Rooter (Double H Romance)

by Smith, Teiran

  He cracks the teeniest hint of a smile. “Intimidating?” He finishes for me.

  “Yeah.”

  Bear has a nice smile. Maybe if he shaved his beard, he’d look a little less daunting. Then again, maybe not.

  “I know. I’m working on it. She’ll be okay, I promise.” He gives me an awkward, closed mouth grin. I find it to be quite endearing.

  When Rooter and I enter the living room after my shift at the Grand we find Miranda sitting next to Bear on the sofa, doubled over in laughter. Bear is wearing an amused yet perturbed expression. I spy several bottles of craft beer on the coffee table.

  “Oh my God, Sophie, you have to see this!” Miranda slurs and sloppily motions for me to come over to her. “I found out why he never smiles.”

  “I think it’s time for me to go,” Bear says, clearly embarrassed and tries to stand up, but Miranda lurches forward and clutches his arm. I expect him to become irritated with her, but he smirks instead.

  “Show her,” Miranda whines at him. “It’s so cute.”

  Cute? Since when does Miranda think Bear is cute? Rooter laughs behind me.

  “See?” Rooter’s voice is barely louder than a whisper. “I told you she’d be okay with him.”

  “Show her,” Miranda demands with her hands on her hips. Bear shoots her a stern look, and she changes tactics and bats her pretty, long eyelashes at him and flashes a smile. “Please?”

  “Okay,” he relents and shakes his head. In only ten hours, Miranda has wrapped this big bad biker around her pinky finger. There really is no man on the planet immune to her charm. “But you have to make the face,” he tells her.

  Miranda makes her funny face where she squishes her cheeks together, crosses one eye and sticks out her tongue. Bear’s mouth spreads into a huge, genuine smile with the straightest, brightest white teeth I’ve ever seen.

  Damn! The guy could be in a dental commercial with those puppies. He must whiten them every day. I burst out laughing, Rooter joins me.

  “I care about dental hygiene, okay?” Bear grumps which makes the three of us laugh harder.

  “Is that seriously why you never smile?” I ask him.

  “Yes,” Rooter answers for him and cackles. “The guys all call him Pearl.”

  Bear flips him the bird. “I think it’s time to go.”

  Miranda is still clinging to his arm, and her smile turns to a frown. “Stay a little while longer,” she begs.

  “Can’t,” he says. “I have to be at the shop early.”

  “Boo.” She sticks out her bottom lip. “You’re no fun.”

  “How did this happen?” I whisper to Rooter.

  He shrugs and whispers back, “I have no idea.”

  “I’ll come back after work tomorrow,” Bear promises Miranda.

  “But who will protect me tonight?”

  “Rooter is right next door.” He points at the wall toward Rooter’s house.

  “Actually, I’ll be staying here tonight,” Rooter says and I gape at him in surprise. “I’m not leaving you alone until I’m sure this thing with Mike has blown over.”

  Before he leaves, Bear helps me get a drunken Miranda upstairs to her room where she once again asks him to stay. Miranda is a lot of things, but easy isn’t one of them. But when she gets drunk, she loses her inhibitions. Luckily, Bear is chivalrous enough to turn down her advances and tells her he’ll see her tomorrow.

  Once Bear is gone, Rooter runs to his house to get Dopey and change into something to sleep in giving me a chance to catch up with Miranda. Rooter already brought me up to speed on the issue with Mike. Thankfully, he hasn’t attempted to call Miranda again. Now I want to find out about her day with Bear.

  “So, I take it you made a new friend,” I say.

  “I think I’m in love.”

  I laugh and fall back onto her bed.

  She rolls over and looks at me with a wide smile. “He’s not scary Beary anymore.”

  “Scary Beary?” I hoot and turn to face her.

  “He’s not scary at all,” she slurs. “He’s hot.”

  “So what did you two do today?”

  “I made dinner for us and Beary helped me wash the dishes. His real name is Max. Maxim. He’s s-so funny Soph. And he took me for a ride on his motor,” she hiccups, “cycle to get ice cream. We watched a movie and drank beers. It was the best date ever.”

