18

Britta

“So about this party,” I say, changing the subject.

The last thing I want to discuss is Cash’s taste in women. I’m not sure what possessed me to steer the conversation toward dating and the lack of decent men around here. Foolish move on my part.

Cash straightens a bit in his chair and licks his lips. I will my eyes not to cling to his mouth for…reasons. “Right,” he says. “What will you need from me? I can run errands for you, decorate, whatever you think you’ll need.”

As genuinely kind as he’s been since I sprained my ankle, I’m not sure how to feel about it all. Guess I have no choice but to accept his help. But what is expected of me in return? I don’t know Cash well enough to be able to tell whether or not this is something he’d hold over my head, then try to cash in on later. No pun intended. Not that there’s anything I could really do for him…

“Why do you insist on helping me?” I purposely let my gaze fall to the food he made so he gets the full meaning of my words before meeting his eyes once again.

His throat bobs on a swallow. “I don’t know where you got that I’m a heartless jerk, but that information is false. You can’t believe everything you read on the internet.”

“The internet didn’t say you were a jerk.”

“Then who did?” It’s the first time he’s probed this far, pushed me to answer for my behavior toward him.

“No one.” I didn’t need anyone to. I experienced his jerkery all on my own.

I expect him to act offended or bothered by my resistance, but his face is the perfect picture of calm. Like he knows that whatever bad thing I’ve heard about him can’t possibly be true.

Instead of pressing me for more information, he says, “I want to help you because I care about my niece. Jules wants this party to be special for her, so I’ll do whatever needs to be done to make it happen.”

A sour, rotten feeling slithers through me. Of course he wants to make Elyse’s party special. He’s not offering to help for my sake; it’s all for his sweet niece. And why wouldn’t it be? Cash loves his family. He’s proven time and time again that he cares about the people in his life.

It’s easy to see that I’m the jerk in this scenario.

“Right. Of course.” I mentally run through the list of things that still need done for the party. “I probably will need help getting the rest of the supplies. I have a caterer coming, so at least the food is taken care of. But the cake…I’ll need your help picking that up.” My looming appointment comes to mind. “Oh, I also have to hit up the cake shop this week. I need to test the flavors to make sure they’ll work for the party before I can’t change my order.”

He nods before taking a sip of water. “I can take you.”

“And you’re okay with helping me set up the day of, too?” I ask.

“Yep. I had planned to anyway since it’s at my house.”

Of course he did. Because he’s the best, most handsome uncle in existence. “All right, then. I’ll text you where I need to go and when.” A pang of guilt pulses through me, starting at my injured ankle and working its way up to my heart. “I just feel bad that I’ll be cutting into your time at work. Will your clients be upset?”

“They’ll understand. Family always comes first.”

His heartfelt declaration threatens to undo my preconceived ideas. I suppose it shouldn’t, though. It’s not like Cash has changed since the night we made out. After all, he was going back for his sister’s jacket that night because he’s a genuinely caring guy.

He just doesn’t care for me . Specifically.

Though that argument holds less and less weight as time goes on, especially with the dinner he just made for me sitting front and center. And the number of other things he’s done for me in the last six hours.

Okay, maybe it’s fine for me to admit that he’s a caring individual. In general.

“Thank you for all your help tonight,” I say. “I know this probably wasn’t your idea of a fun Saturday night.”

His expression twists with irritation. “You seem to think you know so much about me, and yet you’ve been wrong on more than one point tonight.” He takes another slow sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving mine.

“If you’re going to tell me not to believe the internet again, you can save your breath.”

He shakes his head, a full-mouthed smile stretching across his face. “I wasn’t going to say anything. I’ve always thought actions speak louder than words, anyway.”

A small spark of victory flares in my chest. “Exactly.”

***

After Cash left my apartment on Saturday night, I needed a full day of solitude just to recover from the shock of it all. His care, his concern, even his perfectly cooked chicken pasta…It all turned my frustration with him on its head.

Now I don’t know what to believe.

Is he the careless guy who kissed, ditched, and promptly forgot all about me or the hottie who would bend over backward for a friend in need? Is there a way that he’s…both?

My head hurts from trying to piece it all together.

The last and final blow of Saturday night was when he insisted on picking me up for work today. Since it’s supposed to be my last day at his facility, he convinced me that he was the most practical choice for a ride, even though Vivian only lives five minutes from me.

The worst part is that I relented. I didn’t have a heart to tell him no because…the truth is…I’m enjoying his company way more than I should be. Turns out, my stupid heart is a masochist when it comes to Cash McBryar. I’ve tried to warn it a hundred different ways that we’re getting too close, too comfortable around him. Yet that dumb wench wants what she wants…tatted arms, tan skin, and a beard with a matching man bun.

So now here we are, sitting in the drive-thru at JavaStory, waiting for my latte. Because not only did he ask me if I wanted him to stop for coffee, he also reminded me that this particular coffee shop has an array of dairy-free options. Like the stupid, thoughtful gentleman he is.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

“Here you go,” the barista says, handing Cash my drink. When I shove my card in his face, he ignores me and pays with cash. “Have a nice day!” She waves us on as my chauffeur pulls away.

