Mr. Savior: A Roommate Hero Romance

by Sullivan, Piper

  “Somehow, I doubt it was laziness that made your shopping trip a little less desirable.” Bo spoke like she knew something and though I knew she and Nina were friendly, I doubted Nina would have shared that much with her.

  “You’re right, it was too much to do and not enough hours to do it all,” I told her honestly, but my words were met with an uninterested eyeroll.

  “Mmmhmm,” she grunted, filling up a large coffee cup. “Coffee cake? Muffin?”

  “How about a dozen of those bourbon pecan donuts?” They smelled like heaven and would mean another two miles on my run each day, but I had no doubt they would be totally worth it.

  “Go doctor your coffee, I got some fresh ones coming out now.” I paid and Bo disappeared to the back of the store while I took a seat at the picnic table out front.

  “Mr. January, you are making my life very difficult.”

  Dressed in his Tulip PD uniform, with his olive skin and dark hair and eyes, Antonio Vargas cut a pretty intimidating figure — but I was a hard man to intimidate. That, and it was hard to be intimidated by a guy when you’ve seen him drunk, heartbroken, and just broken.

  “You must have me confused for someone else. I haven’t seen you in weeks.” A hard trick to perform in a town as small as Tulip, but somehow, we’d managed it.

  He frowned. “Has it been that long? Really?”

  “Yep. You were busy with that FBI training and then the task force. Have you even been in Tulip the past few weeks?”

  Antonio had left Tulip for college like most of us, but he hadn’t come home right away, taking a job instead in New Orleans and becoming a homicide detective. A few years ago, though, he’d moved back. He didn’t say much about his time away.

  “And somehow,” he said, eyes narrowed, “you still managed to throw me under the bus?”

  My lips twitched but I fought like hell to keep that smile from spreading. He was right, I had. Naked in bed, I’d given Nina the lowdown on how to get her first-choice heroes for the calendar. “What do you mean?”

  “Don’t give me that innocent shit, Worthington. Everyone knows you’re sleeping with the bartender, and she was ready for every single one of my objections. Every one, Preston.” Antonio’s hazel eyes were hard, as usual, but the muscles in his face and his hands were relaxed. He was annoyed, but not pissed.

  “Maybe she’s just that good with people. Do you even know her?”

  “Not as well as you do, clearly.” We shared a laugh and he shook his head. “She wants me to be Mr. March and she won’t let up — she showed up with bacon mac & cheese, Preston. I know she didn’t make it, but I swear, it almost worked.”

  “Almost?” I couldn’t believe he hadn’t folded like a cheap suit. That heart attack on a plate was his only real indulgence.

  “She ambushed me at work and there was no way in hell I would agree there. Gave me just enough time for my good sense to return.” Antonio’s voice was light with the relief he felt at the moment. “Why’d you do it?”

  “Because a pretty girl asked me to.” And because she hurt herself to save a kid when it wasn’t her job, but that was no one’s business but my own.

  “So, it’s more than a rumor, you and Nina?”

  I nodded, feeling happy and smug even though I knew that response would likely get on Nina’s nerves. “Yep. I think? She’s tough to read. When we’re together, she acts like she can’t get enough of me, but other than a few texts, I haven’t talked to her in days.”

  “Ah, the independent woman. I’ve heard rumors about them, but I’ve never seen one in the wild.”

  “I was wondering when cynical Antonio would show up.” Whatever had happened in New Orleans had soured him on love in a major way, but I wouldn’t bring it up until he did.

  “You have to admit that she’s not really your type, Preston.” That much was true.

  “That’s because I was looking for one thing with those women.”

  “And you’re not with her?”

  Hell no, I wasn’t. “Nope. I like her and we have fun together.”

  “She’s been to your house,” he said, knowing what a big deal that was.

  “It was unintentional at first.” But now, the more she came over, the more I wanted her to stay. Luckily, I was smart enough to know if I told her that now, Nina might pack up and leave as soon as the calendar was finished. “She’s also worried.”

  “About what?” He snorted and I knew what he was thinking. What woman would have anything to worry about with me — or rather, with my wealth?

