Rooter (Double H Romance) (16 page)

“Rooter, you don’t need to babysit me.”

“I’m not.” He wraps his arms around my waist and grins. “I’m just hanging out with my girlfriend on her day off.”

The way he says “girlfriend” is so casual and natural sounding it nearly makes me forget the conversation we’re having. I tilt my head to one side. “You’re babysitting me.”

“I’m spending time with you and in the process making sure you’re safe. That’s what any good boyfriend would do.”

And now the word “boyfriend” has my insides stirring. Rooter—Jace Alexander Russo—is my boyfriend. It still doesn’t seem real. I don’t think it ever will. “Well then, you can help with the laundry.” I smirk.

“I’d love to fold your delicates.” He smirks back.

“I bet.”

Chapter 19
First Fight

“You two are sickeningly cute.” Miranda stumbles into the kitchen. “Is there coffee?”

“Almost.” I pull away from Rooter to grab two mugs from the cupboard.

Miranda fishes through another cabinet for aspirin.

“We’re out. I have ibuprofen in my purse,” I offer.

“Is it upstairs?” She leans her head against the cabinet door.

“Yep.”

“I can’t make it all the way back up there,” she whines as the coffee maker chimes that it’s finished.

“I’ll get it,” Rooter offers and runs upstairs.

“So,” I start once he’s gone. “You have a thing for Scary Beary now, eh?” I pour us both a cup of the coffee and add hazelnut creamer.

“He’s so fucking hot, Sophie,” she says making me chuckle. Never in a million years would I expect to hear that from her. “Do you think he likes me?”

“We both do.” I’ll never get used to referring to me and Rooter as we.

“Really?” She asks, her eyes turn bright, exuding excitement.

Rooter pads into the kitchen and hands me my purse. I fish out the bottle of ibuprofen and hand it to Miranda.

“Later,” I mouth to her when he’s not paying attention.

Rooter wasn’t kidding when he said he’d fold my delicates. He almost looks excited when I dump them on to my bed. Another tickle war ensues when I try to shoo him away from them. Of course, I lose. I don’t know whether to be glad or embarrassed that I only wear nice underwear. Collecting cute bra and panty sets is kind of my thing. It has nothing to do with sex or guys. I simply have an issue with wearing ugly or mismatch bras and panties. Miranda thinks I’m nuts. Maybe I am.

“Do you really need this many bras?” Rooter laughs. There must be fifteen of all different colors and materials laying in a pile before us.

“Yes, I do. They all go with their own matching panties,” I explain.

Rooter’s face changes from amused to desirous and it gives me tingles.

He clears his throat. “This is something I didn’t know about you.”

He picks up a bra and mimics the way I’m folding the one in my hand. When he’s done he pulls a purple, lacey thong from the pile.

“Do you actually fold these?” His voice is low, sultry.

I think this is turning him on. I like it.

“Yes,” I take it from his hand and demonstrate how I fold them. “Like this.”

“Seriously?” He asks. “There isn’t enough material to bother with.”

“I prefer things to be neat and in order. Makes it easier to find when I’m trying to pair things together.”

Rooter grabs another thong and folds it the way I showed him, followed by a few more pairs. When he comes across a red see through lace bra with black satin laces on the cups he stops and holds it up to me. A gasp escapes his lips followed by a curse. “You actually wear this just to wear it?” He’s staring at me slack jawed.

“Yeah,” I mumble, bashful.

“Go put it on,” he growls.

Now it’s my turn to go slack jawed. “What?”

“Knowing you have it on will be hot as hell.” He winks.

For grins, I do as told and go into the bathroom to change. When I return, we—or rather I—continue folding and putting the rest of the laundry away while Rooter stares at me.

After a putting a third load of laundry into the dryer, Rooter suggests the three of us grab lunch before heading to his shop. We can’t all fit in his truck so we take my car. He insists on driving and when he starts the ignition, my favorite former boy bander blares through the speakers. He jumps and shouts a curse before turning off the radio. Miranda and I laugh.

