Chapter Three

Mo stared into her cereal bowl, watching as the milk turned red from the dye in the flakes. Last night’s dinner hadn’t been the fun get-to-know-you gab fest she’d imagined. August had uttered less than two dozen words. She knew, because she’d counted.

The guy had been polite, if a little stiff, and gave short, succinct answers about his drive up and his previous work at a flower farm down south, but getting that man to open up was like tearing down a brick wall with a twig.

Pointless.

He’d probably just been tired—that was all. The guy had driven all day to get here. She should have cut him some slack and saved the roomie bonding time for after he’d gotten a good night’s rest.

“What is that?”

Mo glanced up from her breakfast at August’s question. Geez, for a big man, he sure moved quietly. She hadn’t even heard him leave his room—how had he snuck up on her in the kitchen?

“Cereal.” She held the bowl up in the air.

He peered down at her upheld food, a grimace turning down his full lips. She had to give it to the guy; he made grumpy sexy. A thought she shouldn’t be entertaining, but it was hard to deny the truth.

“Why is the milk red?”

“It’s Fruity Pebbles. I think whatever coloring they put in the cereal bleeds into the milk, and the red color takes over all the others.”

“Isn’t that a kids’ cereal?”

Could food be age restrictive? She knew babies had some things they couldn’t eat thanks to her time with Pru’s twins, but why couldn’t an adult enjoy a nice sugary childhood favorite if she wanted to?

Mo dipped her spoon into the bowl and lifted a bite in the air, winking at August. “For kids and kids at heart.” She slipped the spoon into her mouth, moaning as the fruity, sweet flakes hit her tongue.

August grunted, although it sounded suspiciously like a growl, and she wasn’t sure, but she could have sworn she saw his eyes flare with…heat? Weird. Maybe he wanted a bowl. Who didn’t love a good sugar rush in the morning?

“Want some?” She started to rise from the table. “I have plenty—”

“No, thanks.”

At his emphatic denial, Mo sat back down. August made his way to the small pantry where he’d unpacked a box of stuff he’d brought in from his car last night. She watched as he pulled out a round tub of…ew, oatmeal? She didn’t think anyone actually ate oatmeal outside of Instagram influencers pushing overnight oats.

“Wow, that sure is a fun breakfast you got there.”

Without turning, August set about grabbing a small pot and filling it with water for the oats. He tossed out over his shoulder, “At least mine won’t rot my teeth.”

Oh yeah, her new roomie was just a great big ball of fun suckage.

Yay.

…

“So how’s the new roommate?”

Mo glanced up from the photographer contract she’d been going over for one of their clients. She smiled at Lilly, her business partner, friend, and up until recently her roommate. But now Lilly was living with her fiancé, and Mo had a new roommate. A sexy, grumpy roommate.

“He’s a little on the cranky side,” she answered. “But that might have been because he got in right around dinner time. Can’t blame a guy for being hangry.”

Not that he’d eaten any of the food she’d offered him. No. August had physically recoiled the moment she opened the box of delicious pineapple pizza. Pineapple on pizza was a common divider in society, but who turned down free pizza? He could have plucked the pineapple off. Instead, August had grabbed a canister of powder stuff from his bag and a weird mixer bottle thing and made some protein shake that looked as gross as it smelled. And this morning’s breakfast? She still couldn’t believe the guy had eaten the entire bowl of goopy oatmeal.

“Wait, your new roommate is a guy?” Pru, her other business partner, friend, and former roommate asked.

She nodded. “Yup. He’s Agatha’s grandson.”

Pru and Lilly exchanged a worried look. Oh, great. She knew that one. The classic Mo doesn’t know what she’s getting into look. Well, they were wrong. She knew more than people assumed. They took one look at her tiny stature, bubbly personality, hippy clothing, and vibrantly streaked hair—currently pink because their upcoming wedding had a pink and yellow color scheme—and labeled her a Manic Pixie Dream Girl.

Ridiculous. That wasn’t even a real thing. Just a stupid trope some dude in Hollywood made up to excuse his whiny male characters’ bad behavior.

