Page 2 of Irreconcilable Attractions (Westwend Boys #1)

My dad had always insisted on it, saying he knew firsthand how hard it was to get through law school with nothing but caffeine and a prayer.

“ Broke and dumb, just trying to survive, ” He’d say, shaking his head like he could still feel the weight of those years looming over him.

Helping out students was his way of making sure someone else had it just a little easier than he did.

I opened my mouth in an attempt to call upon any God that could get me out of this situation when tall, dark, and inconvenient—Derek, was it?—spoke up.

“I really don’t want to impose, and besides, I’m sure I could find a place to rent outside of town and just commute. It really isn’t a problem.”

His voice was low and had a hint of a southern twang to it, like he wasn’t used to speaking that way, but thought he should. I could just picture him buying a cowboy hat, huge rodeo belt buckle, chaps, and spurs for a trip to Texas, then being disappointed when no one actually dressed that way.

I glanced toward my father in his casual day boots and wrangler jeans. Almost no one.

“Oh, nonsense. Nonsense!” My father protested, batting a hand through the air, “Colton has a free room. There is no sense in you spending your hard-earned money on something so far out of town.”

I would beg to differ, actually. There was plenty of sense. My dad had to realize how insane he sounded, right?

He looked at me squarely then, like he could hear my internal thoughts, saying more with his eyes than with his words. You will put this boy up, whether you like it or not.

I may be a lot of things, but I was not a man who defied his father after he gave that look.

Mentally, I was still kicking and screaming like a toddler, but I was starting to accept that my fate had been sealed with one intimidatingly sharp glare.

Preppy Mcpressed-Shorts was going to be my new roommate.

“Besides!” Pop continued, looking back to Mr. Boat Shoes—Derek, I needed to start using his name if I was going to be living with him—and plastered a big grin on his face.

“This is only for a few months till tourism season comes to a close. Then you can look into finding a home of your own around here.” He reiterated as he squeezed Derek’s shoulder.

Derek gave a half smile to my dad. It screamed, ‘ I can’t say no to you because you pay my soon-to-be-bills ’. But, he could surprise me. My father was handing him the perfect opportunity to use some backbone and get us both out of this wildly fucked up situation.

“Well, that is true…” He looked at me. Et tu, Brute?

His brown eyes locked onto mine, steady and warm like the whiskey that still sat on the table.

It was like everything in my brain hit a traffic jam—full stop, no detour, just me standing there blinking while trying to process my surroundings.

I couldn’t have told you my name, or what I was supposed to be doing or saying in that moment.

But, then it hit me. I wasn’t in the market for a roommate, even if he looked like a damn magazine spread for Hot Professionals Who Would Ruin Your Life . Yet, I had no choice in the matter, apparently…

With a glance back toward my father, who was once again giving me that look, I slapped my customer-service grin on my face and flapped a hand. I was putting that small glitch as a tally in the stroke category, and decided I was just grateful my brain was working again for the moment.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry about it!” I wryly chuckled, “I was just caught off guard! No problem at all.”

Derek studied me, cocking a brow as if he knew that was total bullshit, but I just grinned wider.

“Well, if you’re sure…” He began hesitantly, clearly hoping I’d take his opening to get us both out of this.

Well, jokes on him. I was a coward.

“Oh, absolutely. ’Bout time we were properly introduced, though. Colton Shaffer.” I stuck my hand out to him.

He took it and gave a firm squeeze that felt obscenely corporate.

“Derek Hammond.” He replied, his expression shifting to something of amusement, giving the impression that I was the butt of a joke the rest of the room was in on.

Fuck, did I mention this guy was handsome?

I seriously was not prepared for this level of distraction today.

Mentally shaking my head, I tried to covertly feel if I had drool sliding down my chin from staring into those chocolate brown eyes of his.

They were still dancing with mischief that reminded me I should probably be feeling indignant about… something.

His hand lingered in mine for a beat too long before we both dropped the mutually tight handshake. Pop gave him a few hard slaps on the back, no doubt feeling like he’d accomplished his goal for the day.

“Well, then, I’ll see you Monday morning, Derek.

I’ve got some things I need to attend to, though, so if you boys will excuse me,” He announced before sauntering off toward his office.

