The Room Mate (Roommates #1)

I looked out onto the stage, the blood pumping so loudly in my ears, I could barely hear the music. Maybe coming out with them tonight had been a bad idea.

“I’m going to get some air.” Cannon strode away.

Allie heaved out a sigh. “He’s been through a lot these past few weeks. It’ll blow over. It always does.”

I got the sense that something had happened that I wasn’t privy to. Something that made Allie even more protective of Cannon than she usually was. The way he’d stormed off made me sympathetic. That, and I didn’t want Allie pressuring me about her stupid dating site again. I would welcome any escape route from that conversation.

“Did something happen? With Cannon?” I asked.

“What do you mean?”

“He’s a twenty-four-year-old man, Al. Surely he can handle dating on top of school and work if he wants to.”

Allie’s gaze turned from the stage and onto mine, and she chewed on her lip. “I shouldn’t say anything, but he’s had a string of bad luck. He attracts some real psychos.”

I wasn’t really sure what to say. Was Allie just blowing it out of proportion? Her belief that no one was good enough for her amazing younger sibling wasn’t exactly a secret. But what if she was telling the truth? What was I even supposed to do with that information?

At any rate, I didn’t want to stir up shit in the middle of a fancy party. Whether Allie was micromanaging Cannon’s life was their own family business; they could argue about it later if they wanted to. So I just said, “Really? That sucks.”

Allie looked like she wanted to say something else, then just nodded, her lips pursed.

We sipped our drinks for a few more minutes. Soon Cannon wandered back. The tension in his brow from earlier was gone, and he seemed relaxed and himself again.

With the awkward conversations behind us, I hoped, we listened to the band in silence. Allie swayed to the music while Cannon and I stood stiffly, mere inches apart, trying not to touch.

The setting should have been an almost overwhelming barrage on my senses; it was noisy, crowded, and provided prime people-watching. Yet all I could focus on was one thing—the man standing next to me. Cannon’s spicy male scent, the heat radiating between us. The way he seemed to be distracted by my presence as well only made me more aware, more curious about this mysterious thing developing between us.

One thing was certain—Allie could never know about my growing attraction to her brother dearest. I’d just seen how she reacted to any potential distractions from his career. And what was the point, anyway, if he was moving away in two months? I’d just end up sleeping in an empty bed again, but even lonelier this time, because my best friend would be pissed at me.

“Would you like to dance?” Cannon asked, turning toward me and offering his hand.

What the fuck did he think he was doing? I stared at him in disbelief. Did he want to blow our cover?

But before I could answer, Allie’s hand was on the small of my back, nudging me forward. “Go for it, Paige. You need all the practice you can get with the opposite sex, and it’s not like you’re going to fall for Cannon!” She laughed, giving me another shove.

Forcing a smile, I placed my hand in Cannon’s and let him guide me onto the dance floor, where other couples were swaying to the soft jazz floating around us.

“Thought I’d save you,” Cannon said, his voice rich and silky near my ear.

My posture relaxed almost immediately. So that was what this was about. “Thank you.”

“She means well, you know.”

I nodded. That much was true.

While we danced, Cannon hummed along to the words of the Frank Sinatra song, moving and guiding me in sync with the music. I was starting to realize there were so many little things I didn’t know about this man.

Holding my hand in his large palm, Cannon gripped my hip with his other hand as he guided me across the dance floor. I glanced over every so often to see if Allie was watching us, but she wasn’t. She was chatting with an older man at the bar.

“Why are you still single?” he asked.

I looked up, inhaling the mouthwatering scent of crisp aftershave on his stubbled jaw.

“You’ve always been sweet and kind. I half figured you’d be married off by now.

I shrugged. “Not married. Not even close.” Just a soon-to-be thirty-year-old woman living with a dog.

“I see that. But you’ve grown into quite a beauty, princess. It makes no sense. Are you sure there’s not a reason you’re single?”

“No reason. I’m waiting for love,” I said, surprised at the honesty in my words. “And he seems to be taking his sweet time.”

Cannon nodded. “I see.”

As one song ended and blended into the other, Cannon continued to hold me, swaying to the music. We talked again about the art of making lemonade, and that’s when I decided I wasn’t just attracted to his good looks, or masculine appeal. I was attracted to the man inside, the person he’d grown into.