He was rough. Not felonious rough, but still. He was a guy. If she went with a roommate, a female would be better. Someone who cleaned up after herself, kept to her shelf in the refrigerator, didn’t steal chocolate pie or play loud music.
“Way I see it, you’re raising money. I have cash. I need a place to sleep, and you have an extra room. Everybody wins.” He gave her some serious bedroom eyes.
“That’s not a good idea.” Claire’s expression turned serious.
“Why can’t you stay with your family?” Velma asked, rinsing the glass and carefully setting it on a drying mat.
Brek leaned his shoulder against the refrigerator. “Aspen’s got too much going on right now.”
“Where are you staying now?” There had to be someplace else he could stay. Anywhere else.
“My mom’s…” Brek slid a glance to Dean.
“Can’t you just stay there?” Claire slid her gaze to Velma and back to Dean.
“His mom’s is out of the question long term.” Dean stepped behind Claire and laid his hand against her waist in that proprietary way men did when they loved someone.
That was what she wanted, that feeling of being desired. A man who would place his hand on her and guide her into a room. She was going to “Dean” her life—find a man who treated her just like he treated Claire.
She forced herself to stand tall. No moping. This would be her new mantra. “Why is his mom’s out of the question?”
“She’s trying to set him up so he’ll settle down.” Dean chuckled. “You should see her when they’re together. She’s arealmatchmaker. She’s always got prospects marching through wherever he is.”
Matchmakers were a real thing? Velma made a mental reminder to check into that. Perhaps a matchmaker was the ticket to her meeting a good guy. Online dating had proven to net a load of not-so-nice guys.
“So, what do we need to do to get a yes on this?” Dean asked.
He had a look he used at the office. An expression he saved for when he wanted something—a ham sandwich from the deli or backup with a difficult client. The look, a combination of pleading eyes like a golden retriever paired with a subtle wink, had always worked on Velma.
Not this time. Things were changing. “You both have apartments. He can stay with one of you.”
“I already gave up my lease.” Claire stroked Dean’s hand.
Velma tried not to stare. She really did.
“And Dean’s place doesn’t have a guest room,” Claire continued.
Because Dean’s place had a home gym where Dean worked out. Frequently, Velma guessed, given the size of his biceps. They were almost as muscled as Brek’s. Almost.
Biceps were officially going on her list of must-haves. Biceps and the wink thing.
“Your place is close to the hospital,” Brek announced. “That’s why I thought of it. And the whole five-year thing. Figured we could help each other out.”
Oh dear. She was sunk.
“It’ll only be for a few months while he’s helping Aspen. You’re family. He’s practically family. What do you say?” Dean dropped his hand from Claire.
No way she could actually be considering this proposition. Then again, Brek wanted a room, not a prostitute.
“Okay. You can stay.” The breathy words escaped her lips.
Brek grinned, a flash of white teeth against his lips.
Her stomach flipped over.
“You’re the best little sister-in-law ever,” Dean said, like she was five.The only thing missing was a gentle noogie on the top of her head.
* * *
