Bad Girl (Alphahole Roommates 3)

A minute after sitting with them, laughing about the weekend, and how tanked we all got, dancing and laughing until dawn, I’m reminded that life is good right now. I’m above ground with the daisies instead of having to push them up. And despite that Carly is away for a week, I’m not totally alone. Between work and work friends, I have distractions from my Jude-stress.

Bill from IT wanders over with Helder from accounting (neither of them were invited to the wedding) and we share pictures that were taken at the wedding, including my most favorite shot, the one of Aiden and Carly in the water - soaking wet in their wedding clothes with their mouths an inch apart while laughing. That one needs to be blown up and hung in a place of prominence. In fact, I decide that I’m going to make that happen for them.

The day actually flies because I’m busy. I talk to Wade, and he gets me through some last-minute changes on the project that has been a pain in my butt for the past two weeks, and by the time the end of the day has rolled in, I’m regretting my hair appointment, wishing I could go home and sleep for twelve hours.

But when I get out front, Ash’s cab is pulling away.

Where’s he going?

There’s a black SUV idling at the curb and the passenger window rolls down.

“Get in,” Jude greets with a sexy smile, his eyes hidden behind sunglasses.

Crossing my arms over my chest, I narrow my eyes. “Did you send my cab away?”

“Yeah. I’m here, we’re goin’ to the same place, so get in.”

I shake my head. “Not cool. You just cost Ash money. He needs that money.”

“Ash?”

“The cab driver. My friend.” I gesture at the empty space Ash’s cab was in.

Jude shrugs. “I paid him.”

Huh?

“Why?”

“Because when I figured out he drove here for you and I was here waiting, I paid him for his time.”

“I’m not going home. I happen to be going somewhere else today, so you just wasted your time and money. I’ll call Ash to come back.” I reach for my phone.

“Where ya goin’?” he asks.

Why does he look so damn hot?

He’s wearing a second-skin navy blue t-shirt that shows off his tatts. Those shades are perfect for his face. And his beard looks good enough to sit on.

I roll my eyes. “None of your business.” I put my phone to my ear. “Sorry, Ash, but I do need you,” I say when he answers brightly by saying “Allison”.

Jude eyes me while I chat quick with Ash; I do my best to ignore him.

“Are you just tryin’ to be difficult, Ally?” he finally asks.

“I have an appointment,” I repeat.

“I could take you to your appointment.”

“Did I ask you to? Did I ask you to come here?”

I wait.

No reply?

He says nothing, but for some reason I feel way too exposed right now with knowing his eyes are on me but being unable to see them behind those dark shades of his.

I shake my head. “I’ll be at least three hours, so my guess is that won’t work for you, therefore, bye.” I wiggle my fingers in a bitchy farewell, seeing Ash coming back. I walk away from Jude’s SUV and catch up to the cab twenty or twenty-five feet ahead and get into the front seat with a sigh.

“Allison, how are you? Tell me about the wedding!” Ash greets.

It hurts a little that he doesn’t know my real name because despite that he’s someone I only see for a few minutes a day five days a week, he’s become a friend.

When we get to the salon, Ash and I sit for ten minutes looking through pictures from the weekend on my phone before he leaves.

***

When I walk into the apartment, it’s a little after nine-thirty. My eyes land on the shirtless guy cooking in my kitchen.

Shirtless. And cooking.

I stumble at the sight.

He looks over his shoulder and does a double take. Then, he smirks.

“The pink lady is back,” he says, and I swear to God his eyes twinkle.

Yeah, I like the pink. I have since the day I found that wig in the back seat of Scotty’s cab. I no longer have that wig, Scotty returned it to the customer who’d forgotten it in his car, but pink was the first color I went with after arriving in Baltimore. I change my hair regularly but keep finding my way back to pink.

“She is.” I drop my bag on the console table beside the door and find myself more than irritated because not only is Jude in my apartment, cooking in my kitchen shirtless, but he looks good enough to eat. So annoying.

The television is on, and he’s just made himself at home, hasn’t he?

I feel my temperature rising and I’m about to blow when my phone rings from my bag. I haul it out. Carly. Thank God.