Trust Me: A Roommates To Lovers Romance Novel (Free Book 2)

by Grahame Claire

  Holt’s grin was as cocky as I’d ever seen. “If you put those on, it’s harder to do this.” He swiped his finger between my legs, and I gasped.

  “You like a challenge.”

  I jumped off his lap and scampered to the bedroom.

  “How am I supposed to concentrate on forestry now?” he called.

  “Where are your sweatshirts?” I yelled back.

  “I’ll never tell.”

  I laughed as I rummaged through his drawers. In the top one, I found a worn pair of his sweats and slipped them on. But there was only one sock, so I ransacked through the whole chest. I put on a Forestry Service sweatshirt and moved my search to the closet.

  Only a few shirts hung in it. A half full laundry basket sat on the floor. Everything in it was his.

  The only place left to look was a duffle bag in the back corner. Tucked inside were Holt’s park ranger uniforms, but still no socks.

  “Are there any in the dryer?” I called, digging farther into the bag.

  Paper crinkled under my fingers. I removed a sweater and pair of pants, revealing a newspaper article and a photo lying in the bottom.

  Pain struck me. The picture was of a happy-go-lucky Holt sitting on the back of a pickup truck, beaming at a beautiful woman nestled between his legs.

  He loves her.

  The thought came so quickly it knocked me on my ass.

  Unable to look at the photo any longer, I unfolded the newspaper article.

  Veteran Park Ranger Killed In Climbing Accident

  The article was dated nearly eight months ago, and the photograph of a man too young to be gone stared back at me.

  “I found some.” I started at Holt’s voice, who stopped dead in the closet doorway. The smile vanished from his face. “What are you doing?”

  He snatched the article from my hands and shoved it back in the bottom of the bag. When he noticed the picture of him and the woman, he flinched. He tossed it in the duffle and stuffed the clothes I’d removed back inside.

  “Who are they?” I heard myself ask.

  His nostrils flared as he went ramrod stiff. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Holt held out a hand. I placed mine in his, and he helped me up.

  “Did you know him?”

  He walked out of the room without a word. I should have let it go, but somehow I felt I’d unearthed the source of some of his pain without even meaning to.

  It didn’t escape me I’d not mentioned a word of the woman. Because I didn’t want to know. Deep down I already did, and I felt a stab of pain. He’s not yours. He was a man with secrets, and one of those secrets involved a woman he loved . . . maybe still loved, even though he was sleeping with me. He told me he’d never cheat on a partner, but how did he switch off that love he had for her so quickly?

  I followed him to the kitchen. He was at the refrigerator, twisting off the cap of a water.

  “I said I don’t want to talk about it.” He lifted the bottle to his mouth, and I stepped in front of him.

  “Maybe you need to.”

  “You really want to go there?” He lifted a brow, and my shoulders sagged.

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” I said quietly.

  He took another swallow of his drink and absently began to pick at the label. My heart ached for him, far overshadowing the jealousy that had sunk into my soul.

  “He was my best friend.” My lips parted as he choked the words out. “It shouldn’t have happened. It never should have fucking happened.” He slammed his fist into the counter.

  Water sloshed from the bottle. Holt reared back and threw it in the sink with a roar. Glass shattered followed by a deafening silence.

  He stared past me into some unreachable place. I held him tight. Arms stiff at his sides, his entire body was a knot of tension.

  I couldn’t fix it. Couldn’t take it away. But I could be there.

  “I know what it’s like to lose someone you love,” I admitted quietly.

  He went completely still. I didn’t look at him, only held him tightly to me. Some piece of me healed with the admission I wasn’t sure I’d ever said out loud.

  Right or wrong, I had loved Kyle. That much had been innocent and pure, if not blind. Even knowing how it all ended didn’t change my feelings. A part of my heart held on to the sandy-haired boy with the crooked smile who had charmed me from the first time we met.

  “It’s hard to let go, even when we know we should,” I whispered.

