Bad Girl (Alphahole Roommates 3)

“We make it with the grapes from our apartment courtyard,” Baka says.

“You’re kidding.”

“Family recipe,” Baka adds. “You have babies, you’ll get the recipe. Until then, no. Sit down and eat now.”

She sets a bowl of rich, dark stew in front of me and then dishes up another bowl for Ana who sits on my right.

“This smells delicious,” I say, thankful that I can just stuff my face – maybe until he gets back. It’s rude to talk with your mouth full, so I’ll just eat and eat until he gets his jerky alphahole ass back here.

Baka sets a bowl at the spot on my left and then rounds the counter and joins us.

“Eat,” Ana invites, so I smile and set my glass down.

“Thank you for this. It looks and smells lovely,” I say.

There’s a big round loaf of rustic bread on the cutting board with several slices already cut so I reach for one, butter it, and dunk it in the soup.

Flavors explode in my mouth from the chili-like dish, which has smoky sausage, beans, and even some dumplings.

“This is amazing,” I say and look at Jude’s baka.

She gives me a curt nod. “I’ll be back.” She heads to the bathroom and shuts the door.

“Tell me about you, Ally,” Ana invites, buttering a slice of bread.

“Not much to tell. I’m an only child, I work in graphic design, and I’m a little strange and messy. As you can tell.” I shrug and sip my wine. “I’m not usually as messy as what you saw today, but…”

I make a snap decision.

“I have to admit something,” I say.

She looks intrigued.

“I’m not actually dating your son. I’m being a very messy roommate on purpose to try to make him want to leave.”

She jerks in surprise.

“I don’t know what he’s told you about us, but there’s not really an us and he’s being rather persistent about, um … things.” I’m not sure how to finish that off, but I’m not participating in this charade. I’m not about to tell a bunch of lies to this nice lady. I’m not about to play Jude’s ridiculous game – whatever it is. Instead, I’ve pretty much told his mom on him.

Take that, Snoopy Snooperson.

Ana bursts out laughing. “Shh. Don’t say anything to my mother, please. It’ll crush her.”

“I wasn’t going to,” I tell her. “But I…”

“We’ll get out of your hair soon,” she waves a hand and then tops our wineglasses up with a wide smile on her face.

I feel relief that she’s being reasonable.

“Thank you,” I sigh. “Can I ask you why you’re here, what he said to get you here?”

I’m hoping she gives him shit. But she doesn’t look angry. She looks kind of delighted, strangely.

“He stopped by and told his baka that there was a new woman in his life, and I wasn’t there for that part, but next thing I knew, my mother is filling me in and we’re on our way here. I would’ve stopped her, but my son didn’t seem to mind. So, here we are. She sent me out for groceries while she cleaned your apartment. She is in her glory right now.”

“I’m so embarrassed,” I admit.

“Oh,” she waves a hand, “Believe me, the messier you are, the happier she’ll be. She loves to be needed.”

“She doesn’t seem like she likes me much, but I’m really not the slob it looks like.”

I hear the water running from the bathroom. I’m sure Baka will be back any moment.

“Are you kidding? She loves you already. If the place were spotless when we arrived she’d still scrub everything and complain about working girls being too busy.” Ana waves her hand. “Enjoy your dinner. Don’t worry about a thing, I’ll handle her.”

“What about Jude?”

Will she handle him for me?

Please? Pretty please?

“Uh, you’re on your own there,” she says with a smirk. “Good luck. He’s relentless just like his father was.”

I deflate but I’m also taken aback. Baka is back and climbing up on the stool on the other side of me. “It’s not good?”

“No, it’s delicious. I’m enjoying it very much, thank you.” I set my wine down and lift my spoon.

“You need meat on your bones.” She passes me another thick hunk of bread. “I made this. Eat some. Unless it’s bad. Is it bad?”

“This bread is delicious,” I exclaim. “If I knew how to make bread like this, I’d be six hundred pounds.”

Baka doesn’t smile but her eyes change a little as she dips her spoon into her soup and takes one bite. She then puts the spoon down and rounds the counter to start scrubbing the stove and then mutters, “You have babies, I teach you. Until then, no.”

I almost choke.

“So, you’re a teacher?” I ask Ana, to deflect further.

“Yes. I was a substitute teacher part-time, but this year I got a full-time job. I teach eighth grade. It’s ridiculous trying to get them to pay attention. These kids are all hormones.”