Room 4 Rent: A Steamy Romantic Comedy

by Shey Stahl

  Who the hell is this guy? And can I keep him?

  His fingers grip my hips, and he begins thrusting harder and harder. At some point, his mouth finds my nipples, and his teeth grate against the tender flesh and sends a bolt of “oh yeah” right to my clit.

  Admission here. I’ve never had an orgasm during intercourse. I know it’s possible, but it hasn’t happened for me. Guess who joins the dugout tonight?

  Me!

  My nails dig into his shoulders, clawing at his sweat-dampened skin when the trembles start in my girly bits. At first, I don’t recognize what’s happening until the delicious tingle works lower, in my clit and the backs of my thighs.

  I’m almost there when his thrusts falter, and he groans. “You better come,” he growls, curling his hands around the back of my shoulders and slamming into his thrust. His mouth settles at the base of my throat, and his tongue darts out, dragging up my overly heated skin. “Because I’m about to.”

  A tingle works through my entire body at the idea of him coming inside me. Hitting the deepest parts of me, and everything slows down. It’s like a pause button has been pressed, no background noise, nothing. Only the two of us, and as cheesy as it sounds, it’s like I’m spinning, and he’s holding me to earth. My heart thumps wildly against my chest, my breathing downright embarrassing. I really should do more cardio.

  Cason’s body jerks forward at the same time as I squeeze my thighs around him, refusing to allow an inch of space between us. I contract around his hardness, desperate for more.

  “That’s it, baby,” he whispers, cradling my head in his hands. Burying his head in the crook of my neck, a soft grunt falls from his lips when he comes. He hardens inside me, and I’m kinda bummed he’s wearing a condom because I want to feel him spilling inside.

  His body tenses, his hold tighter than before as he drives into me one last time, chasing the final waves of his own orgasm.

  For several seconds, I don’t move. Neither of us do, our breathing ragged. I run my fingers across the dampness of his neck, and he tenses. Pressing a kiss to my ear, my jaw, and then my lips, he sighs and slides off me.

  Turning over, I face him, the moonlight filtering in through the blinds. My eyes drift to his, and he smiles. His lips ease into a cocky grin. “How’s that for accuracy.”

  “Hundred and five,” I tease, laughter rolling through me.

  He winks. “Told you it was true.”

  I have one final thought before I drift off to sleep with my ear placed against his chest.

  Collin who?

  And… “Say something?”

  “Hmmm?” Cason hums, trailing his fingers up my spine.

  “Say something. I want to hear the vibration of your voice against my ear.”

  His lips press to the top of my head. “Your husband was a fucking idiot.”

  Now that I agree with.

  A term used when the third strike is called on a batter without the batter trying to swing at the ball.

  SYDNEY

  I wake up to slurping. It’s about as obnoxious as listening to someone eat. Or try to breathe through their nose when they have a cold.

  My eyes pop open immediately, thinking it’s another incident where I wake up in the morning, and Tatum is standing in front of me doing shots of whip cream straight from the can. True story, it happened.

  Instead, I wake up to Sadie in my bed next to me, under the covers and drinking Starbucks.

  I groan and rub my face as I sit up. “You weren’t who was in this bed earlier.”

  She winks suggestively. “I tried him out and then sent him on his way back to the bullpen.”

  Our baseball jargon is starting to get out of hand. I also don’t believe she tried him out. “When did you get here?”

  “An hour ago. It’s almost noon.”

  Shit. I must have slept in. My hair’s wet though, so did I take a shower? Did he drug me because I don’t remember most of last night aside from that first time.

  Sadie eyes my bedroom. “What the fuck happened in here? I’m disappointed I didn’t find him first.” She throws a condom wrapper at me. And then two more. “Three times? Now who’s the slutty sister?”

  “Apparently he went for the triple play,” I note, and then we both start laughing. We lack maturity sometimes. “You know what’s funny about this?” I hold two of the wrappers up.

  “What?”

  “These were the ones from Collin’s glovebox.”

  “Oh shit, really?”

  “Yep.”

  “Serves the bastard right.”

