by Linda Kage
“You don’t have to stick around here and wait on me,” I rushed to add. “I remember where your mother lives. I can just meet you there at eight on my own just fine.”
Instead of answering, he finished his task before setting his phone down and asking, “What’s the pie like here?”
I narrowed my eyes and set my hands on my hips. “You think I’m going to bail, don’t you?”
He slid his gaze from the desserts behind the counter to focus on me. “No,” he said with such conviction that I had to believe him. Then his jaw bunched and he glanced away before mumbling, “It’s a long way from your building to Preston Estates. I didn’t want you to have to walk that far after dark.”
Oh.
I hadn’t expected him to wait here for me like this out of concern for my wellbeing. Growing uncomfortably warm, I cleared my throat and said, “Stay away from the vanilla cream pie. By this time of the day, it’s sat out too long. If anything, stick with apple.”
He nodded. “A piece of apple pie then, please.”
Huffing out an unsettled breath, I hurried away to comply. “Fine, you can stay,” I called, trying to sound moodier and more irritated than I actually felt so he couldn’t guess that I’d thawed toward him in any way. “It’s no skin off my nose what you do. You better not tip like a stickler asshole, though.”
“Well, thank you for giving me your permission to do something I was going to do anyway, in this very public establishment I have every right to be in.” Leaning toward me, he lowered his voice. “And for your information, I always tip well.”
He typically had to have the last word too, I realized.
With a sniff, I turned away. A large group entered the café, and they kept me preoccupied long enough that I was forced to stay away from him until my replacement arrived. After I updated her on today’s crowd, I stopped by his stool as I removed my apron.
“My shift’s over. Do you want to cash out your tab now, or try the muffins next?”
He held up a folded bill. “Keep the change.”
I snagged it and started for the cash register, unfolding as I went, only to jar to a halt when I realized he’d handed me a hundred.
Sending him a dry glance over my shoulder, I sniffed. “Well, now you’re just bragging.”
He shook his head, smiling softly. “There’s no winning with you, is there?”
“I wouldn’t count on it if I were you.”
“Noted.” He nodded as if accepting some kind of challenge.
Lord, not another one of those guys. Except from him, the idea of being chased sounded thrilling. Huh. Why had it only annoyed me when Diego wanted to pursue me, but it made my belly flip with eagerness just to think about this guy doing so? Gah. The human heart was strange. It wanted what it wanted, and fuck everything else. Especially logic.
Once I had his exorbitant tip in my possession and my purse was slung over my shoulder, I led the way outside, only to glance over my shoulder when he asked, “Have you ever had a car?”
“Of course,” I told him. “But Papá and I had to sell our vehicles to catch up on bills.”
“Who’s—” He paused suddenly, his mouth still open to finish his question, but I sliced him with a warning glance, and he swallowed whatever he was going to say, only to revise it with, “That’s quite a walk every day.”
We paused at his sedan, where he opened the passenger side door for me.
“Helps me reach my steps,” I answered before slipping inside.
Once I was settled in, he shut my door for me and walked around to the driver’s side. I couldn’t take my eyes off him as he moved with the confident grace of someone used to leading and getting his way. While a part of me wanted to butt heads with him and challenge him, teach him he was not the top dog with me, another part admired the sturdy reliability of his dominant presence. A person could count on his kind of leadership. If they didn’t strangle him first because of his attitude.
He was definitely a contradictory type of man.
That intrigued me.
“By the way,” I said as he slid into the driver’s seat. “We need to pick up my brother from his after-school care on the way.”
“Do we?” He seemed more amused than annoyed by my announcement. “And where does he attend school?”
“Lakeside Elementary. Pick up is on the corner of Adams and College.”
Nodding without a word of complaint, he started the car.
I perused the interior of his ride to keep myself occupied before spotting a familiar clear package with familiar gold designs on it sitting in the cubby between our seats.
“Oh, hey. You got cookies from Kaitlynn too.”
He sent me a startled glance. “What?”
I lifted the bag and shook it. “She brought a package of these to the flower shop yesterday. I guess she was handing out goodies to everyone.” Fluttering my lashes at him, I said, “Aww, you must’ve made her special list.” Then I paused, squinting at him. “Why are you looking at me as if I have eight eyes?”
Shaking his head, he focused on the cookies. “Because I found those on my desk yesterday morning when I went into work. I had no idea where they’d come from.”
“Oh!” I smiled. “Well, surprise. They’re from Kaitlynn.”
“Huh.” Frowning as if confused, he glanced at me for guidance before returning his attention to the cookies. “But why would she give me cookies?”
His bewilderment was endearing. Leaning toward him because I couldn’t seem to stay away, I murmured, “Well, rumor is you’re her stepbrother, so I don’t know, maybe that had something to do with it.”
His gaze shot up to meet mine, and something strangely hopeful glittered in their depths. I wasn’t too sure what that was about, but it seemed a little too achy and meaningful to delve into too deeply. So I jiggled the bag in his face. “Since you haven’t eaten any yet, can I have them? Kaitlynn’s cookies are to die for.” I was a little jealous I hadn’t found any in my mailbox.
