Cutie and the Beast: A Roommates to Lovers Single Dad Romance (Cipher Office Book 3)

by Smartypants Romance

  I throw my head back and laugh. “Oh my god, that’s brilliant. I can’t believe it was that easy.”

  She shrugs and puts her hands on her hips, clearly pleased with herself. “I wasn’t sure it would work at first, but then he started talking about how he’s been thinking about things, and he knows I’m a good mom and I just need to be careful and make sure the girls follow the rules. Stuff like that. That’s when I knew it was over.”

  Still laughing, I wipe the tears from my eyes. They could be from laughing. Or they could be from the emotional last two days. I’m not sure. What I am sure of, though, is all four of us are going to be sleeping under the same roof tonight. That’s a better outcome than I expected when I knocked on her door.

  Grabbing Elliott’s hand, I pull her to me and kiss her quickly. “I’m proud of you, babe.”

  “I’m kind of proud of me too. Now if only I could stand up to my mother.”

  I chuckle lightly. “One conflict at a time. If it’s okay with you, let’s get these girls and go home.”

  “I never thought you’d ask.”

  Within minutes, the kids are back downstairs, the living room is cleaned up, and everyone is grabbing their jackets to go. Elliott’s mother is clearly not happy with this turn of events, but at least she doesn’t say anything, instead giving me a tight smile, Ainsley a tight hug, and Elliott a quirk of an eyebrow.

  No one else seems to notice and that’s fine by me. As Elliott and I walk hand in hand down the sidewalk, the girls skipping happily ahead of us, all is once again right in my world.

  Epilogue

  ELLIOTT

  Six months later

  “What the hell are you making me watch, anyway?”

  Abel looks down at me like I’ve lost my mind, which, according to him, I have. “Only the best movie series in the history of cinematography.”

  I snort a laugh. “Seriously? Not Gone with the Wind or Casablanca. The Fast and the Furious?”

  “Those aren’t movie series,” he argues. “Those are standalone movies. I said series.”

  I grab a handful of buttered popcorn from the bowl he’s hogging. When I made it my goal for him to relax a little on the healthy foods, I wasn’t expecting him to take it to such extremes that I have to fight to get some. Don’t get me wrong, he still rarely eats junk. But he doesn’t scoff when I pop a bag of nitrates and preservatives disguised as microwave popcorn for movie night anymore. I’ve created a monster.

  “And don’t give me this crap that you aren’t enjoying it,” he prods. “You practically called out Vin Diesel’s name last night.”

  I glare at him incredulously. “I did not! I was choked up from our emotional connection.”

  Now it’s his turn to snort a laugh. “Babe, I love you. And I’m always making love to you when I fuck you. But you were bent over this couch with one leg hiked up on the armrest. I would hardly call that our most emotional love-making session.”

  He’s not wrong, but I’ll never admit it. I don’t want him to have second thoughts about doing that again. It was really, really good. And since we are almost never alone in this house without at least one child racing through at any given moment, I want to make sure we take advantage of that again.

  I turn my attention back to the movie. Seriously. I had no idea Vin Diesel was this hot. Add the criminal element covering up a heart of gold and I may have to add him to my hall pass. Not that Abel would agree to that—not after last night.

  A knock at the door interrupts fantasy, err, movie time. The girls come racing down the stairs, excited to be part of the action. Me? I’ll let Abel do the heavy lifting this time.

  “It’s here! It’s here!” The girls are jumping up and down while Abel answers the door, before he finally yells, “Girls! Move before you get hurt!”

  The delivery man chuckles as he pushes the giant box through the door. “Twins, huh?”

  “Yep,” Abel grunts as he strains to help push it up the stairs.

  We gave up a couple months ago trying to explain that the girls aren’t twins, nor are they sisters, nor are they step-sisters. Yes, it’s such a blessing they’re so close, blah, blah, blah. Now we just say yes to the twins question and move on with our lives. It’s not like it’s anyone’s business anyway, or that we’ll even see any of these people again.

