Her Unexpected Roommate: a small town sweet romance (Bulbs Blossoms and Bouquets Book 1) Read online
“Her Unexpected
Roommate”
Bulbs, Blossoms and Bouquets #1
By Laura Ann
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
HER UNEXPECTED ROOMMATE
First edition. February 1, 2022.
Copyright © 2022 Laura Ann.
Written by Laura Ann.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
DEDICATION
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
NEWSLETTER
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
EPILOGUE
DEDICATION
Every first book is dedicated to my husband.
Without your support, I would never had put
pen to paper. Here’s to eternity.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
No author works alone. Thank you, Brenda.
You make it Christmas every time
I get a new cover. And thank you to my Beta Team.
Truly, your help with my stories is immeasurable.
NEWSLETTER
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CHAPTER 1
“Ms. Winters?”
Genni forced her eyes away from the spring-filled sight outside. The bright light that radiated in nature was in sharp contrast to the darkness and despair sitting inside her chest at the moment. “Yes?”
“Are you ready to hear the will?” Mr. Filchor asked kindly. His nose twitched, causing his full mustache to shift like a squirming caterpillar.
A small part of Genni wanted to chuckle at the image, but laughter hadn’t been a part of her life for a long time, and it held even less of a place now. “Go ahead, but I already know what it says.” She clasped her cold hands together.
Mr. Filchor cleared his throat. “I’m sure you do,” he agreed with a heavy nod. “Maggie...Mrs. Winters planned for this a long time ago.”
Genni nodded and let her mind wander again. Other than the lawyer, she was the sole person in the room. Because I’m the only one left. Her mother had died when Genni was a little girl, leaving her in the hands of her widowed grandmother. Her mother had no siblings and no one knew Genni’s father to be able to contact any other family. It had always been assumed he was a passing tourist. A simple one-night stand. Genni grimaced and shifted in her seat. Nothing gave a girl confidence like knowing she was an accident.
Most would say Genni’s upbringing had been difficult. Grandma Maggie wasn’t exactly known for being warm. While not cruel, Margaret Winters was not the cookie-baking, bun-wearing, cheek-squishing grandma in the fairy tales. No...Margaret Winters had known loss. Too much of it, causing her to go through life with a stoic expression and a “get it done” attitude.
With that as her example, it was no wonder that Genni had given up her teenage years and any chance at college in order to care for Margaret as she slowly withered away from lymphatic cancer. Life was hard, but Winters women had learned to be survivors.
Genni tucked a dark chunk of hair behind her ear, an assumed gift from her nonexistent father, since her mother had been blonde, and tried to force the memories from her mind.
“I give all I have, my worldly possessions and half-ownership in the Boardwalk Manor, to my granddaughter and sole living relative, Genevieve Winters,” Mr. Filchor said in a monotone voice.
Genni stiffened. “Excuse me?”
Mr. Filchor stopped and twitched his mustache. “I beg your pardon?”
“Would you read that last part again?” Genni’s heart began to pound. Surely she had heard wrong. Or maybe the lawyer’s mustache was interfering with his reading because that last sentence couldn’t have been correct.
Mr. Filchor cleared his throat again and studied the paper, tilting his head back so he could see better through his bifocals. “I give all I have, my worldly—”
“The next part,” Genni urged. A single bead of sweat ran down her spine, distracting her slightly. She sat back in her seat, pressing her shirt against her skin, hoping her blouse would soak it up so she could focus. She would worry about the dry cleaning bill later.
Mr. Filchor glared at her above his glasses. “I was getting to that.”
She forced herself to nod, but not speak again. Genni’s clasped hands became clammy and her foot wanted to tap impatiently, but she wrangled her body into submission.
“My worldly possessions and half-ownership in the Boardwalk Mansion, to my granddaughter and—”
“I think there’s been a mistake,” Genni interrupted.
Mr. Filchor humphed, his mustache wiggling, before straightening in his seat. “What do you mean?”
Genni took a deep breath, keeping her voice calm. “You said half-ownership. That can’t be right.”
Eyebrows almost as large as the mustache rose high on a wrinkled forehead. “It is.”
“How can that be?” Genni leaned forward. “My grandmother owned that house. She owned it before I was born, and I grew up there. She always told me everything would belong to me. Who else would she leave anything to? I’m the only family she had.”
Mr. Filchor sighed and took off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, Ms. Winters, but there is nothing incorrect in the will.” He looked up, his dark eyes slightly sunken in his old age, but still as sharp as a man half his age. “Many years ago, when you were just a tiny thing, Maggie...Mrs. Winters, was struggling to pay her taxes. She reached out to an old friend, who paid off the amount in exchange for half-ownership of the home.” He wiggled his nose. “I don’t have to tell you that your home is right on the beach. It’s prime property.” He chuckled darkly. “It was a shrewd move on Mr. James’ part.”
