Читать книгу ROMeANTICALLY CHALLENGED - Marina Adair - Страница 11

Chapter 5

Annie was in a bad mood. Any hope she’d had that her new roommate was just some terrible nightmare vanished when she was jarred awake at two in the morning by the front door slamming shut, signaling his return.

If his mother had taught him any manners, he’d long since forgotten them.

Emmitt flicked on every light in the house, including the hall light, which lit up her room like a solar flare. Then—as if to let her know it was intentional—he made himself a smoothie of metal bolts, glass shards, and the wails of small children.

Not even her noise-canceling headphones could block out the sound.

Whistling, he opened and closed some cupboards—seven to be exact—then slammed a few more before settling in for a long summer’s snooze. Based on his sonic boom of a snore, evidently the hall light didn’t bother him, because he’d left it burning bright.

And he’d been the one to make her feel guilty for waking him up at an hour when most people would be sitting down for dinner.

Beyond irritated by the hypocrisy of it all—another thing to add to her WORST ROOMMATE EVER list, right between HUMBLE-BRAGGING and STEALING MY BEER—she flung back the covers; marched out the door; and came to a sudden, startled stop as the bottom of her stomach dropped out.

Sweet baby Jesus. Her lungs seized, unable to release any air because three feet in front of her was Rome’s very own Romeo. Sprawled out on the recliner, with his ballcap pulled low, he and his Calvin Kleins were on full display. The man clearly had a thing against wearing pants.

Or he was marking his territory. Bringing out the big guns—the big everything.

She barely had time to register that he’d moved the recliner one hundred and eighty degrees, leaned it all the way back with the footrest fully extended, successfully blocking any escape come morning. Because her attention was drawn elsewhere.

With her blue fuzzy blanket only partially covering him, she was able to watch the hypnotic rise and fall of his chest—his very defined chest that had just the right amount of hair and just the right amount of muscle.

The peaceful way he slept irritated her. One arm flung over his eyes, a leg resting on the floor, and—hello—if that was his morning wood at two a.m., her body sighed a breathy oh my at the thought of how it would look come sunrise.

Placing a hand to her chest, Annie gave herself five seconds to gawk. Five seconds, then she’d retreat and he’d never know, because he’d clearly won this battle. As she saw it, her only other options were:

1. Hope that he’d wake up before she had to go to work and move the chair—not likely, because he was settled in for the long haul.

2. Nudge him awake and tell him he was a jerk—which meant admitting he was getting to her.

3. Come morning, crawl under the footrest—only, she was done shimmying for any man.

4. Crawl over him while he was half-naked—and wouldn’t that just make his entire year to catch her on top of him, her heart going pitter-patter.

Which led her to another problem. When he was sleeping and not spewing man-speak, he almost looked human.

She could see how some women could find his strong, capable hands and washboard abs appealing. He was tall, fit, handsome in that worldly way that showed he’d lived a full life.

Oh, who was she kidding. The man was sex-tabulous.

“Reconsidering that spooning offer?” The deep rusty voice brought her attention to the fact that while she had been watching him, he’d been watching her. “There’s room.”

He patted his lap, mere inches from his mighty impressive package, and Annie’s heart picked up pace as if it were racing in the Indy 500.

She pinned her guilty and embarrassed gaze on his, which was not embarrassed at all. His lack of pants didn’t seem to affect him one iota, just brought a charming grin to his lips, and amusement—plus something a whole lot more dangerous—to his eyes.

“Nope. Merely reevaluating our public education system. Are you illiterate or just rude?”

Emmitt glanced at the empty carton on the ground with a big neon pink “Anh’s, Do Not Drink” sticky note stuck to the front of it. “Rude would be putting it back with just a swallow left.” He shifted in the chair, the movement starting a domino effect of ripples from his shoulder muscles all the way down past his abs.

His pecs danced mockingly, and Annie jerked her gaze north to find him smiling. “Now who’s the one being rude?” He tsked. “Objectifying me when I’m in a vulnerable position.”

She snorted. “Please, you knew exactly what you were doing when you decided to park yourself in a chair in the hallway in nothing but your boxers.”

Picking up the blanket, he draped it over his belly as if making an effort, when really all he managed to cover was his right rib and flank, leaving his sirloin and all other loins completely on display. Then he reclined the chair even farther back, folding his hands behind his head in a pose that was so male, it had her lady parts tingling like champagne bubbles on the tongue. “What am I doing, Anh?”

“Trying to rattle me!”

