Reluctant Roommates Read online

  Told him. Didn’t ask.

  “Excuse me?”

  She’d lined up bowls on the countertop and was reaching for plastic bins that looked like dog food containers. “I have as much legal right to be here as you do at the moment,” she pointed out, not unkindly.

  He joined her at the counter. First priority at the moment was learning how to care for the dogs. He saw that each bowl had a name. And that taped to the inside cupboard door was a list of who got how much of what and when.

  She could have mentioned that to him earlier.

  The fact that she hadn’t, told him that he wasn’t the only one being proprietary. He made a big mental note to not let down his guard.

  “I wasn’t talking about legal rights,” he countered as she handed him one of the larger food bins and a measuring cup.

  “That’s for Buddy, Abe and Darcy,” she told him, leaving him to gather the right bowls and follow measuring instructions. “And I am talking about legal rights,” she said then. “Partially because I’ve already given up my apartment and, today, unloaded my SUV with all of my stuff out in the garage and in the back bedroom off the kitchen.”

  Three bowls loaded and in hand, he almost dropped them as he stared at her. “You’ve already moved in?”

  The five dogs swarming at their feet, whining, sniffing, generally tripping over themselves, were nowhere near enough distraction from the bullet she’d just shot straight through him. She was living in his house?

  Possession was nine tenths of the law and he’d had it. Or so he’d thought.

  Had planned to spend Sunday alone with his father’s home. Learning things.

  “Today,” she confirmed.

  And he suddenly knew what that long drawn-out “no” in response to his question that morning about her living at the mansion had been about.

  Perhaps it would have been wiser not to have ignored the opening that strange “no” had given him. Asked her what she meant by it, why she’d said it like that. He’d chosen to ignore whatever it might have been. He wouldn’t do that again.

  Another note to self.

  He had the feeling that he was going to need a list for all those mental notes he was compiling. Rules by which he’d keep himself sane and prevent as much damage as possible in the days to come.

  To manage his way through more Walter tumult. He’d known, the second he’d seen Paige with the dogs—maybe before that, even—that she wasn’t a user. Walter might have attracted a gold digger or two along the way—people who’d thought his cheerfulness made him manipulatable—but he’d also rid himself of them.

  He missed his dad as he bent to put bowls down along the side wall, several feet apart, as she designated.

  And said, “So, we’ll be living under the same roof for the remainder of the weekend,” as he rejoined her at the counter, wanting her to know that he wasn’t going to kick her out. Only Annie and Checkers were left to be fed. He grabbed the old dog’s bowl. Paige gave him a food container. He noted which one. And checked the list for the feeding amount.

  “It’ll be longer than just the weekend,” she told him. “Regardless of what stipulations the will puts on us, I have no place else to go.”

  “Neither do I.”

  She nodded.

  He didn’t.

  No way was he going to be living indefinitely with the intoxicatingly bothersome woman in his midst.

  Chapter Five

  Paige thought about leaving. Heading out was her strong point. Something she could count on. She never had a problem saying goodbye to a current circumstance and moving on to the next. It was a key aspect of herself that drove her life.

  It was one of the traits she most admired about herself. In spite of the horrible tragedy she’d suffered, she’d still perfected an ability to be happy and productive, self-sufficient, without forming lasting attachments, which brought her ultimate peace.

  West had excused himself after the dogs ate and she’d been mostly glad to see him go. She’d have liked a bit more conversation to discuss different will scenarios and options that might allow them both to come out satisfied.

  But had no idea how to initiate such a conversation. She diffused some lavender oil into the air, but turned off the pot when Buddy started to sneeze. Put on soft instrumentals, instead. Read some Deepak Chopra, with a hand on Darcy’s head and Erin and Annie curled on her skirt—one on her thighs and the other at her calves. She’d been relying on the author for years to help her live stress-free and had been waiting for his new book on meditation for months. She cleared her chakras.

  And every few minutes had her transcendentalism invaded by thoughts of Weston Thomas. Because he was putting her immediate safety and security in peril, she determined. The man’s presence was threatening to trap her down on level two of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs—making her worry about her living space being secure—which then prevented her ascent to the top of Maslow’s pyramid and her own self-actualization.

  She didn’t go to bed without getting there, if she could help it. And almost always, she could help it.

  Not so much that night. Reading wasn’t working. Her mind was wandering too much.

  But she couldn’t give in. She’d spent too many years studying, facing her deepest truths, on a quest for peace, and now that she’d learned how to find it, to get to that inner place where everything was okay, no way was she going to let a will, or a handsome stranger, suddenly disrupt her hard won happiness. She, like all humans, according to Maslow, needed to love and be loved. The dogs fulfilled that need. She had to feel good about herself. Done. So what was missing?

  She had to find that, to be able to float up to reach a good night’s rest. Paige retrieved her yoga mat and laid it out in the middle of the dogs’ room. They were part of her emotional health tool kit, and she liked to think she was part of theirs, too.