  “About the mean girls who’ll punish her out of jealousy, and the matchmaking mamas who want their daughters to end up with a Worthington. She thinks they’ll stiff her on tips out of spite.”

  “And she wants you to make up the difference? If you want, I can run a background on her.”

  “Don’t do that, Antonio. She hasn’t asked for anything, other than to keep it lowkey to see if it goes anywhere.” I laughed. “Can you believe she told me she wouldn’t risk the tips if I just wanted to fuck her?”

  Antonio blinked, then chuckled. “After spending ten minutes with her, I can, actually.” He sighed. “I don’t want to be stripped down to nothing but my shield, handcuffs, and hat for some damn photoshoot, Preston.”

  I laughed and covered my eyes. “Please, save me from that image!” His scowl darkened and I laughed even harder. “Just say no, Nina won’t hold a grudge.” At least, I didn’t think she would.

  “Maybe Nina won’t, but Janey will. She’ll probably follow me around town and photograph me doing the most embarrassing jobs just to humiliate me.” We both scoffed, thinking about how many times she’d sought retaliation with her camera.

  “Maybe you can get your Chief to chime in his two cents?”

  Antonio stood and stared at me hard. “And risk him ordering me to do it? Hell no. I’ll think about it.” He threw a few bills on the table and shook his head. “Shift starts soon. Thanks for nothin’, Worthington.”

  “Happy to oblige, Officer,” I called out, with a laugh that only grew louder when he flashed his middle finger over his shoulder. If you couldn’t abuse your friends, why have them?

  * * *

  Now that I had a regular visitor other than Ry, I figured today was as good a day as any to get my bookshelves finished and put up against the wall.

  The weather was nice and I had a cooler beside me filled with beer, water, and sandwiches. I could work all afternoon, uninterrupted. Nina was busy getting the fundraising calendar off the ground, which meant I was on my own.

  And I was fine with it. I usually spent most of my free time alone, unless Ry stopped by and forced me to interact with the world. But now that Nina was in my life, I missed her when she wasn’t around. It was a little disconcerting. I let my thoughts drift to Nina while I sanded the inside of the shelves.

  There were a lot of secrets hiding in the depths of those blue eyes, things she wasn’t ready to share with me. Or anyone, I guessed. But I had the patience of a saint, and I had a feeling getting Nina to open up to me might just be worth it.

  “This is what’s kept you too busy to see our mother? Just buy some damn bookshelves.”

  My shoulders tensed at the sound of my brother’s voice but since I hadn’t asked him to stop by, I ignored him. These shelves weren’t going to sand themselves. Grant groaned and I knew if I turned, he’d be smoothing a hand over his perfectly gelled hair because heaven forbid he actually mess it up.

  “Preston, this is ridiculous.”

  “What’s ridiculous is that you can’t seem to take a hint,” I retorted without looking up. My strokes grew harder; if I wasn’t careful, this distraction would screw up my handiwork. I stopped and put down the sanding sheet before I turned to face Grant. “This isn’t any of your goddamn business.”

  He snorted. “You’re wrong about that.”

  I smiled. Without me, all the pressure and all the expectations that came with the Worthington name fell on Grant’s shou
lders. And as much as he pretended to hate it, we both knew he secretly loved it.

  “No, I’m not. This is between me and our mother, so if this isn’t a social call, you can leave.” We stared at each other for a long time, matching blue eyes spitting flames back and forth.

  “Mom isn’t going to give up, you know.”

  I knew. “I don’t expect her to, but I also don’t care.”

  Sanding sheet back in hand, I went back to work on the second shelf. Mom could do what she wanted — she always did, anyway — but I wouldn’t play any part in her machinations.

  “Yeah, well, you should, Preston. Mom can be devious and underhanded when she wants something.”

  And I’d learned from the best. “So can I, Grant.”

  Unlike our mother, I didn’t care about being humiliated in front of the townspeople, because I’d never held myself above them.

