The American Roommate Experiment (Spanish Love Deception #2)(33)

Pulling my keys out as I stood on the narrow steps before the entrance, I could almost taste the wave of relief from sitting my ass down when a blur of dark curls slammed into me.

“Holy crap!” A female voice muffled against my sweater.

Still plastered against my chest, the mass of curls shifted, and a wave of sweet peaches I immediately recognized hit me right in the nose.

I breathed out a laugh. “I’ve missed you, too, roomie.”

Rosie, whose face was still inserted somewhere between my right pec and collarbone, cursed.

Without thinking about it, I threw my arms around her shoulders and shifted us both off of the steps and onto the sidewalk.

“Oh,” she let out a little breathlessly. “Oh, okay, thanks.”

Ignoring how soft she felt against me, I released her. “If I’d known you’d be welcoming me home like this, I would have come back earlier.”

Her laugh was self-conscious, and her cheeks a deep shade of pink. “Oh, funny. I didn’t see you there, obviously. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have plowed into you.”

“I don’t mind being plowed into, Rosie,” I told her with a smile, noticing how easily her blush spread to her ears and neck. “Where are you headed? Looks like you are in a rush.”

“Oh, right!” Rosie’s eyes widened, as if she was just realizing that she had been racing down the stairs. “My landlord called. We’re meeting in my apartment with the contractor in less than an hour. The crack, remember?”

I nodded my head. “The little incident that wasn’t so little. I remember. That’s good news, though. It means things are moving forward?”

“Yep.” She averted her eyes, looking at my feet. “So, anyway. Sorry for the plowing. I should really go now. My landlord is a little… moody.”

I frowned. “Moody?”

“Well, he’s not really pleasant to be around.” She smiled. But it was toothy and tight, and I could already tell it wasn’t her real one. “Nothing I can’t handle, though.”

“I’m done for the day,” I fibbed. “Can I come?”

“You want to come?” She repeated, blinking a couple of times.

“I’m curious by nature. Have you not met my sister, Charo? It’s genetic.”

“It won’t be an exciting or fun meeting,” she warned, but I didn’t miss the quick flash of relief crossing her face. “Lots of standing around while the contractor evaluates the damages.”

My right knee throbbed. “Perfect. Lots of snooping around your place,” I countered, taking a few steps backward and keeping the grimace off my face. “You know, as the newly established town gossip and all.”



* * *



As anticipated, Rosie’s landlord—a man that had introduced himself as Mr. Allen—wasn’t only moody. He was also a verified asshole. One that apparently owned the entire building, as he made a point of sharing immediately.

Not a moment too soon, a dark-haired man around my age arrived, dressed in dark cargo pants and a hoodie with Castillo & Sons printed across his chest.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said, encountering us in the hallway. “My previous visit ran a little over. I got here as soon as I could.”

“A little,” Mr. Allen scoffed, his words dripping sarcasm. “You’re ten minutes late. I specifically asked you to meet us at 6:45.”

Asshole remark, when Mr. Allen himself had just gotten here.

The contractor was quick to ignore that, though, and moved straight in Rosie’s direction.

“Hi,” he said. “I’m Aiden Castillo.”

“Rosalyn Graham,” Rosie answered with a small smile before unlocking and opening the door for us. “Thank you for coming, Mr. Castillo.”

“Oh, no need to thank me.” Aiden’s gaze remained on Rosie’s face as he stood beside her, not walking inside immediately.

Before I knew what I was doing, I was shifting closer to Rosie and shoving my hand in his direction. “Lucas Martín.” I paused, making sure I met his gaze. “A good friend.”

Aiden took my hand in his without missing a beat, pinning me with an understanding glance that automatically made me feel like a jerk for whatever the hell I had just tried to pull off.

?Pero qué co?o haces, Lucas?

Scolding myself internally, I shook his hand and a few moments later, we were inside and Aiden was on the move, pulling out a pad and pen.

Mr. Allen, who started pacing behind us, released a long sigh. “We’re meeting the tenant upstairs, too, so make it quick, yeah?”

The contractor ignored that, too.

Rosie, on the other hand, worried her lip as she glanced back at a restless Mr. Allen.

“Hey,” I said, shifting closer to her and getting in her field of vision. “Nice place you have here, Rosie.”

I wasn’t lying, it was a nice apartment. Also in Brooklyn, but a different area. Roomier than Lina’s, which wasn’t hard, but also homier. Rosie’s place screamed comfort and calmness, everything about it—from the plush-looking chaise longue to the soft buttery glow of the lamp and the little trinkets and books she had lying around—as if designed to provide solace. A home.

And it… suited her. It fit her perfectly.