“Hell no.” He snagged them from my hand and immediately began to unwrap the package for himself. “I hadn’t tried them yet because I had no idea who they were from; they could’ve been laced with anything. But now that I know they’re safe—” He lifted his forearm to block me when I tried to reach for one. “Back off, woman. Chocolate chip’s my favorite.”
As he popped the first cookie in, I lifted my eyebrows with challenge.
He demolished two before my narrow-eyed glare won him over. With a put-upon sigh, he rolled his eyes and held up the bag. “Okay, fine. We can share.”
“Thank you.” Perking back to life, I smiled and snagged the bag, immediately fishing out my own cookie.
Still licking crumbs from his fingers, he pulled into traffic.
“Before we meet with Lana tonight,” he said as I broke the last cookie in half and handed him his part. “We need to get our stories straight.”
“Stories?” I shook my head, munching in confusion. “What stories?”
“The story of our relationship.” He glanced at me with a look saying that should be obvious.
I choked on my last bite. “What relationship?”
“The relationship she thinks we have.” With a sigh, he rolled out his hand. “Remember, I led her to believe we were dating. The first moment she saw us together, we were kissing.”
Okay, the kiss I remembered. When it struck me what he was saying, I shrieked, “Oh my God. We have to keep up that ruse? Are you serious? Why?”
“Because it’s safer that way.”
“But if your mom—?”
“Dear God.” He winced and held up a hand. “Don’t ever call her that to me again.”
“What?” I asked, confused. “Your mom?”
With another shudder, he hissed a teeth-gritted grimace in my direction. “Yes. The very word denotes a sweet, loving lady who actually cares for her children. And that is not at all the soul-sucking viper who gave birth to me.”
“Okay,” I
said slowly. “Then what do I call her?”
“Satan worked fine. Continue using that.”
I sent him a dry glance.
He sighed. “Her name’s Lana. That’s what I call her when I have to call her anything.”
“All right. Whatever. So why would it be safer to act like a couple for Lana, then?”
The question seemed to startle him. “Excuse me, but would you rather let her know we lied to her the first moment you two met? While she’s already dangling the security of your job over your head?”
I gulped. Okay, he might have a point there.
“Besides,” he went on. “If she thinks you’re important to me, she won’t immediately destroy you. She’ll keep you around and slowly toy with you, like a cat would a desperate, trapped mouse.”
I made a face. “Well, that doesn’t exactly sound pleasant, either, you know.”
“Probably won’t be,” he answered easily. “So, it’s up to you. Do you want to come clean to her, let her know you’re no one to me and we only met in her apartment while you were stealing from her, risking her wrath and the possibility that she’ll most likely call the police on you immediately to get you tossed into jail for trespassing on her property? Or do you want a slim chance to escape her cruel clutches before she crushes you by pretending you’re an important, integral part of her not-so-beloved son’s life?”
“Um.” Honestly, neither option sounded all that appealing.
Damn, I had really broken into the wrong apartment, hadn’t I?
Going with the least unpleasant choice, I said, “Door number two, I guess. But what’s in this for you?”
He glanced at me, frowning slightly. “What do you mean?”
“I mean—” I lifted my eyebrows significantly. “I’m obviously doing this to avoid being fired. Or—” I winced. “Possible jail time. But what do you get from pretending to be my boyfriend?”
Clarifying my question only seemed to confuse him more. “Why, I’ll get to spend more time in your lovely company,” he finally said. Then smirked. “What more could a man ask for?”
“I’m being serious,” I muttered, irritated because I couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not.
“And I thought I explained all this the other night,” he snapped back irritably.
Gone was his casual, flirty sarcasm and unflappable demeanor. The man did not like his good deeds to be questioned.
“I just—” I started, but he cut me off briskly.
“I’m tired of her controlling every part of my life and that of everyone I care for,” he growled. “Resisting her, ignoring her, and attempting to rebel against her haven’t worked for me, okay? I’ve tried it all. She’s like a nasty rash that just won’t go away. So I’m testing this new tactic, where I pretend to comply in order to relax her guard just enough so that I can sneak around undetected and find something to end her tyranny and garner myself a little fucking freedom for the first time in my life.”
Glaring my way, he hissed, “Is that a good enough answer for you?”
Well.
I wasn’t sure if I wanted to compliment him for his strategy or cringe because the relationship between him and his mother was obviously not healthy. I’m telling you, rich people and their fucked-up families. It was freaking dramatic as hell.
“You know,” I murmured. “Not to nitpick about your plan or anything, but an obedient son probably wouldn’t backtalk his mother as much as you do.”
He shrugged non-concerned. “Except I’ve always been that way with her. If I suddenly straightened up my attitude now, she’d just get suspicious and most likely figure out my game plan.”
The man had an argument for everything, didn’t he?
“Fine,” I announced, letting him have his way on this. It honestly didn’t matter to me either way. “Let’s get our stories straight.” I splayed out a hand. “How long have we been dating?”
“Three months,” he answered without hesitation.