“Mr. James?” Genni could barely breathe. Every dream she had held onto for the past ten years was slowly going up in smoke. All the sacrifices, the time, money and jobs, the lack of social life and loss of companionship in her life had been worth it, as long as Genni could one day open her bed and breakfast. It was a dream she’d had since a young teenage girl, and now it was all for naught. There was no way she could renovate the mansion and open a business if she only owned half of the home.
The air felt heavy and thick as yet another blow was dealt to the last remaining Winters woman. When will I get a break? Am I just as doomed as Grandma to live from one tragedy to another?
Mr. Filchor nodded. “Yes, a Mr. Verl James. He was friends with your grandfather back in the day.” Mr. Filchor’s eyes became unfocused as he recalled his memories. “He hasn’t been back here since the day he paid off the taxes,” Mr. Filchor mused. Dar
k eyes met Genni’s once more. “In fact, at his age, he’d probably be just as happy to sell you his half. He hasn’t made any move to use his ownership in any way.”
A small beam of hope began to ease the weight on Genni’s shoulders. “Do you really think so?”
Mr. Filchor nodded firmly. “I don’t see why not. If he wanted any say in the building, he’s waited an awfully long time to do anything about it.” He cleared his throat and shuffled the papers. “I’m sure we can look up his information and send him an email or phone call.” Mr. Filchor raised his eyebrows. “Would you like my office to check into it?” He smiled softly. “In memory of Maggie?”
Genni relaxed, grateful for loyalty that seemed so common among the older generation. “I would really appreciate that, Mr. Filchor. Thank you.” I’ve waited this long. I can wait a few more days.
“IF YOU’LL JUST SIGN right here,” the lawyer said smoothly, pointing to a line on the bottom of the document.
Cooper’s hand was shaking slightly as he put his name down.
“There,” the lawyer, Ms. Mendoza, cooed. She gathered the papers, shuffling them to make the pile even, and winked at him. “It’s all legal now.”
“So...” Cooper pinched his lips together for a moment, gathering his thoughts. “The other owner? The woman living in the house now...does she know my grandpa owned half the deed?”
Ms. Mendoza nodded primly. “Yes. It was a deal made between them years ago, from what I understand.” She tapped a pen on the desktop. “I wasn’t around at the signing of the contract—it happened before my time—but I heard he helped her out of a sticky situation. Something about taxes, I think.”
Cooper nodded, his eyes falling to the floor. “Do you know if she wants to hang onto the house?”
Ms. Mendoza’s eyebrows shot up. “You want to keep the house?”
He shrugged, not wanting to go into details. His plans were none of this woman’s business. “I’m just looking at my options.”
“If I were you, I’d look into selling.” The lawyer grinned. “A small town on the coast of Oregon is a far cry from the city we live in now.”
“Right.” Cooper pushed a hand through his hair. “But if I was interested in speaking to her, what would I do?”
Ms. Mendoza tilted her head consideringly. “I suppose you could call or email. I have no idea what her status is with the house.” She snorted delicately. “At her age, she might be willing to sell you the whole thing for cheap. Then you could turn around and flip it for a profit. I’m sure there are people who enjoy small communities.”
Cooper tapped his fingers against his thigh, an idea forming in his head. It was a little crazy, but he’d spent most of his life running on the edge of sane. At least this plan wouldn’t end with him spending time behind bars. “Thanks.”
“You’re serious!” Ms. Mendoza said in shock. She laughed. “You actually want to keep the home.”
Cooper nodded, his fingers twitching with his desire to get out of the stuffy room. “So...I can go now?”
She raised an eyebrow at him. “I suppose so, yes.”
Cooper nodded again and spun on his boot heel.
“Mr. James.”
He paused and glanced back.
“I haven’t eaten since breakfast,” Ms. Mendoza said with a smirk. “I know a quiet little place not far from here.” The invitation hung heavy in the air and Cooper swallowed hard. This was exactly the type of thing he was trying to get away from.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly, hoping he wasn’t hurting her feelings. “But I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
The second eyebrow joined the first. “Oh, really? And why is that?”
Cooper straightened his shoulders. He hated it when they wouldn’t take no for an answer. “I don’t mix business with pleasure.”
Her lips twitched. “Our business is concluded.”
Cooper shook his head harder. “I’m sorry, Ms. Mendoza. I’m not interested.” There. He’d made it plain and he shouldn’t have to repeat himself. Women tended to look at the tattoo on his bicep and his overgrown curls bouncing around his head and assume that he was the type of man who regularly flaunted the rules.
Can you blame them? his inner voice asked. You used to be exactly that man.
Ms. Mendoza leaned back in her seat, a pen twirling through her fingers. “I see...”
Cooper nodded again, feeling like a Bobblehead doll. “If you’ll excuse me.”
She waved him away, an icy tone to her voice. “By all means.”