  “Date?” I raise an eyebrow.

  She grins. “Yep.”

  “Does he know it was a date?”

  “He will soon enough,” she giggles.

  “I have no doubt.”

  Miranda always gets what she wants and if she still wants Bear after she’s sobered up, he’s in serious trouble.

  Rooter appears at the top of the stairs in loose, gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt with Dopey at his side.

  “Hey Rooter,” Miranda calls out, drunkenly emphasizing the ooh sound. “Thank you for int-introducing me to my future husband.”

  “No problem,” he laughs and takes Dopey into my room.

  “Future husband?” Rooter asks after I’ve closed my bedroom door. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed. Dopey is curled up at his feet.

  “I think Maxim has created a monster.” Upon hearing my voice the dog jumps up and trots over to me. “Hey boy,” I say and scratch his ear.

  “He told her his name?” He asks, shocked.

  “Yeah.”

  “He doesn’t tell anyone his name.”

  Dopey follows me to my dresser as I get a pair of pajamas. I really need to keep up on my laundry. The only clean ones I have left are a tank top and boy short ensemble with a Wonder Woman symbol on the top and stars on the bottoms. A birthday gift from Miranda last year. We both loved Wonder Woman as little girls. It’s either this or wear something dirty from the hamper which is only a slightly worse option.

  “Maybe he likes her, too.”

  “Evidently.”

  “I didn’t see that coming,” I admit.

  “Me neither.” He shakes his head and grins.

  “I’ll be right back,” I say and go to the bathroom to change into the most embarrassing pair of pajamas anyone could possibly own.

  I stand in front of my door, stiff as a board with my hands balled up at my sides, for several long minutes trying to muster the courage to open it and go inside. I can only imagine Rooter’s amusement when he sees me in this ridiculous get up.

  Exactly as I suspect, he howls in laughter when he sees me dressed as Wonder Woman. My face goes up in flames.

  “They were a gift.”

  “Indeed, they are.” His body shakes from his boisterous laughter.

  “Shut up.” I smack his arm and nudge him so he’ll make room for me on the bed.

  “You’re too cute. Where’s my phone?” He reaches past me to get it from the nightstand.

  “No pictures!” I swipe his phone before he can get to it and tuck it underneath me.

  “That isn’t going to stop me,” he taunts and reaches under me to get it. We roughhouse and when I fight back, he tickles me.

  “Agh!” I squeal. “I give up.” He tickles my side again anyways. “I said I give up!” I arch my back letting him retrieve the device.

  A cool wind blows through the window giving me goosebumps. I hear a deep intake of breath and catch Rooter staring at my chest where my chill is evident.

  “You cold?” He asks through a strangled voice and backs away.

  “A little.” I pull the blankets up around me.

  “I’ll close the window.” He reaches over and starts to pull it shut.

  “No.” I tug on his arm. “I like it cool at night.”

  “You won’t be too cold?”

  “No.” I grin. “I like to cuddle in the blankets.”

  An eager smile spreads across Rooter’s face and he gets under the covers with me. “Me, too.”

  He rolls onto his back and pulls me against his chest. My head lays above his heart and I can hear its thrum, strong a
nd a little fast.

  Rooter leans down, presses his face against my head and inhales. “You smell so good.”

  There’s no possible way that can be true after being in the kitchen at the Grand all night. “Yeah, like garlic and onion.”

  He inhales again. “Sweet, like flowers.”

  “I like this,” I admit, drawing circles on his chest with my index finger. I think I feel him shudder but it’s so slight I can’t be sure.

  “Me, too.”

  “It kind of makes me glad Mike called.”

  “Look at me.” His tone is serious making me think I have upset him, but when I look up, his expression is soft. “You never need an excuse to be with me, Sophie. Want me to stay here, ask. Want to stay with me, tell me. Okay?”

  Giddy, I smile and my voice shakes when I speak. “Okay.”

  “It’s late.” He kisses my forehead. “Let’s get some sleep.”