I lifted my eyebrows, wondering if he already had all the details worked out in his head, until it struck me that by the three-month mark, a normal couple would have done more than just kiss.
So, idiot me, I blurted, “Have we had sex yet?”
He glanced over and raked his gaze down to the plunging neckline of my uniform. “Oh, hell yes.”
“Really?” I arched my eyebrows in warning. “You think I put out that fast, huh?”
“No idea,” he answered. “I just know I wouldn’t last that long without charming, bribing, or flat-out begging to get my way inside you.”
Oh. Well, in that case: wow. Sign me up.
Heat bloomed inside me, because picturing him being desperate enough to beg for me was just so freaking hot. Aside from Diego—who didn’t count because he hadn’t even known enough about me to really want me—had any man ever fallen to the point of that kind of desperation, just for little ol’ me? I don’t think they had. It suddenly made me want to be in the situation he described.
“All right, fine,” I allowed. “But just so you know, I’m really good at it.”
He cast me a knowing glance. “Being that I’m still with you after three months, I’d say that’s a given.”
Lord, he definitely knew how to cast a heated look, didn’t he? The hot places inside me began to boil over into other areas.
Clearing my throat, I tried to get back on track.
“I have a feeling your mother’s not going to ask that many questions about the intimate portion of our relationship, though, so what else should we know? Where did we meet?”
“Hmm.” Finally, the man seemed stumped. Then he asked, “What about your café? I could’ve met you there while you were working when I stopped by for a piece of—”
I cut him off with a snort. “I’m sorry, but I can’t see a guy like you ever frequenting a place like Trudy’s.”
He glanced at me in surprise. “Except I was just there, frequenting it?”
I took in his neatly pressed suit. “Only because of me. And not to sound rude, but normally we don’t serve the suit-and-tie crowd, and I can’t really envision you wearing anything else. I mean, do you even own jeans? Or a hoodie? The neighborhood where Trudy’s is located is nowhere near the upscale, posh side of—”
“I doubt Lana will do that much research. We’ll keep that part of the story as is. When you served me a cup of coffee, I took one look at you and fell helplessly under your spell.”
I sniffed out a harsh, disbelieving laugh, but said, “Okay. If you say so.”
“What?” Watching me curiously, he asked, “Don’t you think it’s possible?”
“I mean, not really,” I admitted. “But whatever.”
“Isn’t that how you captivated Mr. Daffodils so thoroughly?” he argued. “Why don’t you think you could do the same with me?”
“Diego wasn’t captivated by me,” I stated in no uncertain terms. “He saw a halfway decent face, most of my cleavage spilling out of this stupid uniform, and a challenge, and he thought—”
“I saw the same face he did, you know, and I’d classify it as more than halfway decent. I’d also have to agree with poor Diego on that challenge you pose. It’s quite intoxicating.”
Um, what?
“Excuse me?” I sputtered. Had he just called me intoxicating?
I suddenly wanted to fan my hand in front of my face to cool myself down, because it was getting way too warm in this car. Thank God Diego had never called me intoxicating; I probably would’ve fallen right into his lying, thieving arms.
“You have a certain light in your eyes,” he murmured in a low tenor that made my hormones go haywire, “that tells a man he can only have you in his wildest dreams, which seems to make them only grow wilder. Then there’s the wit on your tongue and the bite in your words, which lets us know we need to prove ourselves fast thinkers and mentally capable before earning a way past your defenses. And as guarded as you are, it makes us think there’s quite a prize to be won. W
hat are you guarding so fiercely inside that soul of yours, Gabriella? Honestly, who wouldn’t give everything just to find out?”
Dear God. He made me sound freaking alluring
Except I knew I wasn’t. I was just me: a dash of bitter, a sprinkle of wicked, and a vat full of tired.
Laughing self-consciously, I tucked away a stray piece of hair and tried to avoid the entire topic. “Let’s just move on to the next subject. What else do you think we should know about each other?”
Pulling abruptly to the curb, he parked the car, making me jump and glance out the window, surprised to realize we’d already reached Miguel’s school.
“You touched me, you know.”
I swallowed at the low, rich quality of his voice. It caused shudders to quiver low in my belly. Turning slowly, I licked dry lips and whispered, “What?”
“The first time I saw you.” He ran his gaze over my face, then down to my heaving bust. “Your brother was crashing through the front entrance of your building when I was trying to leave. I stepped out of the way, only to realize you were hot on his heels, trying to keep up and not lose him. You stepped right by me as I held the door open for you, and your arm—this very elbow right here—” He reached out to barely glide his fingers over my bare flesh. “Brushed past my diaphragm. I haven’t been able to breathe right since.”
I stared at him with no idea what to say.
He leaned close. “I find it completely believable that I could become obsessed with you after you served me a single cup of coffee.”
“O—Okay, then,” I relented breathlessly. “We’ll stick with the café story.” Needing air—massive amounts of air—I reached for the door handle, only for him to say my name.
“Gabriella.”
God, his voice and that word combined together sent shivers up my spine. I glanced over, my breathing coming a little heavier. “Yes?”