12. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Finley

I 'm just stepping into my shoes when Cyrus comes barreling into the entryway. "Where are you going?"

"The art supply shop," I say, digging through my purse to make sure I have my wallet. I always seem to misplace it and don't want to have to come all the way back here empty-handed because I got there only to discover I didn't have any money with me. It's happened way too often.

"I'm coming with you."

That gets my attention. Nope. Part of the reason I'm going is to get away from Cyrus. He's everywhere. Every time I turn around in this apartment, he's there. I have to keep music going in my studio or sing to myself to keep from hearing the dull murmur of his masculine voice through the walls when he's on work calls .

Then there's breakfast. He's taken to making me coffee and breakfast—a truly sweet gesture—but he never stays to share it with me. I keep trying to tell myself he's just being nice because we're technically family now, but then he writes these sweet notes to go with whatever breakfast he's set out, and I'm left feeling confused all over again.

This morning's note simply said, "You have a beautiful voice. I could listen to it for eternity."

How am I supposed to take that? And now he wants to run errands with me?

"It's not safe for you to go alone," he says, snapping me back to the present.

Ah, so it's not that he wants to go with me or spend time with me, it's that he feels responsible for me. Because of Midas. "Aren't there bodyguards or something watching out for me?"

"Yes. I've got a bodyguard all set to discreetly follow you anytime you leave the house. So we don't alert anyone that we're suspicious, but… I just… I want…"

He doesn't finish. I wait, but he still doesn't finish.

The stuttering of a man like Cyrus makes me feel like I've brought a warrior to his knees. My face splits in a wide smirk. "Are you trying to ask me out, Cyrus?" Using an overly dramatic British accent, I add, "Can you not bear to be without me for a few hours?"

"Hours?!" He growls.

This is too fun. "Would you like to go on a date with me to the art store, Cy?"

I drag a hand up his chest, but he seizes my wrist and holds it an inch away from his body. "We can't date."

Ugh. This again. "Fine. A friendly outing."

"Stay here." He lets go of me and storms out of sight, returning a few seconds later with keys and a wallet. He leads me out of the apartment with a hand on the small of my back. I usually hate it when men do that, but with him, it makes my whole body light up.

We're silent in the elevator, standing on opposite sides, and it feels way too familiar. "Déjà vu again."

He chuckles and lets out a breath that breaks some of the tension.

I lean back against the wall as the floors slowly count down. "So, are you in a relationship or something?"

"A relationship?"

"Yeah, is that why you keep pushing me away even though there's clearly chemistry between us?" I watch the numbers count down over the door. "If you are, I'd understand. I mean, I'd even respect you for pushing me away when you could just cheat."

"I don't che—I'm not in a relationship!" The rise in his voice forces me to look at him. He huffs out a breath and throws his head back against the mirrored wall. "It's been over six years since I've been in a relationship."

Six years. "Really?"

Head pressed back, his gaze meets mine. "Really."

The elevator doors open on the garage level and he leads me to a black convertible with the top already down. Somehow it's not surprising he has a convertible. He's not as buttoned-up as his brother, and his hair often has this wind-swept feel to it that makes me itch to smooth it down.

After pulling out onto the main street, I give him directions to the art supply store and he lets me have full control of the music. I learn he hates rap, but knows every word to Taylor Swift's 1989.

The sun is bright and the weather warm, but not too hot. It's kind of perfect. The wind teases my hair out of the messy bun I've got it in, and Cyrus keeps glancing over at me in a way that makes me shove aside my worries about his mixed messages. For right now, we're having a nice time .

Once we park and make it into the store, he follows me with a cart while I peruse the paint selection. Every time I stop to look closer at a particular color, he puts it in the basket. The first few times, I laugh and place the tube of paint back on the shelf, but then I realize he just grabs it once I'm not looking.

"Cyrus, I can't afford to get every color that catches my eye," I scold.

"I can." He takes a blue acrylic from me before I can reshelve it and drops it in the cart.

"You're not paying for my art supplies." I grab the paint again, but he's faster, taking the other end of it so our hands are half overlapping.

"I'll buy you everything in this store if I want to."

"I can't let you do that." Paints aren't cheap. And even though I know he probably has just as much money as his brother, I don't enjoy being a charity case.

"Would you let Midas pay for it if he was here?"

"No."

His eyebrows lift, calling me out.

"Okay, fine, he's bought me art supplies before, but not since I was in high school and living with them. "

"You're living with them now. Midas told me to take care of you. So I'm buying you what you need."

"What I need means room and board, not cerulean paint or a six piece Black Tulip brush set."

He draws the tube we're both holding closer, pulling me with it and dropping his voice. "Do you really want to keep arguing about this, little flame? Because we both know how it's going to end. If you don't let me buy you what you want now, I'll just come back and buy one of everything tomorrow, and I don't think you could fit that much paint in your studio at one time."

I groan in frustration and shove the blue tube at him. He leans in, like he's about to kiss my forehead, but takes a sharp inhale and steps back. After that, he spends the rest of the time with his phone in his hand, ignoring me, though I notice he still catches every color I take a particular interest in and adds it to the cart.

He's impossible to figure out. One second he seems totally into me, flirting, buying me things, making sexy promises. The next, he's cold and distant.

It doesn't matter. I'm done chasing men who aren't emotionally available. I want someone who's truly invested in a relationship. Maybe one of the guys Jess set me up with for my birthday will end up being perfect for me .

That's what I need. Casual dates with lots of different guys to figure out what I want. I jumped into things with Tim. I won't do that again. Now's the time to explore and experiment.

I don't need Cyrus and his awkwardness, no matter how attracted I am to him. In just a few days, I'll meet multiple men who actually want to go on a date with me.

For the first time since Jess told me about what she planned for my birthday, I'm actually looking forward to it.