  She started her breathing before she’d even finished changing into purple yoga pants and a pink top—and was already much calmer as she lowered herself to the mat. Erin wanted to join in, so Paige scooted over to make room and, the music low, closed her eyes, breathed in deeply and slowly lay back.

  The second her body was supine, her breasts facing upward, she felt...exposed.

  And kind of sexy.

  Her nipples tightened.

  Ignoring them, she took breaths. Blew them out. Listened to the music. Pulled her knees up, grasped her feet and spread her legs for the happy baby pose that always helped her ease tension in her back.

  And immediately thought of West standing in that room, almost on the spot where she was lying, just hours before. His masculinity, while readily apparent when he was there, took over a space in such a quiet way she hadn’t recognized it sneaking up on her at first.

  What if the will did say they had to marry to keep the house?

  Signing a legal document joining their names together wouldn’t be the end of the world. She’d know it wouldn’t be a real union. There’d be no promises made of faithfulness or being together until death.

  Walter hadn’t mentioned West’s part in the plan, though, which made her uneasy.

  And disappointed. The older man had been so adamant that she give herself a chance to own property. To have ground that she owned. He’d been so certain that her life would expand in ways she couldn’t imagine.

  He’d hooked her in with the possibility of being able to fly higher during her time on earth.

  And look at her...already she was fighting for her right to keep the house.

  Because Walter was right?

  She’d given the wise and inventive old man her word she’d stick it out for a year. Mostly to comfort him, because he’d been so agitated at the thought that he could see something missing in her life that she could not see. And somewhat because he was a smart man, with a lot more life experience, and she was curious to find out if he was right.

  He’d called it a soul promise. And while Paige didn’t believe in forever in terms of human commitments, she did believe so, so strongly in existence after human death. No way she could see herself ever breaking a soul promise.

  That was something that went far beyond forever.

  Besides, he’d made a promise, too. He’d promised her that he’d watch over her siblings once he’d left earth.

  Gabby and Ursula were so uptight. Worried all the time about what bad could happen. They hadn’t yet learned how to relax and let life just unfold. Instead, they were in a constant fight with it, trying to stay one step ahead of disaster in any given situation.

  Being around them for any length of time exhausted her, though they kept in daily contact in a private social media group.

  She hadn’t told her sisters about inheriting a mansion.

  Or about West.

  They knew about the dogs, though. Stover leaving had been the day’s post. They’d understood her tears. Had been able to relate to them. Which was why she’d chosen that particular topic to share...

  Her thoughts froze midstream when she heard a footstep in the laundry room. Legs flying down to the mat so fast her ankles bumped hard against it, she sat up, back to the door, pressed her thighs tightly together and laid her forearms out, palms extended to the ceiling, her index fingers and thumbs connecting. The God finger connecting to the individual, personal self finger.

  Her legs should be crossed lotus style if she wanted him to believe she was doing yoga, but no way she was opening her crotch to him at that or any moment.

  She was banking on her assumption that Weston Thomas knew as much about yoga as she cared about spending her days looking at columns of numbers.

  And prayed that he’d see her prayer position and quietly slip back into the ether.

  * * *

  Hard as a rock, Weston figured he’d probably never fully recover from the view he’d just had of Paige Thomas’s crotch, barely concealed with pink fabric that had outlined some beautiful curves in such a thorough way.

  He’d approached the kennel room softly, hoping that she’d be off to bed, and not wanting to wake all the dogs, or get them riled up.

  Instead, her legs up as though she was giving birth, her hands clutching the arches of her feet to hold them there, was the most impactful hello he ever had or ever would receive. As quietly as he’d arrived, he’d backed up. Moving slowly enough that even the dogs who were awake didn’t notice him.

  Nor did their human companion.

  His immediate thought had been to go back upstairs to his room, get to the computer and try to get some work done. He hadn’t planned on taking Monday off, and he had a feeling after his talk with Lieberman that he was going to need the entire day to sort out his father’s affairs.

  And his lack of future affairs with the woman his father was somehow trying to tie him to.

  He’d made it out to the kitchen before the stark emptiness that had brought him downstairs in the first place struck again. He’d come down for Checkers.

  And still wanted to take the dog upstairs with him. Paige had the other five to keep her company for the night. All he was asking for was the one old guy that his father had formally adopted.

  He’d gone out for dinner. Had offered to get some for her, but she’d said she had stuff in the refrigerator. Standing in the kitchen he didn’t see any sign that she’d used it.

  And felt a little bad about that, too.

  He didn’t want her to think that she had to stay locked in the kennel, away from the rest of the house. Until Monday they had equal access. He needed to make certain he communicated that.

  All of which had brought him back out to the laundry room, walking with exaggerated sound as he approached the kennel room a second time.

  And stood there frozen, in awe of her beauty, as she sat, palms to the ceiling, praying.

  The woman was an enigma. A thorn, an irritant, and a slice of otherworldly beauty, too. He wanted her gone. There was no doubt at all about that.

  And yet...he was glad to have met her.

