Mr. H.O.A., Carina Taylor [uplifting book club books .txt] 📗

out making his rounds. Where was he the nights that Bane slept in the backyard? He wasn't a very good security guard if he couldn't spot Mr. Yummy sleeping in a hammock in the backyard.

Shirtless.

Where was my mind wandering? Not shirtless! He had to be wearing a million layers. Probably looked like an arctic explorer staying out there.

This was bad news. I didn't think I could keep Bane Fox in the platonic zone for long.

But I knew that the only thing that waited for me at the end of that zone was heartbreak.

CHAPTER TEN

Homeowners Association Rule #9:

Residents must notify the HOA president of any repair service appointments. (Electric, sewer, painters, etc.)

Laundry rooms should be in a garage. Or in the attic. They should be in a neutral zone in the house.

Not in the master suite bathroom.

It felt so weird walking through Bane's room whenever I had to do laundry—which was every day.

Well, actually I had some catching up to do since I hadn't been to the laundromat in a month. I'd been hoarding dirty laundry like a disgusting pack rat. The washer and dryer here were twice the size of the laundromat ones, and I loved getting to throw everything in together without thinking twice about it.

It had been a few uneventful days.

I woke up, drank coffee, went to work, and came home. Then I’d jumped into my queen bed in a cowardly attempt to avoid running into Bane. It was my new routine.

And that was why I was doing laundry at five o'clock in the evening. Rob had gotten home early, so he and Sharon were taking the kids out to see a movie. I’d been sent home early.

Bane usually worked until eight, so I was using my early day as a chance to finish up some laundry and go hide out in my room.

I folded another sweatshirt and added it to the stack. I couldn't believe I was hiding from him. I wasn't an avoider. I preferred to tackle my problems head on.

Rifling through the dryer, I found the other pink sock and folded it with its match. But what exactly was my problem with Bane? Was it my broken trust courtesy of Dad? Was it keeping my identity a secret? Was it Bane's attractiveness? Or was I afraid of my response? I didn’t want to get my heart broken again.

Someone so absorbed with business was definitely not my soul mate. But maybe I could help him. Show him that there was more to life than money and appearances. Show him there was nothing to be afraid of. Bane was a good guy. There was no reason we couldn't figure out how to coexist in an almost three thousand square foot house.

Besides, we’d already been doing the roommate thing and loading up on groceries. I taped notes with my name on my food, telling him which I was willing to share.

Starting tonight, I'd go about life as usual. Nothing would stop me from being at home.

I went into the kitchen and glanced in the fridge. There was still grapefruit in there. I was afraid it might make me sick to look at it.

Instead of forcing down another bite of that or Bane's dry-as-dust granola, I pulled out my phone and ordered Thai food. Estimated delivery time was forty minutes. I started to head for my room, but then reminded myself that I needed to make myself at home. No more hiding out.

I flopped onto the couch and opened my phone. Nate had texted again. Second time within a week. Not that that was a lot, but usually I was the one who started our conversations.

Nate: A) Sushi B) Food carts C) Voodoo Donuts D) Melting pot.

Me: Are we deciding which one we should eat first when I come to Portland?

Nate: Noooooo. Which of these is a good casual date option?

Me: What kind of car does she drive?

Nate: Jeep.

Me: Voodoo Donuts.

Nate: You can tell that by the car?

Me: No, but I thought it'd be fun to ask.

Nate: You're the most annoying sister in the world. I hope you're happy with yourself.

Me: I am. Besides, no donuts or food carts without me, so unless you're planning on a third wheel...

Nate: I never understood that saying. Tricycles run wonderfully with a third wheel.

Me: And you're fundamentally strange. But I like you.

Nate: I like you too. I'll save you a donut.

Nate: P.S. Dad says to tell you he loves you.

I didn’t respond to the last text. How could Dad love me and ignore my best friend’s plight?

The front door opened, and I lay perfectly still—trying to mold myself into the couch cushions. Either Bane was home early, or I was about to be murdered. Bane walked into the living room and set his man-bag on the recliner.

"Hey," I said.

Bane shrieked.

Shrieked.

He spun around and glared at me.

Sitting up, I bit my lip as I looked at his startled, disgruntled face. Deep, deep down, I knew it would be a bad idea to laugh. No man likes to be surprised. No man likes to be surprised so badly that he screams.

But that scream was so high pitched...

A snort escaped. Then a giggle. I bit my lip a little harder. It only made things worse. Soon I was doubled over, cackling. I fell off the couch onto the living room rug, but even that didn’t stop me laughing. "You screamed!"

"I did not scream," he argued.

"I scared you."

"You surprised me!" He barked out.

My entire body shook as I laughed hysterically. And here I'd been avoiding him all this time. If I'd been hiding in my room tonight, I would have missed out on the opportunity to scare him.

"Okay now," he growled.

"Do you—" I gasped for air. "Do you need some new pants?"

He tossed his jacket to the side and stalked toward me. "That's it."

I didn't have time to contemplate what those two ominous words meant because he was already scooping me off the floor and dropping me back on the couch as if I weighed