Love Rents A Room
Chapter 75: The Tense Indecision

Chapter 75: The Tense Indecision

Joanne couldn’t grasp what was happening.

She had only asked if he wanted to join her for the Junior League commencement ceremony, and then—

Then...

His voice had dropped, rich and deep, sending an unexpected shiver down her spine.

And now—now she was in his embrace.

Her heart pounded in confusion, in something dangerously close to anticipation.

What should she do?

Before she could even process it, he had pulled her even closer, his breath warm against her cheek, his presence overwhelming.

She could push him away. Should push him away.

Her knee was still between his legs—she could make him regret this in an instant if she wanted to.

But...

She didn’t move.

Instead, she stilled in his arms, the scent of him—woodsy, deep, familiar yet intoxicating—wrapping around her like a spell. Her fingers curled around his shoulder, a half-hearted push that lacked conviction. A push that wasn’t meant to separate, but to ground herself.

What did she want?

She wasn’t sure.

And so, she let it happen.

Not out of shock. Not out of hesitation. But out of something far more dangerous—indecision.

He was so close.

She had a boyfriend. JD was a paying guest staying in her home. He was an employee of her company.

And he was so close to her right now. Which he should not be. She should not be in this situation.

But...

His warmth seeped into her, his breath tickling the shell of her ear. The low rumble of his voice vibrated through her, sending a traitorous weakness to her knees.

And she realized, with a racing heart, that maybe—just maybe—she wasn’t as resistant to this as she thought.

-----

With a sharp inhale, Jeffrey pulled away, the haze lifting as if he had been jolted awake from a dream.

Her fingers had curled around his shirt, just over his shoulder, an unconscious movement that sent a shock through his system.

What the hell was he doing?

His heart still pounded, erratic, but reality came rushing back like a cold gust of wind. He took a step back, putting space between them, though the warmth of her lingered like an imprint on his skin.

A strand of her hair had clung to his cheek. Gently, almost absentmindedly, he brushed it away as he withdrew.

She stared at him, wide-eyed, confusion clouding her features.

And he knew—she didn’t understand what just happened.

Hell, even he wasn’t sure.

Because at the worst possible moment, his mind had dragged him elsewhere. Back to her—the redheaded girl from his dreams, the one who had been haunting him night after night.

Why now?

His throat felt tight. He cleared it, forcing a smile onto his face, anything to break the suffocating tension.

"Want to dance?" he asked, his voice too light, too forced.

Joanne blinked, then let out an awkward chuckle, stepping back as if shaking off a spell. "Dance?" she echoed, incredulous.

"Yeah..." He shrugged, trying to sell the casualness that neither of them felt. "Dancing is fun!"

She scoffed, taking another step back. "Ah..." Her lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile.

All of that—the heat, the tension, the moment where time had stood still—was for dancing?

That was all?

A strange, unwelcome feeling settled in her chest. Disappointment.

Why?

She didn’t have the answer, and she didn’t want to find it.

"That’s all right!" she said quickly, waving a hand, brushing it off as if it were nothing—as if he were nothing. "I’ll leave first. You should come too! This little town barely has any entertainment, and the Junior League is basically the Super Bowl around here..." She forced a laugh, the awkwardness thick in her voice.

And then, before he could say anything else, she turned and ran.

Down the hallway. Down the stairs. Out the door.

By the time she reached her truck, her breath was shallow, her pulse erratic for reasons she refused to acknowledge.

Once inside, she gripped the wheel, her fingers tightening around the leather. Then, with a frustrated exhale, she slammed her hand against it.

What the hell was that?

This wasn’t right.

She shouldn’t have felt that.

She shouldn’t still feel his warmth pressed against her back, lingering, refusing to fade.

Because when she tried to kiss Jonathan—Jonathan, her boyfriend, the man she was supposed to be attracted to—she hadn’t felt this kind of heat.

Not once.

Her stomach twisted with guilt.

She needed to fix this. Now.

Jaw set, she started the truck and sped off, determined to silence the questions racing in her mind.

-----

Jeffrey leaned against his door, exhaling a slow, uneven breath.

"This is hell..." he muttered to himself. His head fell back against the wood with a dull thud.

Where was the heaven they promised when you fall in love?

Because all he felt was this—this mess, this torment, this unbearable ache that made him feel like he was being ripped apart.

Why did love feel like this?

Why did it feel like hell?

From the window, he watched her truck disappear down the road.

His fingers curled into fists.

"Damn woman," he muttered under his breath.

"You’re going to be the end of me."

-----

The field buzzed with anticipation as the teams prepped for the first match. On a small stage in the corner, the chief guests sat in their designated seats, their presence adding an air of prestige to the event. In the bleachers, excitement rippled through the crowd, but for one woman, the highlight of the day wasn’t the game—it was the absence of one particular honor.

Nina—the receptionist—watched with barely concealed satisfaction.

Joanne wasn’t the one being honored this year.

And it was exactly what she deserved for firing Brian Cooper.

Nina smirked as she lifted her phone, ready to capture the moment. This was history in the making, and she intended to immortalize it with pictures.

She knew Joanne wouldn’t stay away from the ceremony—Charlotte was playing today, after all. But this year, instead of standing in the spotlight, Joanne would be watching from the sidelines as Tom Sullivan, her long-time enemy, basked in the recognition that had been hers year after year.

Oh, the irony.

Nina was already imagining the perfect social media caption when something else caught her eye.

Jonathan Meyer.

He was standing beside Charlotte, but his attention was elsewhere. His eyes had locked onto a car parked at a distance.

Nina followed his gaze, expecting to see Joanne stepping out. But it wasn’t Joanne’s truck.

A sleek, unfamiliar BMW.

Her lips curled in curiosity. Did Joanne get a new car?

But before she could speculate further, Jonathan murmured something to Charlotte and began walking toward the vehicle.

Nina’s intrigue deepened. She rose from her seat, following at a discreet distance, phone at the ready.

As she got closer, she realized—it wasn’t Joanne in the car.

It was someone else.

A woman.

A beautiful woman.

Jonathan greeted her with an expression that was warm at first, but within moments, his demeanor changed. His jaw tensed, his posture stiffened.

A disagreement.

The air between them crackled with something sharp, something heated. The woman stepped out of the car, her movements decisive, her expression unreadable. Jonathan followed her, the two of them moving toward a tree, tucked away by the wall in the parking lot, just out of view from the main event.

Nina’s pulse quickened.

Her instincts screamed at her—this was something worth capturing.

She lifted her phone, angling it for the best shot as she recorded their exchange.

And then—

It happened.

The woman leaned in.

And kissed Jonathan.

Nina’s breath caught in her throat.

She couldn’t hear their words, couldn’t tell if it was a moment of passion or betrayal, but what she could see was enough.

The honor ceremony, the match, Joanne’s downfall—suddenly, none of that mattered anymore.

Because this—this was even better.

A slow, wicked smile spread across Nina’s lips.

She had gold.

Joanne’s boyfriend was kissing some other woman!