“I have that effect on women.” His voice was rough with sleep—as if he’d spent the earlier part of the night sharing long, hot, drugging kisses.

“Not this woman. I’m not rattled at all,” she lied. “So sorry, your big plan to make me leave won’t work.”

“Actually, I—”

“May I finish?”

“Continue,” he said, looking so unrattled it rattled her more.

“What you did was shitty. It’s not as if my night hasn’t already been crappy enough. You knew I was frustrated and tired and, well—hurt.” The admission caught her off guard, but she decided to own it. “Yes, I was hurt and embarrassed, and to make it all worse, I discovered a stranger was, rudely, eavesdropping on a very difficult conversation. So I went to bed to lick my wounds in private and sleep because, well, because . . .”

“You are frustrated and tired and hurt,” he prompted.

“Frustrated and tired, no longer hurt. Now I’m mad. At you!” She stabbed a finger in his direction.

“Me?” he asked as if finding this all incredibly entertaining.

“Yes, you! I am needed at the hospital very early, and you felt it necessary to come home and slam every cabinet in the kitchen. If you wanted to make a big enough ruckus to wake me, then well done, Emmitt Bradley, well done.” She ended with a mocking slow clap.

“I didn’t mean to wake you. And for that, I’m sorry. I also wasn’t aware you had to work early, or I would have been quieter.”

Admittedly, she was a little thrown by his sincere apology. “I don’t actually have to work early. One of my patients is going in for gallbladder surgery tomorrow and she doesn’t have any relatives on this coast, so I offered to be there when she woke up.”

“Do you offer this kind of bedside service to all your patients?” he asked softly. No teasing, no goading, and absolutely no boyish innuendo. Just a tender look in his eye that she hadn’t seen before.

“Just the special ones,” she said, but didn’t move, a sudden shyness taking over.

He let her comment hang in the air, then gave her the tiniest of smiles, which had her looking away.

“As for the cabinets, again I apologize. I came home with a splitting headache, and since all my things, including my painkillers, were locked in the bedroom, I went in search of my backups, which used to be over the sink. Imagine my surprise when I found a small warehouse of scented candles in their place. It seems while I’ve been gone, someone’s reorganized my kitchen.”

“Oh,” Annie said, now aware of how furrowed his forehead became when he spoke or moved, as if tensing it in anticipation of pain. Had she completely misjudged the situation? “I thought you were just being a jerk.”

“I’m surprised, Goldilocks.” He placed an affronted hand to his chest. “I took you for someone who looked beneath the cover before passing judgment.”

It was the second time he’d said as much tonight, which had her reconsidering if, perhaps, she had been hasty in labeling him a self-absorbed playboy. The playboy part was true, but the other part? She wasn’t so sure anymore.

“Seriously? Look at you, sitting here like the big bad wolf, blocking my exit and trying to intimidate me into getting your way.”

“I think you’re confusing fairy tales,” he said, although his big, bad smile said he liked the comparison.

“I was afraid you were pissed from earlier,” he went on, “and decided to play a game of hide-and-seek with my things. So I stationed myself outside the bedroom, in case you tried to sneak past me and lock the door before I could grab my things from inside.”

She studied him for a good long moment and, even though her BS meter was going ballistic, she couldn’t sense an ounce of deceit. And when he explained it like that, all sincere and rational, Annie felt like the jerk.

“Admittedly, I had a bad night and you may have caught some of the brunt, and for that I’m sorry. But I’m not actually one of those Crazy Cuties of yours who would do something like that,” she said, embarrassed that he’d think she’d stoop to such immature antics. “I did gather your personal things from the bedroom, though, and placed them next to the garage door so they’d be closest to your car when you left tomorrow. Even stuck a note on the pile.”

“Bet I can guess what the note said.” When she merely grinned, he laughed. “Then I guess it was worth it.”

“I guess so,” Annie said, and realized she was laughing as well. That was when Annie had another, more shocking, realization. She was no longer upset over her call with Clark. In fact, the apples of her cheeks felt bruised from her enormous grin.

“Imagine how good it will feel when you unleash on some guy who actually deserves it, like, I don’t know, that asshat you were talking to earlier. A little suggestion though—you might want to consider cutting down the smile a bit and maybe lose the snickering, but I bet he’d drop that check in the mail A-sap.”

She covered her face. “Just how much of the call did you overhear?”

“Enough to know that you clearly have a sweet side and that he’s taking advantage of it.” His tone was soft, his expression stone-cold, almost as if he were being defensive—of her.

“I’m as sweet as sweet comes. You just happen to bring out my—”

“Bad girl side?” He sounded hopeful.

