Room-maid(6)

Tyler would not be the guy to fix things.

“I’m on board for that.” Even though my agreeing to keep my distance was stabbing tiny little knives into my heart.

“Good. I know this situation is a little unusual,” he said. “And I hope you don’t think I’m trying to take advantage of you or anything. You won’t be my employee. We’ll just be roommates with you picking up the slack while I’m gone.”

I nodded. It all sounded perfect, but yes, a little unusual. I was concerned about the total absence of cleaning anything ever in my life and wanted to know more about what he expected. “Frederica mentioned that you’ve had to let housekeepers go in the past. Can I ask why? Were they not cleaning up to your standards?”

“What?” he asked with a laugh. “Oh, I’m not a neat freak or anything. I don’t have to be able to eat off my kitchen floor.” He swung one of his arms toward the kitchen to the mess in there. “As you can see. I’m not looking for it to be pristine, just kept up. And I do clean up after myself; I need someone who can help me out with that and get to the deeper cleaning I don’t have time for. I could make you up a list, if that would be okay.”

“Yeah, that would be great.” Having his expectations laid out would definitely help me. I also loved a good list. I used them all the time in my classroom.

“I’ll do that. And to answer your earlier question, the last few people I employed to clean have stolen from me. When you grow up poor, you pay attention to everything you own. I’m sure they thought I wouldn’t miss the things they’d taken.”

At that Frederica let out a little laugh, letting me know that Tyler’s “poor” was probably like when my sorority sisters in college complained about being broke because they could afford only a new Kate Spade bag instead of a new Prada.

I filed this new information in my brain under something I now knew about Tyler Roth. He considered himself “poor” growing up, had done well for himself, had pieces of metal in his leg, and loved his dog. It felt good to have some new additions in there besides the one folder labeled Insanely Hot.

“Madison is from an excellent family,” Frederica said after she finished laughing. “Her people don’t steal.”

Ha. Rich people stole all the time. Just ask my great-aunt Ida, who never failed to collect an expensive “souvenir” from every home she visited. Whenever Ida planned to come over, my mother used to have her staff spend hours clearing out anything small that Ida might try to pilfer.

“I hope you don’t think I was suggesting . . .” Tyler’s voice trailed off and he looked so uncomfortable I wanted to fix things.

“No one thought you were suggesting anything.” My tone was firm, mostly as a warning to my aunt, who seemed ready to defend Huntington honor, even though she wasn’t one herself.

“Good.” He again sounded relieved. “Because you seem nice and you come so highly recommended that I think this could work. Do you think it could? I never asked you what you’re looking for in an apartment.”

“Mostly I’m looking for a place to live where I have my own bed, I don’t have to worry about catching the bubonic plague or becoming the victim of a deranged killer.”

He laughed, and his laughter was like a thousand perfect sunsets combined with the happiness of a hundred seven-year-olds’ surprise birthday parties. It was warmth and joy and exuberance all rolled into one, and it lit up the butterflies in my stomach, making them dance and swirl.

“That’s . . . oddly specific,” he said when he finished. “I definitely think I can promise you those things here. It’s also important to me that we have an equitable situation. Like I love to cook, so I’ll be happy to do the cooking for us when I’m home. I want us to have a good quid pro quo arrangement.”

I would quid his pro quo any day of the week. But instead of saying so, I settled on, “That works for me.”

“Fantastic!” He got up, walked over to a dark wood credenza, and pulled open one of the drawers. He came back with a key. “In my personal life I’m a handshake-and-keep-my-word kind of guy, but I’m happy to have the legal department at work draw something up if you’d prefer. That is, if you’re in.”

Tyler gave me the key. He wanted me to move in!

And have his babies, my inappropriate inner vixen whispered. I told her to be quiet.

Then my rational brain had its own thoughts—about whether I should be so quick to agree to become his roommate. There was something inherently trustworthy and honest about him. He seemed to be exactly who he presented himself to be. Maybe that was my deprived hormones taking over again, and all drooling at his attractiveness aside, this was the first apartment besides Shay’s that I had felt comfortable in since I’d started house hunting. Not to mention that he had Frederica’s mark of approval—which might have been due to her own hormones, but I decided that I’d count it.

“A handshake works for me. And I am in.” I knew to never sign anything without having a lawyer look at it first, and since I couldn’t afford a lawyer, a handshake and his word were good enough.

I stood up when he held out his hand again, presumably for the handshake portion of the deal. I figured that since I’d already touched him, this second time would be no big deal.