Ellie West has her life all mapped out, but after disappointing news, she's forced to take in the mysterious Seth Carter as a roommate.
Can the arrangement work?
Sure.
As long as she can accept his past, embrace his demons and maintain a firm gri...
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Seth
We're both sitting at the island two hours later. I'm choking down the last bite of lasagna Ellie cooked for my birthday dinner. And yes, I literally mean choke.
The edges of the dish are burnt since she left it in the oven twenty minutes too long, and the noodles scrape my throat like sandpaper the entire way down.
My girl is a master at many things, but cooking still isn't one of them. If it doesn't come straight from a box, she's screwed. This is why I still prepare every meal in this house.
But she's gone out of her way to try the homemade dinner bit. So I smile through my pain.
"This is fucking delicious."
She shakes her head, catching my eyes with her narrowed one. We both laugh at the shameful dinner attempt. It's instances like this where I'm most grateful for what we have. Life isn't perfect. We know that far too well. But when you have someone to laugh through the hiccups with you, it somehow feels that way.
Ellie rolls her eyes, setting down her fork. She's abandoning her piece. There's still half left, meaning I'll be whipping something up in an hour when she's starving.
I don't care. I love cooking for her. I especially love the way her eyes still roll back in her head as she savors each bite and the tiny moans she releases as she eats.
My balls clench.
Shifting my legs, I reach for her hand. "You know it's the effort that counts."
I lean to the side and kiss her, leaving a smile on her lips. I grab our two plates, rinsing them in the sink.
She watches me. "Chad dropped off two cupcakes this afternoon before he went in to work. So at least we don't have to worry about dessert."
That's my employees for you, always going above and beyond. This town is superficial as hell, but I managed to find three of the best workers and friends there are.
"Chad's a good man."
She nods in agreement. "Now get back here so I can give you your real gift."
"You're such a bossy thing today." Wiping my wet hands on my shirt, I head back to my seat. "I thought it was my day."
She doesn't giggle in her usual fashion. Nor does she have a responding quip. Instead, she lifts a plastic stick from underneath her butt and lays it on the island.
I'm not an idiot. I know what that stick is. I've seen movies. And right now I see the two lines and know what they represent. But because I'm a jackass, my mind immediately goes to a joke. It happens whenever my nerves spike to red levels and my brain refuses to process information.
"Is that your piss stick on our island? Cause if so, my wife's gonna kill you when she gets home." And because I haven't shoved my foot far enough into my mouth, I add, "It's gonna take ten Clorox wipes to disinfect that."
