Chapter 5

five

Cash

I close Wrenlee’s door behind me, thinking this might not be so bad after all as I make my way into the kitchen. I’d been keeping an eye on the girl for the last few weeks, thinking she’d be the perfect buffer between me and the lunatic hanger-on’s that came with the fame we’re so close to, wondering how I’d get a good girl like her to agree to a relationship without strings when I overheard her conversation with Addy. I knew then and there how I’d make her mine. Knew she was desperate enough to take me up on my offer. I thought I’d have a bit more work cut out for me in convincing her, but once I set my mind to something, I always made it happen. And I set my mind to making the world believe Wrenlee was mine.

I’d told her it was the crazy women that came with fame I wanted to discourage, and that wasn’t untrue. But mostly, those women I could handle alone. What I was really trying to handle with Wrenlee was Alyssa. Last time I had Alyssa in my bed was around two years ago, and the girl wouldn’t take a hint. She wouldn’t leave. Wouldn’t back off.

It was getting bad. Only two months ago, I’d had to talk to building security about barring her entry because I’d caught her sleeping outside my condo door. That was after she’d shown up dressed in all kinds of kinky fuckery at all hours of the night.

Chick was fucking crazy. From her letters, she was also possessive. She’d feel me making a pretty little good girl mine. Maybe she’d even feel it enough to fuck off for good.

As I’d never been willing to let my relationship with Alyssa go public, making a statement to the world with Wrenlee had to piss Alyssa off enough to make her take the hint. I don’t want her. I’ll never want her. I’d never really wanted her in the first place. She’s history.

I’ve moved on and it’s time she do the same.

Wrenlee isn’t even close to my type, and I plan to be all over the girl in public. A smirk hits my lips when I think of her innocently cute ideas about hugs and hand holding being how I intend to show the world she’s mine. She was really mine; I’d put a stamp on her that no one would question, and no man would be fool enough to challenge.

Hugs and hand holding, fucking cute. But not quite what I have in mind.

Girl’s gonna be hit with a hard dose of reality real damn soon. When I’ve made something mine, truly mine, I’m possessive about it.

I’ve never made a woman mine, but I figure if I did that—if I was capable of being the kind of man who really fell for a woman—I’d be the possessive type.

So that’s what I’d project to the world.

The statement would be clear to all the Alyssa’s out there who thought they could stalk a man into falling in love with them. Crazy bitch.

Swinging open the door of the fridge, I wonder if Wrenlee has eaten. Visions of the messy little square of space I found her living in with apparently two roommates comes to mind, and I figure she hasn’t eaten. Girl didn’t even have cream in her fridge for coffee.

I smirk again at the carton of cream and the backup one that stands behind it in my fridge. I like my coffee too, so in that, at least we’re compatible. I’m not sure if we have anything else in common, but for the foreseeable future, the girl’s ass is in my condo and the world is gonna think she’s in my bed.

I grab the carton of eggs, a pack of bacon, mushrooms, a tomato, and some green onions from the fridge. I’m about to start frying the bacon for the omelette I plan to make for the two of us, but pause with my hand on the pack, wondering for only a moment if she likes eggs. Hell, maybe she hates mushrooms or is allergic to tomatoes. What if the girl is a vegetarian, or worse, a vegan?

I’m not sure I have it in me to live under those differences, and find my eyes roaming to the hall, her name barking from my lungs. “Wrenlee.”

The click of her door followed by her body appearing in the hall has something in my chest oozing warmth. I don’t like it.

Don’t like that even though she isn’t my type, not even a little bit, over the last few weeks I’ve had a hard time keeping my eyes off her. When I saw fuck-face put his tongue on her the other night, I’d almost blown with rage on stage.

She’d already been mine.

She starts down the hall, leaving the bedroom door open. I like the way she moves.

“You eat meat?”

Her eyes slide to the bacon on the counter, and she nods. “I don’t love salmon. But I’m not picky otherwise.”

Thank fuck. “Good.”

She stops on the other side of the long, wide island that overlooks the living room, but she doesn’t slide her sweet ass onto a stool. “You cook?”

“The basics.”

She nods, watching me. “Want help?”

My eyes slide to hers. By the look of her previous apartment, with the boxes of cheap, premade meals stacked empty on the counter, I’d figured she didn’t know how.

“You can cook?”

She nods, sliding around the island to stand beside me. I catch the same sweetly musky scent I’d caught last night in the hall and again in my car this morning. It’d been the first time I’d been close enough to her to catch her scent. The night before, I’d wanted to lean in and devour her.

If Tav hadn’t interrupted, I’m not sure I wouldn’t have taken a taste.

She distracts me by answering my question. “I love cooking, actually.”

I feel my brows shoot high in disbelief. She doesn’t see it as she reaches across me for the tomato, pulling another cutting board from where I pulled mine. “You love cooking?”

She nods, assesses the ingredients I have on the island, and mumbles, “Omelette?”

“Yeah.” I watch as she begins to dice the tomato. “Wouldn’t have guessed you cook by your previous kitchen.”

She lifts those sexy as hell cat-like green eyes to mine and her full lips part. “It wasn’t my kitchen. It was Cara’s, and she made that clear. Mostly, me and Marley tried to stay out of her way.” She rolls her pink lips, making them pinker. “I mostly stuck to bagged salads.”

