Roommating (Preston's Mill #1) (4 page)

“That shouldn’t be so unusual for you.”

Heather turned her head to look at his face. “What do you
mean?”

“I just mean everyone seems to like you. You’re always
making cookies—for everyone who isn’t me. Isn’t everyone happy to see you when
you show up?”

She kind of liked that he thought that about her. “I don’t
know. I don’t really think so. Not so it feels as completely genuine as Lucy
is.”

“I don’t believe that. You have family and tons of friends.
You’re not going to convince me that your dog is all you have going for you.”

“I didn’t mean it like that. I have my dad, of course. He’s
never once let me down. But he’s pretty much the only family I have.”

“Your mom is still alive, isn’t she?” His voice was
different now—softer, almost gentle. Like he was really interested.

“Yeah. She is. But she got remarried when I was ten. You
knew that, didn’t you?”

“Sure, but that doesn’t mean you can’t still be close to
her.”

“I guess. But I’m not. It was like she had a whole new life,
and I can’t really be part of it. She calls occasionally, and I might see her
once a year, but it’s really just…a gesture. She wanted to move on. When she
left my dad, she left me too.”

It was a pain that had never fully gone away, and Heather’s
voice cracked slightly on the last words. She gave Chris a quick look, but he
was watching her quietly, no mockery or judgment on his face. “At least she’s
still alive,” she added. “I’ve got nothing to complain about.”

“Maybe,” he murmured, his eyes never leaving her face. “But
at least I know my mom never left me. She always chose
me
.”

Heather swallowed hard, swept with a wave of emotion and
deep understanding. It was like Chris had reached in and touched inside of her,
connecting them in a way she’d never experienced before. She swayed forward,
caught up in the softness of his brown eyes and the way he looked in the
shifting shadows of the night.

Chris seemed to lean toward her too, but then an unexpected
noise jarred them apart.

The sound came from below them, and it was long and
stretched and high-pitched.

“What was that?” Chris asked, staring down in the direction
of the sound.

Lucy wagged her tail at him.

Trying not to laugh, Heather reached down and picked up her
dog. “She had a little gas. Don’t laugh at her.”

Despite her admonishment, Chris burst into a warm, low
laughter. “I thought you couldn’t hear dogs do that. Just smell it.”

Heather couldn’t help but chuckle too as she carried Lucy
back inside. “Well, Little Miss Lucy has always been exceptional.”

They returned to their apartment, and soon went their own
ways to their bedrooms.

Heather was relieved that the strangely intense moment
between them had been interrupted.

She couldn’t let herself fall for Chris, despite the way he
occasionally drew her toward him.

She needed a man who would commit, and she knew from hard
experience that man would never be Chris.

***

The next morning, as she was walking
into the office, someone called out a greeting to her from down the block.

She paused as a man approached. She recognized him almost
immediately. He was Randy, whom she’d dated briefly in high school. He’d always
been kind of wild in his teenaged years. He’d ridden a motorcycle and not
followed many rules. So Heather was surprised to see him look so well-dressed
and respectable now.

They chatted for a few minutes, catching up on what the
other was doing. He was still living in town, and he worked in his family’s
restaurant across the street.

When he asked her if she was busy on Saturday night, Heather
told him she’d love to have dinner with him.

She wasn’t super-excited about him, but she liked him and
there was no reason not to go out with him.

It would be good to take her mind off of Chris anyway.

As if her thoughts had conjured him, she saw Chris striding
from his car into the office, looking big and handsome and bad-tempered.

She didn’t know why he would be so bad-tempered, but he
didn’t greet her or even nod as he passed.

She didn’t care. She had a date with Randy on Saturday, and she
was going to go back to ignoring Chris for the duration of their roommate
arrangement.

Things would be a lot safer that way.

