Just Roommates

Chapter 4

I don't regret the question, but the minute it leaves my mouth, I realize I should probably know more about the man sitting in front of me . . . besides how gorgeous he and his home are.

Before I find the opportunity to back-pedal and ask about him, Ian smiles and responds to my question. "Whenever is good for you. I know we're almost three weeks into November, but feel free to bring your stuff by any time."

"Really?" Ian nods and takes a sip of his lemonade. When he licks his lips afterward, I find it hard to focus on anything else. It really is ridiculous—the way I'm feeling—and I momentarily question my sanity.

When I realize that Ian is staring at me as I continue to gape—probably slack-jawed—I try to recover. "Okay, well I've got school all week, but I can probably stop by the dorm and start packing up my things . . . You're sure it's not too soon? I'd hate to be an imposition in any way. I mean, if you're busy—"

"Stephanie, relax. It's fine," he says with a smile, pushing his chair back from the table and standing up before walking around to the other side of the island counter. After rifling through a drawer, he returns to his seat and holds out his hand, palm up. In it is a small silver house key.

I still can't believe this is happening. There's no way I should be able to afford a place like this, but it seems I've hit the jackpot—and I'm not just talking about the house.

"Thanks," I say, taking the key from him. The warmth of his skin causes my breath to hitch and my stomach to flip-flop. I even think my eyes flutter. "So, is there, like, a lease or something you want me to sign?" I ask, trying really hard to control the light waver in my voice.

Ian laughs almost nervously, running his hand through his soft-looking hair, and I expel a soft breath. "Actually, I hadn't had time to draw one up. I only just got back into town yesterday, and I was just walking through the front door when you called. Give me a few days to draw one up?"

"Oh, yeah . . . sure. I can sign it when I start bringing my things over." I find myself feeling more and more giddy each and every time I make mention of the fact that I will be living here.

"Perfect."

I can't agree more with his word choice.

As we sit here in a brief moment of silence, I start to obsess about just how little I know about the man I just agreed to move in with. While I don't need to know every little detail about his life up until he opened the door for me, the basics would probably be a good idea. Especially since I'll have to be able to assure my dad this guy isn't a psychopath.

"So," I say, breaking up the quiet in the room, "you said you were away. I assume for work?" Ian nods, so I continue. "What is it that you do?"

"I'm a sports agent, actually," he explains with an air of pride lacing his voice. "It's why I'm out of town so much. I'm often away recruiting new talent."

My dad is going to love this guy. Possibly more than me . . . Wait . . . um . . .

"That sounds really cool. Have you been doing it long?" Yes, I am aware how the question sounds, but it's too late to take it back. Maybe he won't notice. I'm sure it's just me because my mind has been in the gutter since I first got here, and my mentality is now mirroring that of a twelve-year-old boy.

"About five years now," he tells me coolly. Apparently it is all me.

"Did you always know that's what you wanted to do with your life?" I ask, trying to keep the conversation rolling because I don't think I'll ever get tired of hearing his voice. Yup, I've definitely gone crazy. There's no longer a doubt in my mind. It's okay, though; I think I can make peace with it.