Chapter 32
ELLIOTT
August
Are you coming out tonight or what?
Hello?
Yoohoo
Anyone home?
All I wanted when I got home from work was a beer and an hour or two of mindless TV.
But the moment Loren swept through the door, I realized that was a dream that wouldn’t come true.
First, she cooks chicken cordon bleu, which is distracting as hell because she’s wearing these tiny shorts and keeps checking the oven, which requires her to bend over.
I’m trying not to be a pervert so I’m not staring, but fuck me, do I want to.
Then, she offers me some, which is basically my love language.
To make matters worse, after dinner, she throws herself onto the couch next to me and she somehow still smells like peaches even after a long day of work.
The moment her ass hits the cushion, she’s right back up like a fucking jack in the box, skipping over to the tv stand, and throwing open the cabinet doors.
For all she knows, I could have a bunch of old-school porn in there. That doesn’t stop her. No, siree, boundaries are something Loren Piper has apparently never heard of.
And because I must’ve pissed someone off in a past life, she bends over right in front of me to root around. I force my head back against the cushion, staring at the ceiling fan instead of the way her hips are cocked at the perfect angle for—
“Holy crap! You have Scrabble?”
I roll my eyes at the box Loren pulls from beneath the TV. “I don’t see why that’s so shocking. It’s a great game.”
“It’s shocking because you’re not a seventy-five-year-old grandpa.” The box shakes when she rights herself. “Let’s play.”
“No.” Scrabble isn’t mindless and if Loren finds out how competitive I am, there’s a good chance this budding friendship will be over before it begins.
“Come on. Please? My parents and I always used to play Scrabble on weekends.”
Mine too. It must be an only child thing.
She looks so damn excited and after everything that’s happened to her, it feels like I don’t have much of a choice. “Ugh. Fine.” I clear my cup and plate off the coffee table, making room for Loren to set out the board.
It’s funny that she mentioned grandparents, because the tiles are in a tube sock that used to belong to my grandpa. Weird, I know. But I can’t bring myself to transfer them into something normal, like a baggie or whatever.
I sink back down on the couch covered in her ridiculous pillows. I wasn’t a fan at first, but I must admit they’re comfy when you’re lounging, watching TV.
I grab my wooden rack and select seven tiles from the sock. “I have to warn you, I’m pretty good.”
She grins down at her tiles as she places them on her own rack. “So am I.”
We’ll see about that.
With the TV playing a rerun of Frasier in the background, we start the game. Because I’m a gentleman, I let her go first. Wouldn’t want to make this too unfair on her.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not going to let her win by any means, but it’s the least I can do.
Tapping her lips, she moves her tiles around before playing her first word, “peasant,” using every damn tile.
“Luck.”
A smirk. “Skill.”
After a few rounds, it’s clear we’re more evenly matched than I originally thought.
Which is fucking amazing because the last time I played against August it was like that scene in The Office where the receptionist only plays words that have to do with cows, but instead of cows, August kept spelling food items. He claimed it was because he was hungry at the time, but I’m not buying it.
I throw down three tiles, then pick three more, finally getting the “K” I’ve been waiting for. Loren isn’t paying me any attention, her focus solely on the board between us. Even so, I keep my eyes off that pink square just in case she catches me looking and decides to swoop in before I can.
She plays somewhere else, and I burst into laughter when I make my move.
DICK
“Fitting, since you are a dick,” she mutters through flat lips, scribbling down my points on the notebook. Her gaze bounces between the board and her tiles while I sit back and select four new tiles.
When a smile splits across her face, I hold my breath as she steals the double word score right out from under me.
PUSSY
“I believe that’s eighteen points. Oh, wait. Would you look at that? I used the double word score twice, so make that twenty-seven points, please.”
So that’s she’s going to play it? “It is on.”
When I throw down MOIST, she grimaces, then proceeds to use my “T” for CLIT.
“Dammit.” I guess I’ll have to find somewhere else for my next word.
Let’s see…there is one place, but it feels like a throw-away since it won’t get me very many points. Oh, wait. I can totally use her C for…
“Cunt? Really?”
My dick jumps when she says the word out loud. Good thing I have a pillow on my lap so she doesn’t notice. “Did you hear Elliott gets horny when playing Scrabble?” This is not the sort of distraction I need. “What? It’s a legitimate word, isn’t it?”
She snorts and plays Q on my u. Add an I and a T and I am done for. I blew my chance of winning by lining up that damn word right next to a triple-word square.
