Ryan and I spend the rest of the day reading and watching movies in my room. We lay side by side on my bed until I fall asleep with my head rested against his shoulder. When I open my eyes, he too, is asleep. It’s dark outside and the only light in the room comes from the television. I reach over and turn on my bedside lamp. Ryan is adorable in his sleep. I run my fingers through his silky hair.
“Wake up sleepy head.”
He snuggles against me. “Would you mind if I stayed here tonight? I don’t want to go home.”
“Sure you can.” I kiss his temple.
I take a pair of pajamas to the bathroom to change. On my way back to my room I run into Mike in the hall.
“Have you converted the fairy?”
Only one sentence from him and my blood is boiling. “Shut up.”
“Hey, I’m all good with it. Anything’s better than that dickwad next door.”
“Perhaps I should tell that dickwad you called him a dickwad.”
Mike turns gray. “Good night, Sophie.”
I have to stop myself from slamming my door. I don’t want to have to explain myself to Ryan. The last thing I need is a confrontation between those two. The television is off, but the bedside lamp is still on. Ryan lies on his stomach under the covers. He lifts the blankets for me to get in beside him. As I crawl into the bed, I see Rooter, staring out his window before he closes the blinds. I can’t make out his expression. Surprise? Jealousy? Relief?
“Shit.” I whisper, although Rooter can’t hear me.
“What?” Ryan asks.
“Rooter just saw us.”
Ryan perks up a little. “Oh.”
I grab my phone and start to text Rooter, but I don’t know what to say. I want to explain this isn’t what it looks like, but that’s much too presumptuous. After debating for a few minutes I place the phone back on the table and lie next to Ryan. The bed is small and Ryan is huge, so we’re forced to snuggle.
“Maybe this will make him jealous enough to make a move.” Ryan suggests.
“I doubt it,” I admit, but secretly hope he could be right.
“A guy doesn’t stalk a girl for three years unless he’s interested. Trust me, he’s jealous. And look at me,” he gestures the length of his body, “I’m like an Adonis.”
We both burst out laughing. Once the laughter subsides neither of us speaks again. I lay and stare at the ceiling in silence. After a few minutes Ryan’s breathing evens out, indicating he’s asleep.
He has a point. Rooter wouldn’t go to all that trouble to find things out about me if he wasn’t interested. Surely seeing another guy in my bed has piqued his curiosity.
Chapter 7
White Lies
It’s after two o’clock and Rooter hasn’t texted to ask if I need anything. I try not to read too much into it. He already told me to let him know if I need anything and likely doesn’t see a need to repeat himself. At least that’s what I’m trying to tell myself.
I’m not convinced.
He saw me get into bed with another guy. Since he doesn’t know Ryan’s gay, he likely assumes I’m seeing him.
Damn it! I should’ve just texted Rooter and had him bring me lunch.
If it wasn’t for the throbbing in my ankle, I’d be pacing the room.
On his way out this morning, Ryan gave me a pep talk. He said a little jealousy is a good thing. It could very well be the thing that changes Rooter’s mind about being in my life. I just need to find a way to use the situation to my advantage.
I decide to text Rooter.
Me: Hey. You busy?
More time than I’m comfortable with passes. Six minutes seem like eons.
Rooter: Yeah. What’s up?
Shit. I don’t want to bother him if he’s busy.
Me: Nothing that can’t wait. Call me when you’re free?
I purposely use the word call because I want to hear his voice.
I wait close to ten minutes for a response, but never get one. I may not know Rooter all that well, but I get the impression something is off. If yesterday was any indication, he would’ve checked in on me this morning and would’ve responded to my last text to confirm he’ll call me back.
Four hours have passed and I still haven’t heard from Rooter. It’s about the time he gets home from work so I’m sitting on my porch so I can catch him. My pulse quickens when I hear the rumble of his motorcycle coming down the street.