Swallowing a retort, Cooper left. He shivered once he was outside the office. Women who were overly aggressive used to be attractive to him, but he’d learned his lesson...a little too well. As he walked down the hallway, his eyes strayed to the windows he passed. Night had fallen during his time with the lawyer, which had felt like an eternity.
When he’d been called last week, telling him that his grandfather had passed and left him an inheritance, Cooper hadn’t believed it. He hadn’t spoken to Grandpa Verl since he was a rebellious teenager, trying to find his path in life.
And what a path that was, he thought scornfully. His curls brushed his cheeks as he shook his head, the sensation soft against his skin, even as his heart pounded painfully within his ribcage. “I can’t believe he’s gone,” Cooper muttered.
He marched straight to his bike, zipping up his leather jacket as he walked. Grabbing his helmet from the back, he slammed it onto his head, grumbling at the tight fit. “Need a haircut.”
After revving the engine a couple of times, Cooper brought his feet up and began to move forward. Looking both ways at the end of the parking garage, he punched it, jumping into the nighttime traffic just as he’d done a thousand times.
Memories swirled through his head as he rode. Images of him playing with his grandfather, playing catch or building a treehouse. Grandpa Verl had been a wonderful man who always had time for his family.
Cooper’s lips thinned. So what the heck happened to my parents?
He hit the gas after idling at a stop light, enjoying the rush of adrenaline that zipping through the streets brought him. His bike was the only part of his old life that Cooper had hung onto. Well...that and the tattoo. Can’t really get rid of that one. He slowed as he passed the mechanics garage on Forty-second and Alder. The place meant that Cooper was reaching the edge of town, but it also was a reminder of everything he would be leaving behind if he took the road laid out in front of him.
Miguel, the head mechanic, had given Cooper a job when no one else would. He’d helped Cooper get back on his feet, get a roof over his head, fill his belly and keep his most precious possession...his bike. When everything else had been taken from him, Nova had been left behind, just waiting for Cooper to get his head on straight and come back to her. Nothing else in his life had ever been so loyal.
Pressing the accelerator, Cooper sped back up and headed toward his tiny apartment. It definitely wasn’t much to look at, but it was his. He paid the rent faithfully every month, just like a good citizen would do. Every part of his life now was in line with the rules, but somehow, it wasn’t quite enough.
A shadow seemed to hang over Cooper, following him no matter how hard he tried to prove himself. It was as if the city wasn’t willing to forget his mistakes and would forever seek for ways to punish him for them.
Cooper parked, set his kickstand and swung his leg off the bike. Cradling the key in his palm, he tucked his helmet under his arm and marched up the steps to his room. After getting inside, he locked the door, dumped his gear on the couch and sat on the edge of his bed. His eyes drifted around the small studio, taking in the bare walls and second-hand furniture.
Would you be sad to leave it behind?
He let the thought percolate for a minute, but the answer came easier than he expected. “No.” The words broke the thick silence. “There’s nothing for me here.” He sighed, sinking into the squeaky mattress. He squished his lips to one side as he though
t of living on the coast. He hadn’t been to the ocean in years, not since he was living under his parents’ roof.
Cooper’s resolve began to build and a smile played on his lips. “New town, new job, and hopefully new home.” He nodded in satisfaction. “It’s about time things started going in my favor.”
CHAPTER 2
A bell above the door jangled as Genni walked into The Hidden Daffodil. She smiled when a sea of heads turned her way.
“Genni!”
“You came!”
“We’re so excited to see you!”
The general chorus came from a large group of women,who immediately rushed to her side. Genni’s heart warmed slightly at the reception, though she tried not to show it. Grandma Maggie had always taught her not to need or rely on others, but try as she might, having this group of women felt good. The members in the Bulbs, Blossoms and Bouquets club had been the emotional support that Genni had craved, even if she wasn’t one to admit to such a thing. Even though they were standing closer than Genni was comfortable with, she couldn’t help but appreciate how much they wanted to help.
A lithe redhead made her way through the crowd. “Genni,” she said softly, compassion in her gaze.
“Hi, Rose.” Genni sighed. She found herself leaning forward, knowing Rosalinda would hug her if Genni allowed it, but Genni forced herself back. Touching was something she stayed away from. It made it harder to stay strong. Though only a few years older than Genni, Rose’s maternal personality made it difficult at times, but Genni worked hard to keep from getting too close.
“How are you?” Rose whispered.
Genni nodded and shrugged. “Okay. I miss her.”
Rose nodded, a line forming between her furrowed eyebrows. “It’s completely understandable. The whole town will miss her.”
Genni nodded, swallowing hard.
“Here, honey.” Caroline stepped between the two, poking her head into Genni’s personal bubble. “I brought you a little something to help you feel better.” Caro winked. “Nothing helps grief more than a good piece of fudge.”