“Shit.”
“I believe you mean ‘Quit’ And that’s probably what you should do. considering there are no letters left in your sock.”
“I never quit.”
“Oh, really?” The way she rolls the top of her beer bottle against her lips is downright pornographic. She’s so busy gloating, I don’t even know if she realizes what she’s doing. But my dick does, which is damned inconvenient since this is the one girl I can’t touch.
First: she’s desperate for someone to love her, and I don’t have the capacity for that anymore.
Second: she’s vulnerable and this whole roommate situation we have going on can only end in disaster. I’m not going to take advantage of her just because she’s hot and my hands are itching to get lost in that chaotic hair of hers.
Third: who the hell gets horny playing fucking Scrabble? I need to get laid so I can get Loren Piper off my mind.
She ends up winning, and while I’d like to blame my distraction for my poor score, she totally bested me.
“Winner cleans up,” I say in my most cheerful voice so she doesn’t realize how irritated I am.
“That’s fair. You want to watch something on TV?”
There might as well be a red light flashing over her head: Danger. Danger.
I should say no, but the truth is, I do want to watch TV. And it’s not fair of me to tell her that she needs to hole up in her room because I happen to find her attractive.
“Um… Yeah. Sure. Why not?”
“Woah, calm down, Elliott. There’s no need to sound so excited.”
This girl. She’s funny. “You want another beer?” I ask, figuring it’s safe enough to stand without my dick getting in the way.
“Sounds good. You have any popcorn?”
“No, but there might be some chips and salsa.” I don’t think I ate them all.
“Perfect.”
We sit down to watch a movie, but as she flicks through our options, all I can focus on is Loren taking photos of the TV.
“What are you doing?”
She flushes. “I always forget what movies are on here and when I go to search for one, I can’t find any of them.” She shows me her screen. All romcoms.
“We can watch one now, if you want.”
“Oh, we don’t have to do that. I’m sure you’d rather choose something with murder.”
“Why? Because I’m such a murderer?”
“No, I mean guys don’t really like romances.”
Good thing she’s not living with August. He’d have her glued to this cushion for a romcom marathon if she even hinted that she’d be interested. That man has a thing for Kate Hudson.
She’s pretty and all, but Meg Ryan is more my type.
I think it’s the hair.
“They’re not that bad,” I say.
“Really?”
I nod.
“What’s your favorite?”
“The Notebook.”
“You like The Notebook?”
“Rachel McAdams is hot.”
“Okay, then. Let’s watch The Notebook.”
So that’s what we do. Or at least I watch The Notebook.
Loren seems to be watching me more than the damn screen.
“TV’s that way.” I nod toward the scene where Noah takes her out on that boat with all the birds.
Animals with wings freak me out. It may look romantic, but can you imagine how much bird shit is in that water?
Loren’s lips press into a flat line as she watches me watching the TV. “You’re strange.”
Okay…?
“I mean that in a good way,” she adds. “I don’t think I’ve ever met a guy who’s willing to sit through a movie like this without an ulterior motive.”
“Who says I don’t have an ulterior motive?”
Her eyes narrow like she’s trying to see into my mind. “Do you?”
“I’ve been really craving steak lately.” Ever since she gave me a bit of her dinner that night in her apartment, to be exact.
“So you’re offering companionship in exchange for food.”
“I’m a simple man with simple needs.”
Her laugh warms me like a sunny summer day, and she twists back toward the TV.
The couple on screen are fighting when Loren’s head falls to my shoulder.
When her curls tickle my neck and cheek, I may or may not sniff her hair.
I know how weird that is, but women always smell so damn good, and Loren is no exception.
I force my gaze back to the screen, watching in silence as Allie and Noah profess their love to each other.
I know I’m supposed to be cheering for Noah, but I always feel bad for Allie’s fiancé.
He wasn’t an asshole and didn’t treat her badly.
All he did was love her, and yet she ran off with someone else.
I pause the movie, listening to Loren’s soft, even breathing until my own eyes drift closed. I really should get up and go to bed, but this couch and these pillows—and yeah, this woman—are all too damn comfortable.
When was the last time I had a woman over for more than just sex?
That makes me sound like a dick, but I’m not really in the market for a relationship. I work long ass hours, and my life is just fine the way it is.
At least it was.
Now that Loren is here, it’s clear there’s been something missing the last few years.
I’m just not sure I’m ready to acknowledge what that is.