Page 8 of Final Temptation (Alpine Peak #2)

Bills were spread across my dining room table as I sifted through each one, creating piles, trying to decide which ones were essential. I desperately needed to get my life figured out, or I’d be twenty-three and living on the street.

Okay, I know that’s a bit dramatic. Paige will never allow me to have a box as a bedroom.

“UGH!” I flung backward, hitting the back of the dining room chair.

The feeling of having to give up everything I enjoy most in life suddenly felt entirely too overwhelming.

I had two options: give up all the good things in life, like getting my nails done, streaming apps, my gym membership, etc.

, etc. Or I could text Myles and see just how serious he was about moving out of his parents’ house.

So, what if Myles moved in? I could lock myself in my bedroom and ignore the fact that I’d have an insanely hot, fuck boy roommate. At least I’d have my nails done and still be able to watch all the trash TV.

“Fuck it,” I mumbled under my breath, shooting off a text to Myles, desperate to figure out if he was down to move in and help me out.

Me: Are we really doing this?

My body swarmed with anxiety after pressing send, but luckily not for long, when my phone went off a few seconds later.

Myles: You free for coffee? I just got done at the gym. Figured we could talk about it.

Me: I can meet you at Mugs in fifteen?

Myles: Sounds good. I’ll grab us coffee, what would you like?

Me: You know the worst thing you could do is offer to buy me coffee. You’re setting a standard and as my future *possible* roommate, I might have high expectations that you’ll make my coffee every morning.

Myles: Nice try, Soph. Time is ticking. Tell me your drink order or you’re getting an Americano.

Me: Large, extra cold, half-caff, oat milk, with five pumps each of caramel drizzle, white mocha syrup and cinnamon dolce syrup, a shot of espresso, extra whipped cream, extra caramel crunch topping and extra cinnamon dolce sprinkles.

Myles: Jesus fucking Christ.

Me: See you in a few!

Abandoning the bills I had lying around the table, I ran to the bathroom and quickly freshened up before heading out.

“Fuck,” I whispered, “I can’t go out like this.

” I was setting myself up to be five minutes late, but there’s no way I would meet Myles for coffee looking like I just rolled out of bed.

I hadn’t seen him in person in months, and for some irritating reason, I cared what he thought of me.

I ran my fingers through yesterday’s curls, creating a natural beachy wave in my shoulder-length blonde hair.

I didn’t go overboard with my makeup, just slapped some lip gloss on and called it a day before sorting through my laundry, looking for a cute and casual outfit.

It was a perfect, sunny spring day, and my little yellow sundress was calling my name.

With one last look, I took in my appearance in the full-length mirror hanging behind my bedroom door.

It will have to do.

My dress was held up by thin straps, falling mid-thigh. It was snug enough to show off my curves, but not too tight that it was overly revealing. I paired it with some white sneakers, grabbed my purse, and made my way to the coffee shop.

Okay, so I was six minutes late; hopefully, he wasn’t the type to get mad that my internal clock always seemed to be a few minutes off.

The local coffee shop, Mugs , sat right in the middle of High Street, the main road and city center. It was also next door to my dad’s bar, Peaks , where I spent countless years of my life working.

I walked into the industrial-style coffee shop, wooden accents and warm lighting surrounding the historical exposed brick walls. Small tables and cozy couches encompassed the open area I scanned over, trying to locate Myles.

Maybe he will be the one who is late.

Nope. Never mind.

After spotting Myles, I took a moment to lurk around the corner, soaking in the sight of him scrolling through his phone, looking way too sexy for his own good.

“Just got done with the gym,” my ass.

The thoughts of his dating profile re-entered my mind as I noticed his gym attire. Suddenly, I felt awkward, like this was a first date, but instead, we were just having coffee with the possibility of moving in together.

Do I hug him? Will he stand up and greet me? Maybe I should shake his hand?

His piercing blue eyes made eye contact with mine as I sneakily approached the couch he was sitting on. He looked back down at his phone before quickly looking back at me, doing a double-take. He remained still, not moving an inch from his seated position.

With no effort being made to stand up, I took matters into my own hands.

