Page 20 of Roommate Wars
He rubbed a hand over his chest absently. “Haven’t done my laundry in a while. The person I hired is slacking.” He looked at me pointedly.
Right. Laundry. That was another one of my duties.
“Why?” he asked. “You got a problem with my not wearing a shirt?” I heard a hint of challenge in his tone.
I swallowed. “No problem at all.”
“Cool. When no one is around, I like to be comfortable. As long as you don’t have a problem with it.” He quirked one eyebrow in question.
He’s going to dress like this all the time?
“Um, sure. Make yourself at home.” Shit, this was not good.
“I’ll be home for dinner. Looking forward to what you come up with next. As for the laundry…” he said.
“On it.” And boy did I mean that. I needed to get this man a shirt, stat, or there’d be another midnight wandering into his bedroom.
I did not trust myself around Jack. With my luck, I’d sleepwalk right into his bedroom like I had the first time and take care of all the lustful thoughts I was experiencing.
Been there, done that. And this time I couldn’t call it an accident.
* * *
Later that afternoon,I did laundry. Hell yes, I did. This was an emergency. I was hoping Jack wasn’t serious about walking around half-naked every day. Time would tell, but at least now he had clean clothes.
Jack had set his laundry basket in the hallway, and I’d been immediately suspicious. Some of his things looked like he’d grabbed them from the clean pile, but whatever. The man hadextra-clean clothes now, and I didn’t mind doing laundry. It gave me time to listen to the new audiobook from my all-time favorite romance writer. It was a “small town, brother’s best friend, neighbor, cowboy, single dad” romance, and I was all in.
I bundled Jack’s clean clothes and set them outside his door before heading out. He’d gone into the main office for something, and I didn’t feel comfortable going in his bedroom without him here.
Sophia was desperate for help at the shop, so I’d agreed to support her on the weekends. The benefits of a side gig helping my sister? Her shop was just a few blocks from Jack’s place, and it helped supplement my non-San Francisco-friendly income at the health department.
I entered Soph’s green design store on Polk Street a half hour later and was greeted by fresh air, a shit-ton of plants, and absolute chaos.
“What? No!” Sophia shouted into the phone. “You can’t quit!” She caught sight of me, her look wide-eyed and harried.
I set my purse on her desk in the back of the shop and glanced around. There were two other workers here today, a man and a woman, both around my age. The woman’s wavy black hair blocked half her face, and her head was tipped down as she jotted notes and spoke into the phone. The guy, meanwhile, wearing khakis and a white buttoned shirt, assisted walk-in customers and what looked like subcontractors.
“Sophia?” I said when she got off the phone. “What happened?”
She pressed her pointer finger between her brows and closed her eyes. “Two of my employees didn’t show, and my new coordinator just quit. Which means I have to hire and train someone all over again.”
“Why’d she quit?”
Sophia looked defeated and started shoving folders into her giant mom-purse. “Because one of my best customers is paying her double the salary as a full-time designer for their various estates across the country and in the Bahamas. In short, I lost a designer and a big client.”
“Shit. Yeah, that would do it; I’d quit to work in the Bahamas too.”
Sophia pouted, but the corners of her mouth pulled back as though she was fighting a smile. “You’re not helping.”
“But the Bahamas—can you blame the woman?”
My sister sank into her desk chair, cradling her work bag. “No. I’m considering quitting myself.”
“You own the shop; you can’t quit.”
She blew out a harsh breath and her bangs fluttered over her forehead. “Was I wrong to buy this place? I’m overwhelmed.”
“You’re overwhelmed because new clients are pouring in every day. You’ll replace that one client with ten more at the pace your shop is building business.”