  I should probably do my part to help, though. I’m the one who actually picked this monstrosity out.

  “Come on, Beast!” I yell. “Put your back into it!”

  There. I helped. Abel’s responding comment of, “Good thing she’s cute,” would indicate he might not agree I’m actually being helpful. Oh well. It’s not like I can move a king-sized mattress up the stairs. My contribution was buying new sheets for it and washing them in advance.

  Yes, I said mattress. Ainsley and I have lived here for almost a year, and I’ve finally come to the realization we’re not leaving. This is it for us. This is our family. It’s our home. It’s time to stop trying to separate things out and let things work out the way they should. The first step to that is Abel moving back into the master bedroom with me and the girls having their own rooms.

  Now that we’re going to have a lock on our bedroom door, maybe I need to suggest getting a couch in there too. If the noises I heard from behind me last night are any indication, I don’t think he’d frown on that suggestion.

  Following everyone upstairs, I take a peek at the progress the girls are making. They’ve been working all day, the goal being to get their rooms set up. Well, Ainsley was to get her room set up. Mabel was supposed to get hers put back together. Instead, I discover they have completely different plans.

  “Um, Abel?”

  He shakes the hand of the delivery guy and watches as he heads back down the stairs and out the door before responding. “Yeah.”

  Pointing to Ainsley’s new light blue bedroom, formerly Abel’s room, I ask, “Do you know about this?”

  The confused look on his face gets even more confused—if that’s even possible—when he sees what I’m looking at. Both twin beds have been moved in and are pushed against perpendicular walls, the heads of each strategically placed for minimum whispering distance at night.

  At the same time, we look across the hall into Mabel’s bedroom. Both the girls’ dressers are in there. Clothes on hangers are all over the floor. And then I realize the full-length mirror from my room is in the corner.

  “Huh,” Abel finally says, probably as stumped and impressed as I am. “I guess they want to share a room.”

  “Hey girls!” I call to my bedroom, where I’m sure they’re jumping up and down on my new bed. I’d be mad, but I’m going to breaking it in myself later on anyway. Seriously, having a younger boyfriend has some pretty awesome advantages.

  The girls come running, big smiles on their faces.

  “What’s going on here?” I ask, pointing to one of the rooms.

  Ainsley opts to speak first, and she speaks fast. “Me and Mabel were on Pinterest and we found this super cool room this girl had. It’s like a giant closet where she can get dressed and sit on chairs and she can even dance in there if she wants. It’s so big. So, Mabel and I decided to make one.”

  “Yeah!” Mabel interjects and rushes past us into Ainsley’s supposed new room. “This is going to be the bedroom where we both sleep. See?” She twists and turns in various poses like she’s on a game show. “And we have all our stuffed animals in this corner and our toys are all organized in the closet.”

  “And in here,” Ainsley mimics Mabel’s model moves, “are all the dressers. And all our clothes will be here in here. We need a chair to sit on when we put on shoes.”

  “Why can’t you sit on the floor?” Abel asks. He obviously doesn’t understand how influential a good Pinterest board can be.

  Both girls gape at him like he’s lost his mind. “That’s not what girls do, Daddy.” My little sassafras bonus kid puts her hands on her hips. No surprise there.

  “I watched you s
it on the floor to put on your shoes yesterday. I don’t get what’s changed.”

  Patting him on the back, I feel empathy for the man. He thought he was in trouble when he was raising one girl. He’s even more lost when the two of them have an idea and run with it. Periods are going to blow his mind.

  “Pinterest changed, honey. Girls! I think you’ve done a nice job.” They giggle and jump up and down excitedly. “But you have more work to do.” The jumping stops and the faces fall. “From here until dinner time, you need to be in the closet room putting clothes away.”

  “Closet room?” Abel questions in my ear.

  “It’s easier than putting everything back. Give it six months, and they’ll be ready to have some space.”

