Page 11 of Forged By Sacrifice

“What did you major in?” I asked.

“Pre-law.”

She kept dealing me more surprises. A three-of-a-kind hand that had come out of nowhere.

“What made you decide to go to cosmetology school instead of finishing the law degree?”

We’d reached the porch and climbed the stairs.

When she turned on the light in the beach house, it made me squint and hold a hand to my eyes as if the sun had come out from behind the clouds. She was standing there in the summer dress she’d had on earlier, feet bare, ponytail tousled by the breeze and the salty water. She was spectacular. Unforgettable. Like Audrey Hepburn and Gal Gadot rolled into one.

“I think we’ll have to save some of those questions for another night.”

I smiled at her. “Sorry. Nature of the job again. All questions, all the time.”

She took me in from head to toe and then back again. “I’m sorry,” she said.

“For what?”

“For judging you just like you judged me.”

“Well, to be fair, I am a ten.” I smiled at her, lightening our mood and the air that heaved between us as deep as the sea.

She snorted. “Goodnight, Mac-Macauley.”

And she left me, going into the bedroom I normally slept in. The one that had my bag in it. But I knew I wouldn’t be asking for it tonight. Tonight, I’d sleep in my skivvies and dream of a woman with eyes that were never the same color and hair as dark as night—and all the questions I still had to ask.

When I got back to my room, I saw that there were messages on my phone.

BRAT: Hey, before I forget again, I found us a roommate.

BRAT: Are you ignoring me?

BRAT: SQUIRTER!

I shuddered at the family nickname, but payback was hell.

ME: Jeez, Gooberpants, hold your panties in place. I didn’t have my phone with me at the beach.

BRAT: Likely story. Who was she?

Who was she? A stunning brunette with a white streak in her hair that I wanted to know all about.

ME: There’s no “she.” Please tell me the roommate isn’t another tree-hugger.

BRAT: That is absolutely not a politically correct statement. We have so much work to do if you really want to run for office.

ME: God. You’re right. Please tell me it’s not another person who won’t let us use the good kind of toilet paper without a ten-day lecture on sewer systems.

BRAT: Done. Definitely not that. She seems smart. Wore brown leather that made her dark hair and brown eyes stand out. You know our “environmentalist” would never have worn real leather. Or even pleather.

ME: When does she move in?

BRAT: Up in the air. Maybe end of July.

I wasn’t sure I had the energy to deal with another new roommate. I liked people, liked interacting with them, but sometimes it was nice to have a place you could go back to without having a stranger hanging over your shoulder.

Although, to be fair, some of our roommates had become part of our family.

---