Page 15 of Resisting my Roommate

“You enjoy yard work?”

“I do. Or did.” Her expression falls slightly, and the furrow in her brow returns, as if deep in thought.

“I’m having trouble picturing you mowing the lawn, if I’m being honest. Then again, I’m also having trouble picturing you living in a hut. It’s probably because of the dress.”

Abbey laughs, her eyes sparkling with renewed hope. It’s a much different look than mere minutes ago when I found her in the park.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never seen anyone mow their lawn in a wedding dress.”

“I’ve also never seen anyone walk into my bar wearing one, either. Or walk through the park. Until today.”

“There’s a first time for everything.”

“I guess so.” I hold her gaze for a beat before clearing my throat. “Come on. I’ll give you the grand tour.”

After stepping out of her heels, she follows me into the open concept living and dining area, taking in the moderately-sized space. “This is actually really nice.”

“What were you expecting? A shithole?”

“No. I just didn’t think you were the type to have potted plants or art hanging on the wall.”

I remain silent, not about to tell her my ex-wife decorated this place and, being the masochist I am, I still haven’t put it on the market, even when everyone insists I’ll never be able to move on when I’m surrounded by horrible memories.

When I’m still stuck in the past.

“I like the whole farmhouse chic vibe you’ve got going on.”

“The guest room is this way,” I say evenly, turning from her and heading up the staircase.

I can feel the heat of her stare prickling the back of my neck, as if wanting to ask more questions. Peel back more of my layers. But I have no intention of letting her.

Finally, I hear her footsteps behind me as she makes her way up the stairs.

“Just in here.” I head toward one of the rooms off the second-floor landing and flick on the light, revealing a queen-sized bed with a reclaimed wood frame. “It’s not the Ritz or Four Seasons.”

“It’s better than a park bench,” she laughs.

“Pretty sure anything would be better than sleeping on a park bench.”

“You’re probably right.” She shifts her gaze to mine, giving me a shy smile that causes a subtle fluttering in my heart.

I trace my eyes over her face, admiring her soft features. It almost feels like this is the first time I’m really seeing her. And not merely because it’s the first time we haven’t been in a darkened space together. But at this moment, she looks at ease. Like she can finally stop pretending.

“You wouldn’t happen to have a spare t-shirt and shorts you could lend me to sleep in, would you?” Her voice breaks through my thoughts. “This is all I have for clothes.” She gestures down her frame.

“Right. Of course. One second.”

I spin from her and disappear into the room across the landing. A gentle glow illuminates the space from the lamp on my bedside table. Glancing over my shoulder to make sure she’s not watching, I hastily smooth the covers over my bed so she doesn’t think I’m a total slob. Then I open the dresser, grabbing a t-shirt and a pair of gym shorts before returning to her.

“They’ll probably be big on you, but it’s better than nothing.”

The instant the words leave my mouth, I hear the double meaning. So does Abbey, a smirk crawling on her lips.

“I quite enjoy sleeping in nothing.”

She allows her statement to linger in the air between us for what feels like an eternity, her aqua blue eyes dancing with mischief. Then she heads into the guest room.

“But thanks for the clothes.”

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