Chapter Two EVERLEIGH

Chapter Two

EVERLEIGH

They’re quiet, all three of them sharing a quick look before Handsome steps forward, that gorgeous smile appearing on his face once more. Pretty sure he’s trying to disarm me with it. “A pretty girl like you doesn’t want to room with us. What would your boyfriend think?”

“I don’t have a boyfriend.” I cross my arms in front of my chest, vaguely offended he called me a pretty girl. It almost seems patronizing there for a minute and definitely not like a compliment.

“Oh.” He shares a look with his friends before returning his attention to me. “We’ve never roomed with a woman before, so maybe it’s a bad idea.”

“Why is it a bad idea?” I raise a single brow, resting my hands on my hips. Trying to appear braver than I feel. “From what I heard, it sounds like you need a roommate, and I need a room.”

“You do realize school starts in four days.” He tilts his head, watching me carefully. “Move-in officially started yesterday. And you don’t have a room arranged already?”

I get why he’s asking questions. I probably look like a dumbass to these guys, and maybe I am, but it’s not my fault everything fell apart on me. I’m just having a serious bout of bad luck.

Like .?.?. really bad luck. But they could turn everything around for me if we can make this work.

“I had a room rented, but it all fell through yesterday.” I lift my chin, swallowing hard when I notice the way his observant gaze skims over me from head to toe. “So now I’m on the hunt for whatever I can find. A room, a bed, a couch. One roommate, twenty roommates. I just need somewhere to live. Whatever it takes.”

“Whatever it takes?” Now it’s his turn to raise his eyebrows.

I’m blushing. I can feel the heat warm my cheeks. “I don’t mean it like that .?.?.”

“Like what?” His smile grows, if that’s even possible, and now I realize he’s teasing me. At my expense.

I sort of hate that.

“Can you cook?” asks the muffin guy with a hopeful expression on his face.

Handsome sends him a scathing look. “We’re not hiring her to cook for us.”

“What if she can, though? That would be kind of nice, right? None of us can cook for shit.” Muffin Man smiles at me, his brows lifting. He’s not as charming as the other one, but he seems pleasant enough. My heart rate doesn’t ratchet up when he aims that smile at me, not like with the other guy. “Can you?”

I nod slowly, not about to give away all my cards yet. I’ve been cooking dinner for my mom and grandma for years. Grandma taught me everything she knew and gave me a bunch of her recipes. “I can.”

I’m not a gourmet chef, but I doubt that’s what these guys are looking for. And if cooking meals is a part of the deal, my class schedule allows for it. I have no night classes this semester. They’re all on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons, giving me ample time to find a job, which I need to do ASAP.

After finding a place to live first, of course.

“Then the room is yours,” Muffin Man says firmly, earning a slap in the chest from Handsome. “Come on. Why wouldn’t you want her to live here?”

They form a huddle right there on the porch, with me standing on the sidewalk watching them, and I wish I could hear what they were saying. The coffee in my stomach sloshes around, reminding me I didn’t eat anything beyond a quick, cheap hamburger—not a cheeseburger, which I prefer, but I’m trying to save money here—from McDonald’s for dinner last night, and I’m starting to feel a little queasy.

“Want to come look inside?” the quietest one finally asks me, and the relief that floods my system nearly has me stumbling over my own feet as I head toward the porch of what could possibly be my future home.

“Sure.” I keep my voice purposely nonchalant, entering the house as he holds the front door open for me.

They all follow me inside, crowding behind me as I stop and take in the living room. There’s a brown leather couch with a matching love seat, and they’re both a little worn, as is the beat-up coffee table and the end table, which has a basic lamp sitting on top of it. The giant TV hanging on the wall looks brand new, though, and there’s a game console on the stand just below it, along with a couple of controllers.

I can see what their priorities are. Not a surprise.

There is nothing hanging on the white walls. No curtains on the windows, just basic white blinds. There’s nothing in here to make this place very homey. But it appears relatively clean, so that’s a bonus.

“I’m Cooper.” The quietest one offers his hand to me, and I shake it, startled by his strong grip. “That’s Dollar.” He points at the muffin man.

“Dollar?” I ask, my voice weak. What kind of name is that?

“Frank Dollar,” the guy formerly known as Muffin Man clarifies. “I go by either name.”

“Dollar, Dollar Bills, yo,” Cooper says with a smile, and I paste on a polite one, my gaze sliding to the only guy whose name I don’t know yet.

He’s watching me carefully, his gaze skeptical. I don’t think he’s 100 percent on board with the idea of me moving into their house, so I choose to ignore him, allowing the other two guys to take me on a complete tour.

“The kitchen is small,” Cooper says as he waves his hand toward the narrow space. “But it’s got everything you could need, and the fridge is pretty big.”