  That was the crux of it. I loved Kyle as equally as I hated him. Two sides of me warred with one another and neither of them would win. I was a fool stuck in the spin cycle, still believing if I wished hard enough I could change the past.

  “I don’t want to forget,” he said through gritted teeth. “If I do, it could happen all over again.”

  I sighed, the truth of his words weighing heavily. It would be so easy to push the past out of my mind . . . and then it could repeat itself. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Holt

  “Can you cook?” A hint of panic barreled through the phone. “Or should I pick something up?”

  “I can take care of it.” I tossed my empty lunch carton in the trash.

  Baker never called me during the day. This was her way of checking on me. And she was freaking out about my father coming over for dinner. Maybe more than I was.

  “No. You’ll be running late enough as it is.”

  A semblance of a smile formed. She could heat something up like a champ, but a meal from scratch? The woman burned every piece of toast she tried to fix.

  “My brother wants to come.”

  “Do you want him to?”

  I pushed a hand through my hair. “I don’t know.”

  “Okay. I’ll plan for five of us.”

  “Easy. Don’t stress.”

  “I screw up microwave dinners,” she lamented. “And I won’t have time to go by Trish’s.”

  “Just make sure you have plenty of that wine you like. Dad will need it.” I pushed out of my seat. “Why don’t you ask Muriella for some ideas. She might know a good restaurant nearby to order from.”

  “You’re a genius.” Her tone was miles lighter than it had been only seconds ago.

  “I want to hear that again later. In person.”

  “Go away,” she huffed and hung up the phone.

  I laughed. She had this way of distracting me even when she didn’t mean to. I was already eager for six thirty despite dreading the conversation with my father. Baker’s support was . . . eye-opening. I knew she’d suffered in some way, she’d been at Paths, but had someone she loved died too? She’d come after me, refusing to let me ignore my mistake entirely. And she’d held me. That had been incredible.

  “Dixon. I don’t pay you to stand around,” Ed hollered over “Bring It On Home To Me” by Sam Cooke.

  He was a good guy, had given me a chance, but I was ready to be my own boss. To put down roots.

  I frowned. Was that what I wanted? Half the time I felt torn between New York and Wyoming. Some days I didn’t think I could stay here. But I couldn’t go back to the park, even though I loved it there.

  I’d never wanted Baker to find those things in my bag. I’d almost forgotten the article and picture were there. Almost. And I’d been so close to unloading it all on her. But I couldn’t stand to see her disappointment. I couldn’t stand for the light in her eyes to dim when she looked at me.

  I popped the hood to the Camry, and my thoughts shifted to my dad. Tonight wouldn’t be easy on him. He’d need to know all of his family supported him.

  I fired off a text to my brother to be at the apartment by seven. Hell, I’d need him too.

  Phone halfway back in my pocket, I pulled it back out. There was one more text I needed to send. I didn’t wait for a response to that one.

  * * *

  Conversation halted the second I walked through the door.

  “It would have be
en less obvious you were talking about me if you’d just kept it up.” I hung my leather jacket in the closet and strolled over to the kitchen.

  Baker and my dad had guilty looks on their faces. Neither of them denied my accusation.

  “At least tell me it was all good.”

  A wry grin lit Baker’s features. “I was just telling your dad that you’re a genius.”

  I snagged her by the waist. “I said I wanted to hear that in person, didn’t I?”

  Her hands clutched the front of my coveralls. I was careful to keep a gap between us so as not to get her dress dirty. Her lips glistened with gloss, the faint scent of honey floating into my nose.

  I kissed her—a thank you, I miss you, and I’m so glad you’re here. Her answering one reciprocated relief that I was home. She’d missed me as much as I had her.

  “You look pretty,” I murmured against her mouth.

  The blush that crept up her cheeks had me ready to get her alone.

  Dad cleared his throat. I started, having forgotten he was there.

  “Go take a shower.” Baker shoved at my chest.

