Roomie Wars Box Set (Books 1-3)

by Kat T. Masen

  “You guys are so cute.” Mia smiles.

  “Enough with the cute talk,” I complain, rolling my eyes. “Cute is what you call something small and furry that hops with tiny paws.”

  She giggles. “Or Slater from work.”

  The smile on Drew’s face instantly disappears, his hands resting still. “Who’s Slater?”

  “This new guy at work. Total silver fox. Oh, and that accent.” She throws her head back resting it comfortably on the cushion overdramatizing the situation. “And get this. His last name is Richards. I almost died when he pulled out that comment ‘hope we’re not related.’”

  She chuckles quietly, the only one in the room as I keep quiet. I’m not sure why because it was pretty funny.

  “I guess you had to be there. I should go,” she says, oblivious to the tension mounting in the room.

  Drew remains unusually quiet even when Mia slips into the kitchen and disappears from our apartment with a tray of food.

  “Is it just me or does that woman have an obsession with weddings?” he asks.

  I nod, agreeing. “Yes, she does.” I scroll through my phone and show him the text from her. She pretty much texted me nonstop since lunchtime the names and numbers of people and places who cater to weddings. Mia’s forgetting one important piece of information—I am not part of the royal family. I mean, swans. Really? Birds—plural—freak me out. Even those baby birds that look all cute chirping until they fly around your head ready to attack.

  “Did you see this?” I point toward the contact number for The Birdman.

  “Birds?” He laughs. “I can imagine you now breaking out in hives as you’re walking down the aisle.”

  Letting out a groan, I throw myself onto the sofa and cover my chest with the soft cushion.

  “Mia is—”

  “Overwhelming?”

  “Yes. There’s so much to do. Things I haven’t even thought about.”

  “I’m sure we can plan this without much trouble. There’s no ‘I’ in team,” he adds sarcastically.

  I smile. “You’re so lame.”

  “That’s why you love me. For my ability to point out the lameness in a situation.”

  With tight lips, I nod my head accordingly. “Sure, and the fact that you can’t hear the word ‘anal’ without a boner.”

  Drew grabs my hand strategically placing it on the crotch of his pants. He never disappoints. And somewhere down south, my body sings a chorus line as my fiancé strips me naked and takes me right there in our living room.

  Chapter Three

  Drew

  “Teal or mint green?”

  My eyes flutter open. Is Zoey talking to me or am I dreaming? I rub my eyes vigorously and manage to pull myself up. The clock beside me shows it’s just after seven in the morning. And then, I try to shuffle my body close to hers only to be obstructed with foreign objects—magazines, books, samples, and albums surround her.

  “What are you going on about?” I mumble, struggling to keep my eyes open.

  “Teal or mint green? The theme color of the wedding.”

  “Neither?”

  “Really? Because I was thinking mint green.”

  “Zoey, why do you ask if you already know?”

  She rests her hand on my arm calming her anxious tone. “Because we should plan the wedding together.”

  My body slides back into sleeping position, rolling over and ignoring the conversation she started. It was sometime after five in the morning when I’d gotten home. It should have been an easy shift—paperwork and routine check-ups—until a fire broke out at some apartment building and then the ER became busy treating patients for smoke inhalation and burns.

  My eyelids droop heavily as her instant rambling seems distant. I’m imagining us getting married, something short and sweet that takes one minute to say ‘I do’ with no planning or circus involved, then slipping away to some exotic location for two weeks of nothing but sex and the beach—my idea of heaven.

  “Funny thing happened at work yesterday. Slater caught me browsing a wedding magazine at lunch and guess what? His cousin owns a bridal boutique in Los Angeles. He said he’d take me there and introduce me to her.”

  My eyes open wide alarmed by the sudden need of a man I have never met taking my fiancée on a road trip to LA. I try to tame my wild imagination keeping my back toward her while hiding the growing emotion of annoyance every time she mentions his name.

