Cocky Roomie_ A Bad Boy Romance Novel(4)
“This isn’t going to work…but you drove all the way out here.” He hands me the cold glass. “I’ll go put something on.”
“Don’t go against your religion on my account,” I mutter before I take a sip.
He chuckles and disappears into what must be his bedroom.
It gives me a chance to check out the place. It’s not the furniture of a guy in his early twenties. There’s a very nice overstuffed couch and matching chair, both charcoal grey. From the looks of that rustic coffee table and the shaggy white rug it’s sitting on, he must come from money, or he has made his own. The art isn’t little boy stuff either. Canvases of abstract, thick strokes in the deepest shade of every color line walls in the living room and hallways with sizes varying from massive to small triptychs.
I’ve gotta admit, he’s unusual. I guess I was expecting movie-posters and bad chairs, even though this place looks like the pictures in the post. But I learned you can’t trust those.
Oh no! Was I supposed to take off my shoes? At the front door are four sets of his, lined up on a mat. I slip off my pumps. Fuck, his feet are big. Look at my little heels next to his work boots!
“Shoe fetish?”
I nearly jump out of my skin, spinning around to find Jake standing outside his bedroom door in black sweats and no shirt. There’s a spidery-tat on his arm with a C centered in it that I didn’t notice before. I was distracted by other…larger…things. Ahem.
“Yep, I’m into shoes,” I smile. “Stereotypical woman. You caught me.”
Jake’s guard is up. “Let me show you around. But I’m warning you, this ain’t gonna happen.”
“You’re dead set against a female roomie.”
“Yep.”
I really love this apartment. I want to sit on that couch. For hours.
“You won’t change your mind?”
“Nope.”
For half a beat I stare. “We’ll see about that.”
Amusement jumps in his eyes. “How old are you?”
“Don’t you know you should never ask a woman that?”
He stretches his arms up and hooks his hands behind his head, exposing the baby-soft underbelly of his biceps. Soft, brown tufts of underarm hair glisten from the shower. Or from this Atlanta humidity. Either way, it’s sexy. “How old are you?”
“Why?”
“You look too elegant to live with a guy like me.”
“Well, that’s a nice way to say I’m older than you.”
“No, you have an elegance to you.”
Blushing, I glance down at the outfit I got from Marshalls. “These clothes aren’t much…”
“A lady is a lady even in a potato sack. It’s not something you can hide.”
I blink at him, disarmed. “If you must know, Jake Cocker, I’m thirty-three. Almost thirty-four. And you?”
“Well, Drew Charles, I’m twenty-five. Almost twenty-six.”
Well, good. That makes this easy. I will have no problem steering clear of anything romantic, because that’s much too young for me. Besides, you can’t get serious about a man who looks like this anyway. Too much competition for his affections, I’m sure. And I’m not the casual sex type…despite how my body is buzzing right now.
“I’ve seen the kitchen and livin’ room. Continue the tour, please.”
He doesn’t move. “Why do you want to see my place?”
“Our place.”
He laughs outright. “Oh, it’s our place is it?”
“It is.”
“Why?”
The conversation my parents and I had when I decided to come to this city, is still ringin’ in my ears, that’s why.
“Drew Adelaide Charles, you are not moving to Atlanta all on your lonesome!”
“Yes, I am, Daddy! And it’s not far. It’s just over two hours away! You can come visit me any time you like.”
“Drew baby, where are you gonna live? I will not have my daughter—“
“—Bernie said I could stay with her, Daddy! I won’t be alone!”
My momma piped in and saved me from the look my pastor father gave me, like he was gonna preach to his congregation rather than to his only child. I always hold my breath when he does that to me.
And I always let it out when Momma jumps in.
“Now John, Bernadette Lancaster is a good girl. And she’s so much more worldly than our Drew is, what with all the traveling from modelin’ she’s done. She knows her way around Atlanta, so Drew will be just fine! Let her go! Our little girl is thirty-three years old for cryin’ out loud.”
“I know that, honey.”
“Well, John, I’m just sayin’ — be reasonable. You can’t take her back now that Edward has cast her aside.”