of her desk, concerned eyes focused on her.

  “What?”

  “I’ve asked you a question three times, and you didn’t respond.” Lilly reached a hand across the desk, placing it on Mo’s forehead. “Are you feeling all right? You’re not getting Pru’s cold, are you?”

  Poor Pru had come in Monday morning looking like death warmed over. Mo and Lilly immediately sent their friend home and disinfected the entire office. Well, Lilly disinfected it while Mo ordered soup delivery and cold medicine to be sent to Pru’s house, since her friend said Finn had been struck down, too.

  “No,” Mo said, swatting her friend’s hand away. “I’m not getting sick.”

  “Thank goodness, because this week might be slow, but I cannot handle everything myself.”

  Lie. Mo had complete faith that Lilly could handle this job and two side gigs all by herself if she needed to. Her friend was a force.

  “So why are you spacing out?”

  “I wasn’t spacing out.” She totally was. “I just have something on my mind.” She totally did.

  “Anything I can help with?”

  Oh, that’d go over real great. Tell Lilly about her inappropriate sexual attraction to her new roommate. Logical Lilly would flip her lid and list all the hundreds of reasons it was a bad idea and Mo should keep it in her pants.

  There might not be a hundred legitimate reasons, but Mo was sure Lilly would invent some.

  “Naw. It’s just stuff.”

  Lilly’s green eyes narrowed behind her dark-framed glasses. “What kind of stuff?”

  Gah, her friend’s nosiness had only increased since she moved out. Well, too bad for Lil, because Mo wasn’t saying anything. She was already in a funk—she didn’t need a lecture about proper roommate protocol on top of it.

  “Nunya business kind of stuff.” She made a shooing motion, going for the only thing she knew would get Lilly off her back. “Don’t you have work to do? We’re down a set of hands and all that.”

  But her friend didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, Lilly gave her a long, hard look.

  “Moira.”

  Fantastic. It was Lilly’s stern tone. She hated the stern tone. Usually because it meant she was about to get a longwinded speech about why she shouldn’t do the thing she was thinking about doing. Which Mo usually went right ahead and did anyway because when someone told her no…it just made her want to do it more.

  “Liiiiiilllllly.” She dragged out the name, doing her most outrageous impression of her friend.

  With a long-suffering sigh, Lilly came around Mo’s desk and popped a hip on the edge. “Spill it,” her friend demanded.

  Mo grabbed her coffee cup, lifting it to her lips with a sassy grin. “I would, but then you’d just make me clean it up, and you know how much I hate cleaning.”

  “Whatever is bothering you, Mo.” Lilly’s eyes rolled upward. “Tell me what’s got you so frazzled.”

  “I’m not frazzled.” She was never frazzled. Spaced out, maybe. Easily distracted by shiny new things, sure. But Moira Rossi did not get frazzled. “I’m…contemplative.”

  “Mmmm hmmmm.” Lilly crossed her arms. “And all this deep inner reflection has nothing to do with your new roommate, right?”

  What? How did she kno
w August was currently the bane of her daily mood?

  “You’ve been muttering his name along with the words sexy, stupid bonehead for the past hour.”

  He was a sexy, stupid bonehead. But she hadn’t realized she’d said that out loud. Busted.

  “Mo, I have no idea what’s going on, but you know it’s a bad idea to get involved with your roommate, right? A monumentally bad idea.”

  Pushing back from her desk, she rose out of her chair and faced her roommate. Unfortunately, due to their height difference, even with Lilly leaning against her desk, Mo still had to glance up slightly to stare her friend in the face.

  “Nothing is going on.” Thanks to Agatha’s interruption and August chickening out. “But even if it was, it’s not any of your business.”

  “You’re my best friend. Of course it’s my business,” Lilly argued.

  This reminded Mo of what August said about Agatha, how it was his business to know about his grandmother because they were family. Mo considered Lilly and Pru family. The sisters she never had. She understood her friend’s desire to help out with any problems because Lilly loved her and Mo loved Lilly. Just as August loved Agatha. But she also knew telling Lilly what was going on would only result in her friend worrying about an eventuality that would probably never come.

