Page 65 of Resisting my Roommate

“I’m not staring,” I mutter, taking a quick sip of my beer to cover my reaction, heat creeping up the back of my neck.

“Oh, sure,” Beckham jumps in from his spot on the wicker couch. “Because that wasn’t the most lovesick expression I’ve ever seen.”

“Lovesick?” I nearly choke on the word. “You guys are out of your minds.”

“Pretty sure that’s an ‘I’m getting laid and loving it’ smile,” Finn teases. “What do you think, Beck?”

“Definitely getting laid,” my older brother agrees, although he’s only older by less than a year.

It’s probably why Beckham, Finn, and I have always gotten along so well. There’s only a little more than two years difference in age between the three of us, with Hayden being eight years older than me and Dylan being five years younger.

“The only question is by who?”

“Whom,” Finn corrects. “The proper question is getting laid bywhom?”

“When the fuck did you become the grammar police?” Beckham shoots back before waggling his brows. “Or is it because you’re trying to impress a certain librarian?”

“How many times do I have to tell you? Genevieve is just a friend.” Finn purposefully avoids our gaze as he takes another swig of beer. “This isn’t about me anyway. This is about Jude.”

“Is your sex life that boring that you need to pry into mine?”

“So you admit you’re having sex?” Finn beams.

I open my mouth to protest, then shake my head. It’s useless. My brothers know me better than anyone. Know when I’m upset. When I’m struggling. And, as they’ve already demonstrated, when I’m happy.

Abbey definitely makes me happy.

I felt it that very first night. She has this infectious enthusiasm for life, even when it’s beaten her down, and I can’t help but be attracted to her.

I shift my eyes toward her, watching as she politely extricates herself from the kids and makes her way toward the house.

“Fuck off,” I say, getting to my feet and starting in the same direction.

“Where are you going, lover boy?” Beckham calls after me, grinning like he knows something I don’t.

“None of your business.”

Finn chimes in with a low whistle. “Gotta say, Jude, not sure I’ve ever seen you this pussy-whipped. Didn’t know you had it in you.”

I flip them both off as I make my way into the house. Their laughter follows me, but I push it out of my head. I’m not about to give them the satisfaction of teasing me about Abbey — not when we’re just having some fun.

Nothing more.

I find her in the living room, looking at an old family photo placed on the mantle. She doesn’t notice me at first, but when she does, she smiles, soft and easy. It does something to me every damn time.

“Everything okay?” I step closer.

“I got distracted on my way to fill up my wine.” She holds up her glass before returning her attention to the picture. “I love all the photos your mom has. It makes this place feel like a home.” She peers into the distance, a look of contemplation crossing her brow. “I don’t think my parents ever displayed a single photo of me.”

My heart squeezes at the notion. What must it have felt like for her to be raised by people like that? I couldn’t imagine.

“Come on.” I take her glass and set it on a nearby side table, linking my fingers with hers. “There’s something I want to show you.”

Her eyebrows lift, but she doesn’t hesitate. I lead her down the hall, past the kitchen, and into the garage. It’s cool and dark, the air carrying a faint scent of old wood and dust.

With a flick of a switch, warm light floods the space. Abbey steps inside, her eyes wide as she takes it all in. Along one wall is a small bar, stocked with all sorts of liquor and glasses. Beyond that are three small stainless steel tanks — my dad’s old brewing setup. While I could have replaced them with a system that has more automations, I don’t want to do that until I have to.

My dad used this equipment. I want to continue using it as long as I possibly can, even if it requires me to be more hands on during the brewing process.

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