Rich Boy: A Royal Landlord Romance (Blue Collar Bachelors Book 5)

by Cassie-Ann L. Miller

  “Dad, eww! I’m not checking out your work.”

  He sounds genuinely disappointed. “So, you’re not gonna support me?”

  I can’t even, right now. “Bye, dad.”

  “Bye, honey.”

  When I hang up the phone, another attempt at reading my textbook fails. Finally, I give up. Today just isn’t a studying day. I’ve got too much on my mind. With saving up for my tuition and keeping my job and making sure my weirdo of a dad stays out of trouble. Despite the long list of topics to brood over, I find myself thinking about Xavier again. And I know I shouldn’t.

  But just for a minute, I give myself free rein to recall the sexy curl of his teasing lips, the dark, messy bush on his head and the stubble sprouting up on his chin. I allow myself to enjoy the way his eyes felt strolling up and down my body, the sound of his peculiar accent.

  And when that minute is up, I stuff my phone into my pocket and toss my sandwich to the birds. I head back inside and take my position at the cash register so Nat can take her lunch break.

  I shove the devastatingly attractive landlord out of my mind because Sadie Nichols has her feet planted firmly in reality. Prince Charming and his fairy tales need not apply…Not that he’s interested, anyway.

  We’d be so wrong together. I just wish I weren’t so damn attracted to him.

  11

  xavier

  It’s a staring competition between me and a bottle of whiskey.

  The measure of amber liquid sits in a crystal tumbler on the edge of the piano as my fingers dance languidly across the keys and soft music floats all around me. My throat tingles for the fiery burn of the alcohol going down. I crave the numbing relief that comes when it hits my bloodstream. When I'm drunk off my arse, that's the only time the guilt of my mistakes eases its chokehold.

  When I need a break from myself, the drinking never fails to provide that. So, it’s all good, right?

  The problem is I usually don't know how to stop and what begins as fun and games and escapism quickly devolves into pure fuckery. Then I'm left with a feeling worse than the one I was trying to get away from in the first place.

  That's why I'm trying to resist today but in truth, I'm not having an easy time of it.

  The whiskey glints in the hit of sunshine slipping in through the space in the curtains. It winks invitingly. Glittering, glittering liquid temptation.

  But it pales in comparison to the temptation that is Sadie Nichols.

  I need to get her out of my mind.

  Ever since that morning on the rooftop when she showed herself to me, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her. The look on her face as she touched herself. The sounds she made as she flew over the edge. The rejection in her expression as she walked away.

  I’m such a fucking idiot.

  I haven't seen her in nearly a week. She's been avoiding me.

  So much for becoming friends.

  But I can’t blame her for keeping her distance. I was bound to hurt her in the end, anyway.

  My existence has been pure torture ever since. My cock is a concrete pillar. Nothing I've tried has eased my craving for her.

  I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve jerked off in the past week.

  Alcohol just leaves me miserable and hungover.

  Taking cold showers doesn’t help ease the throb in my blood. Not one bit.

  I’ve tried power napping but every time I close my eyes, I see her standing in the doorframe wrapped in a bath towel, just like the first day we met. Except in my fantasies, she slowly unwraps the terrycloth from around her and bares that luscious body, torturing me by rubbing her little fingers across the space between her thighs.

  These fantasies can’t be healthy.

  You know what I haven’t tried, though? Adult colouring books. I need to order a few of those.

  I close my eyes in frustration and scrub my fingertips over my eyelids but it does nothing to erase the stream of inappropriate visuals in my brain.

  This new and constant heat teasing at my insides is such a sharp contrast to the cold, sluggish feeling that's been moving through my veins for the longest while. I struggle to remember the last time I met a lass who was even remotely interesting. All the women who run in royal circles tend to have the same background, the same attitude and the same intentions. It’s boring. Predictable.

  But Sadie is surprising. Endearing. Bold and confident in her individuality. She doesn’t bow to me in deference. In fact, she’s defiant. Irreverent.

  She is all the things I can't allow myself to admit that I want. All the things I've felt too guilty to crave all these years. All the things I don't deserve. She’s driving me crazy.

