Every Sweet Regret (Orchid Valley 2)

“Not at all. I’ve split groceries with roommates before, and it was always a nightmare.” I smile.

“Right? This is so much better.” She returns my smile, and I feel hopeful about my living situation for the first time since Dean admitted he needs me to get out of Mom’s place.

“I really love this place,” I admit. “When can I meet the roommates?”

“Well, Danika’s out of town, so she said she trusts us to pick without her, but Jay’s just out back if you want to meet him now.” She points over her shoulder toward the yard.

“That’d be great. Thank you.” I follow her through the pantry and to a back door with crumbling concrete steps that lead to a cracked patio. It’s not a problem for me—this is the typical condition of these historic homes before guys like Kace and Dean get their hands on them—but I can’t help but compare it to Kace’s backyard, which was like this when he bought the house and now looks almost new after only a couple of months of his hard work.

“We have a potential roommate,” Kat announces, pulling my attention off the patio and toward the guy lounging in the lawn chair.

He turns to me, and I freeze. Kat’s roommate is Jared. My disastrous date from Friday night. And he’s looking at me like I’m an obsessive stalker he can’t escape.* * *KaceTuesday passes in slow motion. Despite giving Dean what I thought was a pretty damn believable excuse about searching for plumbing parts in his mom’s shed, he acted weird as fuck the entire two hours it took to fix that stupid leak. I got so sick of him giving me sideways stares that I was ready to lecture him about Stella being an adult who can make her own choices. But I’m still ninety percent sure he doesn’t know there’s anything happening between me and her, and rather than open that can of worms, I kept my mouth shut.

By the time we were done, Stella was gone. It was for the best, maybe, since I had my own shit to do. Unfortunately, counting her freckles with my tongue wasn’t on the list. If she’d still been home, I might’ve kept her from class so I could make good on some promises.

As it is, I don’t think I’ve gone sixty seconds without thinking about her. That mouth. The sight of her on her knees. The heat between her legs. The sounds she made when she came. I spent most of my day hard and obsessing about sex, and now I remember what it’s like to be sixteen again. Then Itsy messaged me on Random, said she couldn’t stop thinking about me, and I felt like an ass.

I’ve never played the field before, and even though Stella and I are just casual, just blowing off steam with no promises or strings, it was strange to have one woman admit she’d been thinking about me while I was busy fantasizing about someone else. I know I’m not doing anything wrong, but it doesn’t sit right. I wasn’t sure if I needed to tell Stella about Itsy and vice versa or if that was completely unnecessary, but then I realized it doesn’t matter if it’s necessary or not. I’m not the kind of guy to omit information like that—even if nothing serious is happening with a woman.

So I told Itsy—that was the easy one—and now I need to tell Stella, who I’m pretty sure is going to laugh at me. I’m so anxious to get this over with that I came to The Orchid with the flimsy excuse of needing to check in on the new steam rooms my guys are installing, even though they have it covered and sent me photo updates yesterday.

As expected, the tile guys are still on track. Just like they were yesterday. But I play it cool and check in with Brinley to make sure she’s happy with the progress and doesn’t need anything else. She is. And doesn’t. Just like yesterday.

Only then do I allow myself to head up to reception to look for Stella. I don’t even know if she’s working today, and if she is, it’s not like I can pull her away from her post to fuck her on a massage table. Though the idea of Stella, massage oils, and an adjustable table holds enough appeal that I file the idea away. Just in case the opportunity presents itself . . .

I push through the swinging door between the staff hall and reception, and my heart sinks at the sight of a young woman at Stella’s regular post.

She smiles brightly. “Hi! Can I help you?”

“Um.” I shift and shove my hands in my pockets. “Is Stella working today?”

The girl shakes her head. “No, but she’s in the back with the chef. Want me to page her for you?”