Contrary to popular belief—and by
that he meant Heather’s opinion—Chris was a hard worker who took his job and responsibilities
seriously. And that meant putting his social life aside while trying to get
this business with Tom to a place where everyone was comfortable. Just because
the business was solid didn’t mean that he and Heather were going to be able to
slide into their positions without any effort.

At least, that was the way he viewed it.

Clearly, Heather did not.

Eating a bowl of popcorn, Chris was doing his best to focus
on the running chatter on ESPN and not on the fact that Heather was fluttering
around getting ready for a date.

A date!

Seriously, what the hell?

She’d been relatively aloof for days, and although he
couldn’t really speak for her, he knew he’d been busy supervising one job site
while stopping in and observing three others. His days had been long and
challenging, while sitting in an air-conditioned office clearly left one time
to make dates with guys who practically trip over themselves to get your
attention.

Damn Randy.

The blow dryer was on, and he could hear Heather humming. With
a growl, he picked up the remote and made the TV louder. He was just about the
throw the remote when he looked down and saw Lucy staring up at him. Her tail
was wagging, and he could almost swear her expression was sympathetic—like she
knew he was annoyed about Heather going out while he was stuck at home with no
one to hang out with.

Great, now I’m the dog-whisperer
. With a huff, he put
the bowl of popcorn down on the coffee table along with the remote. Just as he
as getting situated again, Lucy jumped into his lap—all five pounds of her.

“Hey,” he grumbled and was ready to toss her down, but she
looked up at him and then licked his hand. The last thing Chris needed right
now was this stupid little dog. She was ridiculous to look at. Unable to help
himself, he picked her up and sort of weighed her in his hand and…yup. She was
ridiculous to feel too. Carefully, he put her back on the floor. “Go away.”

For a minute, he was afraid that she was going to stay there
and stare, but Heather turned off the blow dryer, and the dog seemed to
practically skip away to go see her mistress. He snorted with disgust. “Whatever.”

Glancing over his shoulder—and the good thing about Flo was
how she was big enough to hide behind—he watched as Heather moved from the
bathroom to her bedroom. She was dressed in some sort of florally dress. Her
hair was curled, and she looked much nicer than she did on a work day. That
wasn’t saying that she didn’t look nice during the week, but she was definitely
putting in some serious effort here for the date.

Chris looked down at himself and frowned. It was six o’clock
on a Saturday night, and he was in a pair of sweats and a T-shirt—a stained T-shirt
at that—and seriously considering eating peanut butter right out of the jar for
dinner because he was too worn out to cook. Or order takeout. Not a good sign. Especially,
considering that his roommate was all dolled up and dressed to kill.

Okay, stop obsessing on that, he admonished himself. With a
sound that was suspiciously like an eighty-year-old man, he rose from his
beloved chair and went to his room to change. Not that he was going to go
anywhere, but so that he might be motivated to eat something that required more
of an effort than twisting off the lid and dipping a spoon in.

Yikes.

Five minutes later, he had changed into jeans and a clean T-shirt
and walked back into the living room.

“Hey, um, would you mind feeding Lucy tonight?” Heather
asked. She was moving her things from one purse to another and didn’t really
look up at him.

“Yeah. Sure.”

“And she’ll need to go out a time or two. You know…after she
eats. If you don’t mind.”

He was aware of the dog’s schedule. He knew that Heather fed
Lucy around seven each night, then took her out at eight, and then again before
they went to bed. So…

“Wait…how long are you planning on being out?” he asked and
almost cringed at how much he sounded like an over-protective parent.

Heather looked up at him in surprise. “Excuse me?’

“I’m just saying, if you expect me to babysit the damn dog—”

“I’m not asking you to babysit,” she said with a bit of
exasperation. “She eats like a quarter of a cup of food, and you have to just
walk down the stairs and watch her for five minutes while she does her
business. That hardly constitutes babysitting.”

Chris shrugged. “Time out of my night.”

She gave him an ironic look. “Seriously?”

“Did you even think for a minute that I might have plans?”
he asked, and before she could answer he went on. “What would you do with
little miss fur ball if I wasn’t here to look out for her?”

