Page 2 of The Roommate Lie

Her brown eyes widen, and her blush deepens. Which would be pretty adorable if it didn’t make me feel guilty.

“Hitting on you?” she stammers.

My brother elbows me out of the way, smacking me with a bus schedule. Proof that at least one Roscoe knows how to keepthings professional. That’s why he’s the assistant manager, not me.

“Ignore him,” Carl tells her. “He likes to try to get fired every now and then. It makes him feel alive.”

She smiles at my brother gratefully, and the oddest feeling pulls in my chest. I’m not usually the jealous type, but if I could snatch that grateful smile away from him and make it mine instead, I would.

“What can I help you with today?” he asks.

“Is there a shuttle bus to the wilderness resort? I thought there was, but I’ve been waiting for a few hours, and it hasn’t shown up.”

A few hours?

It’s been a normal slow Monday here so far. Besides our town bus, the school bus, and the local shuttle up Four Pines Peak, the only other transport vehicle to roll through here is the Number 5 from Denver; it shows up twice a day like clockwork. Has she really been sitting in the lobby since that bus showed up the first time at noon?

How did I miss that? How did Carl miss that?

My brother must be thinking the same thing because he launches into damage control. “I’m so sorry about the wait. The resort is usually pretty good about sending their van over when they’re expecting guests. Let me call and see what’s taking them so long.”

The woman holds up her hand to stop him. “I’m not technically a guest, maybe that’s the problem. I’m just here to visit my boyfriend—he works there. I don’t have a reservation.”

Her boyfriend?

That makes me feel a thousand times worse about my big production a few minutes ago, about going out of my way to scare her off when she was here for some other guy all along. A blush still stains her cheeks from my comment earlier, and I tryto catch her gaze. I’m not sure how to apologize with my eyes, but I’m willing to give it a shot.

Except she won’t look at me. She keeps her gaze locked on Carl like her life depends on it. Like he’s the sole nice-guy raft in a sea of flirty sharks.

Nice work, Charlie.

Way to spook the tourist.

“Your boyfriend works at the resort?” Carl asks, and she nods.

“He was supposed to meet me at the bus station, but something must’ve come up.”

She says that like she doesn’t know for sure, as if she hasn’t heard from her boyfriend since she got here four hours ago, and Carl presses his lips together without comment. He’s the nice Roscoe—the kind and responsible one that you’d never guess grew up on the wrong side of the tracks—and in true Good Guy fashion, he shoots me a quiet look she can’t see. His message as clear as the mountain peaks and pine trees through the bus station windows.

What kind of guy leaves their girlfriend stranded for hours?

The bad kind. Carl and I know the type. Our middle-child sister had a real weakness for deadbeats. The more they took her for granted, the longer she stuck around.

Together, my brother and I have vanquished more bad boyfriends than a priest at a vampire convention. We know the drill, and Carl treads carefully. Forever the peace treaty to my nuclear bomb. “He was supposed to meet you here?”

She gives him another casual nod, but her face pinks up a few extra degrees like she doesn’t want to admit this next part. As if she knows how bad it sounds. “It’s our anniversary.”

The fact that we both keep our expressions level is a miracle. Carl and I deserve an Academy Award.It’s their anniversary?

Roscoe boys can spot a red flag a mile away; we were raised by one. And a guy who doesn’t tell his girl he’s not picking her up at the bus station is definitely a red flag. But if it’s also their anniversary?

Double red flag. And those flags are on fire.

Nobody should spend their anniversary stranded at a bus station with no idea what to do next. I haven’t even met this guy, and I already don’t want to. This guy cannot be trusted.

But it’s worse than that. She hesitates before giving us the final detail. “It’s probably my fault. He texted right before I left that I should cancel my trip—things at his job are just too hectic. But I was busy and distracted, and I forgot my phone was on silent. I didn’t see his message until I was already halfway here.”

She’s about to get her heart broken.

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