The Roommate Equation - Jillian Quinn Page 0,5

the blonde woman, pushing a stool out of the way as he invades her personal space.

The blonde doesn’t move an inch. Though, even from my vantage point, she tenses up, as if whatever Sloan is saying into the phone is making her uncomfortable. Sloan glances over at me and grins.

I shake my head and laugh, tipping my beer to my lips. He leans over the woman’s shoulder to grab a stack of napkins and spills her drink onto the bar on purpose. What a dick. She jumps off the stool with a squeal and turns her back to Sloan, now facing the suit she was ignoring.

Sloan wipes the liquid with the napkins in his hand, they exchange a few words, and then the suit swoops in to whisper something to her. Her mood changes, and now she’s angling her body toward the man she once found repulsive. Whatever Sloan said to her must have been awful to turn this situation around.

Sloan raises his hand to mimic the motion of drinking a beer. As usual, this asshole has proved me wrong. I order another round of beers as Sloan makes his way through the crowd.

“And that, ladies and gentlemen,” Sloan says, “is how it’s done. Pay up, bitch. I’m drinking my weight in beer tonight.”

Our bottles clink. We drink to the future of our company and to all of the people we have helped. The sole mission of Date Crashers is to save people from bad dates, but tonight, Sloan helped two people come together. We’re in talks with a dating app called Exact Match. If the deal works out, their app will integrate with Date Crashers.

Sloan’s cell phone rings. “Hey, Ash.”

My heart sinks into my stomach. Every time memories of Ash enter my mind, all of the guilt and pain from the past resurfaces. A long moment of silence ensues as Sloan listens to his sister ramble on the other end of the line.

“Yeah, you can sleep in one of the spare rooms,” he tells Ash. “Use the keypad. You know the code to get into the house. We’ll be home soon.”

Ash is staying at our house...

I. Am. So. Fucked.

They talk for another minute, and then Sloan pockets his phone with an annoyed look on his face.

I clutch his shoulder, afraid to look him in the eye. “What’s going on?”

When it comes to Ash, I can’t think straight, never could. I still hate myself for sneaking around with Ash behind Sloan’s back. Even after five years apart, I still think about her. I still want her. I’m fucked-up, what can I say?

Sloan sighs. “Ash needs a place to stay for a while.”

I can’t sleep under the same roof as Ash, not after everything that went down five years ago. Not without Sloan discovering the truth.

Chapter Four

Dylan

My heart crashes into my chest when I pull into the driveway behind Ash’s beat-up Kia.

She’s here.

At my house.

Fuck. Me.

I stare at the license plate in front of me that reads NOT2DAY. Ash has an interesting sense of humor. She’s weird and quirky, and despite all of her flaws that drive me crazy, I still care about her. I still miss her.

Since our breakup, nothing has been easy for Ash. And a part of me will always feel responsible for her bad luck. That’s why I made sure she got the interview at Brenton-Lake. Even Sloan doesn’t know that I pulled a few strings to help Ash get the job. Don’t get me wrong, she deserved it, earned it. But I made sure Vinnie Sax hired her. I owed her that much after everything I put her through.

Bile rises from my stomach. I swallow hard and kill the engine of my Maserati. My dream car. With its perfect blue paint and cream interior. The one toy I wanted when I made my first million dollars.

“Please make Ash feel welcome,” Sloan says, looking at me with his hand on the door handle.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

He laughs. “Are you kidding me? You guys are always at each other’s throats.”

If you only knew…

“No, we’re not,” I challenge.

“Ash sounded upset on the phone. She’s homeless until she can save up enough money. Don’t be an asshole.”

“What are you talking about?”

He narrows his eyes at me. “You’re a control-freak. You clean up after me like you’re my mom. Don’t do that to Ash, okay? Let her do her thing.”

I’m a neat freak and a germaphobe, and when you combine the two, it’s not a pretty sight. I like a particular order