  “I’m sure there are other boutiques. Besides, every time someone offers a family member’s service, you almost feel obliged to go ahead. I thought you found a dress online?”

  “Yeah, I did,” she sulks. “It costs ten thousand dollars. We can’t afford that.”

  I cringe at the amount wishing I could tell her to buy whatever the hell she wanted to avoid hanging out with Slater at his cousin’s shop. But we have invested our money, keen on Zoey building our dream home next year. We both know it will be a costly project—a reason why both of us work our asses off and try to save every penny.

  “We could afford it if we moved to your dad’s place instead of buying something new.”

  She’s sly to bring this up again. Dad’s property is beautiful, but it’s Dad’s. I don’t want to make new memories there. I want to keep the old ones alive. I wish she’d understand that instead of constantly trying to make us move there.

  “With some changes, the place would be great for us, Drew.”

  “I said no, Zoey.” Firm and quick to change the subject, she knows me well enough to understand it’s time to back away from that subject. I don’t want to talk anymore prompting her to venture back to the wedding.

  “Okay, so the date is set. Five months from today we will be man and wife. I know it’s short, but the place is reasonable and within our budget. And as an added bonus, there’s a beautiful garden view for photos.”

  “Sounds great,” I say, followed with a snore.

  “And the photographer… so, my Uncle Leo has been doing it for years. He’s offered his service for free, and we can pay for the printing.”

  “Awesome.” I yawn.

  “All right, this conversation is on hiatus.”

  I feel the cold air grace the inside of the covers prompting me to turn around and open my eyes. Why isn’t her warm body beside me, naked and ready for me to pleasure?

  “Where are you going?”

  “For a run.”

  I laugh loudly, the sound bouncing off the walls. “A run? You?”

  “You’re not the one who has to walk down the aisle like a show pony. I’ve got five months to get my body into top shape. Everyone, and I mean everyone, will have their eyes on me. Do you know the amount of pressure that puts on my pizza-craving body?”

  I cover myself with the blanket while she changes into her never-worn running gear. She looks cute in her tight yoga pants. Her ass is nice and round and ready to be fucked.

  Completely dressed, she moves to me and kisses my forehead, quick to foil my attempt to grab her and pound the fuck out of her hot ass.

  “Come back, please,” I beg. She’s standing at the door with a grin on her face, enough for me to know she’s contemplating skipping the run and coming back to bed.

  “You’d have to have something really good under those sheets for me to skip my run,” she teases, biting her lip on purpose.

  Unable to hide the smirk on my face, I quickly respond, “Come back, and I’ll show you. It’s hard, enjoys being stroked, and depending on your mood, deep-throated, too.”

  Shaking her head with a smile, she blows me a kiss. “You’re evil. I’m going. See you tonight, maybe.”

  She dashes out of the room leaving me with a raging hard-on.

  Night shifts—they suck big time.

  ***

  “So, you insert the tube here, and you’re done.” I finish explaining the procedure to Raine, one of the newer interns. I thoroughly enjoy teaching the younger kids who come through here. Something about my thirst for wanting
to spread knowledge to better the world we live in.

  “You explained it very well. Dr. Morris kinda gets side-tracked.”

  I laugh. “He tends to do that.”

  “And how he always says… ‘Back in my day,’ It drives me insane. We know he hung out with the apes, but geez, get with the program already,” Raine grumbles, rolling her eyes at the same time. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone with such deep green eyes. Perhaps they just appear green against her tanned skin. She’d mentioned briefly that her parents were from Barbados, but they had moved here when she was a kid. The reason for her unruly long, black curly hair which seems to have a life of its own.

  We walk toward the main desk chatting about Dr. Morris and his ‘accidental’ brush with the commission when he almost left his pen inside someone while performing surgery.

  Raine yawns, apologizing immediately. “I’m so sorry. These shifts are killing me.”

  “It takes a while to get used to,” I tell her.

  “I should be used to it by now. My son is two and has just started to sleep through the night.”