  Sitting up, I look around the room. It’s trashed. My pillows are all over the place, there are pictures off the walls, a dent in my sheetrock, and my mattress is even wonky on my bed.

  “Where’d he go?” Reaching for my shirt on the end of the bed, I slip it over my shoulders. “Did you see him?”

  “No. But he bought you coffee.” Leaning over, she hands me a coffee and a napkin. With red crayon, he wrote me a note.

  “Did he buy yours too?”

  She shakes her head. “No. Ez did. I gave him and Remi a ride home this morning.”

  “Where’d you sleep?”

  “At Diesel’s. We went over there after we left the bar, and Nahla drove your van back here.”

  “Oh.” Taking a drink of the coffee, I read the note.

  Things you never want your one-night stand to say:

  And he bought me coffee. The exact order I made that day I met him.

  Warmth fans my cheeks at the memories.

  “Were you attacked by a wild animal?”

  I glance over at Sadie, holding my iced coffee in my hands. “No, why?”

  Smiling, she points to my neck. I have to get up and look in the mirror. He gave me a fucking hickey. Something happens when I’m looking at myself in the mirror.

  Who is that woman with the glowing skin and hickey?

  I’ll tell you. She’s been fucked, and finally seeing that despite all this shit going on, last night meant a hell of a lot more than Cason might ever know.

  Sadie holds up her phone. “Nahla is on her way over with breakfast. She said she has a plan for getting you out of foreclosure.”

  I whip around to face her. “Really?” The last thing I want to do is lose this house and Tatum’s only security she has left. I know once I’m back to working at my shop and getting orders out, I can make the house payment. It might be too late, but I’m going to do everything I can to ensure that doesn’t happen.

  “Yep. Now get dressed. I can see your bare ass.”

  I tug at the hem of my shirt. “Stop looking! Let’s go make me a plan.”

  A long foul ball that is usually close to being fair, and typically, would result in a home run if it were fair.

  CASON

  After leaving Sydney’s house for the second time and being chased by her neighbor’s dog, I head to Ez’s house. I still haven’t turned on my cell phone since I shut it off earlier. I knew after the game I had, there’d be people talking, but I didn’t expect what happened last night. Agents, scouts I’d never heard from, and people I knew growing up but lost touch with were all calling me.

  I didn’t want to deal with reality at the moment. I think that’s why I enjoyed my time with Sydney so much. She didn’t care who I was, or the game I had, or that I had three different offers from major league teams on my voicemail from before last night’s game.

  She might even know who my dad is, but not once did she mention it. Hell, other than the baseball innuendos and the Tesla incident, we didn’t talk about the game I’ve spent my entire life playing.

  I loved that.

  It’s quiet for a Sunday morning. Originally from Ensenada, the Rossi family lives right on the cut off of this shady as fuck neighborhood with the cross streets of “you sleep with a knife and your eyes open.” Usually, Luca, his uncle, is out in the driveway washing God knows what off his car. Last week he was scrubbing blood out of his floor mats in the bathtub, so yo
u really never know what to expect when you show up.

  Like this morning. With my coffee in hand and feeling pretty fucking good about this morning, that quickly goes out the damn window.

  No lie, his uncle is covered in blood, I’m almost certain that’s brain on his flannel, and he’s carrying a shovel. “Heard you had a good game.”

  “Uh, yeah.” I’ll admit, his uncle terrifies me. Masking my nervousness, I lift the cup in my hand and take a drink.

  He steps forward, and the shovel bumps against my shoes. His black eyes look into my soul.

  It’s a good thing I had sex last night because I think I’m about to die.

  We’re standing next to his car, and it looks about as bad as he does. Someone died in there last night. I’m sure of it. It’s everything I can do to keep from scrunching my nose at the smells coming from his car that has the doors open.

  Working his jaw back and forth, he dips his chin and catches my terrified eyes. Licking his lips, he whispers, “Keep your mouth shut about what you see here, or I’ll break your million-dollar arm.”

  I swallow hard. “Noted.”