When he pulls into his driveway I wave to get his attention. He nods once and rides his bike to the back of his house. So far, this plan isn’t working out the way I’d expected. I’d thought he’d stop and at least say hi. Not wanting to miss the opportunity to talk to him, I pick up my crutches and hobble to the side of the yard as fast as I can. Rooter has let Dopey out to go to the bathroom. His back is to me.
“Hey,” I call out.
He turns around and opens his mouth to speak when Dopey charges toward me at full speed.
“Shit,” Rooter hollers and takes off after the dog. “Dopey, stop!”
But the dog doesn’t listen. He bounds toward me as fast as his four legs will carry him and as he reaches me, he jumps and knocks me over. If it wasn’t for the stabbing pain in my ankle, I’d laugh from being covered in drool by this adorable pit bull. Rooter yanks Dopey off me, scolds him, and orders him to sit.
“You all right?” His voice is cloaked with agitation.
I can’t tell if he’s irritated with me or the dog. Perhaps both?
“Yeah.” I wince and sit up.
Rooter wraps his arms around me to help me stand and then hands me my crutches. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s okay.”
He appears unsure, looks at my ankle.
“Really.” I try to assure him.
“Sorry I didn’t get back to you. It was a busy day.”
I shrug, acting like it’s no big deal. But it is a big deal. It’s a huge deal. I’ve been tweaking all day from lack of a response by him. “No worries,” I say, trying to hide my frustration.
Rooter smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “So, what did you need earlier?”
I didn’t really need anything, and I can’t remember the lie I was going to tell him earlier. I could go with the truth and tell him I wanted to hear his voice, or I called to say hi, but I don’t have the guts. We’re not anywhere near that level in our new friendship. Hell, I’m not sure this even is a friendship. He has made it perfectly clear I should stay away from him. And the way his deep brown eyes bore into mine right now has rendered me completely incoherent. I decide to tell a version of the truth.
“I don’t remember now.”
“Oh, okay.” He pauses, seemingly unsure of what to say or do next, as am I.
This is completely new territory for the both of us. I can’t think up anything to say so I’m grateful when he speaks again.
“How’s the ankle?”
“Hurts like hell,” I admit. “I can’t do much of anything for myself.”
“Miranda helping you?” He asks.
“When she can, but she has her job and school. She hasn’t had time to even get to the grocery.” I get an idea. I think it resembles the lie I was going to tell him earlier. “Which reminds me why I texted you earlier.”
“Yeah?” He sticks his hands in his pockets and rocks back and forth.
I love it when he does that. I try to hide my smile. “Would you mind running me to the grocery store?”
Rooter eyes Miranda’s SUV in the driveway. “Miranda isn’t able to go?”
I shake my head. A lie. Of course she can. In fact, she’s planning on leaving in about an hour. However, this is the only thing I can come up with to talk with Rooter and hopefully finagle a way to spend time with him. “She’s completing an exam online and midnight is the deadline.” Where is this coming from? I despise lying, and yet I seem to be quite good at it.
Rooter’s expression deepens as he contemplates my request. After a few seconds, which take much
too long to pass, he lets out a deep breath and rubs the back of his neck. “I’m kind of busy, Sophie. Is there anyone else who can help you?”
I get that he’s alluding to Ryan, but am not quite sure how to address it. “Not really, but if you aren’t able to, I understand. No worries,” I repeat. I never said that until I heard him say it.
He takes another breath and several seconds pass. “Okay,” he says and my heart falls. “I’ll take you.”
Unable to contain my excitement I smile wide. “Thank you so much! You have no idea what this means to me.”
He chuckles. “It’s not that big of a deal. I’m just taking you to the grocery.”
I try to cover. “There’s literally no food in my house, so yes, this is a very big deal.”
Concern and discernible irritation washes over his features. “No food? Are you serious?”
“Completely.” I’m starving right now.
“Why didn’t your,” he pauses and clears his throat, “friend, take you shopping last night?” His jaw clenches and my stomach flips.