  That piece of information is new. I didn’t know how old she is, but she looks young—maybe in her very early twenties.

  “I didn’t know you had a son.”

  “Yeah, two sons. The older one is seven, so he’s fine. I guess the younger one is a pretty good kid now that he sleeps,” she jokes.

  “Your husband must enjoy the sleep, too.” I smile, not thinking twice about my comment.

  “Oh, no husband. No dad. Well, they have a dad, but the jerk ran off, and I wouldn’t know where he is. As far as I’m concerned, he can stay far away.”

  I feel terrible that I jumped to the conclusion she’s married. It’s very unlike me to talk so much to a co-worker, but lately, I welcome any discussion that doesn’t involve seating charts or flower arrangements.

  “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed you were married.”

  “No, it’s okay. I get it all the time. Don’t get me wrong, I’d love to have a man in my life, but my boys are my priority. Now, with studying and working here, I’m afraid my social life is non-existent. I’d pretty much have to hook up with someone in here during working hours.” She laughs.

  “You wouldn’t be the first,” I admit. “I see it happen all the time.”

  Raine asks me if I’d like to grab a coffee from the little cart out front. Given that I still have six hours left on this shift, I welcome the caffeine.

  She enjoys talking about her sons and how busy they keep her. Between studying, work, and taking the older one to play sports, I don’t know how she does it. And that young as well. When I was her age, my biggest dilemma was what DVD to rent on the weekends. That and how not to annoy my new roommate.

  We stand and wait for the barista to complete our order distracted by the sound of someone running.

  “There you are!” Zoey runs straight toward me, her heels clicking loudly against the floor. If her face weren’t beaming, I would have fallen into a panic.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m more than okay. Remember that wedding venue I told you about that has a five-year waiting list down by the bay?”

  Vaguely. More than often, I’ve been zoning out when it comes to wedding talk. It’s not that I don’t want to get married but because Zoey just goes on and on about it.

  “Yeah, sure.” I lean in to kiss her hello. She kisses me back briefly before pulling away excitedly.

  “They emailed me this morning. They have an opening six weeks from now. So, before you say anything, I know it’s expensive and short notice, but it’s the perfect location. You can’t top that place in San Diego. It’s like the dream wedding place,” she exaggerates.

  “Six weeks?” I state, in shock. “Can we even pull off a wedding in that time?”

  “Of course, we can. I have Mia, and even Gigi offered to help. Plus, Mom said she’d fly over next weekend. You won’t need to do a single thing besides get fitted for a suit.” She takes a deep breath, then finally notices Raine standing beside me.

  “Sorry, how rude of me. Zoey, this is Raine, she’s an intern who’s just started.”

  Zoey keeps quiet, eyeing her up and down until she breaks out in a smile, extending her hand. “I’m his fiancée.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Raine replies. “I didn’t know Drew was engaged.”

  Zoey wraps her arm around my waist squeezing tighter than usual. “Yep, and hopefully we’re getting married in six weeks.”

  In an effort to have a proper conversation, I try to pull her arm off me. She gazes back, almost bitter. Have I done something wrong? I was trying to get my head around the six-week thing and the cost. “Zo, it seems impossible to pull a wedding off in six weeks.”

  Her tone changes, eyes watching Raine while talking back to me. “I’m certain we can pull it off. When Slater and I had lunch yesterday—”

  “Excuse me,” I interrupt, the same time mine and Raine’s pagers go off. Raine quickly says goodbye telling me she’ll see me in the ward soon.

  I turn my focus back to Zoey staring at her with discontent. “You didn’t tell me you had lunch with Slater.”

  “You didn’t ask. I have lunch with people all the time. It’s part of my job. And besides, it was a super quick lunch down at that café with those foot-long rolls. Oh my God.” Zoey laughs to herself, an inside ‘joke’ that no doubt has something to do with the man I’m slowly resenting every minute that passes. “Slater told the funniest joke. I can’t remember how it went, but I swear I laughed so hard I literally choked on my roll.”