  His hand hits my chest. “There’s muffins on the counter. Eat them.” And then he walks away. Just like that. Most bizarre shit I’ve seen out of him yet.

  One. I’m not eating any fucking muffins from this joker. Two. I need to find a place to live. Now.

  Inside the house, Ez is eating muffins with that damn robe on. “My aunt made peanut butter muffins.”

  “I’m not a peanut butter fan. And when the fuck did your aunt show up?” Believe it or not, Luca’s married. His wife is about as friendly as a pissed off mama bear. They have a kid together too. His name is Lucifer.

  I’m kidding. But they do have a kid, and his name is something I can’t pronounce. They call him Tony for short. Do you see that kid in the backyard holding a scorpion with kitchen tongs and looking like he’s about to spit down its throat? That’s Tony.

  Spitting image of his father, huh? Last time I saw this kid, he lit my jeans on fire. While I was wearing them.

  “Fuck you,” Ez says, shoving a muffin in my direction. “It’s peanut butter. Every buddy loves it.”

  I keep my eyes on Tony in the backyard and shove my clothes into a bag. “I don’t.”

  “Try it.”

  “No.” I push the muffin out of my face, crumbs falling all over my clean shirt. “I gotta get out of here.”

  “Okay.” Sitting down on the couch, he crosses his legs and eats the muffin himself. “So you fuck that MILF or what?”

  Images of last night certainly don’t disappoint, but I’m never one to kiss and tell. “Nah, I took her home.”

  His laughter bursts through the small house. “Bullshit.”

  He tries harder by egging me on. “That ass though. I’d certainly make the bald man cry with images of that.”

  Standing up, I toss my bag near the door and look around the house for what I’m missing. “What the fuck does that mean?”

  Grabbing his junk through his robe, he winks. He’s nasty.

  Picking up his baseball mitt on the table, I throw it at his head with more speed than I’m sure he appreciates. “Stop thinking of her and your dick at the same time.”

  He tries to dodge it, but it hits him in the chest and falls into his lap. “Man, Remi told me some shit about her husband.”

  That gets my attention. Don’t tell her, but I wrote Sydney’s address on my hand. That’s not creepy, right? I didn’t want to forget where she lives just in case she needs a reminder of what fucking a real man is like. “What?”

  “That guy Remi had been fucking was Sydney’s husband.”

  My heart jumps in my chest. “Jesus. Really?” I remember her pointing at someone last night, but I couldn’t make out who the girl was in the dark. But Remi?

  Ez shakes his head as if he can’t believe it either. “Yep.”

  I run my hand through my hair and put my hat on. I think I left my other one at Sydney’s. On purpose, actually. “Fuck.”

  “I know. Remi knew he was married, but I guess he told her all kinds of shit like his wife was cheating on him, and they hadn’t had sex since the kid was born.”

  The sex thing could have been true, but I don’t know. Her cheating on him? Highly doubtful. Actually, there’s no fucking way she was. I saw her eyes when she talked about him, and until you’ve been cheated on, you will never own that pain. That guy fucked her over.

  “So what, Remi like told her?”

  Ez shrugs. “Apparently.”

  “Wow.” The sliding glass door leading to the backyard flies open, and in walks Tony, covered in dirt and chewing something. He’s five years old, and I wouldn’t put it past him to be eating that scorpion he was playing with a few minutes ago.

  “Ehi bastardy,” he says in passing.

  He speaks Italian, as does Ezra, but I don’t. He could have said hello to me, and I wouldn’t have known. So I wave at him and continue packing.

  Ez notices. “You leaving?”

  “Yeah, I gotta get out of here,” I tell him. I don’t know where I’m going, but if I stay here, I might be the next blood bath in Luca’s car.

  “Cool. So, Remi and I are gonna get a place together to finish out the year. She’s having my baby.”

  “What?” I snap my eyes to his. “Really?”

  “Yeah, my knee’s fucked.” He shrugs one shoulder. “I’m not making it to the big leagues. Might as well live the American dream then.”

  “What?” My heart quickens. I’ve always thought I’d see Ez in the big leagues someday. Probably not on the same team, but he’s talented as fuck. No way he should give that up. Even if he’s going to be a dad. “You’re not serious, are you?”