  When I wake up, I’m in fetal position with Rooter’s body enveloping mine. His quiet snores are the only sound in the room. Dopey sits on his hind legs staring at us, patiently waiting to be let out. According to the clock, it’s almost nine.

  “Rooter.” I reach back and tap his thigh to wake him up. He grumbles a response and starts snoring again.

  I roll out of bed as gently as I can so I don’t disturb him. I can take the dog out on my own. When I hear Rooter move I turn around to see if I woke him. He has rolled over onto his stomach, but he’s still asleep, clutching the pillow. Sun pours in through the window illuminating his muscular back and strong shoulders. The man is simply mouthwatering. When did he take off his shirt? I stand a moment, daydreaming about caressing the gorgeous lines of his muscles with my fingertips and am broken from my musing by Dopey pawing at my side.

  When I bring Dopey back inside Rooter is standing at the kitchen sink with a glass of water in his hand. He’s still shirtless and his sweatpants are hanging dangerously low on his hips. Fantasies of running my tongue along his perfectly formed V stream through my mind.

  “My eyes are up here.” Rooter points at his eyes with his index and middle fingers.

  My face catches on fire and I turn away.

  “Good morning, babe.” He walks over and pulls me in for a hug.

  The skin on his chest is warm against my face. “Good morning,” I squeak.

  “Sleep well?”

  “Amazing,” I admit.

  “Me, too.” He kisses the top of my head. “You’re an excellent spooner.”

  “I am?” I’ve never done it.

  “The best.”

  Visions of him spooning with other women come to mind, and it irritates me. I’m sure he’s had a lot of sex with a lot of women, but I don’t want him comparing me to them. Ever. I might be a great spooner, but being an almost virgin I’m sure I’ll suck at everything else in comparison.

  “Coffee,” I grumble and pull away. “Must have coffee. Should I make enough for you?” I ask and measure out the grounds.

  He shakes his head. “What are your plans for today?”

  I look down at my heavily worn black yoga pants that I dug out of the hamper before letting Dopey out. “Don’t have any plans, but I seriously need to do laundry.”

  “That’s cool.” He finishes his glass of water. “We can hang here for a while. I need to run by the shop later. The three of us can grab lunch.”

  “Rooter, you don’t need to babysit me.”

  “I’m not.” He wraps his arms around my waist and grins. “I’m just hanging out with my girlfriend on her day off.”

  The way he says “girlfriend” is so casual and natural sounding it nearly makes me forget the conversation we’re having. I tilt my head to one side. “You’re babysitting me.”

  “I’m spending time with you and in the process making sure you’re safe. That’s what any good boyfriend would do.”

  And now the word “boyfriend” has my insides stirring. Rooter—Jace Alexander Russo—is my boyfriend. It still doesn’t seem real. I don’t think it ever will. “Well then, you can help with the laundry.” I smirk.

  “I’d love to fold your delicates.” He smirks back.

  “I bet.”

  Chapter 19

  First Fight

  “You two are sickeningly cute.” Miranda stumbles into the kitchen. “Is there coffee?”

  “Almost.” I pull away from Rooter to grab two mugs from the cupboard.

  Miranda fishes through another cabinet for aspirin.

  “We’re out. I have ibuprofen in my purse,” I offer.

  “Is it upstairs?” She leans her head against the cabinet door.

  “Yep.”

  “I can’t make it all the way back up there,” she whines as the coffee maker chimes that it’s finished.

  “I’ll get it,” Rooter offers and runs upstairs.

  “So,” I start once he’s gone. “You have a thing for Scary Beary now, eh?” I pour us both a cup of the coffee and add hazelnut creamer.

  “He’s so fucking hot, Sophie,” she says making me chuckle. Never in a million years would I expect to hear that from her. “Do you think he likes me?”

  “We both do.” I’ll never get used to referring to me and Rooter as we.

  “Really?” She asks, her eyes turn bright, exuding excitement.

  Rooter pads into the kitchen and hands me my purse. I fish out the bottle of ibuprofen and hand it to Miranda.

  “Later,” I mouth to her when he’s not paying attention.