  “Sounds great,” I say with zero enthusiasm.

  Her laughs slow down, the smile quickly disappearing from her face. “So, the wedding?”

  “Let’s do it.” I surprise myself with the answer. I need her off the market now. None of this bullshit sexy-accent co-workers trying to take her out to lunch hoping to score because she isn’t ‘technically’ married yet. I know how a man’s mind works, and fuck if he ever tries to touch her!

  “Wait, are you serious?” She jumps up and hugs me tightly, wrapping her arms around my neck. “You won’t regret it.”

  Despite my reluctance to leave her, my pager goes off again. Our schedules are not in sync at all, but I promise to have an early breakfast with her tomorrow morning even if it means I will have no sleep, then so be it.

  At least, it will drown out the nagging feeling that something’s brewing on the horizon. Something so big it could tear us apart.

  Chapter Four

  Zoey

  It’s been happening a lot lately.

  Moments when you don’t know whether you’re on your head or your ass. When life seems overwhelming, and you wish there were ten of you or more than twenty-four hours in one day. Then, you start to think about all the times when you lie on the couch bored out of your mind watching some soap opera in Spanish that you have no hope of understanding but continue to watch because the evil-looking brother is somewhat cute.

  Life—as a bored soap opera-watching addict—has officially taken a turn the day I got that email.

  I was sitting in traffic on the I-5 listening to Flashdance while getting my groove on amongst other commuters stuck in the same jam. With my body swaying left to right and my hands waving in motion, I belted out the song until it was interrupted by the chime of an incoming email. With traffic at a complete standstill, I tapped into my inbox with one eye on the road to find an email from The Montague—a posh and in-demand venue with a five-year waitlist.

  My heart skipped a million beats, nervous energy flooding my veins as I quickly read the email. They have an opening six weeks from today. If we want it, all we have to do is respond and put down a deposit. The brake lights in front of me flash red, and somewhere amongst my scattered thoughts, I manage to stop just in time narrowly avoiding rear-ending the car in front.

  Focus, Zoey. The last thing you need is an accident in your new car.

  The Montague i
sn’t your average wedding venue. Celebrities get married there. It has everything you can think of, and to top it off, the view of the Pacific Ocean from the ballroom is breathtaking.

  I think about the possibility of pulling off a wedding in such a short amount of time and also breaking the news to Drew. Although the venue’s smaller than the one I was going to book, it costs double the amount.

  But you only get married once, right?

  Drew and I have barely seen each other due to his grueling schedule. It doesn’t bother me too much as my plate’s extremely full, and let’s face it, Drew is extremely needy whenever we are alone. When I can manage to grab his attention for a few minutes without being stripped naked, I use the opportunity to bring up the wedding.

  I can see it’s starting to irritate him, combined with exhaustion from his shifts. Taking a leap of faith, I respond to the email, then drive off the exit ramp toward the hospital to tell him the good news and pray he will be on board.

  Visiting the hospital is something I try to avoid. The smell of sick people everywhere freaks me out. When I wander the halls, my mind thinks about dead bodies just lying around. Thankfully, Drew’s in the reception area hanging out by the coffee cart. I spot him immediately.

  With a young girl.

  Girl.

  Emphasis.

  Young.

  I didn’t anticipate the icky jealousy I feel when I see him with her—Raine. Who names their kid that? Some old hipsters living out of a van smoking weed and chasing rainbows. That’s who. And her tits, they are so perky practically poking my eye out like Madonna during her erotica phase.

  I really wish she was ugly. That would make the situation easier, but she isn’t. Perhaps that’s why I just stand on the sideline feeling old. I try to brush off the feeling until she says that Drew hadn’t mentioned he has a fiancée. I don’t know what irritates me more—her tits or the fact he hasn’t bothered to mention me.

  Even in her presence, I blurt out the good news, surprised that Drew said yes. I’m counting my lucky stars we didn’t even have to go into battle over it.