Roomies (A Standalone Novel) (New York City Bad Boy Romance) Read Online Free PDF Page A

I’m going, I should get there about ten minutes before he does.
    I just hope he relents
and does some of the talking. Sauced or not, I’m not looking forward to kicking
the guy out.
    When I get to my
building, I don’t bother waiting out front for Mike like I told him I would; I
just go straight up there.
    Maybe if I do this quick,
Mike can arrive just in time to throw Dane out on his ear.
    That’s the dream.
    I spend a few solid
minutes going through my pockets before I remember having left the keys inside.
    I knock on the door and
wait.
    While I’m waiting,
something triggers a memory within me. Something about my father, but I can’t
put a finger on it.
    I knock again, but
there’s no answer.
    He must be out.
    I don’t have Dane’s
number in my phone since my call history automatically deletes itself, so all I
can do is wait for Mike to get here and then track down the super.
    As I’m walking away from
my door, I realize what’s triggering the memory: someone's cooking confit de
canard. My dad used to make it in his restaurant.
    This is just perfect. I’m
drunk, irritated and now starving.
    As I walk down the
stairs, I pull out my phone.
    “Hey,” Mike answers.
“Where are you?”
    “He’s not there,” I tell
him. “Are you out front?”
    “Yeah,” he says. “Are you
drunk?”
    “I wouldn’t say that I’m drunk ,” I tell him.
    “You know, if we don’t
get that guy out of there, I’m going to have to start taking you to meetings.”
    “Yeah, yeah,” I say,
stumbling down the final two steps to the ground floor.
    “You okay?” Mike asks.
    “I’m fine,” I answer.
“Why?”
    The knock on the glass
door of the building answers the question for me.
    “Are you going to let me
in or what?”
    I hang up and open the
door.
    “Are you all right?” he
asks. “It looked like you rolled your ankle or something.”
    “I’m fine, but we need to
find the super. I forgot my keys.”
    The quest takes a while
as we chase Mr. Traven from floor to floor, the people in each apartment we
stop at saying that he just left. If I didn’t know any better, I would swear
that he’s avoiding me for some reason.
    We finally catch up to
him on the fourth floor and little droplets of spit fly out as he chastises me
for making such a ridiculous mistake.
    Grudgingly, he walks with
Mike and I back into that hallway, still filled with the fragrance of confit de
canard.
    “I’ll let you in,” Mr.
Traven says at the door, “but you’re going to have to figure something else out
next time. I’ve got two broken radiators, a refrigerator that stopped working
around three o’clock yesterday afternoon, and six or seven toilets to unclog. I
really don’t have time to save you every time you—”
    “I really appreciate it,
Mr. Traven,” I interrupt. “You’re an absolute lifesaver.”
    The gambit works and he
opens the door without showering me or my companion with any more spittle.
    As soon as the door is
open, I’m struck by the smell wafting from inside.
    “Smells like your
roommate is quite the chef,” Mike says, stopping to sniff the air. “What is
that, anyway?”
    “I don’t know,” I lie.
    My mind is elsewhere.
    Sitting on the kitchen
table is a plate of confit de canard with a note off to one side.
    I walk toward it and
breathe deep the succulent aroma while Mike makes his way to my side and picks
up the note.
    “I wanted to serve this
hot, but didn’t know when you were going to get back,” Mike reads. “Thank you
for renting me the room. I look forward to living here—Dane.” He looks up at
me. “Well, that was nice of him.”
    In my mind, I’m back in
my father’s restaurant, taking no small amount of joy in the fact that I’m the
only one in the whole place who doesn’t have to dress up to get a seat. Without
knowing it, Dane has given me the perfect gift.
    “This sucks,” I say,
finally opening my eyes again.
    “What sucks?” Mike asks.
    “I can’t kick him out now ,” I