  He flashes me a look that says he doesn’t believe me. I have my own reservations about whether or not I’m right, but I also don’t think this is a battle we necessarily need to fight. I don’t think Abel does either.

  “Get a move on, girls,” he orders, as their legs get more and more sluggish and slow. “Mabel, you’re supposed to FaceTime your mom in a couple hours.”

  She rolls her eyes and sticks out her tongue. “Do I have to?”

  It’s the same question every week, and it usually ends with the same conversation.

  “Do you want to?” Mabel ponders his question for a second, so he asks another. “What does Elliott always say?”

  Mabel and Ainsley both answer simultaneously. “You can love someone while you’re mad at them.”

  “And?”

  “Not every relationship looks the same,” they repeat, sounding bored out of their minds. But at least the knowledge is sticking.

  After that one big incident, things have been pretty smooth sailing around here. We still have our frustrations, and Mabel is still not at all a morning person. But we’ve made lots of headway. I realized the same things I was trying to instill in Ainsley are exactly what Mabel needs to hear too. You can love your parent even if you don’t trust that they’re going to be there for you like you want. You can love someone and still be angry with them. And that my or Abel’s feelings won’t be hurt if they have a strong bond with their other parent as well. We want them to feel secure and loved. Mabel has a strong relationship with her dad, and Ainsley has a strong relationship with me. That doesn’t mean the other situations don’t have merit or their own value.

  The separation will always be painful, but we’re going to help them decide how to navigate through it all. We won’t let them go it alone. And we won’t let each other go it alone, either.

  Yet another benefit of moving into the same bedroom—more stability and permanency for all of us.

  And sex. All the sex.

  Speaking of, I better get my new bed ready for tonight.

  Abel trails me as I head to our room. Our room. I like the sound of that.

  “Wanna help me make the bed?” I ask as I grab the freshly washed gray fabric off the dresser. I barely have time to shake out the fitted sheet before I feel him behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and moving my hair out of his way so he has easy access to my neck.

  “I’d rather help you unmake it,” he murmurs into my neck, his teeth lightly nipping, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

  “I’m more than happy to let you do that once we have something to unmake.”

  “Mmm…” He continues to assault the sensitive area of my spine. If he doesn’t stop soon, we’re going to have to sleep without sheets tonight. “Is it bedtime for the girls yet? I’m ready to snuggle.”

  “You want to snuggle? That’s why you wanted the largest California king, so it’s easy to snuggle?”

  “I can starfish and snuggle at the same time.”

  Turning in his arms, I wrap my arms around his neck. All the turning gets us tangled up in the sheet, but I don’t mind. It’s just a precursor to getting tangled up in them later anyway.

  “I don’t care if we starfish or snuggle or sleep right on top of each other,” I murmur against his lips. “As long as I get to sleep in bed with you.”

  “Always,” he says, and presses deeper into our kiss, putting every ounce of emotion into it that he can. I know that’s what he’s doing because it’s exactly what I’m doing.

  That, and ignoring the giggling from the doorway.

  We’re definitely locking the bedroom door from now on. Especially after we get that new couch.

  The End.

  Did Joey make you laugh as much as he did me? Turns out, he and Rosalind have a crazy story. You don’t want to miss the plot twist that makes you gasp before laughing out loud. Get ready for Rosie Palm and Her Five Pictures. Coming in the next Smartypants Romance launch! Here’s a sneak peek:

  ROSALIND

  “I get off in three hours. Where do you want to meet?”

  Funny how Joey’s tone over text changed the minute I dropped the “p” bomb on him. I admit I’m a tiny bit impressed he didn’t immediately ask if the baby was his. I’ll give him a little credit for that. The rest remains to be seen.

  My one-night stand with Joey was supposed to remain just that—one night. If he’d been any good in the sack, I would have extended it to another night, but he was a pretty selfish lover. I hadn’t expected much more than just scratching an itch with a stranger. I definitely hadn't anticipated falling on my head.