He’s so damn sexy. I fantasize about running my fingers over and kissing the stubbly skin of his cheek. Again, I’m rendered incoherent and have a difficult time coming up with a plausible explanation. “He brought me dinner.”
“Well, at least he did that much.”
His disapproval makes me giddy inside, but I don’t respond.
“Give me ten minutes and I’ll come get you.”
I wait at the front door like a teenage girl waiting for her date to arrive. True to his word, Rooter appears before me in exactly ten minutes. He escorts me to his truck and takes care when he lifts me into the cab. After tossing my crutches into the back he slides in next to me and asks which store we’re going to.
“Aaronson’s?” I answer with a question because I realize it’s much farther away than any other store. The distance is precisely why I chose it. I want to extend my time with Rooter as much as possible. Only thing is, Aaronson’s isn’t cheap, which is probably why he’s giving me a questioning look. “They have the best produce,” I explain and he nods and starts the engine. At least it isn’t a lie. Even if it costs three times as much, I do prefer their produce to anyone else’s.
Inside the truck, I’m overwhelmed by Rooter’s scent, a mixture of leather, aftershave, and peppermint. I inhale deeply and a warm, calm sensation falls over me.
“Why couldn’t Mike go to the store?” Rooter asks. “He lives there, too.”
“Mike, go to the store? No thanks.” I chuckle. “Only if I wanted a cupboard full of junk food and canned soup.”
Rooter chuckles at my response. “There’s this thing called a shopping list.”
I roll my eyes. “Not even that would work, and besides, I don’t trust him with my debit card.”
He shakes his head and grips the steering wheel. “I still don’t understand why you both allow him to stay there.”
“I don’t allow it.” I sigh and pick at my cuticles.
“You should have a say in who lives in the same house with you.”
Yes, I should. “My name isn’t on the deed.”
“But you pay rent to live there.” He presses his lips into a thin line.
“Miranda has faith he’ll change and go back to the Mike of old.”
Rooter’s head snaps in my direction. “You mean he wasn’t always a woman beating pussy?”
I laugh at his choice of words. “No. He used to be a nice guy.”
“What changed?”
“His parents died and apparently, I broke his heart.”
Rooter’s posture stiffens, and he looks at me with a raised brow. I can tell he’s replaying the chronology of the things he’s learned about me. “Broke his heart? When were you two together?”
“Never! Oh, God, no,” I quickly answer. “A while back, he told me he was in love with me and I didn’t reciprocate.”
Rooter visibly relaxes. His death grip on the steering wheel loosens. “Well, that explains a lot.”
“Yeah.”
“Doesn’t make it right, though.”
I shake my head in agreement. “No, it doesn’t.”
“Do you have the same faith as Miranda that he’ll go back to being a decent guy?”
I shake my head. “I wish he would, but I lost hope for him a long time ago.”
Now would be a good time to tell Rooter that Ryan is just my gay friend, but I’m not sure how to approach it. I don’t want to appear presumptuous. Maybe he didn’t think anything of it. And if he did, and he was jealous, I need to find a way to use it to my advantage. So for now I’ll keep that tidbit to myself.
Once in the store Rooter grabs a cart and follows me as I fill it with items from my list. We’re only a third of the way down the list when I grimace in pain and come to an abrupt halt. He rushes to my side wearing a worried expression.
“You okay?” He asks.
“I’m fine.”
He cocks his head, not buying it. “I should’ve just taken the damn list and come for you.”
“I’m okay,” I insist, touched by his concern. “I prefer to do my own shopping. I’m picky about brands.”
Rooter reaches into the cart and holds up store brand cereal and generic Hamburger Helper. “Really? Because everything in this cart is generic.”
“Not everything.” I blush and point to the Velveeta cheese and Stewarts Root Beer in the cart. The only reason they’re in the cart is because Miranda wanted them and paid for them, but he doesn’t know that.
“Pardon me,” he chuckles. “Let’s make sure to get brand name processed cheese.”
