Page 102 of Renegade Roomie

“So, I take it you didn’t fake?” Dash asks, shooting me a smug grin.

I laugh. “Since when have I ever faked it with you?”

“Hmm… how about the entire beginning of our relationship?”

“Oh, yeah, that.” I roll over and land a sweaty kiss on his lips. “Well, rest assured, if you keep this up, I promise, I’m never faking anything with you again.”

And I don’t.

Twice.

Austin

“Two down, three to go.”

I’m hanging at Mavericks with the guys on a Thursday night, when Piper makes her cryptic announcement. “What do you mean?” I ask, looking up from a late business email.

“First Charlie, now Dash…” she surveys us with a smirk. “Which one of you lucky bachelors will be next to fall?”

There’s silence – which probably says something about how high love is on our priority lists right now.

“Uh, not it,” Flynn blurts quickly.

Piper rolls her eyes. “Gee, what a surprise.”

“Yeah, I’m going to take a pass on that, too,” Seb speaks up. He gives me a slap on the back, “Guess that leaves you, champ.” They make a beeline across the bar to flirt with a couple of hot blondes.

“You know, I am surprised you’re still single,” Piper says thoughtfully. “You’re officially a catch. Girls must love that whole ‘famous former ball player’ thing.”

I chuckle. “The only thing I’m looking for right now is a killer marketing maven to help with my big launch,” I reply, but Piper is already looking at Flynn across the room, distracted.

“God, he’s such a manwhore.” She scowls. “I’ve half a mind to go warn them about his stunts.”

“You do that.” I hide a smirk. Flynn and Piper have been at each other’s throats for years, but if they haven’t wised up to what’s really underneath all their complaining, then I’m not about to point it out to them. “Just don’t cramp my style tonight.”

Piper grins. “Wouldn’t dream of it. At least you’re capable of a real relationship,” she says, then winces when she realizes what she’s said. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” I shrug, even as the reminder of my epic romantic flameout stings in my chest. “Ancient history.”

If you call getting betrayed and crushed by the only woman I’ve ever loved fine, then sure. It’s been a year since all that shit went down, and I’ve been focused on moving on – to women who don’t lie as easily as breathing.

Piper goes to meet her friends, so I make my way to the bar for another round. At least, I try to, but the place is packed solid tonight. From the start, we wanted Mavericks to be a real neighborhood spot, so we get all kinds here, from party girls, to the after-work crowd, to the no-nonsense woman in a boxy suit angling through the crowd to the bar beside me, scowling like she’s wound way too tight.

See, this is why my new business is going to be a hit. A city full of stressed-out, tense professionals, all in need of a luxurious spa experience. It may have taken me a while to find backers willing to think of me as more than just a former baseball star, but it’s exactly my experience as an athlete that’s made me an expert in health - and relaxation. Now I’m just a couple of months from the launch of my ultimate wellness destination, and all the pieces are finally falling into place.

“Excuse me? Hello?” The woman beside me is practically jumping up and down, trying to get the bartender’s attention, so I gesture Maeve over.

“The usual?” she asks me.

“Sure. But this lady has been waiting a while,” I nod to the impatient brunette, and suddenly, her stressed expression softens to a warm smile.

“Thanks,” she says, looking surprised. “I’ve been waiting forever.”

I blink, because damn, she doesn’t look like a corporate dragon anymore. Her brown hair frames her heart-shaped face in soft, natural waves, and there’s an intelligence in her blue eyes that makes me pause, and want to know more about her.

“It can get wild on Thursdays after work.” I tell her, angling my body to make sure she doesn’t get jostled by the crowd behind us. “I’ve seen women throw elbows to get their apple-tinis.”

“Really?” she smiles. “I’ll have to watch out. I’m normally a straight-home-to-my-knitting kind of gal.”

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