  Rooter wasn’t kidding when he said he’d fold my delicates. He almost looks excited when I dump them on to my bed. Another tickle war ensues when I try to shoo him away from them. Of course, I lose. I don’t know whether to be glad or embarrassed that I only wear nice underwear. Collecting cute bra and panty sets is kind of my thing. It has nothing to do with sex or guys. I simply have an issue with wearing ugly or mismatch bras and panties. Miranda thinks I’m nuts. Maybe I am.

  “Do you really need this many bras?” Rooter laughs. There must be fifteen of all different colors and materials laying in a pile before us.

  “Yes, I do. They all go with their own matching panties,” I explain.

  Rooter’s face changes from amused to desirous and it gives me tingles.

  He clears his throat. “This is something I didn’t know about you.”

  He picks up a bra and mimics the way I’m folding the one in my hand. When he’s done he pulls a purple, lacey thong from the pile.

  “Do you actually fold these?” His voice is low, sultry.

  I think this is turning him on. I like it.

  “Yes,” I take it from his hand and demonstrate how I fold them. “Like this.”

  “Seriously?” He asks. “There isn’t enough material to bother with.”

  “I prefer things to be neat and in order. Makes it easier to find when I’m trying to pair things together.”

  Rooter grabs another thong and folds it the way I showed him, followed by a few more pairs. When he comes across a red see through lace bra with black satin laces on the cups he stops and holds it up to me. A gasp escapes his lips followed by a curse. “You actually wear this just to wear it?” He’s staring at me slack jawed.

  “Yeah,” I mumble, bashful.

  “Go put it on,” he growls.

  Now it’s my turn to go slack jawed. “What?”

  “Knowing you have it on will be hot as hell.” He winks.

  For grins, I do as told and go into the bathroom to change. When I return, we—or rather I—continue folding and putting the rest of the laundry away while Rooter stares at me.

  After a putting a third load of laundry into the dryer, Rooter suggests the three of us grab lunch before heading to his shop. We can’t all fit in his truck so we take my car. He insists on driving and when he starts the ignition, my favorite former boy bander blares through the speakers. He jumps and shouts a curse before turning off the radio. Miranda and I laugh.

  “Do you ever listen to anything else?” He ask
s.

  I shrug. “Occasionally.” I turn the radio back on, but at a quieter volume.

  “I seriously need to educate you on what real music is.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “Nirvana,” he holds his right hand up to count as he backs out of my driveway, “Radiohead, Soundgarden, Alice in Chains. Four of the greatest rock bands of the nineties.”

  “Nirvana? No, thank you.”

  “What? They are legendary.”

  “They’re greasy and grungy, and that guy, Kirk whatever, couldn’t even sing. All he did was scream.”

  Rooter stares me down with a dead serious expression that makes my heart skip three beats. “Do. Not. Ever. And I mean ever, hate on Kurt Cobain. The man was and always will be a legend.”

  “Pay attention to the road.” I turn his face back to the windshield.

  “Where do you girls want to eat?” He asks.

  “Let’s go see Joe at Skyles,” Miranda suggests.

  “You in love with him, too?” Rooter asks, amused.

  “He is hot in an old guy sort of way,” she responds and I laugh. She leans up to my seat. “Poor Joe will be heartbroken when he sees you have a boyfriend.”

  “He already knows,” Rooter tells her and winks at me.

  Did someone turn on the heat in here?

  After lunch, Rooter drives us to his shop to check on the bike he’s working on with Bear. I’m eager to see where he works and what he does, and he appears equally excited to show me.

  Miranda totally geeks out over the opportunity to see Bear. She spends the entire ride from Skyles touching up her makeup and making sure her hair is perfect. I haven’t seen her this excited about a guy since she first hooked up with Chris.

  “This bike will be sick as shit when we’re done with it,” he brags as we pull into the lot. His smile turns to a frown. “Fuck.”

  I turn my head in the direction Rooter’s staring and see Blondie’s red Mustang parked in a visitor parking space in front of the main entrance. He parks my car by the employee entrance across the lot.