“Excuse you.” I jab him in the chest with my credit card. “I don’t need you paying for my coffee.”

He bats my hand away. “I know that.”

“Do you?” Completely ignoring the evil stare I aim his way, he proceeds to turn up the radio. Indie rock pumps through the speakers. Not at all surprising.

“Mmhm,” he hums barely loud enough to be heard.

“Listen,” I say, stuffing the card back into my leather wallet. “I appreciate you taking me to work, but if you’re going to insist on paying—”

“What’s that?” he yells over the music. “Can’t hear you.” Then the idiot turns up the dial, completely ruining any chance of us having a conversation. I grit my teeth and sit back in the seat, clutching my latte and purse to my chest.

Fine. If he wants to buy me coffee, I’ll let him. But he better not think he’s doing it as some sort of charity work because of my job situation.

I keep my mouth shut the rest of the ride to the training facility and sip my latte. As soon as I step inside, a bittersweet sort of feeling comes over me.

“You okay?” Cash asks when I halt just inside the doorway.

“Yeah.” I sigh. “Just gonna miss Randy, is all.” I grin and head for his office on my crutches, leaving him huffing behind me.

The only thing I really have to do today is set up the rest of the furniture and add the finishing touches. It’ll be a short day if all goes well, which is better for me, anyway. I don’t need to be hanging around Cash when his good deeds are crossing into boyfriend territory.

Besides, I’ll be forced to see him tomorrow when we go shopping together for the party.

Cash stops me just before we reach the doorway to his office. “If you need anything—”

I cut him off with a wave of my hand. “Yes, I know the drill. If I need something, I’ll call for you.” His lips press into a firm line, but he nods and leaves me to my work.

The morning passes quickly, and with some added manpower from Randy, I’m able to get everything done by lunchtime, even with my ankle slowing me down. After setting the last accent piece on the bookshelf, I stand back and admire my work. Deeming it near perfect, I tear the plastic off the door and call for Cash.

He’s across the gym, standing over one of his poor victims. “Keep going, Lance,” he says before jogging my way. Poor, sweaty Lance completes another round of sit ups like his life depends on it.

“You shouldn’t torture the boys.” I tsk at Cash when he reaches my side.

“It’s good for ‘em.” His flirty wink makes my stomach flutter. “What is it you need?”

Resting my elbows on my crutches, I clasp my hands together under my chin, staving off a giddy giggle. I always get this way right before a big reveal. It has nothing to do with Cash and the way he’s looking at me. “I have a finished product to show you.”

His expression brightens. “Really?” Peering behind me, he says, “All right, show it off.”

I hobble around behind him and place my hands over his eyes before I can think better of it. My crutches fall to the ground with a clatter as déjà vu washes over me so strongly I nearly sway from its force. If I wasn’t holding onto Cash, I’d have toppled over. I don’t even realize I’m just standing there touching him until he hums a deep, rich laugh.

“Is there a reason we’re standing like this or were you just trying to cop a feel?”

Blinking from my stupor, I swallow. “I just wanted to add to the suspense. Step forward please.”

We awkwardly move together toward his office. He stumbles a bit at the threshold and grabs onto my wrists. “Easy there, navigator.”

“Psh. You’re the one with the big, clumsy feet.”

“You’re literally hopping on one foot behind me.” He laughs. “All for the sake of suspense .” His thumb skates along the inside of my wrist and brings me back to the fact that we’re still touching, still close, and he’s still got his hands on mine.

“Okay, fine,” I say way too breathlessly. “You win. Ready for the big reveal?”

“Give it to me, Britt.”

Why his words send a chill down my arms, one can only guess, but I gather my wits enough to remove my hands and say, “Surprise!” I lean against the doorway, careful not to put too much pressure on my right foot.

Cash takes in the room so somberly, I almost second guess my style choices. I force myself to try and see it through his eyes. The navy-blue wall with the bright blue neon sign of his logo takes center stage behind his sleek, modern desk. The dark leather chair almost looks as if it belongs there. I smile to myself. But it falls when Cash steps forward and fingers one of the leaves on the small desk plant I bought for him.

“So,” I venture. “What do you think?”

He turns, getting the full view of the bookshelf behind him, complete with books and trinkets I thought he might like. I’m hoping he noticed The Jealousy Concord poster I snagged, too. But he’s not smiling, and that worries me.

“I saved all the receipts,” I say on a swallow. “Just in case there’s something you hate.”

God, please don’t let him hate it. I really need those referrals and there’s no way I can afford a full refund right now.

Finally, he lets his gaze rest on me. “Can I hire you to do redecorate my house?”

I blink about twenty consecutive times.

“Britta, this is beyond impressive.” The kind of smile that might make a woman swoon crosses his bearded face. “I’m serious. I want to hire you to fix my house.”

A laugh sputters out of me. “Is it broken?”

“It is compared to this.” His gaze flits over the room again, and my heart warms.

“If you’re serious—”

“I am.” His eyes find mine. “When can you start?”

“Um.” I clear my throat. “Why don’t we discuss it after Elyse’s party?”

He nods before moving around his desk and sinking into the chair. When he runs a hand along the smooth desktop, I have to bite my lip to keep from smiling like a giddy little kid.

He frickin’ loves it.