My father and I locked eyes as he passed and I made a mental note to thoroughly ream him out over taking advantage of my good nature later.

But, at this moment, there was nothing else to do but get to it.

“Do you have any bags then?” I asked, placing my hands on my hips as I turned back toward my new roomie, accepting that this was, in fact, my life.

“In my car.” He motioned out toward the front yard.

Humming in acknowledgement, I turned and began walking toward the entryway.

“Okay, now that Pop isn’t within earshot, what was that look earlier?” I tossed over my shoulder, sending a side-eye sharp enough to cut steel.

He blinked, tilting his head slightly in a way that made him look like some dumb but too cute for words puppy. I pursed my lips at the thought.

“That face,” I said, turning back to keep walking. “You gave me a look earlier when I introduced myself. It was all ‘ I know something you don’t ’ and giving insider trader energy. Ringing any bells?”

“Oh.”

I could hear the recognition in his voice as we exited into the sweltering Texas afternoon heat. He grinned at me as he shut the front door to my parents’ house behind him. What a polite boy , I could hear my mother crooning in my head.

“I just thought it was funny. I mean… your dad did introduce us already. Guess you missed that while you were emotionally spiraling.” He smirked.

My feet faltered and I nearly tumbled down the front porch steps. Fuck, had that happened? I mean, it could have happened while my brain was still trying to reboot. Truthfully, the whole interaction could have been sung in opera, and I still wouldn’t have registered it.

“God,” I groaned, throwing my head back with a burst of laughter. “Was it that obvious I was having a stroke?”

He shrugged casually. “Little bit. But hey, you made a strong impression. Confused, mildly panicked, and deeply suspicious. I felt very welcome.”

“Great,” I muttered. “Well, I suppose you can’t blame me. All my energy was going toward not losing my shit in front of polite company.”

A bark of deep, throaty laughter from behind me had my lips tugging into a grin. Even if I wasn’t sure about this guy, it was nice to know I could make him laugh like that. It was rich and carefree in a way that you knew had to be real.

I led him over to where our vehicles were parked on the street, trading some more quips back and forth along the way.

In my rush to get inside earlier, I hadn’t even clocked the sleek blue car I’d parked in front of.

It looked expensive and like it’d have strong opinions about the local gas station—not to mention the fuel options.

“Feel free to follow me to the house,” I said, glancing over at him. “But, full disclosure—the bedroom is not move-in ready. Unless your idea of luxury is decorative chaos and a mountain of laundry that may or may not be clean.”

I shot him a grin, and to his credit, Derek didn’t even flinch.

“Noted,” he said, slipping his hands into his pockets and leaning against the door of his very not dusty vehicle. Even his car was pristine and pressed. “I’ll try not to be too emotionally damaged by the lack of turndown service.”

I huffed out a laugh and tapped the top of my white pickup truck like it was a well-behaved dog. A visible handprint was left behind in the filth, making me quickly wipe my hand on my shorts. “Yeah, well, if you see a sock with eyes, don’t make it weird.”

Derek let out an amused breath, pulling out his keys. “Too late.”

I shook my head and climbed into the driver’s seat, pretending like this whole situation wasn’t so insanely fucked up.

On the drive back to my place, my brain took off like it was qualifying for a NASCAR race. Just vroom-vrooming through every possible overreaction I could come up with.

Bless my father’s heart, truly. Charlie Shaffer was the picture of Southern decency. The man would give the shirt off his back, the keys to his truck, and apparently, my spare bedroom to someone in need.

Which was beautiful, really. Noble. Inspiring, even.

And incredibly inconvenient.

If my mother hadn’t decided that she’d repurpose mine and my brother’s bedrooms after we’d moved out, there still would have been space for Derek to live with them. Instead, she now had a workout room, home office, and a fucking creative hobby space. Which, what even was a creative hobby space?

And, look, realistically, I wouldn’t have minded putting someone up if I had even a five second notice and the chance to meet the guy before being volun-told he was my new roommate.

But it’d be fine.

He seemed fine.

Derek didn’t come off as a serial killer, which was a plus. Our little back-and-forth as we headed to our cars was surprisingly easy, actually. The guy had timing. And if he could dish it out as easily as he took it?

Things might be okay.

But , I reeled myself back in, I don’t know this guy from Adam.