Pretty. Quiet. Not mouthing off or protesting or frowning at me. I like her like this. I study her unabashedly, my gaze roving over her dark blonde hair, her flawless creamy skin, those rosebud lips that would tempt a saint to kiss them. Just once.

Just to see what she tastes like.

I lean back in my seat and take a deep breath. I’m thinking fucking crazy thoughts. She hates me. She’s more trouble than she’s worth. I’d only fuck her and leave her anyway so she’d hate me even more when it was all said and done.

Like Shep and Gabe used to say before they ditched me, I don’t do relationships. I won’t be swayed. Those two assholes I call my best friends can go ahead and fall deeper in love with their girls. Get engaged, get married, have a couple of brats and live that boring ass life every other sucker thinks he wants.

Not me. My parents are still together but they were on shaky ground not that long ago. Hell, my mother had to be put in rehab almost two years ago, after she lost a bunch of money in bad investments.

And when I say a bunch of money, I’m not talking a couple thousand dollars. More like hundreds of thousands of dollars—to the tune of close to one million dollars. That had been a minor blip on the family bank account but the worst part of the situation? The dude who convinced Mom to make those investments? Also happened to be her lover.

Needless to say, she almost lost her sanity when she lost her money—and her secret boyfriend. The downward spiral had been painful but somehow, my parents came out on the other end. Mom’s better. Dad’s golfing. They rarely spend time together anymore and they like it that way.

Their distant relationship proves to me what’s the point. My parents aren’t as fucked as Shep’s, with his social climbing bitch of a mother and stern-as-hell father who seem to revel in their hate for each other. But there’s another prime example of why I don’t want to be in a relationship.

They all end up bad. Every single one of them. I don’t care how blissed out and in love people claim they are, it eventually goes to shit.

Alexandria stirs, drawing my attention and I turn off the engine, the sudden quiet seeming to push her into wakefulness. She sits up quickly and looks around, disoriented as she brushes her hair away from her face. Her head turns toward me and our gazes meet. Lock. “I fell asleep,” she says obviously, her voice soft and sexy.

“I know.” I nod and reach out to turn off the seat warmers, my fingers brushing against her thigh as I do. Electricity sparks where I touch her and I snatch my hand away, settling it on the bottom of the steering wheel. “Need my help with your stuff?”

She shakes her head. “I can get it if you pop the trunk.”

Damn it, I actually want to help her. Why does she have to be so difficult? “It’s still raining.”

“I think I can make it,” she says drolly, reaching for the door handle. Pausing, she keeps her back to me for a long, heavy moment before she glances over her shoulder, wary blue eyes meeting mine. “Thanks for the ride home.”

“Anytime,” I tell her, meaning it. Fuck, I mean it and I shouldn’t. This sucks. I don’t want to like her but my fingers are still buzzing from touching her earlier.

Talk about ridiculous.

She gets out of my car and I do the same, slamming my door and rushing toward the trunk, the hood already popped. I open it before she arrives and reach inside for the pile of garment bags I threw in there. She appears at my side and tries to take them from me but I won’t let her.

“I’ll carry them in for you,” I tell her, raising my voice so I can be heard above the pounding rain.

Alexandria tries to tug them out of my arms but I won’t let go. “You’re so irritating,” she yells, making me laugh.

I shut the trunk and follow after her toward the front door, not missing the way she glares at me when I duck under the tiny overhang to stand beside her. “Hand them over,” she demands and I shake my head.

“God,” she mutters as she opens the door and bursts inside. I trail after her, my gaze going everywhere, finding the living room fairly standard. Giant brown suede-looking couch, battered coffee table in front of it and a cheap but large flat screen TV hanging on the wall, while a Playstation 4, a Wii U and various controllers lie discarded on the floor.

“You play?” I ask, nodding toward the game systems.

“Of course not,” she retorts as she shuts the door. “But my roommates do.”

I raise a brow. “How many people do you live with?”

“Three.”

The girl doesn’t give an inch when it comes to personal information. “And what are their names?”

“Not like you know them,” she says and I send her a look that makes her roll her eyes. “If I tell you, will you leave?”

“Only if I can see your room.”

“How old are we again?”

“I’m twenty-one. Almost twenty-two,” I inform her with my most charming smile. It doesn’t seem to charm her whatsoever. “How old are you?”

“If I tell you, then will you go?” she asks hopefully.

“Let me take this to your room while you answer my questions, and then I’m out of here,” I promise.

She waves a hand and starts walking down the short hall. I follow her, shifting the garment bags from one arm to the other. Whatever the hell is in here, it’s pretty heavy.

“I’m twenty-one,” she tells me as she stops in front of a door near the end of the hall. She opens it and steps out of my way so I can enter in front of her. “And my roommates are Felisha, Conrad and Jeff. Now leave.”

“Conrad?” I ask incredulously, turning to look at her. I’m ignoring that now leave remark. The look on her face tells me she’s beyond irritated.

“Yeah. Conrad. He’s a real sweetheart.” She nods and points to a wicker chair in the corner of the room. “You can set the garment bags over there, thanks.”

I do as she requests, glancing around her room, looking for…what I don’t know. A sign? A glimpse of her personality in whatever might be hanging on the walls or sitting on top of her dresser, or resting on the bedside table? Maybe even old photos I can check out of a young Alexandria?

But there’s nothing. Standard white furniture that looks straight out of an Ikea catalog and a perfectly made bed covered with a pale blue and white printed comforter and way too many pillows for me to handle.

Chicks and their pillows. It’s like a fucking sickness.

“So you live with guys?” I say when I turn to face her. She immediately goes to her dresser and pulls open a drawer, snagging something neatly folded and black from within before she shuts it. Hope makes me take a step closer. If she opens a drawer full of panties or bras, I’ll consider that a small victory.

“I do.” She whirls around, holding what looks like a pair of leggings in front of her chest. “You need to go.”

I frown. “No ‘thank you, Tristan, for helping me out after a rough afternoon getting caught in the rain’?”

She rolls her eyes. Again. “I already said thanks but in case you didn’t hear it the first time—hey thanks, Tristan. I appreciate the ride, even though I told you not to bother.”

This girl is fucking tough. I remember how Jade put Shep through the ringer and he seemed to love it, the sick bastard.

Not me. I’m discovering that I sort of hate this kind of thing. It shouldn’t be this difficult. If she thinks she’s playing hard to get and I’ll keep chasing, she’s mistaken.

“You’re welcome.” I salute her. “See you around, Alexandria.”

I walk out of her bedroom without another word and lo and behold, she follows. All the way to the front door, which she even opens for me. “Call me Alex,” she says as I start to walk outside.

Pausing, I turn to face her. “It’s a man’s name,” I say.

“Your eloquence knows no bounds,” she says and I narrow my eyes at her. The rain is dripping off the edges of the overhang, the wind whipping those drips into the back of my already damp shirt but I don’t move.