As I mull over all the ways I could probably sue for this, I hear the sound of the front door opening and closing in the distance. Dean Ashby smiles as if this is completely normal and he didn’t just throw a huge wrench into my life.
“Speak of the devil. We’re in the kitchen!” he shouts in the direction of the front hall.
A tall, muscular man appears in the kitchen where Dean Ashby and I stand, watching in strained silence. The man’s brown hair falls in his face, his muscles contracting as he reaches up and pushes it back.
His eyes look from Dean Ashby over to me, taking me in from head to toe.
My heart beats wildly in my chest. It can’t be. This is not happening.
“You didn’t tell me there would be a maid here. My bags are at the front door,” he tells me with a smirk. He either thinks he’s being funny, or he’s being completely serious, which makes this situation ten times worse. Dean Ashby clears his throat before stepping forward to confront the guy.
“Oh, she’s not a maid,” he gestures to me. “This is Ellie Monroe. Ellie, this is Jamie Patterson. You two will be sharing the space for the time being until we can set up other accommodations.”
Jamie nods slowly, looking from Ashby then back to me. He assesses me once more, and I can feel my face burning. The way he looks at me is so intense, and it’s kind of making me uncomfortable. I just hope he argues this arrangement. Maybe Dean Ashby will reason with him more than he did me.
Finally, Jamie shrugs. “Fine by me.”
My eyes widen in shock and horror. ‘Fine by me’? Did he really just agree to this?
“I call top bunk,” he says with a wink. The smug smirk on his pretty face makes me grind my teeth to keep from saying anything.
Jamie freaking Patterson. Out of all the men in this world, how did I end up having to room with Jamie Patterson? This must be some sort of cruel joke, right? There’s no way I can share a house with this man. Not him. Not the guy that broke my heart all those years ago.
Chapter 4
Jamie
Her face twists in disgust, causing a smirk to grow on my face. She’s clearly pissed off, and my nonchalant attitude is making her blood boil even more. A strand of her blonde hair falls into her face as she looks between the Dean and me, looking completely appalled.
Dean Ashby must realize Ellie’s about to blow because he begins to reassure her.
“There are plenty of rooms in the house. No need to share one,” he says, his tone soft and careful, as if he’s trying not to set her off.
I know there’s a shit ton of rooms in this place, but I honestly wouldn’t mind sharing a bed with little MissPriss.
I can’t tell if she even recognizes me. It’s been years.
I mean, she looks incredibly angry, but that could be because she also wasn’t aware that she’d have a housemate. What are the fucking chances that I take a job at the one place my ex-girlfriend is working at? I knew she went to school here, but I had no idea she was also an employee. It’s like the universe said, ‘screw you, man”, and threw me to the wolves. And by wolves, I mean Ellie Monroe. The one that got away.
More like the one I dumped because I thought my career was more important than my relationship with her. To be fair, it was senior year of high school, and I was going into the NHL. She couldn’t honestly expect that we’d go off to school together and live happily ever after at eighteen, right? But the way she’s glaring at me says that might be exactly what she thought.
Her complexion pales when I make eye contact with her, her weight shifting from one leg to the other uncomfortably. I can tell she has no idea how to proceed, and yet she has so much to say. This is going to be fun.
Am I pissed that I wasn’t aware of a roommate? Hell yeah, I am. That wasn’t part of the deal. I never agreed to a fucking roommate. In fact, it took a lot of begging on Mr. Ashby’s part to even get me here in the first place.
Being a coach for a college hockey team was not on my bucket list.
I’m Jamie fucking Patterson, a right winger for the Rhode Island Storm, one of the greatest teams in the NHL. There’s no reason I should be teaching ungrateful douchebags how to play hockey.
Ellie’s eyes roam my body until they stop right at my knee where a black brace wraps around it, making it possible for me to stand upright. Right, that’s why I’m here. Her eyes shoot back up to my face, her cheeks reddening at being caught.
“I’m going to settle in. I have a lot to prepare for my first class on Monday. Thank you, Dean Ashby, for showing me around.” She picks up her bags and begins to head for the stairs. Before heading up, she turns around and looks at the Dean. “I expect this issue to be resolved as soon as possible.”
With that, she disappears up the stairs, leaving me and the Dean standing in the kitchen. He clears his throat and fixes his tie before turning to me. I’ve never met Martin Ashby, but something tells me he’s not usually this unsure of himself. He strikes me as the type of asshole who grew up wealthy and never struggled a day in his life. Someone who expects people to fear him. Well, I don’t fear anybody, so if he expects to be able to run over me, he’s dead wrong.
Ellie didn’t seem to be afraid of him, and I wonder if that’s because he was her dean for four years or he’s in her father’s pocket. I’m not an idiot, I know what her family does. Or did, I’m not sure if that’s still going on or not.
In high school, though, I pretended I didn’t know there was something off about her father and the wealth he had. I pretended that Ellie’s family was perfectly normal.