  As much guilt as she had over not telling August about Agatha’s upcoming surgery, she now understood why the old woman was keeping it a secret. Telling August now would do nothing but make him worry and give him more ammunition for closing down the shop. Just like telling Lilly she had the hots for her roommate would only get her a sternly worded lecture.

  People on the outside of situations always seemed to have the very best judgment of it. Like those people who claimed what perfect parents they would be until the day they had kids and all their color-coded scheduling and homegrown dinner plans went to crap under the weight of screaming babies and three hours of sleep.

  “Then as my best friend, take it from me. Nothing is happening.” Yet.

  “And you’d tell me if it were?”

  Not a chance in hell. “Of course.”

  Lilly stared for a moment before nodding and standing.

  “But,” Mo said before her friend could head back to her desk, “if you’re down for a girl’s night out, I could go for some drinks, or even pinball.”

  Pinball was Lilly’s favorite pastime, and Mo really needed to stay out of the apartment tonight. Being so hopped up around August wouldn’t do her any good if the guy wasn’t down, so she might as well go to the bar and see if she could find some other guy. Preferably one as sexy as August, but without the ’tude.

  “Oh, Mo.” Lilly bit her lip, regret filling her eyes. “I would love to, you know that, but Lincoln is getting back from his work trip tonight and we were going to…”

  “Hump like bunnies?”

  Lilly’s cheeks turned as pink as Mo’s hair. “Moira!”

  “Pffft, pretty it up all you want, but you haven’t seen your man in a week. I know what you’ll be doing tonight.” Something she wished she’d be doing, but she wasn’t holding her breath. “Don’t worry about it, Lil. We can hang out sometime next week.”

  “Are you sure? I’m happy to get home later if you need a night out.”

  Dropping the teasing tone, Mo squeezed her friend’s hand. “No. Really, it’s fine. Go home to your wonderful fiancé tonight and enjoy being reunited ’cause it feels so good. Reunited ’cause you understood—”

  “No. Stop!” Lilly declared holding up a hand. “You’re going to get that song stuck in my—dammit, it already is.”

  Mo laughed as Lilly turned and headed back to her desk, hiding the small bite of pain and jealousy eating away at her gut. She was so happy that her friends had found their soul mates, but honestly, she missed the time when they had been the three musketeers. She knew they’d always be there for her if she needed them, but they had moved on to a new stage in their life, and Mo felt…stuck.

  It sucked, even if she was deliriously happy for them.

  They got to go home to the loves of their lives, and she got to go home to a grump who revved her motor and her temper. Lucky her. Oh well, nothing saying she couldn’t go out on her own tonight. She knew most of the staff at 1UP and most of the regulars, too. Or maybe she’d text Parker or Díaz. It wasn’t pub quiz night, but if they weren’t on shift, they could all hang out. Maybe go to karaoke. Anything to get out of the house and away from the crank who wanted her but clearly hated the fact that he did.

  After work was done, Lilly left to grab Lincoln at the airport, and Mo headed upstairs to her apartment. It was quiet when she entered. Quiet and clean. Looked like August stress cleaned again. Guess that was one good thing to take away from this whole situation. The apartment hadn’t looked this clean since Lilly lived here.

  She hung her purse up on the coat rack and headed down the hall to her room. No sign of August. His door was closed, but the light in his room was off. Was he in the bathroom or still at the flower shop? She didn’t know and didn’t care. Liar. Okay, she was trying not to care. Tonight was about going out to have some fun. Not obsess over her crush on her roomie and pondering where he might be, if he might be thinking about her, too, what he looked like naked.

  All very bad things to be thinking about.

  Mo opened her bedroom door, determined to slough off this negative attitude and have a good time tonight. Bad attitudes give you indigestion, as Nonna used to say.

