Filthy English (21 page)

I shook my head. “My mom’s house is too far from campus to drive each day. I’d be exhausted. Plus, she drives me crazy.”

Hartford sighed, his eyebrows pulled low. “Then let’s keep looking. Something will come up.”

“We’ve looked for days,” I groaned. “There’s nothing, except that place over the drycleaners—”

Dax straightened up from the counter. “Sorry to interrupt, but in all honesty, I have someone else coming over tomorrow to check the house out, so if you want the room, we’d need to get this settled tonight. Otherwise”—he waved his hands around the kitchen that was in disarray—“I need to get back to work.”

He was trying to get rid of me
.

And that thought speared my heart.

I exhaled, rubbing my eyes. My legs felt like rubber and my body was bone-weary as if I had the flu. Since the moment I realized Dax had deserted me, I’d been listless. Lost. My thoughts were scattered so much I couldn’t seem to make a decision about anything. My brain was shit.

But . . .

What
was
I going to do? I couldn’t live here or with Hartford or my mom. Perhaps I could get a cheap hotel room for a few days until something came up . . .

“Remi?” Malcolm asked me, and I blinked up at him, realizing I had leaned my shoulder against him.

“You okay?” Hartford asked me, a look of concern on his face. He touched my shoulder.

I nodded and straightened. “Sorry. Long day.”

“Before you decide, let’s have a seat and I’ll tell you more about the house,” Dax said out of the blue, indicating the four chairs at the table.

I glanced up to find his eyes on my face. They’d softened. “I’ll grab us some sodas. What would you like, Remi?”

I found myself sitting down in one of the chairs and asking for a Coke. Hartford hesitated, but plopped down with a resigned expression on his face. He declined Dax’s offer of a drink. Malcolm looked pleased and took the Coke Dax handed him.

Dax took the seat to my right, and because it was a round table, his chair was close enough to mine that the heat from his skin was a tangible thing. His masculine scent slammed into me, bringing back memories of the hotel room. I stuck my hands under the table and kept them clasped together. Tight. Malcolm sat on the other side while Hartford sat across from me.

I felt dazed as Dax gave us the details about the rent—a four-hundred flat fee due the first of each month while he covered all the utilities. Generous—much less than I’d expected.

But you can’t live here!

He ran through the deposit fee (a hundred dollars) and a small list of rules he’d typed out along with a lease agreement. I’d be responsible for my own food and would get the smaller bedroom upstairs, which came with an attached bath and a small office where I could put a desk or anything else. I paused. Perfect for Malcolm when he stayed over sometimes.

“Basically, you’d have the run of the upstairs while I get the downstairs. We can share the kitchen, den, and patio outside.” He tapped a pen on the table, his bicep flexing and calling attention to his tattoo.
Tap. Tap.
Mr. Beautiful was antsy.

I also noticed he hadn’t shaved in several days and there were bags around his eyes, as if he too had had some restless nights.

Stop staring at him!

Malcolm must have been watching him too. He squinted. “You’re what girls call a hottie. I bet you have a lot of sex.”

“You can’t talk about sex in front of people you just met, Malcolm,” I said, grimacing. “At least give them a few days.”

“Thanks, I suppose?” Dax laughed and put his hand out. “Sorry, I didn’t say hi before. Guess I was distracted. You’re Remi’s brother, Malcolm, right? She told me about you.”

Hartford stiffened at that.

Malcolm shook his hand. “Yes, and to clarify, if this arrangement works out, I’ll be staying over sometimes. My mom works nights as a manager at a potato chip factory. Pringles. It makes her smell funny, but she had to go to work after my dad died. We used to have money but now we don’t as much. Remi likes to watch me because I wander off. Not too far. Just to the store and back but it drives her crazy. I also like to eat pickles and drink lemonade. I like your house. It’s bigger than the rat-hole apartment we found above the dry cleaner on 5
th
Avenue. It had roaches and people were doing drugs out by the dumpster. Hartford said we couldn’t stay there. He and Remi were going to get married, but he dumped her and now he wants her back. She’s sad. I talk. A lot. Does it bother you that I’m autistic?” Language development had never been Malcolm’s weakness. If it’s true that autistic people have a special gift, his was gab.

Dax grinned, the first genuine one I’d seen. “Not at all. It’d be nice to have another guy around. Do you like to play Xbox?”

“I will kick your ass at Halo.”

“Language,” I said but no one seemed to notice.

“You can try,” Dax snarked. “And, by the way, I love pickles too. There’s a whole jar of dills in there right now that my step-mum, Clara, brought me. She canned them herself.”

Malcolm took that in. He adjusted his wire spectacles and focused on me. “He’s cool. You should totally live here.”

“Yeah. What he said.” Dax gazed at me, his tongue dipping out to dab at his lower lip. He bit it, and I tore my eyes off him. Jesus.
What was he doing?

As if directed by a part of my brain I had no control over, my right hand toyed with the small strand of pearls I’d put on with my sundress.

