“I get that now.”
“And it was you that messaged me and said to come around and look at the room. Didn’t think you’d take that as an invitation to use me for target practice,” I snap, letting my temper loose. Probably not the best impression to be making on a prospective landlord. I take a deep breath in and slowly exhale, blowing out the tension as I do it.
“Look, let’s have a do-over.” I hold my arm out. “Hi. I’m Alex. I’m the new firefighter at 101 and, as you can clearly see, I’m also a woman. I’ve just moved here from Iowa. I’m a career firefighter, legacy even, and when I met your brothers the other day, they told me you were looking for a roommate, and I just happen to be desperate for a place to live that isn’t a hotel with room service that my ass really can’t afford to indulge in.” Gio’s lips curve up, so I forge on. “So, if you’re one of those dudes that can’t handle living with a woman, no harm, no foul. I’ll go.”
That gets him. His head jerks back, his brows knitted tight, but I don’t let it sway me.
“But I really hope we can move past this rather awkward first meeting and see if we can’t cohabit in relative peace and quiet because—as I said—I am rather desperate. I promise I’m house-trained, and I’ve got a lot of experience living with men—”
His eyes widen, and I realize what I just said.
“What I mean is, I lived with my brother and my father for the past six months after my mother—bless her soul—passed away, and then with my ex-childhood-sweetheart slash comfort-zone-I-now-regret for years before that, so I’m a good roommate/housemate. I promise.”
The man tilts his head as if studying me. His eyes are wary and cautious—and maybe a little tinged with guilt—before his expression morphs, his lips curving into a wry smile. And because I am a single woman who hasn’t had the time or the inclination to enjoy male company recently, I don’t miss the fact that his grin makes him look even more stupidly attractive. So not good. Avert, abort, step away from the hot guy, Alex. I have been known to go a little crazy about stupidly attractive men—especially tall Italian-American drinks of water like the one standing in front of me right now.
From his short chocolate-brown hair to his hazel eyes and golden olive skin, to his perfect brows most women would kill to have and a jaw so square you could chisel stone with it, he’s beautiful. Then there’s the body, which looks the perfect balance of built but not cut in his navy-blue tee and grey sweatpants, which I definitely don’t focus on for too long because every woman knows grey sweatpants are to women what a red flag is to a raging bull.
He rubs the back of his neck with his hand and with a sheepish smile, holds out his arm, nodding down to his outstretched hand. “Okay, Alex. Let’s try this again. I’m obviously Gio. And you can blame my asshole brothers. They failed to tell me that you were you, so they probably wanted this exact kind of awkward first meeting to happen. That’s no excuse for scaring you, though, and I apologize.”
And now it all makes sense.
“Right,” I say, shaking his hand, biting the inside of my cheek to distract me from the way his biceps move. “I happen to know all about asshole brothers since I have one—a twin, even—so this time, I’m gonna give you a pass.”
His brows and the corner of his mouth tip up simultaneously. “Seems we’ve got something in common already. Want to come have a look inside?”
“Thought you’d never ask.”
“Now I see why Marco and Luca didn’t tell me more about you.”
I frown. “Why’s that?”
“’Cause you’re a smart-ass.”
“Yep,” I say proudly as I step inside the house. “Is that gonna be a problem?”
Closing the door behind me, he chuckles and shakes his head. “Probably why you say your brother is an asshole too, right?
I laugh. “Pretty much. But I’ve only got one, thank god. You’ve got two.”
“Might have to share some tips with me on how to deal with them then. Something tells me you probably give your twin a run for his money.”
Gasping in mock offence, I hold my hand to my chest as I fight off a grin. “Did you . . . just call me an asshole?”
His face falls. “What? No!” he splutters. “I was just—”
I decide to put him out of his misery. “Ha! Gotcha!”
Chuckling, we reach the hallway and come to a stop in an open-plan living and dining area with two big couches and a healthy dose of masculine knickknacks scattered around the room. As to be expected—and far from disappointing—there’s also a big-screen TV mounted on the wall. The place is even clean. Actually . . . it’s immaculately so. Suddenly, I’m not so sure that this will be a roommate match made in heaven after all. Then I remember Luca’s words from yesterday, combining it with my new knowledge that they set their brother up something wicked. Because I’m anything but tidy. And Gio looks like he’d be the type to put plastic covers on the sofas.
“So, it’s pretty average for the area,” he says.
My head jerks his way. “Average?” I’m totally lost now.
“The house size. You totally zoned out, didn’t you? Look, I promise I’m not some macho guy who watches sports twenty-four/seven when I’m home. Don’t get me wrong, I like football and I’ll be a Cubs fan till I die, but I’m not—”
“What football team?” I blurt out, giving him my full attention as I put all thoughts about him being a pedantic neat freak on hold.
“What?”
“What team do you go for?” I ask, hitting my stride. “Because I’ll tell you now, I’m pretty much a sure thing unless you tell me you’re a Bucs fan. If you say that, I’ll walk straight out the door.”
Gio barks out a laugh and shakes his head at me, his lips twitching.
“A sure thing?”
“A sure roommates thing.” I grin back at him, and we stay like that, staring at each other, just smiling like idiots. Until Gio’s body jolts and he snaps out of it, turning his back on me and walking towards the doorway that leads to the kitchen, effectively shutting down whatever the hell just happened.
“So, this here is the kitchen.” And like that, Gio switches from friendly and maybe a little flirty to all business. I guess platonic flirting and joking around might not be on the agenda. Oh well, not like we’ll be living in each other’s pockets all the time, right?
Although, me being me, and that being someone who likes a challenge, I decide it might just be my new mission to make Gio Rossi relax a bit and just be. Get him out of his head. Because it’s the only way I know how to handle the hard stuff I have to deal with on the job, and the way he’s holding his broad shoulders so tightly that they’re almost touching his ears says all I need to know about the man he is.
A good one, but also a cop who doesn’t always leave the job at the precinct door.
And I sense a bit of a kindred spirit. A bit of kismet maybe . . .
“Ah, Alex?”
My gaze jerks to his. “Yeah, kitchen, living, doesn’t have shit taste in football teams, check.”