“We need the space since we’re growing boys,” Dollar adds, patting his stomach.

If that’s another hint he wants me to cook for him, I don’t know what to say. It’s best I remain quiet, pasting on a smile and nodding politely.

We make our way down the hallway, pausing to pop our heads into each open doorway.

“There’s four bedrooms total, which is pretty rare in this neighborhood,” Cooper explains as he points toward one of the rooms. “And there are two bathrooms. One of them is attached to the primary, though.”

“Which means you’ll have to share a bathroom with these assholes.” Mr. No-Name jerks his thumb in Cooper and Dollar’s direction. “Don’t know if you’re ready for that.”

I can’t help but wrinkle my nose at the idea. “I’m guessing you’ve got the primary bathroom?”

“Yep, I sure do.” There’s that smile again. The one that most likely makes women all over this campus drop their panties for him. “But I also pay a little more rent for the privilege.”

“How much are you renting the room for, anyway?” I mentally brace myself for the amount, heading for the last bedroom, which they haven’t shown me yet. I peek inside to find there’s a bed already in there, as well as a desk and a chair. But that’s it.

No problem. That’s good enough. The other room I rented had a similar setup.

I enter the room and check out the closet, which isn’t very big. But I don’t have a lot of stuff, so I can make it work. The bed is stripped and isn’t covered in gross stains, so that’s a good sign. There’s no dresser, but I could buy those cheap storage-bin drawers at Target or Walmart.

This has tremendous possibilities. Living with three guys, though? Will that be an issue?

I can’t worry about that. I need to take my opportunities where I can, and this one basically landed in my lap.

Moving away from the bed, I walk over to the window and push back the vertical blinds, making them clack noisily against each other. My breath catches when I take in the view.

It’s nothing but the ocean. The Pacific is right there, seemingly only a few feet away since the house sits close to a cliff. Which might be a little disconcerting if I think about it too hard, but beggars can’t be choosers in this moment.

“Rent for the room is fourteen hundred a month,” Cooper says, and I whirl around, shock coursing through me at the amount.

“But I was only paying eight hundred at the other place,” I protest weakly.

“That was just a bed,” Cooper reminds me. “Here you get an entire room.”

“I have to share the bathroom.” With two big burly men who probably aren’t very clean.

Ew.

“Maybe you can convince Nico to share his bathroom with you.” Dollar waves a hand in Handsome’s direction, and I turn to look at him, frowning a little at the revelation.

Of course his name would be Nico. Sounds and looks like he walked right out of a rom-com or a romance novel. I mean, look at him.

Tall, dark, and handsome barely covers it. He’s also broad and muscular, with a disarming smile and eyes that seem to see right through me. It’s a little disconcerting, if I’m being real with myself.

“Yeah, that’s never going to happen. I’m not big on sharing.” Nico crosses his arms in front of him, his expression turning stern, his biceps bulging. I don’t know what’s more distracting, his face or his muscles. “It’s why I pay extra rent.”

“Would you guys take a thousand a month?” My brain is scrambling, trying to process if I can even cover that much.

All three shake their heads, and I can feel it.

I’m losing them.

“What if I cleaned the house once a week?” Ugh, I hate to make that offer, but I’m getting desperate.

They share a look, one that says Who cares.

Men.

“I could cook too,” I add, a little reluctantly.

Dollar’s eyes light up. “You already know I love that idea.”

“But it means we’d all have to pay more rent,” Nico reminds him, sounding all growly and sexy.

Ugh, scratch the sexy part. Just growly. Grumpy.

“I don’t mind if she cooks for us. I’m so sick of fast food, bro. And pizza. We go there all the damn time,” Dollar practically whines. I’m sure he’s referring to the Woodstock’s Pizza that’s down the street.

“I mean, maybe not every meal, but a couple of dinners a week?” I offer, trying my best to remain calm. Like I don’t have everything on the line.

But I do. I’m desperately in need of a place to live, and this would work out great—only if I can get my rent down to a more manageable cost.

“We need to discuss this, if you don’t mind waiting?” Before I can respond, Nico is dragging the other two into his bedroom, the door slamming shut.

Oh God. It feels like my fate is in their hands, and I hate it.

I scurry back into the living room and perch my butt on the edge of the couch, fighting the anxiety that wants to sweep over me. I remind myself there have to be other options. They’re not the only place with a room/bed for rent.

Hopefully?

Eager to prove it, I grab my phone and google “rooms for rent Santa Mira.”

I scroll through the meager options, frowning. My heart sinks into my stomach. There’s not much offered, at least online. One of them is a bed for rent for $1,500—more than what they’re asking me now. There are also a couple of listings that sound super sketchy.

Sighing in utter frustration, I exit the Google search and hang my head, closing my eyes.

This is looking grim.