  I couldn’t resist kissing her again. She melted into me. “I can’t without you,” I said huskily against her ear.

  Those eyes darted past me to my father and back to mine. “Holt.”

  Her cheeks were a crimson that I planned to put back there later tonight.

  “I’m going. I’m going.”

  Ding dong. Ding dong.

  “Are we expecting someone else?” She raised an expectant brow.

  I snapped my fingers. “I knew there was something I forgot to tell you.”

  “Go. I’ll get the door.”

  * * *

  I swallowed hard when I stepped from the bedroom. Laughter floated down the hallway. I didn’t want to be the cause of that to end.

  Andrew shot a look at me when I came into the kitchen.

  “What’s a guy got to do to get a beer around here?” I slung an arm around my brother and kissed Trish on the cheek.

  “Open the refrigerator door,” Baker said smartly.

  “I’m not sure I like your tone.” I pointed at her and winked.

  I refilled everyone’s wine glass and grabbed a beer.

  “Did you cook?” Trish looked at Baker skeptically.

  She lifted her chin. “Is that so hard to believe?”

  “Yes,” Trish said without hesitation. “Sonya’s better in the kitchen than you.”

  Baker put a hand on her hip. “If you must know, Muriella had an extra lasagna in the freezer.” She grinned and clinked glasses with her best friend.

  She was so resourceful. It couldn’t have been easy to step out of her comfort zone to ask our neighbor for a favor.

  I pulled her into my side and kissed the top of her head. Brows rose all around the kitchen, except Dad, who had a pleased-as-punch expression on his face.

  He bounced Ella in his arms.

  “She sick?” I pointed my bottle at my new niece. That little girl was a screamer. If she wasn’t, something was wrong.

  “She’s learning to control her voice,” Dad said proudly. “How to use it effectively.”

  “She’s effective all right,” Andrew said, looking at his daughter with affection.

  “This one is going to do big things. She’ll give a voice to those who have none.” My father’s eyes misted as he stroked Ella’s cheek.

  “I don’t know what we’d do without you,” Trish said hoarsely. “Any of you.”

  Baker hugged her in support. “We love both of you. But you already know that.”

  The unconditional and easy way she cared for the people important to her . . . it was—she was—incredible.

  “It’s nice to do this on a weeknight. Nice to be invited.” Dad glanced at me, gratitude in his eyes.

  I should’ve invited him over for no reason other than his company. Andrew paled. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one feeling guilty.

  “Mr. Dixon, you’re welcome here any time.” Baker beamed at him and what pieces of my heart I had left went to her. “You ever think about moving? From what I understand, there’s plenty of room in this building.”

  “It’s a little out of my price range.”

  Baker shrugged. “We’ve got an in with the guy who owns the place.”

  “Speaking of,” I said, clearing my throat. I glanced at Baker who gave me a curious look. “I, uh, I bought a building.”

  Surprise registered on his features. “You did?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I wish you’d come to me. That’s my business. I could’ve looked out for you. Made sure you didn’t get screwed,” Andrew said.

  I stared at him. He was a real estate attorney, and a damn good one, but I’d needed to do this on my own. Irritation bubbled up inside of me. He was just being my big brother, looking out for me, but it stung that he thought I couldn’t handle myself.

  “Shit,” he said, plowing a hand through his hair. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  The apology was written all over his face, and I relaxed. Baker pinched my side, an encouragement for me to let it go.

  “You’re just looking out for me.”

  He nodded.

  “In New York?” The hopefulness in Dad’s voice clawed at me. “The building’s in the city?”

  “Yeah. Not too far from here.”

  “By building, do you mean an apartment?” Andrew leaned in with interest.

  “It has an apartment, but it used to be a garage. Baker’s going to help me fix it up so it’ll be a place women feel comfortable to come to.” I looked down at her. “And if she wants, there’s space to work on her makeup line.”