  Her appeal goes so much deeper than her gorgeous lips and her luscious body. The girl has fire. She owns up to her flaws and she lives unapologetically in her skin. There’s something so refreshing about that. I want more of it.

  That’s why I push her buttons. Just to see how she’ll react. Maybe I’m an arrogant bastard for deliberately inciting her. Being around her sparks something in me, something I haven’t felt in ages.

  There’s this overwhelming sense of guilt that takes over every time my body heats with attraction for a woman or whenever I find myself wondering what it would feel like to have someone in my life. That guilt has been at the forefront, pulsing and suffocating, from the very first moment I met Sadie.

  Gnarring low in frustration, I slam down the piano fallboard over the keys. My fingers twist roughly in my hair. What the hell is wrong with me? Why is my head all knotted up over this girl?

  I can’t just sit around the house all day, alternating between fighting against my desire for whiskey and my desire for Sadie.

  Fuck that.

  I’m driving myself crazy. I need to get out. When I came to Copper Heights, the original plan was to barricade myself in this apartment and avoid human contact as much as possible throughout my time here but a walk around Town Square might actually do me some good at this point. Sliding into my old sneakers, I grab my keys and head out the door.

  I wander down to Main Street, peeking into the out-dated two-storey buildings lining the narrow roadside as I go. Each of the quaint little shops seems to be named after the family who founded it. Gallo’s Italian Restaurant…Harper’s Flower Shop…Davison’s Dashing Dildos…

  The only familiar face I pass is that sulky guy from the laundromat the other day. Aside from him, it's just a sea of happy-looking people milling all around me, talking, laughing and moving at a leisurely pace under the blistering summer sun. I draw quite a bit of attention. Copper Heights is a small town with a population of about 5000. The residents can easily spot an outsider. But their gazes are friendly and fleeting. Some say hello but generally, they just leave me to window-shop.

  After meandering around for a while, the smell of vanilla and cinnamon call out to me. The heavenly scent draws me to the Broken Cupcake. Lingering in the parking lot, off at a distance, I peek inside and I see Sadie.

  Sadie…Beautiful, crazy Sadie…

  She’s behind the counter dancing unabashedly as she fixes a cup of coffee for a grinning customer. When she turns and sets the drink in the man’s hands, I can see the adoring look on his face even from all the way out here. He digs into his wallet and stuffs a fistful of bills into her tip jar. Sucker…I can't blame the poor bloke. Her laugh is intoxicating, her carefree demeanour is bewitching and her pretty eyes are so easy to fall into. She’s enchanting.

  Shit, I’m doing that thing again. That getting-caught-up-in-Sadie thing.

  I came to this town because I needed some space, some time alone to clear my head. And here I am, head more tangled up than ever, hovering shiftily beside a rubbish bin in a parking lot, just for a little peek at a girl I barely even know. This is crazy.

  I grate my fingernails through my scalp. Suddenly, I need a drink. I mean I really need a drink. Something strong. Because—yes—alcohol is high up on the list of ‘Things Xavier Needs to Stay the
Fuck Away From’ but Sadie? Sadie tops the list.

  I’m playing with fire.

  I silently remind myself that I’m gasoline.

  Tripping over my own feet, I back out of the parking lot and toward the main road. Far, far away from this place.

  Asking for directions leads me to a crumbling building on a narrow, neglected street. Stale air hits me when I pull open the door to the liquor shop. A lethargic tattooed man with a red bandana on his gray head throws me an uninterested glimpse from behind the cash register. His eyes move back to the series of scratch tickets sitting on the counter in front of him. He smooths down the corners of his Hulk Hogan moustache as he hunches over, flicking a dime back and forth over the lottery tickets.

  I shuffle through the dusty shelves looking for a bottle of good brandy but the selection is limited to a bunch of cheap brands I’ve never heard of. After a few frustrating minutes of trying to decide, I grab the biggest one, hoping it's a good choice.

  Clenching the bottle tightly, I reaffirm my position. I don’t need Sadie Nichols. I need liquor.

