Read Rooter (Double H Romance) for Free Online

Basically, I never go into the bathroom unless I’m wearing shoes. But today it has hit an all-time high on the disgusting meter. Last week was Miranda’s week to clean the bathroom. It never got done. Big surprise.
    I am not happy.
    Not one little bit.
    “Miranda,” I holler and open her door without knocking. She’s sitting at her desk with her iPod on. I dart over and yank one of the ear buds out of her ear.
    She jumps. “What?”
    “Have you seen the bathroom?” I ask with my hands on my hips.
    “I’m so sorry I didn’t get to it over the weekend. I’m going to clean it.”
    “It needs to be cleaned  right now .” I demand and stomp my right foot.
    “I’m painting my nails.” She holds her hands up to show me her perfectly manicured pink fingernails. Not even her perky cuteness, with her hair bunched up on top of her head is enough to calm me.
    “I don’t care! There’s shit all over the toilet!”
    Her eyes go wide. “What?”
    “Go see for yourself!” I wave toward the bathroom.
    The moment she sees the mess she gags. “Mike!” She shouts.
    “He’s not here,” I inform her.
    “He’s going to have to clean that. I’m not going near it.” She goes back to her room and I follow.
    She may have better manners than to crap on the toilet and leave it there, but her room is an absolute pigsty. Dirty clothes cover a third of the floor while her hamper remains empty. There are three empty glasses, one on her nightstand and two on the dresser. Almost all of her drawers are open with various items hanging out of them and her bed is unmade. I don’t know how she lives like this. She takes such great pride in herself and in her appearance that she sometimes showers twice a day which includes clean clothes, fresh makeup, and newly done hair. How can she care so much about personal hygiene and so little about cleanliness in her room, or the rest of the house for that matter?
    “The shower, sink and floor need cleaned as well,” I remind her.
    She points toward the bathroom. “I’m not going in there until he cleans that up. That’s nasty.”
    “Who are you telling? Just when I’m sure it can’t possibly get any worse, I’m proven wrong.”
    “Look at it this way,” she goes back to painting her nails, “it’s a good education for when you get married. All men are pigs. Chris was just as bad.”
    Chris is her boyfriend. They’ve been going out for little over a year. I’m not a huge fan of his. He’s hot, and he knows it and it shows. I’m not entirely sure what, other than his looks, Miranda sees in him. He treats her like crap until he wants sex, then it’s all “Baby, I love you.” Yuck.
    Then it hits me. She said “ was just as bad.”
    “Was?” I ask with an arched brow.
    “I caught him with a stripper.” She doesn’t sound surprised. “And not a classy one from a gentleman’s club. We’re talking straight out of the gutter, not even hot, white trash.”
    “Ew!” I push back her comforter to make room to sit on the bed. “When did this happen?”
    “Last weekend. He butt dialed me in the middle of the night. I heard Brian’s voice in the background and assumed they were home,” she gets up and joins me on the bed, “so I went there, and sure as hell, there they were, the three of them.”
    “The three of them?” I ask with wide eyes. Holy shit!
    “Yep. The slut was on all fours getting fucked by my boyfriend while sucking Brian’s tiny cock.”
    “What did you do?”
    “I stood in the doorway for a minute while Brian screamed “Brandy, Brandy” over and over again. They didn’t even notice me. So I said, “Care if I join?” You should’ve seen Chris’ face.”
    “What did he do?”
    “I never saw anyone move so fast in my life. He jumped off her and came after me, but I was out of there.” She motions animatedly with her hands. “I ran as fast as I could to my car while he chased me butt naked with a flopping boner. All I could hear was “Please