Page 13 of Resisting my Roommate

He nods in contemplation, not saying anything for several long moments as he studies me with a curious expression that makes me uneasy.

“Well, it was nice seeing you again. Have a good night.” Gathering up the layers of my dress, I move past him, unsure where I’m going. All I know is he’s the last person I want seeing me like this, on the brink of falling apart.

“Where are you staying?”

“Up the road a bit,” I reply as I continue retreating.

I refuse to admit that, before he showed up, my plan was to sleep on that park bench.

“I know your card was declined at the diner,” he calls out after me.

I come to an abrupt stop and whirl around, a mixture of surprise and frustration brewing inside me. “How did?—”

“Small town,” he explains as he closes the distance. “News travels fast, whether you want it to or not.” He shrugs out of his hoodie and extends it toward me. “Here. Put this on.”

I hesitate, eyeing the sweatshirt with suspicion, thinking of the possible ramifications of accepting his help.

“Don’t be stubborn. You’re obviously cold. I can see the goosebumps on your skin. Just take the damn sweatshirt.”

My eyes ping pong between him and the sweatshirt. I want to insist I’ll be fine. That I don’t need anyone’s help, especially his. But he’s right. I’m fucking freezing. I’m desperate to feel some sort of comfort, even if it comes in the form of a sweatshirt from a man who probably wouldn’t know compassion if it smacked him in the face.

“Thank you.” I take the sweatshirt and slide my arms through it. The second I do, warmth envelopes me. Not just from the plush material, but also from the body heat still lingering on it.

A gentle breeze wraps around us, carrying with it his masculine scent, a combination of zesty citrus and earthy sage, melding together to create an intoxicating fragrance that seems to suit him perfectly. Mysterious yet alluring at the same time.

“I’m sorry,” he says after a momentary pause, his voice softer than I thought him capable of.

“Excuse me?”

“About the other night. And earlier today. I’m sorry if I did or said anything to make today even more difficult.”

I’m not sure what I expected him to say, but it certainly wasn’t this.

“I’m fine,” I insist, doing my best to remain composed, especially around him.

“Are you?” His deep brown eyes search mine for any hint I’m lying.

And I hate him even more for it.

“Of course.” I avoid his gaze, tugging his sweatshirt closer to my body.

“Then where are you staying tonight?”

“I told you. Up the road a bit.”

“Without a credit card?”

I part my lips, struggling to come up with some sort of excuse, but before I can, he cuts me off.

“You were planning to sleep out here tonight, weren’t you?”

I shrug. “It’s not a big deal. I’ve been camping before. Hell, I spent two years living in a hut when I was in the Peace Corps. This isn’t much different.”

“It’s a lot different,” he grinds out. “For starters, something could happen to you. This may be a small town, but we get a lot of tourists passing through. Someone sees a woman sleeping on a park bench? It’s not smart, Abbey, regardless of whether you spent two years living in a goddamn hut.”

His chest heaves with frustration, and he draws in a breath in an attempt to calm himself. When he looks at me again, his eyes are soft and full of concern.

“Is there no one you can call?”

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