“Do you ever listen to anything else?” He asks.

I shrug. “Occasionally.” I turn the radio back on, but at a quieter volume.

“I seriously need to educate you on what real music is.”

“Oh, really?”

“Nirvana,” he holds his right hand up to count as he backs out of my driveway, “Radiohead, Soundgarden, Alice in Chains. Four of the greatest rock bands of the nineties.”

“Nirvana? No, thank you.”

“What? They are
legendary
.”

“They’re greasy and grungy, and that guy, Kirk whatever, couldn’t even sing. All he did was scream.”

Rooter stares me down with a dead serious expression that makes my heart skip three beats. “Do. Not. Ever. And I mean ever, hate on
Kurt
Cobain. The man was and always will be a legend.”

“Pay attention to the road.” I turn his face back to the windshield.

“Where do you girls want to eat?” He asks.

“Let’s go see Joe at Skyles,” Miranda suggests.

“You in love with him, too?” Rooter asks, amused.

“He is hot in an old guy sort of way,” she responds and I laugh. She leans up to my seat. “Poor Joe will be heartbroken when he sees you have a boyfriend.”

“He already knows,” Rooter tells her and winks at me.

Did someone turn on the heat in here?

After lunch, Rooter drives us to his shop to check on the bike he’s working on with Bear. I’m eager to see where he works and what he does, and he appears equally excited to show me.

Miranda totally geeks out over the opportunity to see Bear. She spends the entire ride from Skyles touching up her makeup and making sure her hair is perfect. I haven’t seen her this excited about a guy since she first hooked up with Chris.

“This bike will be sick as shit when we’re done with it,” he brags as we pull into the lot. His smile turns to a frown. “Fuck.”

I turn my head in the direction Rooter’s staring and see Blondie’s red Mustang parked in a visitor parking space in front of the main entrance. He parks my car by the employee entrance across the lot.

“What is she doing here?” I ask.

“Probably checking on her bike.” Rooter opens the car door and steps out.

Great. Not only is she hot, she rides a motorcycle.

He waits impatiently as Miranda crawls out of the backseat and then hurries us into the building. When we step inside he scans the immediate area, nervous.
What is he worried about? He said they’re done. Was he lying?

Rooter leads us into a dark room at the end of the hall and turns on the light. It’s a well decorated conference room with expensive, modern furnishings. The entire front wall is covered in glass and I can see the parking lot through a window across the hall.

“Wait in here,” he tells us.

“Where are you going?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

“I’m only going to see what she wants.” He speaks slow and cautious.

“Why can’t I go with you?” I cross my arms and shift my weight to my right leg.

“It’s just business, Sophie.”

“Then why are you hiding me in here?”

“I’m not hiding you.”

“That’s what it looks like to me,” Miranda smarts off and Rooter shoots her a warning glare. “Sorry.”

“Look,” he turns back to me, “I told you that was done and I meant it.”

“And yet, you’re stowing me away in a conference room.” I wave my arms at our surroundings.

He exhales and combs a hand through his short, dark hair. “You don’t want to come with me, trust me.”

“Why not?” I cock my head to the side.

“Sophie, it was just weeks ago that she and I…”

“Were fucking?” I finish for him.

He flinches. “Yes. And I don’t think she’d appreciate seeing us together.”

“Too bad.”

“Sophie, please,” he whines, impatient. “Trust me.”

I shake my head, exasperated. I do trust him. At least I thought I did until now. I look in his eyes trying to determine if he’s telling me the truth. Honestly, I can’t tell.

“I’ll be five minutes. I promise.”

“Fine. Go.”

“You’re pissed.”

How very observant of him.
“Yeah,” I huff.

He shakes his head. “I’m sorry.” He leans in to kiss my cheek and I have to fight the urge to pull away. “I’ll be right back.”

“Do you think he’s telling the truth?” Miranda asks as soon as he pulls the door closed.

“I have no idea.” With gritted teeth, I stare at the skank’s car through the window.

