Page 16 of The Grumpy Roommate Gamble

Why, indeed? I’d been asking myself that question since the idea had planted itself in my head.

“They were books that her dad gave her, and they got damaged in the flood. She’s already lost so much. I know it won’t be the same, but I thought it would be a nice gesture.”

Austen’s expression went gooey. “Awww. That’s so sweet.”

Shit. This was a mistake. Her inner romantic had been engaged. That wasn’t the point.

Wasn’t it, though? You want to do something nice for Felicity because you like her, dumbass. Because she’s always been nice to you.

I thought again of our movie marathon Sunday. How right she’d felt all curled up in my lap. How her hair had flowed like water, silky smooth through my fingers. How I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the missed opportunity to kiss her… and more.

I hoped like hell none of my thoughts were showing on my face. Given the secretive smile Austen shot in my direction, I wasn’t at all sure I was successful. She looked too much like Mrs. Rosas. As if they both knew something I didn’t.

“I’ll see what I can do and let you know. What’s your number?”

I reeled it off so she could jot it down on the list. “Don’t say anything to Felicity. I don’t want to get her hopes up since this is probably a long shot.”

“Understood. Your secret is safe with me.”

But as I headed back to my truck, I couldn’t help but wonder if she was talking about the books or this epic soft spot I was forming for the woman who was just supposed to be my roommate.

TEN

FELICITY

When the weekend rolled around again, and Gabe suggested we grill out Saturday night to take advantage of the cooler temperatures, I leapt at it. I loved outdoor dining and even had a cute little outdoor space set up at my place with a bistro set and cafe lights. Not that I’d seen it in months. I hadn’t been able to make myself go back to the house since Gabe had started work. With all the tear out necessary for repairs and renovation, I knew it was in the “worse before better” stage, and my heart just couldn’t take it. When I’d mentioned it, Gabe had loaded the table and chairs into the back of his truck, along with the black iron chandelier he’d found in the garage that I’d never actually gotten around to hanging because there really wasn’t a good tree for it in my yard. But he had the perfect spot underneath a massive oak, and he’d already hung it from the branch, setting my bistro set beneath.

It was a little worse for wear, having not gotten a fresh coat of paint this summer as I’d intended, but that didn’t detract from my joy one bit. I’d raided my candle supply and set votives alight on each of the branches of the chandelier. In the early dark, the flickering flames made megrin like a loon.

From where he monitored the charcoal in the grill, Gabe called out, “Looks good.”

“It does. But I’m not done yet. You have to see the full effect.”

If the man was going to indulge me, I might as well pull out all the stops, even if it was going to look romantic and date-like. He’d gotten used to my cloth napkins and tablescapes over the past few weeks and hadn’t once complained. If anything, he looked amused as I went in and out of the house, carting dishes and napkins and silverware and, of course, flowers.

I was so pleased with the end results I did a happy dance.

From somewhere nearby, music began to play. I cocked my head, listening. Old school jazz. It was perfect.

Glancing at Gabe, who was back at the grill, he just shrugged. “Seemed to fit the vibe.”

“You like jazz?” I’d never have pegged him for that. Hard rock or country maybe. Not Nat King Cole.

“I have depths,” he deadpanned, but I didn’t miss the sparkle in his eyes. “Chicken’s coming off the grill if you wanna grab sides.”

“On it!”

I gathered up the Caprese salad and roasted potatoes I’d made and juggled the basket of bread I’d sliced. I realized as I set all the containers down that I definitely had to leave dessert in the kitchen until we were ready. But that was okay. He brought the platter of chicken, and we served ourselves, mounding food on our plates. My stomach was already growling at the scents wafting up to my nose.

Music continued to play from the outdoor speakers I’d finally spotted mounted under the eaves of the house as Gabe forked up some tomatoes and mozzarella. “So, how was your week?”

I laughed. “Good. Yours?”

“Thought I was gonna be able to get started on some flooring, but I found some sections of pipe that look pretty rough, so I’m going ahead and replacing those before they can turn into a problem.”

“Oh, well, that’s a solid plan. I appreciate the forethought.”

He winced. “It means the whole thing’s gonna take a while longer.”

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