Dax inhaled sharply, dropping the papers he’d been holding on the floor between us. Bending down from his chair, he reached to snatch them, his eyes snaking over my legs. I crossed them and he flinched, a flush rising in his cheeks as he sat up and put the paper on the table.

I dropped the pearls and twisted my wrist.
What was wrong with me? Why was I baiting him?

I glanced back at him to see that his face had whitened. I followed his eyes, realizing he’d seen the engagement ring on my finger.

I stared at the rock that symbolized everything I wanted. Hartford had asked me to wear it again, and I’d finally agreed the day we landed back in Raleigh. Part of me had wanted to make my mom happy and keep Malcolm from worrying about me. The rest of me was ambivalent as hell.

Hartford’s impatient voice brought me back. “We’re losing daylight here on the search for an apartment, Remington.”

Instead of answering, I focused on Dax. His eyes caught mine, and bit-by-bit, everyone else in the room disappeared.

“I’m going to live here,” I said, turning my gaze back to Hartford.

His face reddened. “You can’t mean that—”

“I do. The rent is right, there’s a place for Malcolm, and it’s minutes from campus. It’s everything I want.”

“Except it’s a guy you’re considering living with,” he said, his voice sharp.

“I have nowhere else, Hartford.”

And you’re the reason I’m in this predicament,
my eyes said.

Had he so easily forgotten?

“I’m choosing where I live. No one else,” I added firmly.

He flicked his eyes to Dax and then considered me, a look of distaste on his face as if he smelled something rotten.

Dax cleared his throat. “Uh, I can give you a few moments alone . . .”

“No, that’s not necessary. I want the room. Right, Hartford?” My lips tightened. If he didn’t agree with this. . . .

A few tense moments ticked by until finally he exhaled, leaned over, and put his hand over mine. “I’m sorry to be a pain, babe. I just want what’s best for you, and this isn’t it. With that said, I’ll support whatever decision you make.” He shot a dark look at Dax. “Anyway, I’m just down the road, and you can always stay over with me anytime.”

“Sure,” I said with obvious relief, glad he was getting on board.

Dax pushed the papers over for me to sign.

I stared down at them.

Him. Me. In a house alone.

What could possibly go wrong?

AFTER REMI AND
company walked out the door with a promise they’d be back with some bedroom furniture and the rest of her things at seven, I strode back into the den and collapsed down on the recliner.

Fuck, I was certifiably insane.

In what universe could I live with Remi in the same house?

How was I going to keep my hands off her?

You will because she’s wearing his ring and he’s what she wants. He’s on her list, remember?

While Elizabeth popped outside to talk on the phone with her friend Shelley, Declan grabbed two beers from the kitchen and handed me one. “So, a new roomie? That means income. Not bad, little bro.”

I gulped a swig down, my fingers toying with the label on the bottle. “Apparently.”

“She’s got a big-arse diamond on her finger.” Declan didn’t miss much. “Hartford’s fiancée?”

I nodded.

“You think it’s wise to live with her?” His eyes studied me.

“I can keep my dick in my pants.”

He tipped his beer up. Wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Uh-huh.”

I scoffed. “What?
Her?
You know she’s the Queen of Plans and Getting Shit Done? Trust me, I’m not up to her standards.” I spread my hands apart. “Plus, she’s with an Omega.”

“Yep.”

“She’s a klutz too. Falls over everything. She slipped in this club and fell right in my lap. You should have seen it.”

“Really.”

I sucked down a swig. “She’s into birds—big time. Like she’s planning on getting a doctorate—weird, right?”

“Maybe.”

“And that hair. It was long and she went and chopped it all off. I mean, the red is cool, don’t get me wrong, but it’s not long enough to wrap around my hand . . .” I stopped.

“I hadn’t noticed,” Declan said dryly.

“We got matching tattoos at the Friar’s Church.”

“Okaaay.” He’d been standing but sat down across from me on the couch, and even though I wasn’t looking him in the face, I felt the weight of his stare.

“Anything else you want to tell me about her?”

I exhaled. “Her dad died a few years ago. She—she knows what it’s like to lose someone. I told her about Mum—and the dragonfly. She got it.”

“Hmmm.”

“We got fake-married.”

Declan sputtered. “Not sure what that means, but you have my full attention. Care to explain?”

“No.” I stood and paced around the room, checking the window at the front to see if they’d left yet. They had. But she’d be back. Soon. I checked my phone. In about three hours. Great. I rubbed at the half-beard on my jaw. I needed a goddamn shower, and I hadn’t shaved since London.

“You’ve fucked her before, haven’t you?” Declan’s voice came from behind me.

I sighed, still staring out the window. “Yep.”

“And London?”

I turned to face him. “I didn’t fuck her in London—wasn’t like that.
She fucked me
.”

Surprise crossed his face, then a slow understanding. “And now she’s with him?”

I exhaled. “They were on a break.”

He sighed, his gaze evaluating me. “Ah, dude. I bet there’s a story there. Do you want to talk about it?”

I grimaced, shoving that shit way down. “No. I want to forget it ever happened.”

He stood up from the couch and patted me on the back. “Yeah, bro, I think we’re gonna need some more beer.”