  All I did was bend over and touch my toes. It’s a good angle. But the idiot thought I was trying to do some sort of circus trick and suddenly my legs were wrapped around his waist and my head banged against the wall.

  It was weird. And pretty much cemented that our one night together would be our last. It ended up being my last night with anyone at all. There was no particular reason for my celibacy, except maybe a bit of PTSD from my near-concussion. I just didn’t meet anyone who caught my eye. Not that you typically meet many quality candidates in the audience of The Pie Hole. Usually it’s a group of drunk frat boys who are barely over age, a bunch of guys old enough to be my dad, or an honest to goodness pervert who sits by himself, trying to hide the fact that his hand is stuck down his pants for most of the night.

  But Joey was different. I don’t know if it was the man bun he was sporting or his green eyes. Hell, it could have been those impressive guns he calls biceps. He just didn’t look at me like I was a piece of meat on stage. He looked at me like I was a person. A person who deserved respect.

  Okay, okay. That’s taking it a bit too far. He was merely polite enough to hand me a twenty without trying to tweak my nipple when I got close to the end of the stage. And yes, I know how cheap it makes me sound to be impressed by someone keeping their paws off of me, but seriously—have you been to a strip club before? It’s not like those guys have tons of boundaries. The wedding rings half of them sport are proof of that.

  So I went home with Joey for the night. I had a good—okay, fine—decent time and thought I’d never see him again. Unfortunately, his swimmers had other ideas. How those little shits got through a condom and my birth control pill, I will never know. But I’m already preparing myself for a toddler who runs across parking lots the second I take my hands off him. He or she is already proving himself to have some sort of super speed.

  “Do you know where Blessings Chicken is?”

  “I don’t eat fast food.”

  “I don’t care. I have a craving and as your baby mama, you need to meet me at Blessings Chicken.”

  The three little dots populate and then disappear, populate and then disappear, populate and then disappear, before I finally have an answer.

  “I’ll meet you there at five.”

  Hmm. No denial. No arguing. Not even a conflict over my choice in food. Maybe Joey isn’t quite as selfish as I’d thought.

  Acknowledgments

  I don’t know how I ended up surrounded by such an amazing group of people but I will forever be grateful for the women of Smartypants Romance. The encouragement, fun, and integrity this amazing organization exudes has been a breath of fresh air.
Every one of you, from Penny and Fiona to the newbie authors are truly incredible. Thank you for loving me as I am and making sure there is always a “loud room” in the hotel just for me.

  Andrea Johnston and Marisol Scott, thank you for your initial feedback and love of this book.

  Laurie Darter, one again you prove how much you know about everything. Next time I go on vacation I’ll make sure to ask you where all the awesome places are to visit.

  Erin Noelle, I hope your computer feels better. Especially since we’re scheduled to do this again soon.

  Karen Lawson, I’m glad you saw Elliott’s perspective on such a common situation. And no, my mother won’t read this one. Lol

  Rebecca K, thank you for being the last set of eyes on this baby!! Fingers crossed we caught everything!

  Thank you, Carter’s Cheerleaders and Nerdy Little Book Herd for your absolute unwavering support, and The Walk for your unwavering prayer.

  And thank you Lord for allowing me to fumble so I can grow along the way.

  About the Author

  My name is ME Carter and I have no idea how I ended writing books. I'm more of a story teller (the more exaggerated the better) and I happen to know people who helped me get those stories on paper.

  I love reading (read almost 200 books last year), hate working out (but I do it anyway because my trainer makes me), love food (but hate what it does to my butt) and love traveling to non-touristy places most people never see.

  I live in Houston with my four kids, Mary, Elizabeth, Carter and Bug, who was just a twinkle in my eye when I came up with my pen name. Yeah, I'll probably have to pay for his therapy someday for being left out.

  Website: http://www.authormecarter.com

  Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authorMECarter/