Nice Guys Don't Win (The Boys #2) - Micalea Smeltzer Page 0,3
parking lot. “You actually send her flowers?”
He stops dead in his tracks, causing a car to honk and speed around us. “Do you think so little of me? I’m a good guy. I even send my one-night-stands home with freshly baked cookies. I’m basically Betty Cocker.”
Don’t laugh, Zoey. It’ll only encourage him.
“Pretty sure it’s Crocker.”
“No, babe, I assure you I am all Cock … er.”
“Don’t call me babe.”
“Sorry, I can’t help myself sometimes.” He grins, green eyes shining with mischief. “I’m over here.” He points to a shiny Porsche sports car. “Where are you?”
I sigh and unlock my Honda CRV across from his. “That’s me.”
“Sweet. Follow me for a good time.”
I stare at him the way a mom looks at her unruly child—you know, the look that says shut your trap with your idiotic remarks. My glare doesn’t seem to bother him a bit. He laughs and goes to his car.
When he looks back and sees I haven’t made a move to my car, he says, “You’ll get used to it.”
If this guy thinks I’ll be getting used to anything when it comes to him, he’s sorely mistaken. I doubt I’ll want to live wherever he’s taking me and who’s to say the guy living there will even agree.
More than likely I’m going to be stuck living with my dad and his new family. It’s the last thing I want, but you know what they say about desperate times.
Slipping into my car, I follow the blue Porsche off campus and about five minutes down the road where he pulls into an apartment complex. We pass by a building that lists things like gym and pool and circle around to one of the apartment buildings in the back.
Parking beside Teddy, I get out and look around in surprise. It looks nice. He did say it was new but I kind of thought he was fucking with me just to get me here and hopefully agree to stay.
“It’s on the third floor.”
I grumble a little at that, not liking the idea of carrying groceries up them every week. But you know, that’s a small sacrifice to make if it means I get my own place. Well, sort of my own place. I’d still have a roommate, which is true if I’d been given a dorm on campus like I was supposed to.
“Did you let him know we were coming?”
“Uh,” he looks at me over his shoulder as we climb the stairs, “no.”
I roll my eyes, holding onto the railing. We reach the third floor and turn to our right where he knocks on a door marked 308.
Waiting with crossed arms, it isn’t but maybe thirty seconds later when the door opens.
My jaw drops at the sight of the guy standing there. Sure, I swore off men after Todd, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have eyes, and this guy? He’s the sexiest man I’ve ever seen. Tall, way taller than my five-foot-seven frame. His skin is a beautiful brown color, tattoos snaking up an entire arm from wrist to—well, I’m not sure where it ends since he’s wearing a shirt. His curly black hair is cropped close to his scalp. Eyes a unique shade of amber brown—honeyed—stare back at the guy at my side, his full and pouty lips turned down into a frown.
“What do you want?” He grumbles in a deep voice, glowering at my companion. “Come to deliver worse news?”
“Actually, I found you a roommate.” Teddy turns to me, sweeping his hands at me like I’m a prize on a game show. “Ta-da.” And then the goofball does jazz hands.
The guy’s eyes turn to me, elegant brows furrowed together wrinkling his forehead. “You?”
“Me.” I point to myself, pretending I’m not at all affected by the way those thick lashes flutter against his cheekbones. For months I’ve been mad at all men because of Todd, but apparently all it takes is one exceptionally good-looking guy to make me weak in my knees. “As long as this isn’t a total dump and you’re not a dick.” I straighten my spine, glad that despite my attraction to the stranger in front of me at least I still have my sassy mouth.
“Who are you?” he asks, looking confused, his gaze flickering between his friend and me. “Did you find her on the side of the road or something?”
My mouth pops open. “I’m not a prostitute!”
His eyes widen in horror and he puts his hands up in a placating gesture. “Fuck, that’s not what I