Roommate Arrangement (Divorced Men's Club #1)(10)

“Lizzy mentioned you felt like shit.”

“Thanks, Liz,” I say dryly.

She smiles back innocently. “Totally welcome.”

I wave off their concern. “It’s fine. Hopefully the apartment won’t take long to sell, and then I’ll be out of your hair.”

“I-have-a-spare-room.” Beau’s words come out so fast I’m not sure I’ve caught them at first.

“You do?”

Lizzy answers before he can. “Payne’s fine where he is.”

“Is Bridget though?” Beau replies.

The look Lizzy’s giving him is hard to read, but Marty jumps in before she can.

“That’s actually a great idea,” he says. “Beau only lives ten minutes away, and he’s got a nice place.”

“Well, nice when it’s not a total bomb site,” Beau jokes.

Bomb site or not, the temptation of my own room with a proper bed is strong, but there’s a reason I’m staying here instead of leasing somewhere. “That’s nice of you, but I don’t have a job or anything, so I couldn’t contribute rent. The money I do have, I’ll need to ration until I work out what’s next.”

That makes Beau laugh. “Who said anything about rent? I own the place outright.”

“I’m not going to take advantage, Bo-Bo.”

“It’s not taking advantage when I’m the one who offered,” he points out. “You need somewhere to stay, and I have somewhere. It’s not like I’ll lease it out to anyone else, so you either use it, or it stays empty. Sounds like a waste to me.”

For the first time since he mentioned it, I let myself consider it.

Marty nudges me. “Beau’s right. There’s more than enough space, and he doesn’t need the money since the film rights to his books got him a big, fat check.”

Beau shifts. “Yeah, no money.”

“Trying to get rid of me, brother?” The joke doesn’t have much conviction, because I’m wavering. If he was planning to rent the room, that would be one thing, but it’s literally sitting there unused. I’d be ridiculous to turn it down, but I’m also not going to rely on Beau’s kindness, whatever he might say. “At least let me contribute something.”

An idea lights up his face. “Actually, there is something.”

“Yeah?”

“See, I’m a bit, umm, messy …?”

“Total slob.” Marty nods. “Continue.”

Beau gives Marty a flat look and turns back to me. “I’m not a slob, I’m low on time. When I’m not working, I’m stressing about working, and before I know it, the whole day has passed, and sometimes I haven’t done a single thing. If you really wanted to help out, keeping the place tidy and stocked with food would actually be a lifesaver.”

“Like a live-in maid.” I weigh up that option, and it actually sounds perfect. “All right. You’re on.”

“Yeah. Cool.” Beau shrugs, then shrugs again, some of that weirdness from outside hitting him. He’s a hard one to read. On one hand, he was almost pushing for me to accept, but now he’s being awkward about it.

Jesus fucking Christ.

This is going to be interesting.





4





Beau


I told myself I’d be ready today. I promised. And yet I’d gotten up early and then become distracted by, well, everything. As I look around the apartment, I can’t put my finger on exactly what I’ve been doing all day.

My dirty clothes are sorted, but none of it made it into the washing machine, my dishwasher is full of dirty dishes, but the clean ones are piled on the countertops so I could wipe out the cupboards, and the toilet cleaner and bleach are sitting on the floor by the bathroom door, where I left them before I got an idea I needed to jot down.

When did my life become such a mess?

For all of my hard work, the place is disgusting. I’m behind on my deadline. And when I open the fridge to grab something to settle my stomach over the thought of Payne’s impending arrival and note the suspicious lack of food in there, I remember too late I was supposed to go shopping yesterday.

I go to slump onto my couch when I catch myself in time.

He’ll be here any minute, and I’d hoped to have the place in some kind of order.

For a thirty-six-year-old man, I’m embarrassingly disorganized.

I redirect my attention to the clean dishes, and just as I’m about to put them away, there’s a knock at the door. Shit.

I grab the stack of plates and shove them in the cupboard above my head. Out of sight, out of mind. Though there really is no more procrastinating. I need to let him in. I do. I can do this. But before I reach for the handle, I take a second to prepare myself. This is … fine. It’s totally fine.

Payne is any other guy.

Who’s incredibly good-looking and out of my league and makes my gut all twisted but … a guy.

Who I also somehow have to convince to look out for my flaws.

I know it’s the best decision long term, but it isn’t my favorite plan to ask the man I have a thing for to focus on my bad qualities. I’d rather wow him with my exceptional blow job skills.

There’s another soft knock, then the door pushes open, and I spring back out of the way.