First of all, she couldn’t help it that she barely topped five feet. Blame that on genetics and her inability to wear platform shoes without falling and breaking an ankle. What was wrong with being happy and positive all the time? Maybe if more people tried it, the world wouldn’t be such a crap fest. Besides, she liked her clothes—they were comfy and fun. Changing her hair color every few weeks gave her a sense of control. Life was often chaotic, and unexpected obstacles got thrown in your path. Fun hair was her way of maintaining her sanity. And it was better than trying to cut her own bangs every time something stressed her out.

She placed her hands on her desk, staring at her friends. “You guys, it’s fine.”

Pru and Lilly didn’t appear convinced. Mo sighed, rising from her desk and coming over to sit in one of the plush chairs facing Lilly’s desk. Since she was the one who had the most face time with the clients, she had the big fancy desk, while Mo and Pru had smaller desks in the corner of the large, one-roomed office of their wedding planning business, Mile High Happiness. Pru left her desk as well and came to join Mo and Lilly, taking the other comfy chair next to Mo.

“Okay.” She made a come on motion with her hand. “Lay it on me.”

Pru glanced at Lilly, and the two silently communicated. A skill they all possessed with each other—being friends for over a decade had benefits like that. But right now, it was really annoying. She wished they would just spit out their concerns so she could alleviate them and they could get on with their workday.

“Oh, for the love of!” She leaned forward in her chair, blocking her friends’ view of each other. “Just say whatever it is you want to say.”

Pru tilted her head around Mo, arching her brow at Lilly, who nodded, pushing her glasses up her nose when they slipped down. Trying to hide her amusement at her friends’ loving, but unnecessary, worry over her, Mo sat back in her seat and waited.

Lilly straightened in her seat, her gaze focused directly on Mo. “Moira.”

Uh oh. Whenever Lilly used her full name, she knew she was about to get a stern lecture. Though she was only two years younger than her friends’ thirty, Lilly and Pru tended to treat her like a kid sister at times. It might have been helpful when she was the sixteen-year-old freshman to their eighteen in college, but now it was simply annoying. She was smart enough to skip two grades in high school. She could handle her own life, thank you very much.

“Oh brother, here we go.” She slumped back in her seat.

Lilly scowled. “We’re merely worried about you.”

They didn’t need to be. No one needed to be. She could take care of herself. Plus, if anyone messed with her, all she had to do was call her brothers, and the four Rossi men, who she liked to claim stole all her height, would defend their little sister in a heartbeat.

“You’re living with a guy, Mo. A guy who’s probably bigger than you. A guy you don’t know at all,” Pru said, hands twisting together in her lap.

Reaching across the armrest, Mo grabbed Pru’s hands and squeezed. “Sweetie, I know you’re a mom now, but you’re not my mom.”

“I wasn’t—”

“Yes,” she interrupted her friend before she could make excuses, “I am living with a guy who is bigger than me, but let’s be honest, most people over the age of eighteen are.”

“Most people under the age of eighteen are, too,” Lilly stated.

Mo ignored Lilly’s tease, scratching her cheek with her middle finger in her friend’s direction.

“Very mature, Mo.”

Hey, Lilly had started it. Besides, they lived to annoy each other; it was their love language. Something she missed dreadfully since her friend had moved out. Now she had no one to annoy on the reg.

“And,” she continued to Pru, “he’s Mrs. Porter’s grandson. If Agatha trusts him, then so do I. Besides, I have a lock on my door and Nut Basher under my bed.”

And she’d never hesitate to use either.

At the mention of the baseball bat her older brother had given her when she moved into the college dorms, with explicit instruction to use it on any guy who didn’t take no for an answer, Lilly and Pru exchanged another worried glance.

“You guys, seriously. It’s fine,” she assured her friends. “August seems like a stand-up guy.”

A bit of a grump, possibly a neat freak, who had terrible taste in pizza, but okay as far as she could tell. He also had reservations about rooming with a member of the opposite sex, so she took that as a good sign. If he wasn’t a good guy, he would have gotten all pervy the moment he saw her and tried to make a pass. And she would have grabbed Nut Basher and kicked his ass to the curb. Moira Rossi did not suffer assholes or creeps.

Her friends still appeared unsure, so she brought out the best argument she had. “You both trust Agatha, right?”

