Cocky Roomie_ A Bad Boy Romance Novel(15)

I straighten up as I glance to the clock on the wall. The click of heels grows louder. I take a sip of coffee and rise to meet the candidate, disliking the fact that whoever gets hired will get to stay in Atlanta, while I’ll be moving to a state where I know no one, away from family I see every day.

Can’t say I’m looking forward to this.

The woman appears and my blood freezes. Drew’s jaw drops and she blinks at me with stunned silence.

A devilish smile spreads on my face. “Good morning. I’m Jake Cocker.” I reach over my desk and hold out my hand.

Her mouth tenses, but she grabs my hand and shakes it. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Cocker. I’m Drew Charles.”

“That’s a boy’s name.”

“So I’ve heard.”

I’m still gripping her hand. She tugs at it. I pull her a little closer and say, “This is going to be fun.” Then I let go.

I can see the war begin in her mind. She’s struggling with whether or not she should leave me, and the job, behind. She decides to sit down. I take my seat and lean back with a big smile.

Uncle Don appears and drops her resume on my desk. I glance to the almost blank piece of paper. He gives her a big smile, too, only his isn’t tainted with I’m-going-to-fuck-with-you.

“You’re in good hands with my nephew, Mrs. Charles.”

Mrs. Charles? I glance to Drew. Her eyes are stone cold.

“Jake, Drew here doesn’t have much in terms of experience, but her email was charming, so I wanted to bring her in to see what you think of her.” He smiles between us. “Well, I’ll leave you to it. Heading to the job site for an hour or so.” He looks at Drew. “Mrs. Charles, I probably won’t see after your interview, but I know Jake will tell me how it went. Good luck.”

“Thank you,” she smiles.

“Oh, don’t be nervous! Jake’s a good guy.”

“I’m sure he is. I’m not nervous.”

Uncle Don glances to me with a look that tells me he knows she’s covering. He winks at me to go easy on her, and walking out, shouts, “Juan! Let’s go, buddy. I don’t have all day!”

Drew and I are staring at each other. Her chest expands on a long inhale. I keep my eyes on her face since I am a professional.

“Let’s just wait for them to leave. Then I’ll begin.”

“Fine,” she grates. “Let me have it.”

Boots clomp around the main room. We hear the sound of the front door closing. The silence that follows snaps with anticipation.





DREW




What a relief after the hell I went through with Jake that morning to meet Don Likuss, a sweet man with an open smile and naturally friendly way. He insisted I use his first name when I addressed him, and then he sent me to meet his nephew.

I almost had a heart attack when I saw my bastard roommate sitting behind a spotless desk with his fingertips resting on an old-fashioned calculator.

I almost turned right around and left.

I knew exactly how this was going to go.

I return the smile he’s giving me. “Well, Mr. Cocker, I didn’t expect such a nice surprise.”

“I agree, Mrs. Charles. So…let’s see.” He lifts up my pathetic resume and reads it as slowly as if it were written in Portuguese. “How long have you been married?”

So that’s how he’s going to play it.

“I’m not sure that my marital status matters when it comes to job performance.”

“Loyalty plays into everything.”

“I am extremely loyal, Jake…Mr. Cocker.”

His eyebrows rise slightly. “It looks like you haven’t worked a job other than house duties.”

I cringe inwardly but hide it. I had to list what I did for Edward because it was all I had. And frankly, housewives work hard. If anyone tells me differently, I’ll set them straight, and quick.

Smiling, I shoot back, “Running household finances is administrative work. Also accounting. And long and short term financial planning.”

Jake doesn’t say anything at first. He just stares at me with those incredibly seductive eyes of his and for a moment I think I’ve won round one.

But then he leans back in his chair with a cocky smirk. “Which is why I asked how long you were married. I’d like to know the length of this rather inventive job experience.”

My lips purse. “Since I was nineteen.”

“And you’re how old.”

“You know how old I am.”

“Right. So that’s how many years?”

“Don’t know how to count?” I bite back, leaning forward. “And with a calculator right at your fingertips. That must be very frustrating for you.”