The House Mate (Roommates, #3)

Max

The half-filled wineglass was a welcome sight. So was Addison, though I hated myself for thinking it. Why the hell hadn’t I drawn up some kind of contingency plan for when we were alone together? Maybe developed some kind of new hobby that took me out of the house in the evenings? Or admitted that I was, in fact, Batman and would be super busy fighting crime.

As it was, I hadn’t. And here we were. And I was screwed.

“That for me?” I asked.

She nodded. “Yeah, it’s a cab. But I can make coffee if you’d rather-”

I shook my head. “No, wine sounds great. I’ve had a long day, and I wouldn’t mind unwinding a little.”

She smiled, her full lips curving in the most inviting way. “I know what you mean.”

I led her out to the living room, and though she seemed uncertain at first, she followed, settling in beside me on the couch.

Close.

Too fucking close.

I could smell her shampoo, and that alone was making my blood run hot.

“God, I don’t know how you drink red wine on here, let alone have a baby crawling around it. I’m getting hives just thinking about spilling.” She lifted her glass and I tried to keep my face impassive.

I hadn’t even thought about the fact that the furniture would be something of a giveaway. No parent in their right mind would have a white couch with a toddler. Even if I’d thought of it, though, I hadn’t had time to replace it. I hadn’t had time to do much of anything. One day things were normal, and the next, Dylan was here.

Now, as I pictured those round cheeks and gummy grin, I found it hard to remember exactly what normal was, though.

“Not to mention the white carpet in Dylan’s room,” Addison added.

“I’m asking for trouble,” I said with a nod. I still wasn’t sure how close to keep my cards to my chest, and I hedged, wondering if I should just tell her the whole sordid tale and get it over with. Luckily, she saved me the trouble of having to make my choice just yet.This belongs to NôvelDrama.Org: ©.

“You know, I was thinking . . .” She chewed on her bottom lip, and I tried not to stare at the luscious pink curve. “The rest of the house feels so homey and lived-in. Maybe we could spruce up Dylan’s room a little too? I mean, I don’t know what your budget would be-”

“That sounds like a great idea.” I sipped my wine. “Do whatever you want.”

“You don’t want to have some say in it?” she asked with a frown. “It is your child’s room, and I don’t want to impose.”

I furrowed my brow and shrugged. “Honestly, I wouldn’t even know where to start. So have at it.”

She laughed, a clear, ringing sound that skimmed along my skin and made my posture relax a little more. “Well, why don’t we experiment a little?”

I stared at her, forcing the filthy thoughts of all the ways I’d love to experiment on her from my mind as I waited for her to continue.

“We could both design a room for her, maybe. Have you ever been on Pinterest?” she asked.

This time it was my turn to laugh. “Yeah . . . no. That’s the site where women put pictures of coffee cans that they made into flower pots or something, right?”

“Sometimes.” She lifted the laptop from the coffee table in front of us and handed it to me. “Here, I have it on my phone, and you can use the one on my laptop. So basically, it’s just like an image search. You look around for fun ideas and make a board for them. I’ll even make yours for you.” She leaned across me, brushing her chest against my arm as she moved. Her hair fell in front of her face, and the lavender smell of her shampoo took hold of me again, sending a rush of blood pulsing to my cock.

I shifted, leaning forward to take another sip of my wine, thanking the gods that her computer was hiding my lap from view.

“There.” She looked up at me. “Now enter some search terms like ‘cute baby room ideas,’ and then use the little red push pins to add things to the board. It will give me an idea of the type of stuff you like. I’ll do one too, and in a few minutes, we’ll compare and see what we come up with. Ready?”

I nodded, then racked my brain, thinking of what would go best in Dylan’s room. I wanted it to be nice-not too frilly, and definitely not all decked out in pink decor and crystal chandeliers. Something she could grow into and enjoy.

I picked my pins carefully, and by the time Addison announced the time was up, I was feeling pretty damn confident about my choices.

“All right, who goes first?” she asked.

“I’ve got nothing to hide.” I shrugged and turned the screen toward her.

She glanced at it, then at me, then at the computer again.

“A big-screen TV? She’s one, Max. Plus, you only have three pins,” she said. “We’ve been looking for like twenty minutes.”

“The TV is for when she gets older. Or if she wants to watch Barney or something. The dude kind of freaks me out, to be honest, but hey. Kids like him.”

She raised her eyebrows. “And the Bob Dylan poster?”

At that, I paused, weighing my options. This was the can of worms that I still hadn’t decided if I wanted to open.

“The baby’s namesake.”

Addison’s eyes softened, and she lowered her phone to her lap. “That’s really sweet.”

Silence filled the air, heavy and pronounced, and when she opened her mouth again, her gaze was thoughtful.

“I know it’s not my business. That said, I had wondered . . . if something were to ever happen to you, I know I have your parents’ numbers, but-”

She broke off, but I knew the words she would say before she said them.