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The House Mate (Roommates #3)
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What’s sexier than a bad boy? A bad ass man who’s got his shit together.
Max Alexander is nearing thirty-five. He’s built a successful company, and he’s conquered the professional world, but he’s never been lucky in love. Focusing so much time on his business and raising his daughter, adulting has come at the expense of his personal life.
His social skills are shit, his patience is shot, and at times, his temper runs hot.
The last thing he has time for is the recently single, too gorgeous for her own good young woman he hires to take care of his little girl. She’s a distraction he doesn’t need, and besides, there’s no way she’d be interested. But you know what they say about assumptions?
This is book 3 in the Roommates series, but each can be read as a complete standalone, as they feature new couples.
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In thirty-four years, I hadn’t found a woman yet who could handle me.
My buddies teased me that I had the attention span of a gnat, and while that wasn’t true—I had a successful ten-year career in the US Army as a Ranger, and over the last few years I’d built my business into something I could be proud of—I let them go on thinking it. No, there wasn’t a damn thing wrong with my focus or level of commitment. Once I decided on something, I was all in.
It was just the idea of being tied down to the same woman day after day—well, let’s just say it didn’t hold a candle to my freedom. I liked things the way they were. I was free to come and go as I pleased, work long days when business called for it, and take off for a weekend away when the mood struck. I enjoyed my life just the way it was, and I had no plans to change that anytime soon.
“How long’s it been since you’ve been laid?” my good friend and employee Matt asked, grinning at me over the rim of his pint glass with a crooked smile.
My life was simple, and I cherished simple. I didn’t do complicated. Didn’t do messy relationships or complex emotions. I was the center of my world and that was just fine with me. I knew it was selfish, but that’s just the way things were.
Realizing Matt was actually waiting for me to reply, I muttered out a curse and took a sip of my own beer.
“You’ve been a crabby asshole at work lately,” he added for emphasis.
Christ, he has the discretion of a crackhead in need of a fix. “You do understand I’m your boss, correct?” I glared at him, but he merely flipped me the middle finger. The dick.
We were seated at the bar of our favorite local hangout after a long work week. The Fireside Lodge served the best cheeseburgers and the coldest beer in town, and we found ourselves parked right here most Fridays. I was almost surprised the owner hadn’t marked these stools as reserved with all the time we spent on them.
“Thank fuck someone had the balls to bring that up,” Zach muttered under his breath.
“You draw the short straw?” I asked Matt. They weren’t generally the type to pry into my personal life, but they never hesitated to point out my foul mood.
Despite their annoying probing, they were both pretty good guys. They’d worked for me since I started my construction business on a wing and a prayer three years ago. They stood by me, agreeing to work for less than they were worth until I could afford to pay them more. Now we all did pretty well, but then again, we worked our asses off, so it was all relative.
“Seriously, man. You could use a woman in your life,” Matt said, gazing down into his half-empty beer glass.
“Or at least in your bed,” Zach added.
My life? That was a big fat no-fucking-thank-you. But my bed? That wasn’t the worst idea they’d ever had. I tried to remember the last time I’d had the pleasure of a woman’s company. To be fair, it had been a little while, maybe a couple of months, and damn if I was going to admit it to them, but there was a chance they were right.
“I’ll take that under advisement,” I mumbled, trying not to stroke their egos too much.
“Good, ’cause there’s a cute little number giving you the eye over there,” Matt said, nudging my ribs with his elbow.
His gaze drifted over toward the pool tables in the back of the bar, and mine followed. A blonde with heavy eyeliner and dressed in a pair of cut-off shorts and a red tank top that was cut dangerously low to reveal the edges of a lacy push-up bra stood with her hip out, staring me down. She wasn’t exactly my type, but my dick didn’t care. He’d just heard the suggestion of sinking into warm, wet pussy tonight, and he was all in.
Taking a deep breath, I pulled my gaze away, just in time to see the men flanking me sharing a conspiratorial smile. Assholes.
Thirty minutes later, I had the blonde in the cab of my truck and was headed for my place.
When we arrived at my house a few minutes later, I squinted at the beat-up sedan parked in my driveway. That wasn’t there when I left this morning. I parked on the other side of the driveway and climbed out of the truck.
“Stay put for second,” I said to the blonde and she nodded, her glossy red lips parting in a smile.
I walked around to the driver’s side of the sedan just in time to watch a woman climb out of the car. Dark blond hair hung down, partially obscuring her face, but I’d recognize those bouncy curls anywhere.