“I was going to say my impatient side.”

“Whatever it is, you might want to channel the girl who doesn’t have a problem telling me to fuck off next time that idiot calls for wedding advice. Otherwise, you may as well kiss your ten grand goodbye.”

“Just because I’m nice doesn’t make me a pushover.”

“Good.” Emmitt scratched his chest like a bear settling in for the winter. “Then call him.”

“What?”

“Go on,” he goaded. “Call him and tell him that you aren’t his Anh Bon and demand that he repay the ten grand immediately.”

“Um... My phone is charging in the bedroom.”

He lifted his cell from the armrest and offered it to her. “You can use mine.”

“I don’t need to call him in front of you to prove I’m not a pushover. I’ll handle it.”

“Good to know,” he said, but it didn’t look as if he believed her.

Even worse, Annie began to doubt whether she believed herself. Not only had she given Clark permission to steal her wedding venue and her grandparents’ wedding date, the call ended before she could squeeze a concrete date as to when he’d return her money.

“Just don’t come to me looking for a plus one when he asks you to be the best man. One look at me in a tux and you’ll be elbowing ladies right and left to catch the bouquet.”

“In your dreams.”

“Seriously though, you need to say screw everyone else and just do you,” Emmitt said without a hint of teasing in his tone. “I mean it. You don’t owe him anything. Hell, the prick owes you—and not just the money. He owes you one hell of an apology for putting you in that situation. Then he needs to apologize to you in front of your friends and family about the dress and stealing your grandparents’ wedding date.”

Wow, not only had he heard nearly everything but he’d thought about it long enough to form a strong opinion. The whole situation turned Annie’s stomach.

It wasn’t what Emmitt had said or even how he’d said it that burned. It was the humiliating fact that he was the first person in her world to say those words, to tell her to stand up for herself. What did it mean that a perfect stranger was able to understand what her closest friends and family had pushed aside in favor of civility? What did it say about her that she’d allowed them to?

“Do you think all of that will fit on a sticky note?” she asked.

Emmitt’s gaze lazily roamed over Annie’s body and down, and Annie felt zips of awareness follow in its wake. “You strike me as the type of woman who, once she sets her mind to something, doesn’t let anything stand in her way.”

The confident way he said it sent a rush of tingles racing through her body faster than her mom checking out a Black Friday sale.

“That’s a bold statement to make about someone you’ve spoken to twice.”

“What can I say—they’ve been insightful conversations. Plus, you’re pretty easy to read.”

Annie snorted—twice—because she was about as easy to read as a darkened street sign to a glaucoma patient.

Born Asian and raised by white parents, Annie came into the world a walking oxymoron. In fact, the more people came to know her, the more their initial assumptions were proved inaccurate. Annie was proof that you can’t judge a book by its cover. So she was embarrassed she’d done the same to Emmitt.

If being mysterious was considered intriguing, being a never-ending surprise was off-putting. People liked to rely on their judgment, and Annie was often misjudged.

“You laugh, but I bet I know more about you than most guys would after six dates.”

“This should be impressive, since I doubt you’ve been on six consecutive dates in the past six years.” When he opened his mouth to argue, she added, “With the same woman?”

“I’m so observant, I don’t need the same amount of time other people do to know if it’s a forever kind of thing,” he said, which surprised her because when he said “forever” he didn’t look as if he wanted to gag or would break out in hives.

“Are you saying you’re open to commitment?”

“If it’s the right person who came along?” He shrugged. “Why not? But I don’t need to string someone along to figure out if they’re right for me. I don’t play games with the people in my life, making them jump through hoops in order to figure out where they stand. Nah, that’s childish and pretty shitty, if you ask me.”

Annie saw a flash of fresh pain cross Emmitt’s face and realized that beneath the confident swagger lingered an uncertainty that drew Annie in. Her gut said he’d been played by someone he trusted and cared for. Based on the new sadness lurking beneath his words, that someone had deeply hurt him. And recently.

The caretaker in Annie wanted to ask if he was okay, but the pragmatist in her understood better than to pry. The more she knew about him, the more human he’d become, and the harder it would be to kick him out of his own house.

After a night like tonight, a smart girl would cut her losses and go straight to bed. Only Annie was tired of playing things smart, because instead of wishing him good night, she said, “Okay, wow me with your observation skills.”

If she was going to steer clear of charming players, then she might as well learn how to recognize the signs.

“Oh, you’ll be wowed,” he said and she rolled her eyes. “You don’t believe me? Then let’s make this a little more interesting. If I wow you with my superior observational skills, then tomorrow I get the bed.”

