Page 11 of The Roommate Remodel

Brax

“How did you get in here?” she asks in horror.

“I used the front door.” I point to the entrance like it’s not obvious. “Sloan let us in.”

“You mean you’re...” She gasps as the realization sinks in. “No. No. Noooooo,” she moans, rubbing her forehead, like I’m a migraine she can’t shake.

“What did you think I was here for?”Does she really not know?Based on her stunned expression, she had no clue.

“They told me it would only be Carolina Crushers players,” she insists.

“Iama Carolina Crushers player.”

She frowns and paces the kitchen. “This can’t be happening. Lucian didn’t give me names. And I didn’t know you moved teams.”

“Well, I didn’t know you bought a house. I thought you lived in an apartment.”

“That was before your sister got married. This house was my grandmother’s, and I wanted it to stay in the family. My sister’s had a rough go of it the last few months, so she moved in with me.” She stops pacing and stares at me like I’m a stray cat she doesn’t know what to do with.

I drag a hand through my hair. “Well, this is averyinconvenient surprise.”

Where am I going to live now?There’s no way I can stay here with her.

She covers her face with her hands. “Anyone butyou.”

I cross my arms over my chest and smirk. “That’s not what women usually say when they see me.”

She doesn’t laugh, but the comment yanks her face back to mine. She narrows her eyes. The tension crackles in the air. “Oh, really? What do womennormallysay to you?” She doesn’t ask it as a question, more like an accusation.

I smirk just to irritate her. “How I’m better looking up close.”

Her eyes flick over my apron as she lifts an eyebrow. “I think you’ve looked better.”

She has the upper hand here, but she’s about to lose this game to one-up me. “As in, last time you saw me? I thought this apron might jar your memory.”

She steps back, her eyes flaring.Memory most definitely jarred.That single event is permanently burned into my mind, making my skin erupt with heat.

She pokes me in the shoulder. “Just because we have a history doesn’t mean it’s going to be repeated.” Right now, her stare is as icy as the hockey rink. “Personally, you look better with a bloody nose after a hockey fight.” She crosses her arms, daring me to take another step.

“So violent, Jazzy,” I tease in a bored voice. “It’s intriguing, actually.”

I’m trying to crack that cold exterior, make her smile just a little, but her face remains resolute, her arms folded. I can’t accept the cold shoulder she’s giving me now. A punch to the face stings less.

“I’m not the violent type,” she replies. “Unless people ghost me and then show up at my doorstep uninvited.”

“Oh, Iwasinvited,” I remind her. “You had aFor Rentsign on your door. That’s a public invitation if I ever saw one.”

A muscle in her jaw clenches. “It doesn’t apply toyou.”

“I didn’t see a disclaimer at the bottom. And Lucian told me you needed renters. We’re here as teammates, so if I leave, they all do.” I smirk and fold my arms across my apron. “Face it, you need me.”

She stops and glares at me, and I know I’ve hit the nail on the head.

“You are a...” She stops herself, but her fists roll into balls.

“I’m awhat?” I narrow my eyes, daring her to say more. “I’d really like to hear you finish that statement. Your best friend’s hot brother? A fabulous kisser?”

“You wish,” she mutters. “Mia warned me not to get involved with you.”

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