“Hey, long time no see.” I squeezed his arm before taking a seat opposite him. His gaze roamed over the spot on his arm I touched and came back to meet my eyes.

Myles cleared his throat, reaching out for a drink that I assumed was my coffee—based on the loads of whipped cream that topped it off—and handed it to me.

“There has never been a time in my life when I’ve been more embarrassed than moments ago, reading off your coffee order. ” He shook his head in disbelief.

“Well, thank you for getting this for me.” I batted my eyelashes at him, taking my first sip of the sweet substance.

“No problem. So, you’ve given my proposition some thought?” he said, jumping right into it.

Okay, Myles Businessman Cooper…

“I have. But I think to make sure we are a good fit as roommates, we should talk about it a little bit, maybe set some ground rules?” I spoke nervously.

He hiked an eyebrow. “Ground rules?”

“You know…like what if one of us wants to bring home a guest ? Or would you feel comfortable in the house with alcohol, or should I keep booze out of the apartment? Or do you put the toilet seat down after you pee? Do you clean up your pubes, so they aren’t sprinkled like confetti on the bathroom floor?—”

“Whoa. Slow down, and back up. One question at a time. First of all, I’m not sure what your opinion is of the opposite sex, but we don’t just leave a trail of pubes like fairy dust everywhere we go.”

“Are you sure? Because I knew this guy once, and his floors were covered in pubes. But then again, it very well could have been dog hair because I’m ninety-nine percent positive his pubes were?—”

“Sophie,” Myles cut me off, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

I took another sip of my iced coffee, feeling even more awkward than before.

“How about we start with the simple things? Let’s just assume that when it comes to the cleanliness of the apartment, we can both be responsible adults and clean up after ourselves.”

“That sounds like a good start. So, what time do you usually go to bed and wake up in the morning?” I asked something a bit more realistic this time.

“Well, I’m not usually up too late since I work early mornings. Unlike my brother, who does more paperwork and planning, I’m outside building and getting my hands dirty. Hours in construction are early. So honestly, we may not even see each other much—just in passing.”

“You know, you may end up being a good influence for me.” His eyes widened.

“Me? A good influence? I can’t say I’ve ever heard those words in the same sentence before. Why would I be a good influence for you?” he questioned.

“I could benefit from going to bed earlier. Maybe creating a better schedule for myself when it comes to my schoolwork.” I crossed one leg over the other, doing my best not to flash him with my frilly pink panties.

His eyes worked over my every movement before he responded, “Okay, so we have our cleaning habits and sleep schedules covered. What else is there to figure out?”

“Rent?” I bit my lip.

“How much help do you need?”

“Whatever you’d be willing to lend a hand with.

Ideally, half of everything would help me stretch my savings a little further.

” I’d been taking care of my own bills for the last five years.

I moved out when I was old enough and independent enough to care for myself.

It was a punch to my ego having to seek help.

The last thing I wanted to do was put a number on things; any kind of help he’d offer would be better than how things were going right now.

“No problem. Consider it covered.”

Onto the next order of business, I mentioned, “So, um, what about alcohol?” My jaw clenched, not necessarily knowing how comfortable he was skirting around the topic.

“How about I let you know if it ends up being a problem? For now, I’ve been doing really well when it comes to my addiction.

If things change, I’ll make sure to have an open line of communication with you about having it around the house.

” His gaze shifted down, almost as if trying to convince himself it wouldn’t be a big deal, like this was something he’d rehearsed a time or two.

My hand reached out, grazing his knee, only intending for it to be friendly when I spoke softly, “Seriously, Myles, I’m so proud of how far you’ve come.

If it ever gets tough for you, I’d get rid of any temptations around the house in a heartbeat.

Usually, there is only ever a bottle of wine and maybe some vodka lying around.

I can even keep it in my room if it makes it easier on you. ”

“I think alcohol will be the least of my temptations when it comes to living with you, Soph.” His voice lowered.

The iced coffee and little clothing I had on weren’t nearly enough to cool me down; I was burning red.

My hand still lingered on his knee when I snapped it back, fidgeting with a silky strand of my hair, curling it between my fingers. I cleared my throat before trying to change the subject.

“So, umm, what about bringing people home?”