  He stood silently, waiting. No way he’d interrupt her prayer time.

  But the little poodle/bichon mix who didn’t eat enough, Annie, noticed him standing there. And when he continued to stand, she stood, too, ears up, and started to growl. Weston squatted down at the first sign of disturbance, but the little pug, who was using a corner of the yoga mat, barked. Then the beagle did. And the skinny terrier, Abe, came running toward him, tail wagging. He glanced up from petting the dog to see Paige watching him.

  She didn’t look happy to have him there. But she didn’t seem angry, either.

  He didn’t even want to think about the daggers she’d shoot his way if she knew he’d been there a few minutes earlier, too.

  There were some things a decent guy kept to himself.

  Including the ramifications of a healthy sex drive.

  He’d have an easier time with that particular challenge if she’d put something on over that purple thing she was using for a top. It left more of her bare than it covered. And let him see, quite clearly, that her nipples were hard.

  “I...wanted to fully acknowledge to you that I recognize your right to move freely about the house. You don’t have to stay in the back room. There are plenty of nice spaces upstairs.”

  “I’ve actually never been up there,” she said, standing and reaching for the skirt she’d had on earlier. Stepping into it.

  He’d never known watching a woman put her clothes on—rather than taking them off—could be so damned hot. Making him way too hot.

  “And I’m perfectly happy downstairs for now,” she continued. “At least until Monday. Once things are settled, then I’d like to see the whole place, and maybe pick a different room.”

  Another reference to him maybe not getting his father’s house.

  He wanted to remind her that she could very well be looking for another place to live on Monday, but held the words back. There was no point in antagonizing her further.

  “I also came down to get Checkers,” he said. The big old shepherd lay on a rug in front of the brown couch. He’d looked up, though.

  He couldn’t hear, but maybe his sense of smell told him someone else had entered the room? Or the ruckus of the other dogs had gotten through to him?

  “I thought maybe he could sleep upstairs with me.”

  “There’s no doggy door up there.”

  “I’ll take him out before bed.” He’d had a dog before. He knew how it worked. “And if he gets up in the night, I’ll put him out again.” He didn’t want to have to make it clear that he wasn’t asking. But he would if she pushed him.

  He stared her down. She nodded. “He likes that rug. Maybe take that up with you. And a bowl of water,” she added.

  Because she just couldn’t not get a word in, was that it? Or did she think him that selfish and incapable that he’d deny an old dog water all night?

  Again, he held back his thoughts. Nodded. Went to the cupboard for one of the stack of clean bowls he’d seen there. Waiting for future rescues, he assumed. Helping himself to one, he approached Checkers, wondering, now that he’d taken his stance, if the dog would even come with him. It wasn’t like he could call to him. Coax him.

  If he’d have been smarter, he’d have grabbed a treat from the box he’d seen in the cupboard.

  Paige watched his every move, of course.

  Waiting for him to fail?

  Or maybe just giving Weston the courtesy of letting him take his own path? A minute before he’d been edgy because she’d been instructing him. He couldn’t have it both ways.

  Whether he was cranky or not.

  He didn’t just kneel in front of Checkers, he sat. Dress pants on cement floor. Cement floor covered with a day’s worth of dog hair. Didn’t even bother him. He’d find a new dry cleaner soon enough. Placing his hand in front of the dog’s nose, he let Checkers smell him. And then touched him under his chin, and lightly scratched his neck. It might have been a dozen years since he’d owned a pet, but some things you just didn’t forget.

  “Signing legal documents and joining our names legally doesn’t have to mean any more than that.”

  Her words came softly. Interrupting his communion with a guy who was probably wiser than both of them.

  “Come again?”

  “If the will requires us to be married. We could go to the courthouse, get a license, go through the legalities. And then do the same in reverse.” She’d dropped down to the mat again, had Erin on her lap.

  “Get married and then divorced?”

  She shrugged. “Just saying...if that’s what it takes...”

  She had a point. But left a huge problem hanging out there. “And, say we did that, who would get the mansion?”

  Because he damn sure wasn’t living there with her. He’d been certain of that before. But after seeing what he’d seen...

  He got hard just thinking about it. And quickly thought of columns of numbers. Of a cold body of water filled with alligators, to deflate.

  If she had an answer to his question, she didn’t voice it. Probably a wise choice.

  He stood up, tugging gently on Checkers’s collar, and was surprised when the dog stood, and then, with urging in the form of taps on the head and hand motions, followed Weston to the door.

  “Your dad used to take him upstairs with him at night.”

  Which maybe explained why Checkers was going with him so easily.

  But something about her words, in her usual soft tones, was different. Deeper. Like she was telling him something important.

  He hadn’t known of Walter’s habit. No one had told him.

  And yet he’d had to come down and get the dog.

  Probably just a coincidence. Or habit born from Rusty sleeping with Weston every night until Weston left for college. He still had nights that he missed the dog.

  He had a feeling Paige was reading more into it than that. Trying to draw some kind of otherworldly connection.