  Opening her closet, Mo picked out her favorite pair of mermaid print leggings and her off-the-shoulder black peasant crop top. A good outfit always put her in a better mood. Maybe tomorrow night she’d dye her hair again. The pink had been in for four weeks now. Ages. She always felt better with a new color.

  She ditched her work clothing, tugging on the leggings and top—sans bra because she’d lost her strapless one months ago in the building laundry somewhere and the top had a shelf bra that worked well enough for her. Now all she needed to complete the look was a hot pair of shoes. Her neon yellow wedge sandals would go perfect with this outfit…if she could just find them.

  Mo glanced around her room—the one part of the apartment that still looked like a tornado had hit it. Why bother cleaning when things were just going to get messy again? Never made sense to her.

  “Where are you, my cute little sandals?” Not so little because for a short woman, Mo had big feet.

  She searched the closet floor, under her bed, in the pile of dirty laundry by her dresser. Nothing. Hands on her hips, she surveyed her small bedroom.

  “Where the heck are you?”

  Her gaze caught on a flash of bright yellow color way up high on the top shelf of her closet.

  “Aha! Found you.”

  Glancing around, she grabbed the only thing in her room she could use as a stool, her laundry hamper, and tipped it sideways. Clothing spilled out, but there was already a massive pile on the floor anyway, so who cared? Mo stepped onto the oval bin, arms out to steady herself as the hard plastic dipped and tipped with her body weight. She reached up as high as she could, fingers barely grazing the strap of the wedge.

  “Dammit, come on!” she yelled at the shoes. “Sometimes being fun-sized really sucks.”

  She grunted, lifting up on her toes. Stretching her arm to the point of pain, her fingers finally caught purchase on the sandals.

  “Yes!”

  Her celebration was short-lived as she started to ease back down, shoes in hand, when the laundry bin rocked and her feet flew out from under her. Mo went crashing to the floor in a pile of flailing limbs and shouted curses.

  “Ow! Son of a b—”

  “Moira!”

  She screamed when her bedroom door flew open. A huge, dark shadow filled the doorway. A robber? No, that was ridiculous. Why would a burglar know her name? She must have hit her head on the w
ay down for such a silly thought. A few blinks and the form came into focus, and of course it was—

  “August!” She struggled to get up from the pile of clothing she’d fallen into. “Do you always barge into people’s rooms without knocking first?”

  “When they scream bloody murder, I do.”

  She stood facing off against him. “I did not scream.”

  “You did.” His trademark scowl was in place. “Sounded like a building toppled over in here and…” His eyes widened, cheeks going as red as the hair on his head as his gaze shot toward the ceiling. “Um, Mo you might wanna—”

  “I might wanna do nothing. We might share this place, but this is my room, and you can’t come bursting into my room whenever you feel like it.” Her temper was soaring due to embarrassment, the fact that he had been hiding from her when she got home—coward—and the smarting of her hip where she fell.

  “I was coming to see if you were okay,” he said, still looking up. “And I really think you should—”

  “I don’t care. It was very nice of you to come to my rescue, but I’m perfectly fine, and you could have knocked first. Besides, I don’t need—”

  “Moira!” he shouted, slapping his hand over his eyes. “Your top is down.”

  Mo glanced down. Huh, would you look at that. August hadn’t been trying to give her a lecture on bedroom safety or cleanliness. The sweet guy had been embarrassed by her breasts, which were currently holding the neckline of her peasant top directly under them.

  “Whoopsie.” She giggled, putting the girls back in their upright and locked position. “You can look now, August. Your delicate sensibilities are no longer threatened by a pair of enlarged mammary glands.”

  He scrubbed his hand down his face, the heat in his gaze scorching her from across the room as those hazel beauties focused on her. Oh boy. Did it just get a million degrees warmer in here? It was pretty cool of him to look away and let her know of her clothing mishap. A lot of guys would have taken advantage and looked their fill. Not August. He resisted the sweet temptation her bare breasts had offered. Class act. She had to give it to the guy.