That got the tense lines on their faces to relax. They all loved Mrs. Porter. The woman was sweet, kind, and a fantastic florist. A pseudo grandmother to them all.

But Mo most of all.

Lilly had a handsome fiancé. Pru had a hero husband and two adorable twins. Since Mo had no romantic entanglements to speak of at the moment, she claimed dibs on all the granny love from Agatha. Only seemed fair.

“Of course we trust Agatha.” Pru smiled. “And we trust you.”

“Who we don’t trust,” Lilly interjected with a firm frown, “is this August guy.”

Mo couldn’t hold back the snort of laughter this time. “It’s adorable when you two try to protect me, but must I remind you I’m a grown woman who can take care of herself?”

Lilly pointed a finger. “And must we remind you of the time you hooked up with that guy at the karaoke bar who said he was a talent agent and wanted to sign you?”

“But he really turned out to be a failed DJ who lived in his mom’s basement,” Pru finished.

“Hey, that was five years ago.” She crossed her arms, not liking when her friends ganged up on her less-than-stellar assessments of people in her past. “Zane turned out to be a pretty cool guy, and it wasn’t like I slept with him. The jig was kinda up when he took me back to his mom’s place.”

And all they’d done was talked and listen to music before she called a cab and headed home. Not that she ever believed the guy in the first place. Karaoke was her jam, but she knew her talents, and a platinum album singing career was not among them. Zane had been nice, but he hadn’t been the one for her. Not her soul mate.

People might call her silly for believing in something as fairy tale-ish as soul mates, but Mo didn’t care. She’d seen it enough times to know it was true. Her own parents had been together for over forty years. Forty years of happiness, love, companionship. Forty years with your best friend.

That’s what Mo wanted. And she wouldn’t stop searching until she found it. No matter how many frogs she had to kiss or how many people made fun of her or called her naive.

Yes, she was the most hopeless of hopeless romantics. Which was good, considering she helped run a wedding planning company. She was literally in the business of happily ever afters, and she intended to find her own one day. But that didn’t make her naive. She knew just because she could trust Agatha didn’t mean she could implicitly trust August.

“I know that you’re both worried about me, and I think it’s very sweet.” She reached out a hand. Pru grabbed on immediately. After Mo cleared her throat rather loudly, Lilly sighed and offered her own hand. Grasping her best friends’ hands in her own, she gave them a loving squeeze. “I promise I know what I’m doing. Everything will be fine.”

Besides, she really needed help on the rent…something she didn’t need to tell her former roommates about. She didn’t want them feeling bad for finding their happily ever afters and leaving her with the ridiculousness that was Denver’s rent.

Pru scooted forward in her chair, clasping both hands around Mo’s, her expression dialed to uber-mommy mode. “You’ll let us know right away if things aren’t fine. And call us if he tries anything inappropriate.”

She held in a laugh. From what she knew of August, the only inappropriate thing the guy might be guilty of was having terrible taste in food. Seriously, who carried around protein shakes in their bag? Those things tasted like chalk and dirty feet.

“If August tries anything, I promise I’ll call you right after Nut Basher and I finish beating the snot out of him.”

“That’s my girl,” Lilly said, pulling her hand away. “Tell us more about this August person.”

Honestly, apart from being Agatha’s grandson and having a mean case of the crankies, she didn’t know much.

“He’s here to help out Agatha at the flower shop.”

Her friends nodded. They’d all been hoping Mrs. Porter would bring in some assistance at the store. The woman was getting older, and her health wasn’t what it used to be. Sadly, they’d had to pass her up for a few recent weddings because Agatha didn’t have the capability to keep up with the demands of the store and catering to special events. Hopefully, things would turn around now that August was here. Though Mo doubted a man as grumpy as August Porter could create flower arrangements as beautiful as Agatha. Guess she’d just have to wait and see.

“I only met him last night,” Mo continued. “He seems nice enough. Perhaps a little tired by the drive.”

“Where’s he from?” Pru asked.

Again, she had a vague idea, but no specifics. “The southwest part of the state, I think. Agatha mentioned somewhere around Telluride when she was telling me about him.”