I pace the length of the vast room over and over for ten agonizing minutes. I’m getting dangerously close to going to find them. Or leaving. How fucking rude to leave me here while he goes to “talk” to his ex-trollop. Visions of Candace traipsing around in a slutty little outfit, leaning on and putting her hands on Rooter flow through my mind. I grip the back of a chair so hard that I snap off the end of a fingernail.

“Dammit!” I holler. “He’s got another two minutes and I’m the fuck out of here.”

“Look.” Miranda points to the window, her mouth hanging open.

Rooter is following a scantily clad Candace to her car. They’re both wearing shit-eating grins which piss me off even more. And then that bitch leans in, grabs Rooter’s crotch and kisses him. He jumps in surprise, but doesn’t push her away like I’d expect.

“What the hell?” We both gasp in unison.

The bitch lets go of Rooter’s junk, but leans in and says something to him that makes him smile before she gets in the car. I swear he even blushed! What the actual fuck? Rooter closes her car door, looks to this end of the building and walks back to the door he just came out of.

“Fuck this! I’m out of here.” I snatch my purse and dart out of the room.

Miranda follows me as I run down the hall to the door we came in through. “Hurry and get in the car,” I holler. And then I realize Rooter has my keys. “Shit!”

“Here.” Miranda tosses me her key ring. After we got locked out of her car at the movie theatre in the pouring rain a year ago, we started carrying each other’s spares.

As soon as we jump into the car I start it and throw it into reverse as fast as I can. I tear out of the parking space and hear Rooter scream my name. I watch him run after us through the rearview mirror as I speed out of the parking lot.

“He fucking lied!” I scream at the top of my lungs and punch the steering wheel sending a blinding pain up the entire length of my arm.

“What an ass. Watch that—” But she can’t finish before the car jerks violently to the left as I hit the curb with the passenger side tires.

“He told me they were done!”

“What are you going to do?”

When I see Miranda gripping the dashboard for dear life I slow down. He’s not worth risking my best friend’s life. “I’m done with his ass. I should’ve known better!”

“No, I meant, he’s just going to follow us to the house.”

I hadn’t thought about that. “You’re right.” I make a hard right and head in the opposite direction of our house.

“Where are we going?”

“Ryan’s.”

My knuckles sting as I furiously rap them against Ryan’s front door until he opens it.

“What the—” Ryan barks until he sees my face. “Sophie, what’s wrong?” He pulls me into his living room.

“He lied to me.” In my purse, my phone rings incessantly. It must be the hundredth time he’s called since I left the shop. I jerk the damn thing from my bag and scream into the receiver. “Stop calling me!” Knowing he won’t stop I turn the phone off after hanging up on him.

“What did he lie about?” Ryan leads me to his sectional and sits beside me.

I rehash the entire scene for Ryan in one long run on sentence. “I am so done with him.”

“I can’t believe he did that,” Ryan says, astonished.

“He did,” Miranda confirms.

“I can’t go back to the house,” I tell him. “Is it okay if I stay here for the night?”

“Of course, babe.” Ryan rubs my arm to comfort me. “Stay as long as you need.”

“Thank you.” I fling my arms in the air and nearly hit Ryan in the face. “God, I’m such an idiot!”

“He’s the idiot,” Ryan asserts and holds my hands in his.

“I believed everything he said. All that shit about how he never wanted to be with anyone until me. How I made him feel something he never felt before.” I jump up and pace the room. “All bullshit!”

“He even had me convinced,” Miranda admits.

“You warned me, though. I should’ve stayed away from him. Now what the fuck am I going to do?” I gesture wildly in the air. “He lives right next door!”

“Don’t worry about that right now,” Ryan says. “We’ll figure something out.”

“Yeah,” Miranda agrees. “You need to put some space between you and him.”

“I want to punch him in the face.” I draw back my fist and look around for something, anything to punch, but give up after I find nothing. “I want to kick him so hard in the balls he’ll never be able to fuck her or any other bitch ever again!”

“I know that feeling,” Miranda says.

“Me, too girl,” Ryan concurs.