Page 52 of RomeAntically Challenged
He wanted Paisley to feel that she had her own space at his house, and he would rather sleep on a lumpy recliner than invade her privacy.
Enough had happened over the past couple days to have Annie reconsidering her earlier assessments. Either Emmitt wasn’t as bad as she’d thought, or he was so good he had her conned. She was certain of one thing: He wasn’t faking the little groan he tried to hide whenever she flicked on the lights or he moved his head too fast. Which made her feel guilty for taking the bed.
He didn’t offer up any explanation for his injuries, and she didn’t pry, but it was clear there was more going on than he was telling everyone. Her curiosity was further sparked when she overheard Gray ask Rosalie to contact the hospital in China—so that part was true, at least—and have Emmitt’s medical records sent over.
Her phone vibrated. She wiggled in her seat.
“Are you sexting?” Lynn asked from over Annie’s shoulder. It wasn’t both of her friends’ sudden appearance at the table that had her dropping her phone, but the fact she’d been caught—sexting?
That was what she’d been doing, right? If not, then it would most definitely qualify as some kind of millennial foreplay.
Before she even registered Beckett was present, her friend had snatched up Annie’s phone and was scrolling through the text history.
“Oh my God, she totally is!” Beckett waved the phone so Lynn could see. Annie reached for it, but Beckett held it above her head. And since Beckett was built like a runway model—well, a runway model in a Grumpy Cat shirt that read, THE PROBLEM WITH SOME PEOPLE IS THAT THEY EXIST—Annie gave up. “Oh girl, he so wants to play with you.”
“Hand it over,” Annie demanded, and Beckett complied. Before Lynn decided she wanted a look-see, which might lead to scrolling through the entire thread, Annie shoved it into her pocket. “And we were just having a roommate argument over the bed.”
“If Emmitt ‘Big O’ Bradley was my roommate, I’d make it a rule that every argument happenedinbed,” Beckett said.
Annie shushed her and looked around the break room. Thankfully, it was busy on the floor, so the break room was almost empty. “I don’t want any rumors to start, and Emmitt seems to be patient zero for half the town’s gossip.”
“Also for half the town’s orgasms,” Lynn said sweetly, while Beckett made a lewd gesture.
“Can you not?” Annie stuck her spoon in the applesauce and pushed it away, no longer hungry.
Beckett picked it up, sniffed it, and made a face as if she’d just sucked on a lemon. “Since when do you eat all healthy?”
Annie knew she’d met a kindred soul in Beckett when her friend had announced that a chocolate bar and a jar of peanut butter was a balanced meal.
“Since Emmitt stole my leftovers.”
“He stole your pizza and you didn’t kill him?” Her friends exchanged meaningful glances.
“He also picked off the olives.”
“You sure he’s just a roommate?” This from Lynn, who was setting out a lunch that looked Gordon Ramsay approved. Knowing Lynn, though, she’d likely made it as she dashed out the door. Lynn was awesome that way.
“Yes. Trust me, even that is too much of him.” She tossed her applesauce in the trash. “I can’t believe I’m asking this, but any new deaths this week?”
Lynn sliced her panini à la perfection in half and handed it to Annie—on a cute napkin of course. “Is he really that bad?”
“He’s really that charming,” she said around bits of bacon and avocado. “It was easier when I hated him. Only, the more I learn about him, the more I’m starting to like him.”
“It’s the lure of the unattainable lover syndrome,” Beckett said. “It drives guys like Emmitt nuts.”
“What do you mean?” Annie asked, because it was better than focusing on the way her belly dipped when she thought about being his lover.
“Guys like Emmitt never have to work hard for things, so when they meet a challenge like, say... a woman who expresses her lack of interest, they become invested in proving you wrong.”
“He wants what he can’t have,” Lynn agreed.
Beckett sat back in her chair and propped her feet up on the empty seat between them. “You want to go back to thinking he’s a tool? Go along with the flirting and pretend you’re really into him. He’ll disappear. Trust me, that’s his MO.”
“Are you saying sleep with him?” she asked, annoyed at the way her belly fluttered.
“Flirt, kiss, sleep.” Beckett shrugged. “What’s the worst that can happen?”
“I sleep with my roommate!”