  “She’s our mother.” Grant’s tone was insistent and harsh, the same one that used to get me to fall in line back when he was twelve and I was his annoying eight-year-old kid brother.

  “Then she should learn to act like it. She’s the one who decided I was no longer a member of the family, not me. And as much as you pretend you don’t like it, we both know you love it. Save the concerned older brother act and get the hell out of my sight.”

  “Goddammit, Preston.” Ah, finally, his fingers dared to muss his pretentious hairstyle.

  I stood slowly and walked over to him. A lot had changed since were kids. I wasn’t the small one anymore — he was.

  “Don’t ever come to my home, on my property, and think you can order me around. If you don’t want to have a beer, or grab a sanding sheet and get to work, get the hell out of here.”

  “Pres—”

  “Now, Grant. The next time I see you, it better be because you want to hang out or shoot the shit. If it’s for any other reason, don’t bother stopping. Don’t speak and don’t acknowledge me.” I knew it was harsh, but this shit had gone on for too long.

  “You don’t mean that.”

  “I do. Mother did this to our relationship, not me. If you weren’t so fucking blind, you’d see that, and maybe support me. Your brother. But, since you’re incapable of doing that, fuck off. Please.”

  Grant wanted to say something more — I could tell by the determination in his eyes and the stubborn set of his shoulders — but I knew what he saw when he looked at me. A tall, angry figure, intimidating and ready to strike.

  Finally, he nodded and turned, stepping gingerly over the sharp rocks and muddy divots in the road. My brother looked as out of place as could be in his three-piece suit and expensive loafers.

  I resumed working on the bookshelves, seething over his visit. Why couldn’t things ever be easy when it came to the Worthington family?

  The sound of boots crunching on gravel drew my attention and I stood, turning with a wide smile as I took in the sight before me.

  Nina, looking good enough to eat in a pair of lopped-off denim shorts that still had plenty of fringe teasing her thighs, and a sinfully tight pink shirt that was a change of pace from her wardrobe’s usual black, blue, and gray color scheme. “You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

  She set her brown canvas bag down at her feet and crossed her arms. “Are your eyes sore, Preston?”

  “Not anymore. All I can see now is you.” It sounded like a line, the fact that she thought it did too only stung a little.

  “Yeah? Well, you’re looking pretty good, yourself. All sweaty and tanned.” She licked her lips for emphasis, light blue eyes glittering with desire. “How’s it going?” She nodded at the forgotten bookshelves beside me.

  “Better now, but okay. You here to see me or is this calendar business?”

  Nina gave me a slow, heated look that left my jeans feeling a bit tighter in the groin area. “Well, I did come for personal reasons, but now I have an idea of what your month should look like.”

  I groaned when she licked her lips, as though she couldn’t wait to taste me, or was imagining how I’d taste, all sweaty like I was now.

  I dropped the sander and closed the distance between us, cupping her face while she grabbed a fistful of my shirt and tugged me down. She needed a proper kiss. I put my mouth on hers and gave her the dirtiest, sexiest kiss I could.

  She tasted sweet, like mint and some sort of berry. I couldn’t get enough of it. Neither could Nina, if the way she was holding me close and slipping her tongue inside my mouth was any indication.

  Eventually. she pulled back with a breathless smile. “What calendar?”

  I smiled at her slightly hazy, sex-rumpled look and picked her up, tossing her over my shoulder because carrying her to bed meant I wouldn’t have to wait.

  I couldn’t wait. I stripped her down and spent the rest of the afternoon — and well into the evening — kissing and tasting her, loving on her, and making her scream my name.

  The sound of my name on her lips when she came apart was quickly becoming my very favorite sound.

  Nina

  I’d never admit it to his face, but Buddy was right. There was no way in hell I’d be able to run the twenty-foot length of the bar, back and forth, for an entire shift, sometimes a shift and a half.

  The past three hours had proven to me that despite all my protests to the contrary, this leg was slowing me down. Scouting different locations for Janey’s photo shoots had taken a lot out of me, even though most of my time had been spent driving. Janey was a fan of outdoor shots, apparently, which meant lots of driving to the edge of town in all directions to see if this flower was in bloom or if the mountains were visible with the overcast. It sucked, but it was bearable. What wasn’t bearable, though, were the long walks required to find her so-called perfect spot.