  But as I step up to the cash register and pull out my wallet, my stomach churns. I get a flash of what tomorrow will look like if I spend the night canoodling with this bottle of alcohol. At some point in the next twenty-four hours, I’ll find myself crumpled on the bathroom floor again, with my arms around the cold porcelain, hurling up my guts and regretting the day I was born. I imagine Sadie seeing me in that pathetic state.

  Hell—I don’t want that.

  I close my eyes and scrub my palms down my face as I wrestle with my decision. The man at the cash register speaks, his vocals raspy from years of smoking cigarettes. “You buyin’ that or what?”

  My eyes snap open and my gaze falls on the pile of pamphlets and adverts scattered about the counter in front of me. I shake my head slowly. “No—I’m not buying…” He gives me a scorching glare that could melt the ice caps in Antarctica. But I don’t waver. I leave the liquor behind and grab a pamphlet instead.

  I set out across town in search of the address printed on the flyer and find myself at a dilapidated community center a few blocks away. I pull open the heavy door, following the arrows pointing down toward the stairs.

  Caution makes my stomach cramp as I descend the cracked wooden steps to the basement. Each footstep echoes eerily in the vacant hall. The paint peels from the walls and the strong scent of urine permeates the humid air. But I’m too fucking distraught to turn away and go back to the way I’ve been living life.

  Full of reckless, foolish false hope, I breathe in a lungful of stale air then push open the door.

  The speaker at the front of the room halts his speech and a dozen tired, weathered faces turn toward me. My heart thumps erratically but I hold my head high and my shoulders straight. I clear my throat, addressing the room.

  “Hello. I’m Xavier…Xavier George Andrew Henry Cambridge…And I’m an alcoholic.”

  12

  Sadie

  I don’t understand how any self-respecting adult can sit around for hours and watch this,” I grumble without looking up from the textbook in my hands. “No offence,” I add quickly when Nat distractedly sends a popcorn kernel flying at me.

  “Shhh…” Her attention is fully invested in the catfight currently taking place on the television screen. “This is the good part.” She stuffs a handful of popcorn into her face, buttery kernels tumbling down the front of her shirt.

  I roll my eyes. “I know I’m not missing out on much. If you’ve seen one reality TV brawl, you’ve seen them all.”

  She gives me a sidelong glimpse as one girl yells a string of obscenities and throws a flailing arm into another girls’ hair. Girl #1 emerges with a fistful of Girl #2’s sapphire blue extensions clutched victoriously in her hand. “Why exactly have you been parked on my sofa every afternoon until midnight for the past week?” Nat’s eyes widen, horrified as a pair of silicone-pumped boobs are ejected from a glittery corset top. I really thought they were supposed to blur this stuff out on TV.

  “Basically, I’m doing this for you, Natalie. For your wellbeing.Because you’re over here all by your lonesome while Thandi’s at her dad’s for the week. I know you miss me. You’re just too shy to tell me how much you need bonding time with your bestie.” I give her a sincere look.

  Commercial break. She shuffles around to face me. “Yeah, right.” Angling her head to the side, she squints. “You aren’t avoiding the Landlord-Prince and his regal man cakes, are you?”

  I psht. “Overactive imagination,” I mutter and keep my eyes down on my book.

  And Natalie gasps. Because she knows me so freaking well. I get a big shove in the shoulder from her.

  “Ouch!”

  “Tell me!” she demands.

  I narrow my eyes at her, making a huge show of innocence. “Tell you what?”

  “Tell me what you did. Right this minute.” She thrusts the bowl of popcorn onto the side table and pauses the TV with the remote. She waits with an arched brow.

  “I don’t know what—”

  She growls. “ Sadie No-Middle-Name Nichols, tell me right now what you did. Tell me why you’re avoiding Xavier. I’m serious.”

  She is serious. Her green eyes glint threateningly and her nostrils flare. I’ve been bursting to get this off of my chest anyway. So I spit it out. “I sort of, y’know, showed him how I take care of myself.”

  Natalie blinks in disbelief half a dozen times before her jaw drops into her lap. With a thud. “No, you didn’t…”

  I shrink about an inch or two in shame. “Yes, I did.”

