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“Yeah, go, no problem. Thanks, though.”
“Sure thing.”
Clayton walks back on the trail he came from. As long as I’m staying here, Gillian will wear that trail down to dust.
I walk up the porch steps, slide into the house, and head up the stairs. Emmett’s coming back down.
“All set,” he says, thumbing toward my bedroom.
“Oh great. Thanks.” I scour his facial expression, hoping he didn’t snoop in the box, looking for some sign that he saw the secret I’m taking to my grave. Because there’s more to that crush that I am not about to confess to anyone. Especially my new roommate.
Instead of continuing up the stairs, I head back down so we can discuss our living arrangement.
Emmett’s house is a lot nicer than I expected. I assumed he lived like a bachelor with dirty dishes in the sink, trash on the countertops and floor. I figured as payback for me living here, I’d clean his house. With the exception of his bathroom, of course. But by the look of things, there’s no need for me to be his housekeeper. The only thing that shows he’s a bachelor is that his walls are completely bare. There’s not one picture, or anything hung up.
Emmett goes to the fridge and grabs a water, standing by the counter. His kitchen isn’t as modern as Ben and Gillian’s, but it’s got a charm theirs doesn’t.
“Do you have a house cleaner?” I ask, awkwardly standing in the large opening from his kitchen to his family room. Whereas Ben and Gillian’s home is open concept, there’s a clear distinction between the rooms in Emmett’s house.
“Do you think I can’t clean?” The bottle indents as he swallows more water.
“Awfully thirsty for carrying a few boxes up the stairs.”
He looks down at me with the bottle still on his lips, but there’s humor in his eyes.
“Nice,” he says once he finishes the entire bottle and crushes it with his hands. “Rule number one, crush the bottles, that way more can fit in the recycling can.”
“That’s the number one rule you want to go with?” I step into the kitchen fully, leaning against his small butcher block island.
“Recycling is important to me,” he says. “Your turn to make a rule now.”
“You’re letting me stay here. I don’t get to make rules.”
He opens the fridge and pulls out another water. He’s really ingesting a lot of water but watching his Adam’s apple bounce as he swallows is strangely erotic. Not that I would admit that to anyone. His forearms bulge as he twists off the cap.
Get a grip, Briar. He’s your new roommate, and you’re pregnant with another man’s baby. This is platonic. That’s all it’ll ever be.
He holds the water bottle out to me. “Here, you should hydrate.”
I chuckle, and he joins in with his own laughter. “Is that your prenatal advice?”
“I don’t know, but it seems like everything you drink and eat goes to the baby, so you have to drink twice the amount of water.”
I accept the water and take a sip, which helps calm down my libido. “Thanks.”
“So?” He arches a dark eyebrow.
“So what?”
“What’s your rule?”
“Um… it seems odd making a rule when it’s your house.”
“I’m an equal opportunity guy, so go ahead before I take it back.” He pulls a pack of ground beef from the fridge. “Are you a vegetarian?”
“Because I’m a yoga instructor?”
His head rocks back, and he shakes it. “No. It was just a question. Man, take a few bricks down off that fortress you’ve built around yourself.”