  He smiles and then bursts out laughing. “No, fuck no.” Standing, he motions toward his room. “I’m going back to bed.”

  I sigh in relief. “Dude, you nearly gave me a heart attack.”

  “I know.” He slaps his hand to my chest in passing, much like his uncle did in the driveway. “Your face was priceless though.”

  I need to find a room to rent.

  Term used when base runners are on first and third base.

  SYDNEY

  My grandma used to tell me that communication is the golden ticket to marriage. She followed it up with “Sweetheart, if you can put his dick in your mouth, you can talk to him about what bothers you.”

  At first I imagined my grandpa’s dick (terrifying) and then said dick in my grandma’s mouth. While I quickly decided that those two images needed to be burned out of my brain for good, I thought about what she said. It’s easy to be physical with someone, but emotional? The conversations that usually start with I feel, and I need, that’s the shit that makes a relationship strong and takes years to develop. It doesn’t always come easy for two people either. Especially for an emotionally withdrawn extrovert like me.

  And it’s even harder when the other one in the relationship is a narcissist.

  My point in all this: I could have avoided all this hurt that keeps surfacing inside me if I would have had the nerve to talk to him. After Tatum was born, I knew something in him had changed. Maybe he didn’t find me attractive anymore. I mean, he did watch a human being come out of my vagina. Maybe that scared him, and he could no longer look at my cootie with the love and affection she deserved.

  I’ll tell you who did though.

  Cason. He wasn’t lying when he said I’d still be thinking of him the next day. Every time I shift, smile, laugh, I know it’s because of him.

  Nahla hands me a check for five thousand dollars. “What’s this for?”

  “The insurance company sent this over. It’s what was left after they totaled his car and paid off the loan.”

  Okay, so this would give me some room.

  I look to Nahla as we sit around the fire pit in my backyard later that night. Tatum and Sadie are sitting in the hot tub pretending the bubbles are their farts and then laughing hys
terically while saying, “You stink!”

  “Then what should I do?” I ask Nahla, lifting my wineglass to my lips. I’ve sworn off the pot brownies, but wine, don’t ask for a commitment like that. “Do I have any options with the bank and the foreclosure?”

  She thumps through the stack of papers she has on her lap. “If you make the past due payment within thirty days, you can stop the foreclosure.”

  “And the life insurance money?”

  “We don’t know if it’s going to pay out. He was a dumbass and upped the coverage a month before his death and…” She pauses, taking in a deep breath. “I’m really sorry, but he changed the sole beneficiary to Tatum. Which means the money will be put into a trust for her until she turns eighteen. You can’t touch it.”

  My throat tightens again. Okay, that’s not horrible, and at least he was thinking of Tatum because up until now, I wasn’t so sure he’d even considered her in any of these moves.

  “You will still get the accidental death policy he had through the bank, though, but that’s not enough to cover the amount of your debt. And I haven’t been able to contact the bank about it yet, but I will on Monday. Between the house, the credit cards, and the second mortgage he took out on the house when you built it, you need just over a hundred grand to come out ahead.”

  I gasp at the number. My heart is racing a million miles an hour, and I think I might throw up. “If he wasn’t dead already, I’d probably kill him again.”

  “You and me both, sweetie.” Nahla refills my wine.

  I stare at her, the firelight flickering on her cheeks. “What should I do?”

  “I think you should rent out the room above your garage. That will at least give you some extra cash, and I’m going to see about the lease on the building you’re renting. You might be able to get out of it.”

  Tears sting my eyes. I worked so hard to get a space where I could work and sell my pieces in Scottsdale. It’s the perfect part of town that I can take Tatum with me and not worry like I do when I’m in downtown Phoenix. So not only had that man left me with nothing, and financially ruined, the house in foreclosure, unsure how I’m going to keep Tatum in school, I might be forced to go back to working out of the garage? I shift my attention to Tatum. No way. I wouldn’t take away her security. “Okay. I’ll do whatever I need to keep this house for her.”