  Unfortunately, they were breathtaking. And by the time I’d taken photo and video of each location, I was a tired, cranky, and sweaty mess — in no condition to go around approaching all the gorgeous heroes in town to ask them to participate in the calendar. Which was now at the top of my to-do list.

  So far, only Preston and Ry had committed. Dr. Cahill and Officer Vargas were playing hard to get, so I still needed ten more hometown heroes to agree.

  Since I was no longer presentable in public, I drove home, keeping my eyes peeled for the hawkeyed Dr. Cahill. He would kill me if he saw me driving, and it wouldn’t matter one bit that I’d spent a full hour in physical therapy every day this week.

  Safely parked in the driveway, I made my way up to my apartment, grinning that it had gotten easier to make the trip even with the boot. Still, I couldn’t wait until I could toss the miserable thing in the trash.

  I showered and washed my hair, ignoring the small twigs and leaves that swirled around my feet because I couldn’t stop thinking about Preston. What in the hell was I doing, messing around with the town golden boy? One of the sons of the town’s founding family?

  It didn’t mean much to me, but I was a quick study. It meant something to the people here, which probably meant I needed to back off.

  And I would have, if I could have, Preston was too appealing. Too funny. Too sweet. Too sexy. I could admit, at least to myself, that I was addicted to Preston. Powerless to resist him.

  So powerless that when he rang my bell a few minutes later, my feet began to move toward the door without regard for the long t-shirt and fuzzy socks I wore as pajamas. “Preston.” My voice was breathy, giddy even. I was pathetic.

  His deep blue gaze raked over my body, twice, before he licked his lips and spoke huskily. “Nina. I like you in pink.”

  I stepped back and pushed the door open to let Preston and his two giant paper bags inside. “Um, thanks?” I wouldn’t even pretend that wasn’t a weird compliment, but I also couldn’t pretend I didn’t like it.

  “I hope you’re hungry — I brought barbecue.”

  My stomach had already told me what was in the bag, but it probably wouldn’t be very ladylike to identify the fries, slaw, and corn by smell alon
e. Would it?

  “Nothing I love more than barbecue and true crime.” The painkillers had already kicked in, but not enough to make me loopy — a fact I was grateful for at the moment, because I had plans.

  “True crime?” He didn’t sound horrified, which was a relief.

  “Yep, I’m binge watching Mindhunter.” Netflix was probably the most stable relationship I’d had in the past few years. Traveling with me wherever I went. Remembering my likes and dislikes. Even checking in on me. If Netflix looked anything like Preston, I’d be married by now.

  “Do you ever watch anything happy or upbeat?”

  Of course, he’d want to know that. “I enjoy the occasional comedy,” I conceded. “But really, most true crime documentaries are happy stories because the good guys won, the victim got justice, and their families got closure. Can’t ask for anything happier than that.”

  Movies that were packed with sappy, emotional stuff made me uncomfortable and cynical about their distinct lack of realism. Or logic.

  “It’s either Mindhunter or Making a Murderer 2,” I offered. “The choice is yours.”

  “What’s Mindhunter about?” he asked. I was a bit surprised; I’d expected him to argue.

  He unpacked the containers from the barbecue shop and listened carefully as I explained the premise of the series and grabbed us plates and silverware. “That sounds horrifying, but strangely intriguing.”

  “Exactly,” I told him smugly.

  Preston let out a bright, boyish laugh, but his expression quickly changed as he rounded the counter, trapping me between the sink and his big, hard body.

  “Hey, Nina,” he practically purred as his finger sifted through my hair gently before he gave it a sharp tug.

  “Hey yourself,” I shot back cheekily, but my voice was deep and husky. There was no mistaking what I was thinking or what I wanted.

  When his mouth touched mine, the kiss began slow, languid. A lazy, sexy kiss between two people who had all the time in the world, a couple for whom nothing existed but our desire to taste one another.