Filthy English (English #2) - Ilsa Madden-Mills Page 0,55

disputes.

“No doubt,” Dax agreed softly.

Elizabeth, who’d been steadily drying the dishes since we started talking, turned around. “If you need a reference for Dax, I’d be happy to vouch for him. You couldn’t find a sweeter roommate.” Smiling, she dropped her dishtowel over the sink. “If you guys will excuse me, I think I hear Declan calling for me from the den.”

As she walked out, it gave Hartford the chance to pull me to the side. He kept his voice low. “Just live with me, Remi—at least until you find a decent place.”

We’d had this conversation a hundred times. Yes, we were working things out, but jumping right back into the same place we’d been would be a disaster.

“That’s not a good idea,” I said as quietly as I could, but it was clear Dax listened intently, his head cocked to the side.

“You can’t live with . . . Dax,” Hartford said after a long exhale. “I’d rather you stayed with your mom. I’d definitely worry less.”

I shook my head. “My mom’s house is too far from campus to drive each day. I’d be exhausted. Plus, she drives me crazy.”

Hartford sighed, his eyebrows pulled low. “Then let’s keep looking. Something will come up.”

“We’ve looked for days,” I groaned. “There’s nothing, except that place over the drycleaners—”

Dax straightened up from the counter. “Sorry to interrupt, but in all honesty, I have someone else coming over tomorrow to check the house out, so if you want the room, we’d need to get this settled tonight. Otherwise”—he waved his hands around the kitchen that was in disarray—“I need to get back to work.”

He was trying to get rid of me.

And that thought speared my heart.

I exhaled, rubbing my eyes. My legs felt like rubber and my body was bone-weary as if I had the flu. Since the moment I realized Dax had deserted me, I’d been listless. Lost. My thoughts were scattered so much I couldn’t seem to make a decision about anything. My brain was shit.

But . . .

What was I going to do? I couldn’t live here or with Hartford or my mom. Perhaps I could get a cheap hotel room for a few days until something came up . . .

“Remi?” Malcolm asked me, and I blinked up at him, realizing I had leaned my shoulder against him.

“You okay?” Hartford asked me, a look of concern on his face. He touched my shoulder.

I nodded and straightened. “Sorry. Long day.”

“Before you decide, let’s have a seat and I’ll tell you more about the house,” Dax said out of the blue, indicating the four chairs at the table.

I glanced up to find his eyes on my face. They’d softened. “I’ll grab us some sodas. What would you like, Remi?”

I found myself sitting down in one of the chairs and asking for a Coke. Hartford hesitated, but plopped down with a resigned expression on his face. He declined Dax’s offer of a drink. Malcolm looked pleased and took the Coke Dax handed him.

Dax took the seat to my right, and because it was a round table, his chair was close enough to mine that the heat from his skin was a tangible thing. His masculine scent slammed into me, bringing back memories of the hotel room. I stuck my hands under the table and kept them clasped together. Tight. Malcolm sat on the other side while Hartford sat across from me.

I felt dazed as Dax gave us the details about the rent—a four-hundred flat fee due the first of each month while he covered all the utilities. Generous—much less than I’d expected.

But you can’t live here!

He ran through the deposit fee (a hundred dollars) and a small list of rules he’d typed out along with a lease agreement. I’d be responsible for my own food and would get the smaller bedroom upstairs, which came with an attached bath and a small office where I could put a desk or anything else. I paused. Perfect for Malcolm when he stayed over sometimes.

“Basically, you’d have the run of the upstairs while I get the downstairs. We can share the kitchen, den, and patio outside.” He tapped a pen on the table, his bicep flexing and calling attention to his tattoo. Tap. Tap. Mr. Beautiful was antsy.

I also noticed he hadn’t shaved in several days and there were bags around his eyes, as if he too had had some restless nights.

Stop staring at him!

Malcolm must have been watching him too. He squinted. “You’re what girls call