Page 30 of The Roommate Problem
“Don’t you dare,” he warned.
Mo, however, did not heed his warning. The cheeky woman just gave him a smartass grin and leaned close to his grandmother to whisper in her ear.
“Grumpy Gus Gus.”
“Oh, that’s my Auggie to a T.” Grandma laughed.
He failed to see what was so funny. And when the hell did she add the “grumpy” part? He wasn’t grumpy. He was stoic.
“Gran, why don’t you go eat your lunch?” He stared at Mo. “I have something I need to discuss with Moira.”
“Of course, dear. I have a little work to do up there anyway.”
She moved past him, patting him on the arm as she headed to the front with a large spool of green ribbon.
Once his grandmother had made her way down the hallway and into the front of the store, he stepped into the supply room and closed the door behind him. Big mistake. He’d forgotten how small this room was. Tiny for one person, miniscule for two. He stood inches from Mo. So close he could see the flecks of gold in her light brown eyes, feel the heat coming off her body, and he swore he could smell the sunshine radiating from her.
“What are you doing here, Moira?”
She sighed. “Back to ‘Moira,’ are we? What happened to Mo?”
“Are you scheming with Gran?” he asked, ignoring her question.
Her jaw dropped, arms crossing over her chest as she scowled at him. “Rude. I never scheme.”
He let out a sharp bark of laughter. The woman’s middle name should be scheme.
“For your information, I was simply stopping by to discuss some final touches on the flower order for an upcoming wedding. You know, working? The thing most people do during the day.”
Oh yeah, she’d been working. Working his grandmother into some grand plan to help win him over and keep the shop. He placed his hand on the shelf above her head and leaned down, way down, since the woman stood a foot shorter than him.
“Stop putting ideas in my grandmother’s head.”
“What ideas?”
“I know you two were talking about ways to convince me to stay here and take over the shop.”
Her scowl relaxed into a smile. With a small huff of laughter, she shook her head. “Full of yourself much, August? We weren’t talking about you.”
“Really? Then what were you talking about, because it sure didn’t look like wedding flower planning from what I saw.”
Her smile fell, eyes dropping to the floor, but not before he spied a bit of guilt in them. Ha! He knew she’d been up to something.
“It’s none of your business what we were talking about,” she muttered.
“She’s my grandmother. She is my business.”
Her head snapped up, fire burning in those golden eyes of hers. “She’s also her own person and doesn’t have to share every little thing with you.”
He sucked in a sharp breath, feeling like he got punched in the gut. No, Gran didn’t have to tell him everything. He was well aware that even though people were family didn’t mean you got the privilege of knowing about their lives or being involved in their decisions. Hell, his parents proved that time and again over the years. But Gran had always been different. She’d always treated him as if his opinion mattered. He mattered.
Pushing away the hurt, he glared at Mo. “Don’t get in the middle of this.”
She lifted on her toes, putting her nose inches from his. So close he could see the faint smattering of freckles on her cheeks.
“Don’t tell me what to do.”
Her chin tilted up, lips curling in a defiant smile, and his gaze got caught. He could hear the rapid sound of her breathing, see a bit of bright white teeth behind those full, pink lips. The woman was driving him out of his mind and turning him the hell on. He knew it was a bad idea. Monumentally bad, but he couldn’t stop himself from dipping his head down, leaning even closer until their mouths were a hairbreadth apart. Until the warmth of her breath caressed his lips, calling to him like a siren called sailors to their doom.
