Strong Safety

STRONG SAFETY JERICA MACMILLAN Marycliff Press Copyright © 2023 by Jerica MacMillan All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Contents 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 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Epilogue Epilogue II Dear Reader Acknowledgments About the Author Also by Jerica MacMillan Chapter 1 Isabelle CRASH! Startled by the noise in the hallway, I barely miss jabbing myself in the eye with my mascara wand, and instead smear it up my eyelid to my brow. “Dammit!” I curse, not bothering to keep it under my breath. If my new roommate and his friends can’t be bothered not to break half my things, I see no reason why I should keep my cursing to myself. “Sorry!” calls a voice from the hall. I don’t know if it’s the new roomie or one of his friends. I don’t know any of them well enough to distinguish their voices. With a growl in my throat, I use makeup remover and angrily swipe away all the makeup on my right eye. I was already in a bad mood about the fact that my boyfriend Lucas insisted that we have to go out tonight, when he knows full well that my new roommate is moving in. Of course, that’s the exact reason why he’s insisting. He hates that I’ve chosen to let “another man” move in with me, as he put it. And not just any old dude. An attractive football player. He’s hot, a voice in my head that sounds just like my best friend Charity corrects me. Just admit that he’s hot. Fine. He’s hot. But that’s immaterial. I have a boyfriend who I’m happy with. Most of the time. When he’s not being an overweening, jealous asshat. And even if I didn’t, I wouldn’t date Caden. For one, he’s my roommate. That just screams bad idea right there. Plus, he’s a football player. Not that I need another reason not to date him, but if I did, that’s another major strike against him. I’ve had bad experiences with football players. Once the makeup is thoroughly wiped off—and my skin red from the friction—I stomp toward my door and fling it open. And practically collide with a wall of muscular flesh. “Shit!” I half-shriek, stepping back and clearing my throat, unable to stop myself from checking out my new roommate, who’s currently shirtless, his muscles bulging under the weight of the bed frame he and a friend—also shirtless—are hefting into his room. At my exclamation, he turns and gives me a smile, a dimple forming in his cheek, hazel eyes moving down and up my body in a lazy once over. “You all dressed up to help me move in?” Scowling at the way my cheeks heat at his perusal, I shake my head. “No. I have a date tonight.” The words come out clipped and snippy, and I don’t try to rein it in, instead leaning into it by crossing my arms and cocking my hip to telegraph my displeasure. “What fell? Did you break something?” With a chuckle, Caden gives me an apologetic smile, that dimple flashing at me again, seeming unfazed by my bad attitude. “Nothing to worry about. It was one of my boxes that bonehead over there,” he gestures with his head toward someone down the hall, “knocked over. If anything broke, it’s mine. Your things are safe.” “Dude!” his friend calls. “Chat later. I need you to pivot or we’re never going to fit this thing through your door.” Caden glances at me, once again giving me a lingering appreciative glance as he takes in my outfit—a black satin cami, my favorite cutoffs, and gladiator sandals. “Hey, since your door’s open now, can we, uh …” He jerks his head in my direction, and my brows wrinkle in confusion. “Do you mind if I step inside your room a few feet so we can make the corner? It’s a tight fit.” “Um …” I hesitate. Be nice, the Charity voice says in my head. He just needs extra space to get his bed into his room. “Ugh. Fine.” I push the door wide and back up out of the way, picking up a pair of shoes and a few articles of clothing I left lying on the floor as I go. “Thanks,” he grunts, backing into my room, and then all his attention’s on moving furniture, while mine is glued to the muscles straining in his back, and the way his shorts mold to the round contours of his ass. God. What is wrong with me? Maybe Lucas is right that I need to be out of the house while these dudes are all sweaty and shirtless. It’s not like he’s interested in me, anyway. And I don’t want him to be. We’re roommates. I have a boyfriend—a guy who wants to be with me, unlike the last asshole I tried to date. He’s not some jock who probably sleeps with everyone. Shaking my head at myself, I slip out of my room after I finish my makeup, hoping to avoid running into Caden again before I leave. I feel a little badly about bailing on him on his move-in day, which does nothing to help my mood. But Lucas doesn’t deal well when I tell him no, and sometimes it’s just easier not to argue. When I reach the living room, I stop in my tracks,