Resisting my Roommate (Sycamore Falls #3)

Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

JUDE

“This is yours?” Abbey asks as I lead her up the steps and onto my front porch.

With the proximity to downtown, the row of townhomes making up this neighborhood are all designed in a similar style — exposed brick with a white porch and a small patch of grass out front.

“It is.” I fish out my keys and insert one into the lock.

“Wow. This is not what I expected. Especially the rose bushes. Unless you hired a landscaper.”

“I do all my own yard work.”

“That was one of the things I missed when I moved to San Francisco,” she muses, following me into the foyer. “No more yard to take care of.”

“You enjoy yard work?”

“I do. Or did.” Her expression falls slightly, and the furrow in her brow returns, as if deep in thought.

“I’m having trouble picturing you mowing the lawn, if I’m being honest. Then again, I’m also having trouble picturing you living in a hut. It’s probably because of the dress.”

Abbey laughs, her eyes sparkling with renewed hope. It’s a much different look than mere minutes ago when I found her in the park.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never seen anyone mow their lawn in a wedding dress.”

“I’ve also never seen anyone walk into my bar wearing one, either. Or walk through the park. Until today.”

“There’s a first time for everything.”

“I guess so.” I hold her gaze for a beat before clearing my throat. “Come on. I’ll give you the grand tour.”

After stepping out of her heels, she follows me into the open concept living and dining area, taking in the moderately-sized space. “This is actually really nice.”

“What were you expecting? A shithole?”

“No. I just didn’t think you were the type to have potted plants or art hanging on the wall.”

I remain silent, not about to tell her my ex-wife decorated this place and, being the masochist I am, I still haven’t put it on the market, even when everyone insists I’ll never be able to move on when I’m surrounded by horrible memories.

When I’m still stuck in the past.

“I like the whole farmhouse chic vibe you’ve got going on.”

“The guest room is this way,” I say evenly, turning from her and heading up the staircase.

I can feel the heat of her stare prickling the back of my neck, as if wanting to ask more questions. Peel back more of my layers. But I have no intention of letting her.

Finally, I hear her footsteps behind me as she makes her way up the stairs.

“Just in here.” I head toward one of the rooms off the second-floor landing and flick on the light, revealing a queen-sized bed with a reclaimed wood frame. “It’s not the Ritz or Four Seasons.”

“It’s better than a park bench,” she laughs.

“Pretty sure anything would be better than sleeping on a park bench.”

“You’re probably right.” She shifts her gaze to mine, giving me a shy smile that causes a subtle fluttering in my heart.

I trace my eyes over her face, admiring her soft features. It almost feels like this is the first time I’m really seeing her. And not merely because it’s the first time we haven’t been in a darkened space together. But at this moment, she looks at ease. Like she can finally stop pretending.

“You wouldn’t happen to have a spare t-shirt and shorts you could lend me to sleep in, would you?” Her voice breaks through my thoughts. “This is all I have for clothes.” She gestures down her frame.

“Right. Of course. One second.”

I spin from her and disappear into the room across the landing. A gentle glow illuminates the space from the lamp on my bedside table. Glancing over my shoulder to make sure she’s not watching, I hastily smooth the covers over my bed so she doesn’t think I’m a total slob. Then I open the dresser, grabbing a t-shirt and a pair of gym shorts before returning to her.

“They’ll probably be big on you, but it’s better than nothing.”

The instant the words leave my mouth, I hear the double meaning. So does Abbey, a smirk crawling on her lips.

“I quite enjoy sleeping in nothing.”

She allows her statement to linger in the air between us for what feels like an eternity, her aqua blue eyes dancing with mischief. Then she heads into the guest room.

“But thanks for the clothes.”

I can’t be entirely sure, considering the layers of fabric she’s currently wearing, but it almost looks like she’s swaying her hips slightly more than usual.

The second she closes the door, I push out a long breath and run a hand down my face, my mind conjuring all sorts of images of her crawling into bed without wearing a single scrap of clothing.

I quickly push down the thought. That’s the absolute last thing I need to be thinking about with her sleeping across the hall from me. She just ran out on the man she was supposed to marry, for crying out loud. As much of an asshole as I can be on occasion, at least according to my sister, I’m not about to take advantage of someone who’s already vulnerable.

Although there’s nothing vulnerable about the way she just looked at me.

A voice in my head reminds me she’s exactly my type. Witty. Charming. With legs that go on for miles. And the best part? She’s just passing through town.

But there’s something about Abbey that’s different from all the other girls I’ve sought comfort in over the past few years in the hopes of forgetting, even if only for a little while.

And it confuses me. She confuses me.

Which is probably why I’ve been an ass to her.

“Hey, Jude?” Abbey calls out from the other side of the door with giggle. “It’s like that Beatles song,” she remarks, then starts to sing the famous song.

“How original,” I snip out sarcastically. “I’ve never had someone make that connection before.”

“Right. Sorry.” The door opens and Abbey stands in the doorway, still in her wedding dress. “Do you think you can lend me a hand?”

“With what?”

She turns, revealing her back to me, the material sheer with a delicate floral overlay. “There are, like, a thousand buttons on this damn thing and there’s no way I can unbutton them myself.”

“Right. Sure.” With another hard swallow, I approach.

She smooths her dark tendrils over one shoulder, the motion causing me to catch a whiff of her perfume. Plumeria. Fresh linen. Lavender. It makes me want to bury my face in her hair and never come up for air. Don’t even get me started on her skin. Flawless. Smooth. Perfect.

“Is everything okay?”

“Of course.” I snap out of my trance and bring my fingers up to the top button.

While there aren’t exactly a thousand buttons, there are quite a lot. And they’re also ridiculously small, making it a bit of a chore to maneuver each one through the loop.

“They gave me a tool that makes it easier, but I left it behind.”

“It’s okay.” My voice is soft as I finally manage to unclasp the first button. “I don’t mind.”

For some reason, I like being able to do this for her. It’s probably just because I regret the things I said to her the other night when I wasn’t myself. She needs to feel some sort of compassion, even if I’m normally not the kind of guy willing to give that.

As I continue working my way down the line of buttons, they become a little easier. But I still take my time, not wanting to rush this any more than necessary. And with every button, more of her skin is revealed.

I try to be mindful not to brush my fingers against her flesh, but as I reach her waist, the fit becomes slightly tighter, making it more difficult, and I accidentally swipe my hand against her skin. Electricity heats my veins me at the same time as a visible shiver rolls through her. Her balance wavers somewhat, causing her to relax her grip on the front of her dress. When she does, I catch a glimpse of the side of her breast, and the dull throbbing consuming me becomes more pronounced.

“Fuck,” I hiss, my jaw clenching.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Sorry. I…” I trail off, unsure what to say.

Sorry I saw the side of your boob, and now I feel like I’m about to explode in my pants like a teenager who’s just seen his first pair of tits?

There’s no way in hell I plan on admitting that to her.

“Caught my skin on the button,” I finally manage to say.

When she glances over her shoulder and her eyes meet mine, I can see the skepticism within.

“Hope you didn’t hurt yourself,” she purrs in a seductive tone.

As if catching a glimpse of her breast wasn’t bad enough, now she has to respond in that kind of voice?

I consider asking if she wants to kiss it and make it better, but nothing good can come of that. One of us needs to keep their head on straight. After the day Abbey had, I can’t expect it to be her.

“You should be able to get out of your dress now.” I step back, trying to calm my racing heart.

And my hardening cock.

“Thanks, Jude.”

I don’t say anything, just watch as she walks back into the guest room.

And this time, she definitely sways her hips more than usual.