Every Sweet Regret (Orchid Valley 2)

All the more reason not to screw up whatever this is by becoming his tenant.

When I pull up to my next potential home, I feel like the universe may finally be on my side. This place is blocks from downtown Orchid Valley—meaning it’s walking distance from Smithy’s and The Orchid—and it’s beautiful if a little run-down. I’m supposed to meet Kat, one of the girls who lives here. If I move in, I’d be the fourth roommate, but the colonial-style house certainly looks big enough.

I park my car, but I’m a few minutes early, so I pull out my phone to see if Kace has messaged me. Sure enough, the notifications light is flashing, and I can’t click it fast enough.

GoodHands69: I’ve been thinking about you too. But listen . . . this is awkward, so I’ll just say it. I’m also talking to someone else. I realize you are too—maybe several other guys. That’s how this works, right? But I’ve never done anything but serious and exclusive. Since I’m not looking for either of those things now, I find myself in new territory.

GoodHands69: Honestly, I don’t know what the rules of casual dating are—or if you’d even call this dating. I do know I can’t play games and pretend I’m someone I’m not. So, I want you to know I’m involved with someone else. It’s just physical and temporary. But I don’t feel like that gets me off the hook for not telling you about her, either.I press my hand to my chest, but it doesn’t ease the ache there. Kace is seeing someone else.

I’m an idiot that I didn’t see this coming. He’s on Random. He’s looking to get back out there. Hell, I’m the one who’s supposedly “teaching” him how to do casual, and I should probably be feeling all warm and fuzzy that he wants even that from me. But it still burns like hell. I want to be enough. Enough that he doesn’t need to mess around with a physical relationship with some other girl. Enough that “serious” and “exclusive” are things he wants now—with me—not at some potential moment in the future.

I know I should be thanking my lucky stars that he’s even offering me this much. But is it better to go hungry, or to pretend you don’t need anything more than scraps?

I bite my lip and type out a reply.

ItsyBitsy123: You like her, then?He must be on his phone already, because a reply pops up fast.

GoodHands69: Yeah, but I can’t see us together in any meaningful way. This is just a fling. There’s no substance, just physical attraction.Hot with no substance. Poor girl. I know what it’s like to have Kace see you that way.

GoodHands69: I sound like an ass, but she’d probably tell you the same thing. She’s all wrong for me.And your thing with me? I type. Is THIS a fling? I stare at the words, then delete them. Don’t ask a question if you can’t handle the answer.

I shove my phone into my purse and head up to the house.

The front door opens before I can knock. “Hey! You must be Stella! I’m Kat.” Kat’s willowy and tall, with a dark braid that hangs to the middle of her back and tattoos up and down both arms. She told me on the phone that she’s my age, which is a bonus, since the majority of people looking for roommates are college students. I might be returning to college, but I can’t return to the college-party house life. Been there, done that, got the medical bills to prove alcohol poisoning isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

“Thanks so much for letting me take a look at this place,” I say, peeking over her shoulder. “It’s beautiful.”

“We like it, but it has its flaws for sure.” She smiles, waves me inside, and proceeds to show me around the house.

I love the hardwood floors and high ceilings. I’d never be able to afford a place like this on my own, but as one of four people splitting the rent, it’s doable.

After we look around upstairs and I’ve checked out the available bedroom, Kat takes me back to the main floor and pushes open a swinging wooden door off the dining room. “This is the kitchen,” she says. “Obviously, it’s tiny and needs updating, but the appliances all work. We use the closet back there for a pantry, so there’s plenty of room for our food.”

“I don’t cook much anyway,” I say, flashing her a smile before I peek into the pantry. Each of the shelves is labeled with a different name. “Does everyone buy their own food?” I ask, returning to the kitchen.

Kat makes a face and nods. “Yeah. We tried the whole split-the-grocery-bill thing, but it’s not a good fit for this group. I’m a vegan,” she says, pressing a hand to her chest. “Jay eats like a teenage boy, and Danika eats out constantly.” She shrugs. “It works better this way. I hope that’s not a problem.”