Page 15 of The Problem with Falling
He glanced toward Molly and me, then toward Big Bird. “Are you parking that beast on my property?”
“I was going to leave it here, actually. A little she-shed for Molly to do some of her artwork inside of,” I said. Not only did Molly bake and crochet, but she was also an amazing artist. When it came to creativity, Molly was beyond gifted and talented. I wouldn’t have been surprised if one day she told me she wrote a novel.
Theo grimaced, but that wasn’t surprising. If I saw him actually smile, I might’ve passed out from shock. But I had no concerns about growing faint, seeing how I had high doubts his lips knew how to turn upward.
He scratched at his beard. “Where are your bags? I’ll load them into my truck.”
“This is your room,”Theo said as he placed my bags in the room. The space was very nice and toasty warm, too. A welcome basket sat on the bed, which made me raise an eyebrow.
“You made me a welcome basket?” I questioned.
He blankly stared at me. “Do I look like the type to make welcome baskets?”
I laughed a little because his grumpiness was so over the top. “No, Theo. You don’t seem like the welcome-basket type.”
He brushed his hand over his forearm. I wondered if he knew his arm muscles were flexing when he wasn’t even trying to highlight them. This man was fit like no other. He made it look effortless, too. “I have to get going. You’re free to roam around wherever you want. Just stay away from my boat. And anything in the fridge is—”
“Up for grabs?”
“Mine,” he corrected. “I can take you grocery shopping tomorrow if you need, but don’t touch my shit.”
I smiled. “Fair enough. I think Molly said you’re supposed to take me into the shop tomorrow for my first day, too.”
“First day?”
“Didn’t she tell you? She hired me to work at the restaurant.”
“For fuck’s sake,” Theo murmured under his breath before he raked his hand through his hair. “We don’t have money to hire another employee.”
“That’s not what Molly sa—”
“She doesn’t keep the books,” he scolded, cutting me off.
I tossed my hands up in the air. “I’m just repeating what I was told.”
“Well, you were told incorrectly. Let me call her fast.” He stepped into the hallway and made his call. “Hey, Grandma. Willow is saying you offered her a—” He was cut off. “Yeah, but—” Cut off again. “Well, does she—” Cut off. Grumble. Grumble. Grumble some more. “Yeah. All right. Love you, too, Grandma. Bye.”
I waited a few minutes, and then Theo reappeared in my room. He huffed out a low growl like a damn werewolf before brushing his hand against the back of his neck. “I’ll take you to the restaurant in the morning. You’re on sourdough duty. My grandmother has to go to a doctor’s appointment with PaPa, so I’ll show you around the space. Then after the workday tomorrow, we can go grocery shopping for you.”
I knew it was silly, but something was so remarkably sweet about a big, strong, grumpy man calling his grandfather PaPa. It made Theo seem somewhat softer than before. Only slightly, though. His attitude was still there.
“Sounds good.” I nodded.
“Do you know how to make sourdough?” he questioned.
I shrugged. “How hard could it be?”
“How hard could it be?” he huffed, his deep, smoky voice dripping with annoyance. “Fucking hell,” he grumbled as he walked out of the room, leaving me alone for the rest of the day.
Theodore Langford was my new roommate.
Welp. That wasn’t how I saw my stay in Westin Lake starting, but if I’d learned anything about life, it was the fact that you had to allow it to take you wherever it wanted you to go. Float downstream was a motto I lived by. Unfortunately for me, it seemed that my roommate was a man who floated upstream, making life much harder than it truly had to be.
I’d met hundreds of people on my travels over the past few years, but I was almost certain that Theodore Langford was the grumpiest grump that had ever grumped.
I walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator to find a Post-it note on a pizza box that read: Do not eat this, Willow. On a jar of pickles: Do not eat this, Willow. The orange juice: Do not drink this, Willow. On a container with cookies: Don’t you even fucking think about it, Willow.
I smiled. Even with his grumpiness, Theo was funny without trying to be.
