Page 29 of HateMates

“Don’t mind him. He’s always pissy.Speakingof shit, roomie, you clogged the toilet again. Really need to change up your diet.” I lean over the bar to Vince and loudly whisper, “Not sure which is worse: a house full of shitting cats or this guy.” Vince chokes on a laugh and tries to hide it by taking back his shot.

“Sounds like we’re both upshitcreek.” Funny.

I smile back at him, and the craziest idea pops into my mind. “You know what? I hope you don’t think this is weird, but…would you like to go out sometime?”

“Really?”

I shrug. “Yeah, why not? Unless you’re not interested.”

“No, of course. I’d love to. I just didn’t know if you saw me and thought about—”

I wave him off. “Not at all. That’s a distant memory.”

“Sure, okay. Yeah. I think that’d be great.”

“Cool,” I chirp. Grabbing a napkin, I write down my number and slide it across the bar, half expecting my bulldog to intercept it. Vince gazes at it before looking back up at me.

“Mindy. I never did get your name. I like it. Fits you.”

“Thanks. Well, I’ve gotta get back to work, but call me.”

“Same. I have an early day tomorrow.” He slams the rest of his drink and slides off the stool. “See ya, Mindy.” He turns to Tate and nods, receiving zero response. I roll my eyes and get back to it. I’m always thankful for how busy it is on karaoke night. I can fall into my groove and block out the horrible singing—another reason I miss working with Fay. She can karaoke with the best of them.

The lights start flashing for last call, and an hour later, I grab my purse and wave goodbye to everyone. The ride home is quiet as usual, and I’m completely fine with it. We reach my door, and I wait while Tate checks my place. When it’s all clear, I head straight to my room and, for theatrical purposes, slam the door shut. Without washing my face or brushing my teeth, I rip off my top, crawl out of my jeans, and flop into bed. I lean over, snag my phone from my pant pocket, and lie down. First order of business…

Me: Please tell me Theo has something? I assume you heard what happened earlier today. On the plus side, I met a guy. Well, kind of already knew him. You’ll never guess who it is. Call me in the morning. Love you.

Saying a silent prayer that I wake up tomorrow morning and this was all a bad dream, I snuggle into my sheets and fall asleep.

Chapter seven

Mindy

I’ve always envied those rich, entitled housewives on reality TV. The hardest part of their day is probably waking up in their fancy high-thread count beds or picking out nail color. I bet Rebecca has never even set an alarm in her entire entitled life.

That’s the thought swarming through my mind when I roll over, checking the— “What the hell?” Flying out of bed, I get caught in my sheet and biff it to the ground. “Fuuuck,” I groan, the side of my face smashed against the floor. As if it couldn’t get worse, my phone teeters off my nightstand and lands on my head. “Dammit!” I grab my phone, untangle the sheets from my legs, and sit up. Why the hell didn’t my alarm go off? I swipe through my many alarms set and— “What?” My Pilates alarm was swiped off. I didn’t… didhe?

Only one way to find out.

I get up and storm out of my room, not caring that I’m only in my bra and underwear. He can stare at the goods all he wants, but he isn’t getting a taste of this magic ever again. I make my way down the hall and stop in my tracks.

“Jesus Christ.” Theo covers his eyes and turns.

Tate looks murderous.

Fay smiles brightly. “Morning!”

I continue to stare. “Am I dreaming?”

“Nope. You’re standing in your living room in your undies.”

Shit. “Shit.” My hands fly over my parts, doing a poor job of covering myself. “What the hell are you all doing here?” I give up and grab the jacket hanging over my kitchen stool.

“Installing security cameras.”

I turn my scowl to Tate. “Why?”

“Need to see who’s lingering around your place.”

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