Lilly nodded. “A drive like that would make anyone irritated.”

Colorado was a big state. Not as long as California or Florida, but it could take an entire day to cross it.

“Anyway.” She shrugged. “We didn’t get to talk a lot. He pretty much crashed after dinner.” Dinner of a protein shake that was in no way a real dinner, in her opinion.

Pru opened her mouth to ask another question, but the office phone rang. Lilly picked up the cordless handset that resided on her desk—since Mo and Pru hated talking on the phone, like good millennials.

“Mile High Happiness, this is Lilly speaking. How can we make your dreams come true?”

Some people might have thought that phrase was silly, but Mo loved it. Ever since she was a little girl, her parents had encouraged her and her brothers to reach for the stars, to follow their heart’s path. Their encouragement had instilled a healthy sense of determination in Mo. Some might say too determined. Okay, yes, she could be a little pushy when she saw two people who were meant for each other, but she just loved love. Seeing people happy made her happy. And if some of those stars she reached for fell into her eyes, then so be it. Life looked a little brighter through starlight anyway.

Mo headed back to her desk as Lilly helped whoever was on the phone. Pru followed close behind, heading to her desk, which stood right next to Mo’s against the far wall.

“So, when do we get to meet August?” Pru asked in a hushed voice as she slid into her desk chair.

Mo laughed. “Gee, Mom, I don’t know. Whenever you stop by and he’s there, I guess.”

It wasn’t like she and August were dating and he had to pass the friend test. He was just a roommate. A temporary one at that. Though if anyone did need to get out and get laid, it was August “Grumpypants” Porter. She smiled to herself, knowing how much he would hate that nickname. Even if she didn’t know him that well, she would bet money he would not appreciate the moniker.

“You don’t want us to meet him?” Pru tilted her head, brow furrowed in confusion.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want her friends to meet August; it was more that she didn’t think the man would be too keen on meeting anyone. He hadn’t wanted to stay up last night getting to know her or sharing anything about himself. Mo kind of got the idea that he liked to keep to himself. And yes, she was usually the social butterfly of their group, introducing all the lovely people she had in her life to each other, but she didn’t think August would be up for a city-wide meet and greet.

Hmm, then again, if anyone needed to loosen up and experience all the fun the city had to offer, it was August “stick-in-the-mud” Porter. She held back another snort of laughter. He wouldn’t like that description any more than the last one.

“We might want to give him a few days to get settled in before I start introducing him to everyone.”

Pru nodded, as if that was the sensible thing to do. “Good point. I’m sure Agatha will introduce us all sometime in the near future anyway.”

Oh, Agatha. She was going to have to stop by and see the sneaky old lady who failed to mention to her grandson that Mo was short for Moira. Just like her nonna, Agatha had a wicked sense of humor, and Mo loved her for it. Though this little joke might have gone a bit too far. August had looked like he swallowed a beehive last night when he realized she was his new roomie.

Poor guy.

She’d make it up to him by taking him out for a night on the town. Show him the sights and all the wonderful things Denver had to offer. After all, that’s what good roommates did. Even if Mo wasn’t the cleanest person to live with, she was—in her humble opinion—one of the most fun.

It was settled. They’d have drinks, swap stories, bond as new roomies, and who knew? Maybe she’d even find a way to help him unwind the ball of stress he seemed to carry around.

She tucked back into her work, Pru and Lilly already absorbed in their own tasks. This weekend, she would take August out, and then maybe next week she’d invite him to dinner with her friends. Being new in town, the guy needed to meet people, and lucky for him, Mo knew the very best people in the city. Maybe she could even find him a date.

A sigh of regret left her lips. Too bad she was living with the dude or she’d make a pass at him. He was hot with two Ts. And tall. Okay, everyone was tall compared to her, but something about the big guy just made her want to climb him like a tree and yell timber. Ooooh, maybe she could convince him to wear flannel, live out her lumbersexual dreams.

No. Bad Mo. She couldn’t jump her roommate. As much as her hormones wanted to, it’d be a bad idea to do anything to risk her financial security. So no doing the roomie. Because she might be a lot of things, but stupid wasn’t one of them, and starting anything with a man she lived with was a bad idea.

With a capital B.