The House Mate (Roommates, #3)

“No problem at all, really. Well, I better be off.”

I kissed Dylan good-bye and waved to Max, then scooped up my bag and rushed to my car.

When I was safe behind the wheel and on my way, I cranked up the radio and rolled down the windows, letting the warm early September air fill my lungs. Without Max around, I finally felt like I could breathe. Use this time to be myself without the eggshells and worries. Some time to reflect.

For the better part of the drive, though, all I could manage to do was reflect on him.NôvelDrama.Org copyrighted © content.

What was his deal? I knew that he was fond of his mother, had done well in school, had been friends with the same group of people for most of his adult life, but the one thing he never mentioned? Women.

Aside from Dylan’s mother, there was no hint that he’d ever been with someone, and yet . . . A man like that had to get around, didn’t he? Between his rich, dark hair and his deep, dark eyes, women probably threw themselves at him pretty regularly. Did he go along for the ride, or was he a relationship guy?

I didn’t know. All I knew was this Max, the one who was new to fatherhood. When things settled down and he’d accepted his role in Dylan’s life, would he get back to dating again? And, worse, would he parade these women around the house, right in front of me? Or maybe he would take them to hotels or stay over at their house for the weekend. I’d have to make excuses for him to Dylan, knowing all the while where he was and what-or who-he was doing.

I gripped the wheel tighter, hating the knot that was tying up my stomach.

My interest in Max’s dating life was all professional, of course. His relationships with women were sure to affect Dylan in the long term.

Nice try, loser. Plenty of single parents date.

Besides, if it was all about Dylan, then why did I feel murderous when I thought about him taking another woman into his arms, or worse, his bed?

I agonized over that very thought until I reached the parking lot of the salon where I was scheduled to meet Lara. When I pushed open the doors, a little chime tinkled, and I found her sitting in the waiting area, looking up at me.

“I hate this hour-drive thing,” she said with a scowl. “I like you close.”

I waved my hand. “Hello to you too.”

“Well, obviously hello.” She hugged me swiftly, then motioned to one of the girls behind the counter to let them know we were ready. They led us back to a room with a tiny waterfall and a row of chairs with deep, jetted basins for our feet.

“I signed us up for mani-pedis,” she explained. “Hope that’s okay.”

“Perfect.” I relaxed into my chair and let out a deep breath.

“Long week?” she asked.

“You know how it is starting a new job.”

“And being constantly surrounded by Mr. Hot Bod? Can’t say that I do,” Lara said, and the woman working on her heel looked over at me.

I smiled at her, then turned back to Lara with gritted teeth. “Please, for the love of God, don’t call him that.”

“Fine, fine, call him what you want. How is it going with him?”

“With my boss? He’s fine. Happy with my performance.”

Lara waggled her eyebrows. “Oh, is he now?”

I pinched the bridge of my nose between two fingers. “Do we have to go over this every time we talk?” I’d just spent the whole ride over remembering all the reasons I had to stop thinking about Max, and now Lara seemed determined to drag me back to ground zero again.

“I’ve just been thinking. You know, it might be fun.”

“What?” I asked.

“Getting down and dirty with Mr. Boss Man.”

“He has a name,” I shot back.

“Max, then. Do you think he might be interested?” Lara asked.

She knew me too well for me to hide my blush, so I looked away. “I’m not talking about this anymore.”

“So he is interested,” she squawked, clapping her hands together gleefully. “Juicy. Do tell.”

“There is . . . a sort of mutual attraction. But I told you before, I’m done with guys for now. The last time I got involved, I wound up homeless. I live with this guy too, remember, and I’m sure you don’t want me sleeping on your couch again.”

“It depends. How many pints of ice cream are you going to buy me?” she asked. “I kind of loved having all those flavors in the freezer at any given time.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Lara.”

She held up her hands. “Fine, fine, you’re probably right. Look, but don’t touch.”

“Exactly.” I nodded.

I should get that tattooed on me, just as a constant reminder.

As the day progressed, though, as much fun as I was having catching up with my bestie, I couldn’t help but wonder how Dylan was. If she missed me. If her daddy missed me.

But it was exactly that-the thoughts of Dylan and how much I missed her grinning face-that had me feeling more sure than ever.

Most relationships didn’t work out. That was straight statistics. Which meant that even if Max and I dated, we’d likely fail, and then what? I’d lose my job, again, my home, again, and worse? I’d lose Dylan.

It was too big of a risk to take, no matter how sexy Max was.

Look, but don’t touch.

My new mantra.

If he could just do the same, we’d be golden.