Heather sighed loudly. “You know what? Never mind. I’ll feed
her now, and I’ll take her for a walk, and then I’ll put her in my room so you
won’t have to deal with her.”

Stepping back, Chris watched as she made her way to the
kitchen while muttering under her breath about how childish he was and how
ridiculous this entire situation was. Well…he completely agreed. On all of it.

Not that he was going to admit it out loud.

With a shrug, he walked across the room and scooped up his
keys. He didn’t think it would be possible for him to keep playing nice right
now, and he certainly didn’t want to be here when Randy showed up to pick her
up. So he’d go and grab some takeout and drive around and just…not be here.

Without a word to her, he turned and left.

***

In the back of his mind, Chris
seriously hoped he’d run into someone he knew and then he’d have plans for the
night too. Not a date, but just not sitting home alone.

No such luck. Within thirty minutes, he was parked back in
front of the building and feeling more and more annoyed about it. Grabbing his
bag of Chinese food, he stalked from his truck and was walking up the front
path when he stopped in his tracks. Heather and Randy were coming out the door,
and he cursed. If only he had taken five more minutes.

They were engrossed in conversation and turned to the right,
so they hadn’t even seen him. And he wasn’t sure if he was relieved or pissed.

With another curse, he opted to be pissed and quickly went
inside.

He was almost to his door when he heard a noise he was coming
to dread, almost as much as every other aspect of his current life—Estelle’s
door opening.

“Young man,” she said, sounding a little more normal than
usual. “Can you help me?”

Well, damn. There was no way he was going to say no to her. Plastering
a smile on his face, he turned toward her. “Sure, Estelle. What can I do for
you?”

She looked down both sides of the hallway before speaking. “You
need to come closer. It’s…it’s private.”

Oh dear Lord
.

He stepped closer and prayed he was going to come out of this
unscathed. Looking at Estelle, he noticed she didn’t have her pink curlers in
her hair. For the first time, he could see that it was a light gray and styled.
“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I’m having a gentleman friend come over for dinner, and I
need to move some things around, but I can’t. They’re too heavy. Can you help
me?”

“You…you have a…”

“A date?” she finished for him and then gave him a girlish
smile. “I do. But he’ll be here any minute, and I wanted to move the sofa a bit,
and my kitchen table. Can you help me?”

“Why are you moving furniture for a date?” he asked, totally
confused.

Estelle gave him an indignant look. “I don’t believe that’s
any of your concern. Maybe things are easier if some of the furniture is closer
together, or maybe I need a little room to spread out. Really, Christopher,
it’s none of your business. Are you going to help me or not?”

There was no way he was going to start to imagine why
Estelle and her date needed to spread out, and he figured the sooner he got
this done, the better. Stepping into her apartment, he placed his bag of
takeout on her kitchen counter and then moved over to the sofa. “Where am I
moving this to?”

Estelle sniffed at the bag of food. “Chinese food?”

He nodded. “My dinner.”

“Oh, how nice! I do love some chicken chow mien.” Then she
paused. “That’s an awful lot of food for one person.”

He let out a heavy sigh. “Estelle? The sofa? Where do you
want it?”

“I saw Heather leaving earlier with a nice young man. They
made a very handsome couple. I heard them laughing all the way down the hall.” She
smiled, and then directed him on where she wanted the sofa. “Do you have a date
tonight? Is that why you have so much food in the bag?”

“There’s really not that much in there.”

“Oh. Well that’s too bad.”

Chris paused and looked at her curiously. “What is?”

“That you don’t have a date,” she said, her expression
bordered on pitiful.

“I never said—”

“You didn’t have to, dear. And here I am blathering on about
my wonderful social life and Heather’s lucky young man, and you’re, well,
you’re all alone,” she added sadly. Then she walked over and patted his hand. “I’m
so sorry. It’s rude of me to flaunt my good fortune while you’re spending the
night by yourself.”