  Trish clapped her hands. “This is exciting. Can we see it? Maybe before Sunday dinner?”

  “Uh, sure.” I hadn’t expected their enthusiasm. Didn’t know what to do with it.

  “Just wait. It’s perfect. There are enough bays to grow. And Holt’s come up with the perfect place for a waiting room.” Baker spoke in a rush, her free hand gesturing wildly.

  “And you’ll have room to make the cosmetics.” Trish’s eyes were bright. “You’ll be able to work together.”

  “I haven’t taken him up on it yet,” she said quickly, though she seemed to be warming to the idea.

  “What do you need me to help you do?” Andrew asked.

  “I’m not sure yet, man. Maybe set up an LLC or—hell, I don’t know.” I lifted a shoulder and lowered it. “We’re a long way off. There’s so much work to be done.”

  “I know a contractor. If you want me to call him, I will.” The stress lines that had creased around Dad’s eyes had smoothed. “Once you get open, I know a guy who’s a pretty good receptionist.” He winked at me. “Though he’d have to bring two assistants.”

  I laughed. “Ella and Blake are too young to work.”

  “They’ll enchant the customers,” Dad said.

  “There aren’t any customers yet,” I pointed out.

  “There will be.” He clapped me on the shoulder. “I’m proud of you, son.”

  “It takes guts to do your own thing,” Andrew chimed in.

  “We’re right here with you,” Trish said. “Anything you need.”

  I looked at my family, overwhelmed with gratitude. I swallowed thickly. “Thanks.” It was all I could come up with, words failing me.

  The oven timer beeped three times. Baker peered inside. “It looks ready?”

  I stifled my smile. My girl didn’t have a clue.

  Trish wandered over and took a look. “It’s ready.”

  It was odd to see Easy with oven mitts on, but she handled the hot pan like a pro as she deposited it on the stovetop.

  Horror filled her face. “I forgot the bread.”

  Trish touched her shoulder. “We’ll put it in now while the lasagna cools.”

  Baker nodded. Dad winked at me. Andrew sipped his wine like nothing out of the ordinary took place around him. I guessed it wasn’t.

&nb
sp; I took a second to appreciate what I hadn’t felt maybe since I’d left New York all those years ago. I’d made my own life in Wyoming. Found friends and had people I cared about there. But it wasn’t this. Family.

  Things weren’t perfect. I still struggled to find my place. A sense of rightness settled in me, and I wondered if I’d been my own stumbling block all along.

  Andrew slung his arm around me and spoke low in my ear. “Maybe we should wait.”

  Before I could reply, the doorbell rang again.

  “I’ll get it.” I set my beer on the counter and immediately wished for the label underneath my fingers.

  I hesitated with my hand on the doorknob. I’d arranged this without thinking things through, a decision I questioned the wisdom of.

  Best to rip the Band-Aid off now and get it over with.

  I threw open the door. Marlow stood on the opposite side with Blake cradled in her arms.

  She glared at me. “You win.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Baker

  Holt invited his sister?

  Mr. Dixon leaned against the edge of the counter while Andrew’s grip on his wine glass tightened. Trish absently kneaded an oven mitt in her fist.

  The levity that had been in the room only seconds before evaporated, and a thick tension replaced it.

  “I didn’t know the whole family would be here,” Mr. Dixon said as Marlow trailed Holt into the kitchen. “I’ve missed my grandson.”

  Without hesitation, he pushed off the counter and moved toward his daughter. He planted a kiss on both her and Blake’s head. She stiffened, and Mr. Dixon flinched, but quickly recovered.

  “I’ve missed you too.”

  Marlow glanced away and clutched her son at her father’s admission.

  “It’s awkward as hell being the unexpected guest.” The attempt at humor fell flat.

  I cleared my throat. “We’re glad you could make it. You’re just in time.” I smoothed the surprise into something I hoped resembled pleasantry. “Wine?”

  “Please.” Her shoulders rounded even as she shot me a grateful look.