I’m not sure I believe her. “Where’d you learn to cook?”

She laughs, giving her attention back to the tomato. “Self-taught.”

“Really?”

She nods. “What about you. Where’d you learn?”

“My mom.”

Her smile is small and filled with an emotion I’m not sure I like. Her reply is quiet. “That’s sweet.”

“Guess so.” Why can’t I stop watching this girl? “Mainly, figure she didn’t want me to starve or ruin my guts by living off takeout.” I’m not usually the guy who asks, who pries, but when she pushes the cut tomato to the side and starts on the green onions, I hear myself doing just that. “What about your mom?”

She doesn’t look at me. “It was just me and Dad.”

Oh shit. Something tight forms in my chest as I watch her. Then I go and pry some more. “Did she—”

Her eyes lift to mine and she blinks, those long, thick lashes sweeping down over high cheekbones dusted pink. “No. She’s not dead, or she wasn’t when she left. I don’t know now. Neither of us has heard from her in over nineteen years.” She shrugs like it doesn’t hurt, but I think it does. “She left when I was two.”

“Your mom left you and your dad?” I ask, disbelief plain as day between us. “When you were two?”

“Mmhmm.”

What kind of mom leaves her child? You hear all the time about dudes walking away, but a mother? I can’t make sense of that. Can’t make sense of a man who calls himself a man and walks away from his kid, either. But a mother feels somehow worse. Maybe it’s society, stigma. Whatever it is, it feels real damn bad.

“That’s rough.” My voice is hoarse.

She shrugs again. “Is what it is. I had a good life. Dad is the best.” She pulls in breath. “But he’s a crap cook, so to keep us both alive, I took over the kitchen early.”

“I’m not like your previous roommate. You want to cook, have at it.”

“I will, thanks.”

“But uh,” I palm the back of my neck as she gives me those fuck-me green eyes. “If one of us cooks, we make enough for the other, deal?”

She laughs, and hell, but I like the sound. “Deal.”

I slice into the pack of bacon, dropping it into the pan. We don’t speak until it starts to sizzle. Then I say, “Speaking of our other deal—” She gives me those eyes again. “I’d like to start. Got a gig tonight at a club downtown. Like it if you came.” I shoot her a flirtatious grin. “Showed the world just how into your new boyfriend you are.”

Her cheeks get red, and she wets her lips. I suddenly want to know what those lips taste like; how soft they’d feel under mine. The fuck?

I’m getting ahead of myself.

“Um, I work tonight.”

I stiffen. Already lying to me? “Heard Addy tell you last night your weekend shifts are cut.”

“I have two jobs.”

“You have two jobs? And you’re in university?” I’m still not sure I believe her. Like I said, I’ve been watching her. Not stalker-style, but I needed to make sure her life fit what I needed her for, that she didn’t have any bad habits I couldn’t have tied to me. So, I know that when she wasn’t in class or at Addy’s Ace or in the library studying, she was at that shitty apartment.

“I work remotely billing extended health care for a psychology practice. They have three clinics, so there’s a lot of billing. It’s not just me who handles it, but I emailed for more bills last night when Addy cut my shifts and they sent me the bills this morning. I have—a few in my queue.”

“You’re serious?”

She frowns, blinking innocently at me. “Why wouldn’t I be serious?”

“How do you work two jobs and go to class?”

“Because—I need to live. I needed to keep a roof over my head and eat at least once a day.”

This girl.

“Right.” I flip the bacon. “You took a new job last night, Kitten.”

She frowns. “What?”

“I want to be your new priority.”

She shakes her head. “I don’t understand.”

“How am I supposed to pretend I’m obsessed with you if you’re never around?”

“I’m around.”

“You work, a lot by the sounds of it.”

She nibbles her lip. “I can’t stop working. I need money.”

“Your living expenses here are covered.”

She gapes at me. “I still need money, Cash.”

“Then I’ll pay you for your time,” I say simply.

She scoffs. “I’m not comfortable with that.”

“Why?”

“It gives you too much power.”

What?“Explain.”

“I’m already living with you—in your condo. I’m eating your food. I’m relying on you for so much, already. I can’t—it wouldn’t be smart of me to give up my work and rely on you for the money I need to spend for my public transit pass, my toiletries, a winter jacket because it’s getting colder, and I don’t have one—tuition.”

“You don’t have a winter jacket?”

“I had one, but it disappeared,” she explains tightly. “Like everything else I owned that was nice.”

Her roommate was a piece of work.

“Right.” My chest feels tight. “How about you keep one job, then. The club or the billing.”

She raises a brow. “We’re honestly having this discussion right now?”

“Fuck, yeah.” She flinches at my curse. “This won’t work if you’re never with me. A real girlfriend would be around.”

“A real boyfriend would understand his girlfriends need for a job.”

“Didn’t say you couldn’t have a job, I said pick one.”

She rolls her lips again, her eyes sliding to the side. “I make more at Addy’s.”

“Addy’s going to fire you soon. Only thing keeping you there is the fact she’s got a heart beating in her chest, much as she likes to pretend, she doesn’t. When she finds out you’re living with me, your ass will be on the chopping block.”

She sighs, knowing it’s true. “Fine. I’ll consider giving Addy my two weeks.”

I laugh, because Addy won’t want her two weeks. But if it makes her feel better to offer it, that’s cool.