Page 17 of The Roommate Problem
August leaned back against the arm of the couch, crossing his muscular arms over his chest. “I appreciate you wanting to welcome me to the city and all, but I’m not really the ‘go out on the town’ kind of guy, Moira.”
Why did he insist on calling her by her full name? So formal. One would think he could loosen up a little, since they lived together and all, but noooooo, not Grumpy Gus Gus. He probably called his parents Mother and Father.
“Please?” She turned as well, lifting her feet and placing them under her so she was on her knees. Giving him her best puppy dog eyes, she pouted out her bottom lip and clasped her hand below her chin. “I promise it’ll be really fun. You’ll have an awesome time. Please, August?”
His brow furrowed. “Do people always do what you want them to?”
She shrugged. “Usually, but you’re making me work awfully hard for this friendship.”
“We’re not friends; we’re temporary roommates.”
Her smile slipped. She wouldn’t lie to herself, that stung a little, but she brushed away the tiny hurt his words caused. This wasn’t about her feelings. It was about making sure August felt at home in the city. It could be a bit overwhelming to someone who hadn’t lived here before.
“Ouch, August. Way to knock a girl down when she’s only trying to be helpful.”
She meant it as a joke, but judging by his slight wince, he must have realized his little barb was a direct hit. He ran a hand over his messy red hair. The ends were long enough for Mo to realize they had a bit of curl to them. For a moment, she wondered if he ever grew his hair out and, if so, did those fiery strands turn into wavy locks or tight corkscrews?
She shook her head, dispelling the image. She did not need to be fantasizing about her roommate. Even if it was something as innocent as what he looked like with long hair. Didn’t matter anyway. August didn’t seem the type to let his hair grow out. He probably had a haircut scheduled every six weeks until the day he died.
“Okay,” he said.
“Okay?”
He huffed out a defeated breath. “Okay, fine, I’ll go out. You win.”
“Yay! My favorite two words ever.”
She bounced up and down on her knees, causing the couch cushion to dip, tilting her in August’s direction. Her hands flew out to brace herself so she didn’t face plant in her new roommate’s lap, but unfortunately, the only place for her hands to go were directly on August’s hard, muscled thighs.
Electricity shot from her fingertips all the way down to her toes the instant her hands made contact with the rough fabric of his jeans. But it wasn’t a reaction to the fabric. Mo knew it was the man himself. Sure, logically, she knew starting anything with her stuffy, crabby roomie was the very worst of ideas. But try telling that to her raging hormones that took one look at the deliciously tall redhead and thought, Yummy!
She felt his muscles tense under her hands. When she glanced up, shock hit her square in the gut. Was that a hint of…heat she saw in those hazel eyes? Mo wasn’t born yesterday. She knew her petite frame and blonde hair with the wild colors attracted a certain type. She’d had her fair share of vulgar comments from men about her body. Her looks were a privilege most days and a problem at times, but she never thought August, with his straight shirt, boring view of life, would be attracted to the chaotic aesthetic that Mo embraced.
He cleared his throat, grabbing her wrist in a firm but gentle grip, removing her hands from his legs. August stood, taking a giant step back from the couch as he focused on a spot on the wall above her head.
“I’ll just go grab my coat and we can head out, but I’m driving.”
“You don’t even know where we’re going.”
“You can direct me.” Under his breath, he said, “I’d like to get there in one piece.”
Now she definitely saw the hint of a smile curl the corner of his lips. She squinted at him with a mock scowl. “Why, August, was that a comment on my driving skills?”
“Oh no.” He shook his head. “I’m not saying anything. Gran always taught me never to comment on a woman’s age, size, or abilities behind the wheel. I’m simply giving you a chance to relax while I keep us saf—drive us around town.”
Laughing, she nodded. “Okay, you can drive.”
August might be a grump, but she was coming to discover the man had a wicked-sharp sense of humor, if not a little on the sarcastic side.
She liked it.
A grin curled her lips as she hopped up from the couch and rushed to grab her own jacket. Tonight was going to be a blast. They’d hit all the hot spots, see all the sparkles and gems Denver had to offer. She’d make a city slicker out of August Porter, make no mistake about it.
Two hours later, Mo was beginning to doubt her plan. Irritation pricked at her nerves. She never doubted her plans. Her plans were great! But entertaining August was harder than she thought. She’d taken him to her favorite diner because they had excellent food. They’d even been featured on one of those travel food shows where the guy goes around trying to find the best family-run restaurants. It had gotten five out of five chili stars from the host.
But August didn’t care about chili stars or food shows. He was too busy grimacing over how everything on the menu was covered in fat and grease. Yeah, duh. Fat and grease were delicious. She’d ordered her favorite, biscuits and gravy with a side of bacon.
“That’s breakfast,” August commented.
