Page 1 of My Irish Roommate

1

A PLEASANT SURPRISE

ROWAN

“Respect your opponent but be prepared for anything.”

I have just finished teaching a mixed martial arts session when my phone chimes. I wipe the sweat from my face with a towel and look down at my phone.

It’s my father’s new wife, Emma, letting me know that my new roommate has landed at Dublin Airport.

I’m not sure how two adult men are going to cohabitate in my studio apartment, but I reluctantly agreed to let the bloke stay here to nurture a little peace within my new family situation. To say that my father’s impulse decision to go to America and marry a woman he met online shook things up would be an understatement.

I suppose I should clean myself up before he arrives. He’ll probably want to go out for some dinner so I instruct my assistant to take charge of the gym and head upstairs to my place to shower and change. I’ve been living above the gym since I bought the place ten years ago.

As a single man, I don’t need much more than a bed, shower, and microwave. I spend most of my time downstairs teaching or working out anyway.

Showered and dressed, I check the time just as someone knocks on the door. I open it, expecting to see some skinny overly privileged American boy but I couldn’t have been more mistaken. I stand in the doorway like an idiot, looking my new roommate over from top to bottom and back again until the uncomfortable silence is finally broken.

“Rowan? Hello, I’m Ricki,” my new stepsister introduces herself.

That’s right. Stepsister.

She smiles but looks confused by my complete inability to speak. “Can I hug you?” she asks, and without a moment’s hesitation, I wrap my arms around this beautiful girl and pull her in tight. The moment I touch her, my blood rushes south.

Great. Just fucking perfect. If Emma was going to send this sexy little vixen to stay with me, she could have at least given me a warning.

“Is everything alright? You seem surprised to see me. My mother said that she told you when I landed,” she says as I embrace her for what might seem too long.

I release my hold on her and say, “Sorry. Yes, she told me you were on your way. She left out a pretty important detail, though.”

“What’s that?” she asks, cocking her head to the side.

“She never said that you were a girl. I just assumed that Ricki was a boy’s name in America, too,” I shrug, completely thrown off my game. At least this talk is providing enough distraction for my erection to calm down.

“It’s both, actually. Probably more common for boys but my mother liked it,” she explains. “Is that a problem? I mean, if you’re uncomfortable with my staying here, I don’t want to cause any trouble.”

“No, it’s not a problem for me but…I’m sorry, come inside,” I stoop down and pick up the suitcases that she’s dropped by the door. “What you see here is all there is. This is a studio apartment so you won’t have any privacy. Is that going to be an issue for you? I’m sure that I can help you find other accommodations if it is.”

She glances around my tiny studio. “It looks like we’ll each have our own bed. That’s all I need. I don’t think my mother would have sent me here if she didn’t think I could trust you.”

I wonder if the sense of joy I felt in hearing those words showed on my face. I definitely don’t want her going anywhere. There’s no way I can let her go to stay someplace else. Just looking at her is the highlight of my week.

She’s petite, probably about twenty-two but she looks more like a teenager. Her blonde hair is pulled into a messy bun with ringlet curls dangling on the sides of her angelic face and her saucer-shaped blue eyes draw me in.

And her body… She’s clearly no stranger to the gym, with a perfectly rounded ass and long, strong legs. Between her toned arms sits a full, perky rack that would have any man licking his lips. Yeah, she’s perfect and as I feel a tingle between my legs again, I have to remind myself that she’s also my stepsister.

“I’ll set your bags by your bed. There’s an empty chest of drawers there for you,” I tell her, whisking her suitcases across the room.

“Thank you,” she replies, following me over and sitting down on the bed.

“I figured you’d be hungry. Should we go get a bite to eat?” I ask, brushing my still-wet hair away from my eyes.

“Didn’t Mom tell you? They want us to meet them for dinner,” she answers.

“No, she didn’t,” I frown but don’t add that it isn’t uncommon for her mother to leave out important details like the sex of her child for example.

“It’s still a bit early. Can I take a shower? Then, maybe you can show me around the gym before we go. I’d really like to do some training while I’m here.”

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