Roommate Arrangement (Divorced Men's Club #1)(24)

Our eyes lock for a moment, and I realize that I took it one pun too far. The way that sounded … the sight of his dick flashes through my mind along with filthy ideas on how he actually can come with me, and I force a laugh to ease whatever this tension is between us.

“Coming for a drive,” I clarify like I could possibly mean anything else.

Way to make things awkward.

Luckily, Beau is as intent as I am to pretend the whole thing never happened.

He grumbles the whole way down the hall to his bedroom but doesn’t try to fight me on it. When we’re both dressed, we head out, still with no clue on where we’re going.

“Okay, where would you say has changed the most in the last twenty years?” I ask on the way to the car.

“Take your pick. Pretty much everywhere.”

Hmm, well, we don’t have time to see everywhere. “In that case, where will be the best place to go to kick that muse of yours into gear?”

“My muse?”

“Yeah, you said you’re struggling to write. Maybe you just need to, what’s it called? Where you find inspiration again?”

“You think I’m lacking inspiration?”

I unlock the car and wait for him to climb in beside me before I answer. “You’re not stuck for words—those are happening. It’s your book that you’re holding back on.”

“True.”

“So, what do you write?”

He shifts in his seat. “Fantasy, mostly, with some heavy romance throughout.”

“Romance?”

“Don’t ‘romance’ me.” He pins me with a look. “Men can like love too.”

My laugh fills the car as I turn it on and get moving. “Of course they do. Why do you think I got married? It’s the fantasy stuff that has you stuck at the moment though, right? With the fortress?”

“Right.”

“Okay, I know where we can start.”

Thankfully, he doesn’t try to get it out of me, clearly content to come along for the ride. I make a mental note to attempt to get him out of the house more often while I’m living with him, because the farther we get from the apartment, the more tense he gets.

“You can’t stand to be away from your work, can you?”

“Am I that obvious?”

“Would you prefer I lie and tell you I’m really good at reading people?”

He nods. “That would work.”

“Why are you such a workaholic?”

“I’m not.” After I cut him a look, he continues. “Usually. The deadline is what’s stressing me out. I’m used to planning my time in a way that I can do small amounts each day, but the closer the deadline gets, the more work I need to do, and it stresses me to the point where I can’t do a single thing.”

It’s no surprise he’s so on edge all the time. Working under that kind of pressure would be enough to make me freeze up too. “I know it will be hard, but can you try—just for the day—to forget it and pretend to enjoy spending time with me?”

He scoffs, and I grin his way. “Can’t make any promises.”

“It’ll be a real struggle, I’m sure.”

“I’ll do my best not to cock it up.”

I bark out a laugh, and whatever lingering tension there was between us completely disappears. This Beau is one I can get on board with. Now if only I can forget what he looks like as he comes, we might be able to nail the position of world’s greatest roommates.

It takes twenty minutes for us to get to the ghost town on the outskirts of Kilborough. The whole place is a tourist trap. Ticket prices, tours, and souvenirs, plus the expensive themed motels. Locals rarely come out here because during tourist season it’s busier here than in town, and the only time I’ve ever been to Kill Pen was on a high school field trip. I’d be willing to bet Beau’s the same.

My suspicions are confirmed when I pull into the parking lot and he whistles. “The prison? Really?”

“It was supposed to be inescapable. That’s your fortress.”

He gives me this weird puzzling look, but I jump out of the car instead of sticking around to try and decipher it. Because the second I start thinking about the looks he’s giving me and what they mean is the second I start thinking about other looks I’ve seen on his face and then other body parts that caused those looks. And I really, really don’t want to be the creep who keeps picturing what Beau must look like naked.

He’s Marty’s friend and my roommate—those lines are clear, and the best thing I can do is not blur them.

Even if he does have a pretty fucking cock.

“I’ll pay,” Beau says before we reach the ticket booth. Since it’s still early in the season, it’s busy but not ridiculously so.

“Why? This was my idea, and I have money.”

“I didn’t say you didn’t. But I have more money than I know what to do with, so let me spend some of it.”

I wave him ahead of me. “You won’t hear me arguing.”

We pay for entry and a tour, then make our way through the ghost town toward the prison at the base of the hill. There are people running tours through the tunnels underground, shops selling souvenirs, tourists exploring the abandoned buildings, and brightly colored signs everywhere with reenactment schedules on them.