  “E-explain…” It comes from her as a hiccuppy whisper.

  “I don’t know what I was thinking. We were just sitting there on the rooftop. And he found my vibrator in the basket under the table. And I was so horny I was about to go blind. So, I…Argh!” I bury my face in my hands.

  For a moment, nothing happens. She just sits there and stares as I marinate in a brew of humiliation, remorse and deep, deep shame.

  And then, she throws her head back and howls with laughter.

  Her little feet kick up in front of her and her entire torso shakes. Like she’s being electrocuted by Sadie’s Poor Life Choice Number 348756.

  “Nat!” I chastise her. “I already feel terrible as it is.”

  “I’m sorry,” she says, gasping for air as if she’s drowning. “I shouldn’t laugh. I’m sorry.”

  But laughter boils up on the inside again and my friend looks like she’s about to explode. Then, she does. More laughter. More foot-kicking. Thanks, Natalie.

  “Let it all out,” I encourage her. “Shame me. Go ahead. Bring it on. I deserve it. Shame me.”

  “Okay, okay. I’m done,” she says and the giggles begin to subside. “Anyway, what did he do? How did he react?”

  Xavier’s rejection stings all over again. “He didn’t react. He just watched me.”

  And all joking slips from my friend’s face. “Oh…”

  I slam my book shut in my lap and pull on my hair in frustration. “I’m such an idiot. He told me point blank that he wanted to be friends. And what did I do? I whipped out my damn vibrator and put on a show…Argh! I’ve never felt an attraction like this, Nat. It’s making me stupid.” I pout. “It’s like I can’t think straight when it comes to him. And as much as I’d like to pretend I’m in control of my reactions to him, sometimes I have to remind myself to breathe when he walks into the room.”

  Nat sighs, sympathy in her stare. “I know what it’s like to want a guy so much that your IQ goes up in smoke every time he comes by. You remember how hard I was crushing on Alvin. All throughout high school. And the one and only time I imbibed sufficient intoxicants and worked up the nerve to make a move on him—boom!—I got a belly full of Thandi.” She snickers and so do I. “It wasn’t funny at the time—”

  “Except for when your mom showed up in Alvin’s Advanced Calculus Lover’s Club meeting with her rolling pin to beat his ass—”<
br />
  She glares lethally. “Mom was right. Alvin did deserve to get his ass kicked. All he cares about is Bitcoin. But I digress.” She puffs out a mouthful of air, as if to blow the subject away. I know it hurts her, though. It’s the reason the two of them didn’t work out. She wanted to get married. He wanted to wait until the value of his cryptocurrency holdings went up. Men…“Anyway, my point is, it seemed like the end of the world when it happened but we can laugh about all of it now, years later. So, I think you’ll be fine. The Xavier thing will blow over.”

  I sigh. “Well, the difference is that Alvin was crushing on you just as hard as you were crushing on him. Even now, even though you guys aren’t together, I still see the blush on his face every time he looks at you. Xavier? Sometimes, the man looks at me like he wants to tear off my panties with his teeth but then, when I make a move, he pushes me away. I’m obviously doing a shit job of reading his body language.” My shoulders dip with resignation.

  My friend’s expression softens. Compassion lights her eyes. “I don’t know what to say. You know I’ve never been good at understanding guys…”

  “Well, I’m no good at reading this one in particular.” I open up my textbook again and pull out the thick envelope that was bookmarking my page. My fingers run across the gilded logo on the top left corner. The Rochdale Estate Education Fund.

  I’m still as stunned now as I was this afternoon when the mail man showed up at my door to drop it off. I can’t remember ever hearing about this charity and I definitely don’t remember applying for a scholarship from them. Yet here I am, holding the check in my hand.

  A scholarship.

  A full scholarship.

  Tuition, food, living expenses, everything.

  Nat eyes the envelope, too. She gives my hand a squeeze. “You made a mistake, you got caught up in the moment and did something silly. So what? Now, that you have this scholarship, you should just focus on that. Focus on school and on getting your life in order.”