Page 62 of My Brother's Roommate (Frisky Business 2)
By the time breakfast is done, the time on the clock on the stove is inching dangerously close to eleven o’clock. As much as I’d like to drag Wolfie back to my bedroom and spend the day laughing and kissing and planning our future together, the calendar on my phone says that’s not in the cards.
“I hate to say this, but I’m going to have to kick you out pretty soon,” I say. “I’ve got plans with Connor.”
Wolfie raises his brows at the mention of my brother.
“I promised him I’d swing by his house and help him assemble the crib he just bought. You know how he is . . . Mr. I Don’t Need to Look at the Directions.”
My bubbly laugh mixes with Wolfie’s gritty one, a perfect dissonant harmony.
“I’ll let you get to it,” he says, pressing up from his seat. “Can I see you soon, though? Tomorrow night?”
“Sounds perfect. Your place?”
Wolfie lifts a brow, a devilish glint dancing in his stormy eyes as he tugs on his coat. “Why? Trying to check out your future apartment?”
I roll my eyes, but the smile tugging at my lips is a dead giveaway. The thought of moving in with him is growing on me a little too quickly. “You’re never going to drop that, are you?”
He shakes his head. “Nope. Gonna keep saying it till it’s true.”
Between you and me, I suspect that won’t be long at all.23* * *WOLFIE“Keep going, just a few more blocks this way.”
Penelope guides me down the pine-tree-lined streets of Oak Park, directing me from memory toward Connor’s house. She’s been to his place plenty of times since his move, helping with home decor and crib assembly and everything in between.
But this is only my second time out this way, the first being my trip to that brewery with Connor a few weeks ago. I know about as much about navigating suburbia as I know about landing a plane.
“This one right here. Make a right.”
She points me down a side street, and as I turn, I notice her legs bouncing absently beneath the tin-foil-wrapped cake in her lap. It’s pretty fucking adorable, although I hope it’s from excitement, not nerves.
Penelope has been planning this baby shower all month, stressing over catering details and picking out the perfect decorations. If party planning weren’t enough of a stressor, there’s also the added layer of knowing that this will be our first time hanging out with our friends since making our relationship official.
It’s a big day for a lot of reasons, but surprisingly, I’m feeling pretty at ease about the whole thing. I guess that’s just the effect Penelope has on me. Having her by my side makes everything else seem a whole lot less scary.
I slow the car to a crawl, squinting out the window at the house numbers to find the one that matches the invitation. When I spot the gray brick house at the end of the block, though, I don’t even have to double-check. That’s definitely the same house from the real estate listing Connor showed me. Only now it has a lot more meaning than some picture on a home browsing website. It’s Connor’s first real home, and I can’t wait to help him christen the place.
I pull off to the side of the road, joining the half dozen other cars that are already parked here, most of which I recognize as belonging to our friends. The black sedan with the vanity plates assures me that Hayes is here already, which is good. He and Maren were on decoration duty. Caleb’s car is here and Scarlett’s is too, her front right tire halfway up onto the curb. She’s never been the best driver.
I park behind her, then hurry out of the car to help Penelope with the door. Yes, I’m a gentleman, but mostly, I don’t want to risk anything happening to that beautiful cake she made. One wrong step on the ice and bam, cake meets snow.
Gingerly, Penelope passes off her handiwork to me, then grabs our presents from the back seat. One for Connor and one for Beth, the mother-to-be. They’re getting identical sets of burp cloths today, but there’s a top-of-the-line bouncy seat set to be delivered to Connor’s house at the end of the week, compliments of Aunt Penelope and Uncle Wolfie.
We head down the street, side by side, and travel up the stone walkway to Connor’s front door. He really nabbed a fine piece of real estate here. And the light pink baby shower decorations on the porch give it a little extra dash of curb appeal.
“Don’t bother with the doorbell,” Penelope tells me, shifting the gift boxes into one hand and reaching for the door with the other. “I’ve been letting myself in for weeks.” Just as her fingers hover above the door knob, she hesitates and turns back to me, her pretty blue eyes brimming with concern. “Wait. Pause. Are you okay?”