We both laugh. A fellow shopper is annoyed that we’re taking up the entire aisle. He tries to squeeze past us and bumps my ankle. I cry out in pain. Rooter grabs the guy by the shoulder and forces him to turn around and face him.
“What the fuck, man?” Rooter snipes. “You hit her.”
“I—I’m sorry,” the guy stammers. He’s a big guy, and looks like he could hold his own, so the fear in his eyes as he gapes at Rooter takes me by surprise. “I didn’t mean to hurt your girlfriend, I was just trying to get by.”
“The words excuse me exist for a reason shithead.” Rooter’s grip on the guy’s shoulder gets tighter causing him to wince.
“I’m sorry. Really,” the guy says.
“You’re sorry? Did you not see her crutches or didn’t that matter to you when you rammed your cart into her?” Rooter’s entire body trembles as he struggles to keep his anger in check.
While I appreciate Rooter’s concern for me, I don’t want him beating the hell out of this guy. We were taking up the entire aisle after all. It’s not worth getting into a fight over and I’d hate to see what kind of shape he’d leave this guy in.
I reach out and put my hand on his shoulder. “I’m okay, Rooter.”
“No, you’re not!”
“I really am sorry,” the guy says. Beads of sweat appear on his forehead.
“Why are you apologizing to me?” Rooter growls. “She’s the one you rammed with your cart!”
The guy turns to face me. “I really am sorry, miss.”
“It was our fault,” I say. “We were taking up the aisle.”
“Do not make excuses for him, Sophie!” Rooter orders. His face is a deep shade of red.
“I could’ve said excuse me,” the guy admits.
“Yes, you could have,” Rooter agrees with a menacing tone.
“It’s done now,” I say to Rooter. “Let him go.”
“Watch where you’re going from now on.” Rooter lets go of the guy.
I watch the guy scurry out of the aisle, unable to believe that just happened. I find myself torn between feeling irritated and being turned on. Rooter didn’t need to take it to that level, but damn, it was hot.
“You act like he took my leg off. It wasn’t that big of a deal.”
“It was to me.”
“Why?”
“Because it was inconsiderate
. He saw that you’re on crutches. He could’ve said excuse me.”
“Maybe he thought he could get by.”
Rooter shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his nose. “He fucked up and deserved to be called out on it.”
“The guy was scared to death. I’m surprised he didn’t piss himself.”
Rooter chuckles. “Now that would’ve been funny.”
I have to turn around to hide my smile. I can’t be mad at him. As I start to hobble away I’m stopped by his warm hand on my arm.
“I wasn’t going to hurt him, Sophie.” His expression is soft, but worried. “I was just trying to teach him a lesson.”
“I’d say you succeeded.”
“Are you mad at me?”
“No.” I shake my head. “I appreciate you standing up for me, but you took it a little too far.”
The ride back to my house is a quiet one, but the silence isn’t awkward. Rooter pulls up in front of my house and helps me out of the truck.
“I’ll walk you to the house and then bring the bags in.”
Once inside we find Mike sitting on the sofa. His expression is a mixture of fear and displeasure. The way his eyes are scrunched together and his upper lip is raised in disgust makes me want to laugh.
“We gonna have a problem?” Rooter asks him.
“No.” Mike says and softens his expression.
Rooter turns to me. “I’ll be right back.”
I shuffle to the coffee table and set my purse on it. Mike looks at me like he wants to say something, but isn’t sure he should.
After a moment he asks, “Why is he here?”
“He took me grocery shopping.”
“I thought Miranda was going to the store tonight because you aren’t supposed to be walking.”
I don’t know what to say. I’m not about to tell him I lied to Rooter and convinced him to take me so I could spend time with him. But when I turn around, Rooter is standing only a few feet away from us. The look on his face conveys he overheard our conversation. He carries the bags into the kitchen and then heads out for more.
“Thanks for offering to help,” Rooter snipes at Mike with his arms full of bags, on his last trip. “I assume you won’t be eating any of this.”
Rooter (Double H Romance) Page 6