As far as she was concerned, Emmitt wasn’t going to be living here come tomorrow. So what was there to lose? “Wow me.”

“This is going to be good.” He rubbed his hands together like a kid in a candy store. “You have a thing for British mysteries, Shemar Moore, and reality dating shows.”

“Knowing what’s on my Hulu account doesn’t make you observant, it makes you a snoop.”

“No rules were stated at the beginning of the game as to how I come by my information. But I will lay off your horrific taste in television and get back to what a romantic you are.”

“Of course I’m a romantic,” she argued. “I was recently planning my own wedding. I’m sorry to say, Emmitt, you’re just another man whose talents have left me wondering why I bother.”

“You’ve clearly been hanging around the wrong men,” he tsked. “I was going to say, your romanticism goes far deeper than dream weddings, Goldilocks. Most women would jump at the opportunity to blow a few grand on a new dress, yet you went in search of the perfect tailor to alter your grandma’s. You also wanted to share her wedding date, which tells me she was not only the most important person in your life but that you never had to guess where you stood when you were with her.”

He went silent, studying her in an intense way that kept Annie shifting on her feet.

She was practically bouncing on her toes when he finally said, “I imagine that without her, you’ve felt a little lost throughout this whole ordeal.”

“Of course, I still miss her. It doesn’t take a psychic to determine that.”

“What was her name?” he asked, the question causing a wave of warm emotion to roll through her.

“Hannah,” Annie said on a swallow, wondering why the simple exchange of sharing her grandmother’s name felt so intimate. “And lots of women choose to wear their grandma’s dress. It’s a pretty common tradition.”

“You didn’t mention your mom wearing it, so I don’t think it was a tradition thing. I think you did it because you wanted Hannah there with you and that was the closest you could come,” he said, and her stomach did a little flip of uncertainty, because the guy was nailing it. “But clearly wedding talk isn’t wowing you as much as it’s upsetting you.”

“I’m not upset,” she lied, refusing to show him how hard it still was to talk about her grandmother. “I’m tired.”

“Then I’ll speed this up. You prefer baths but take showers to save on time. You have an appreciation for unexpected pairings, like pepperoni and green olives, dipping chocolate in jelly, oversized T-shirts and tiny panties. You’re a neat freak, but I bet you have one place where you say screw it and throw order and tidiness out the door.”

Her expression must have given away her surprise, because he laughed. “Is it the inside of your purse? Or maybe it’s your car, littered with wrappers, empty water bottles, and probably even a few of those madeleine cookies floating around in case of emergency. Wherever it is, I bet it’s a complete disaster. You are as much a romantic as a pleaser. You think nothing of sacrificing what you want in order to make things easier for other people, which is why you’re okay with being called Annie when you prefer Anh.”

A raw and familiar vulnerability swept through her, filling her heart before spilling over and burning like acid on metal everywhere it touched. Either he was incredibly intuitive or everyone else in her life was blind. And she wasn’t sure which upset her the most.

“You’re staring,” he said roughly.

“Just trying to figure you out is all, but since that would likely take longer than a PhD, and I have an early morning, I say we call it a night.”

“I guess even bleeding hearts need their sleep.”

“I guess they do.” And before she did something stupid, like climb onto his lap and ask him to tell her a fairy tale, Annie flipped the switch, plunging the room into darkness.

Oh boy, was that ever a bad move.

She should have made Emmitt turn off the light after she locked the bedroom—with her safely on the other side. Then she wouldn’t have noticed the way his Calvin Kleins seemed to grow brighter—and bigger—by the second. Perhaps her eyes were merely adjusting, still fully dilated to take in as much light as possible.

Or maybe her luck had finally hit rock bottom, because his undies were, without a doubt, glowing. The more her eyes became accustomed to the dark, the more confused she became, until she could hold back her laughter no longer. Emmitt of the “superior intuitiveness” Bradley wore a pair of glow-in-the-dark boxers.

She laughed as the shapes took form. “Are you serious? Kittens and rainbows.”

His grin grew two sizes that day. “Tell me, Goldilocks. Is it too big or just right?”

Annie went through all the options she’d laid out before and decided on option five. A full, humiliating retreat.

She turned and ran, as if hellhounds were nipping at her butt, and made it to her room in two leaps, slamming the door before jumping into bed. Still feeling ridiculously embarrassed, she pulled the covers over her head and closed her eyes for extra protection.

“Was it the kittens?” he called through the door.