Good fortune? It was on the tip of his tongue to try and
correct her—to tell her exactly why it was that he was alone tonight, but
decided against it. Instead, he hung his head a little and sighed again. “It’s
all right, Estelle. I’ll be okay. Now where can I place that table so that you
and your gentleman friend will be comfortable?”

Her smile brightened up, and she instructed him on the
placement of the furniture and then thanked him profusely. Chris picked up his
bag of food and made a quick beeline for the door.

“Thank you again, Christopher!”

“My pleasure, Estelle. You have a good night.” He quickly
stepped out into the hallway and gave her a small wave before he turned.

“You too! And if you get too lonely, you can come back and—”
she stopped. “Never mind. Have a good night!”

And then she slammed her door.

Great. Even the elderly didn’t want to hang out with him.

Well fine. No big deal. He opened the door to the apartment,
walked in and tried to enjoy the peace and quiet. Kicking off his shoes, he
shut the door and walked to the kitchen—stopping to pick up the TV remote and
turning on ESPN to see if he could catch a game on somewhere.

Within minutes he was all set—his plate loaded with food,
and a cold beer. Even though there wasn’t a game on that interested him, Chris
had found a home renovation show that had captured his attention. He was just
about to sit on Flo when he heard a noise. Well, not a noise, but a whimper. A
whine. A scratch.

Ignoring it, he sat down and turned up the volume on the
television. The forkful of food was halfway to his mouth when the whining grew
louder and more insistent. “Can it, Lucy!” he called over his shoulder and
quickly ate that first bite of his dinner.

More whining.

More scratching.

The damn dog’s scratching was so frantic that Chris was
certain Lucy was going to get right through the door. With a muttered curse, he
put his plate down and went to Heather’s door and yanked it open. The dog
pranced out excitedly and began dancing around his legs. He would have thought
that with all that carrying on she must have to go out, but she didn’t run to
the door. She eventually just sat at his feet and stared up at him as her tail
wagged.

“So what was all the fuss about?” he snapped. “I was eating
my dinner and trying to watch some TV, but you were making such a racket that I
had to stop!”

If anything, her tail wagged even more, and she seemed to be
smiling at him.

Shit.
Dogs don’t smile, and he had to be losing his
mind if that was what he was seeing.

With a huff, he stepped over her, went back to Flo, and
picked up his dinner. The home improvement show host was talking about the way
to properly sand down and restore hardwood floors. It wasn’t exactly rocket
science. It took only a minute before he was arguing with the screen.

“You can’t start with a medium grit sandpaper! You need the
course grit to remove all the damn layers of crap! What is wrong with you?”

Beside him, Lucy let out a little bark.

Chris looked down at her. “Right? This guy doesn’t know what
he’s talking about! If you don’t start off with a course grit, you’ll be
sanding twice as long and never get all of the old finish off. And on top of
that, you’ll probably burn out the motor on the sander.” He snorted with
disgust. “Seriously, how do these guys get their own shows?”

Another bark.

He finished his dinner and took a long pull of his beer. As
he was sitting back in his seat, Lucy looked like she was ready to jump into
his lap. Without much thought, he reached for her and put her in the seat
beside him. “No point in hurting yourself.”

They sat like that watching the rest of the show—every once
in a while Chris would comment on what they were doing wrong and why he’d do it
differently. She was in his lap and listening intently to every word he said.

And he kind of liked it.

After the renovation show, another one started up—this time
talking about working with stone houses. He loved this kind of thing, and even
though Lucy had curled up in his lap and wasn’t listening nearly as much as she
had a few minutes ago, Chris kept an open dialogue going the entire time—as he
petted her.

By the end of a third episode, he was feeling the need to
get up and move around. Maybe some dessert. “Cookies would be great right about
now, if Heather was ever generous enough to make some for me. Not that she ever
will. She’ll probably stuff damn Randy full of them, though.”