by Mia Kayla
I was sure I should’ve told him a million things last night, things a responsible adult should be saying, but I was certain I didn't, or I wouldn’t have ended up here. If I couldn't resist him when I was stone cold sober, there was no way I could've resisted him when I was drunk.
When he was done cleaning my hands, he reached over to the side table and pulled a Kleenex from the box, dabbing at my cheeks. "There, all done."
The sentiment was so sincere, so sweet, that the tears welled up again. I was used to taking care of everyone else—Tene when she was butt-ass drunk; my mother when she couldn't function when my father was sick; and Roland, functioning as his live-in mother sometimes.
I stared up at Cade with newfound wonder and straightened on his bed. It felt nice to be taken care of, for once.
One slight movement and he would’ve seen my hooha, though I knew he'd more than seen it the night before. Still, I didn't want to give him a second glimpse as I pulled the other sheet over my knees.
"Th-thank you." I had been crying so much that I was now hiccupping.
A fresh round of tears started to fall. All I could think of was my stupidity at getting so wasted that I didn't even remember what had happened last night. If I was going to have sex with the hot bartender, I should’ve at least remembered it.
He sat beside me quietly, staring, studying, not smiling. He placed one hand over the blanket, touching my leg. "Nothing happened, Angel."
I perked up and took in his face, the seriousness in his tone. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, we didn't have sex. You were drunk, and I'm not that guy." He smiled. "My mother did not raise three men to take advantage of women."
I dabbed my eyes with the Kleenex. I still didn't have the ability to find my voice.
"Though, damn, I wanted to. But I'm really not into paraphilia. I like my women wide awake, lively, and begging for more," he joked.
I lifted the blanket from my legs. Yep. Still no underwear, like they would’ve automatically appeared.
He cleared his throat. "When you—as you said it—had to ‘tinkle’ in my bathroom, you slipped off your underwear and refused to put them back on."
"Oh ..." My face turned tomato red, the heat rushing to the apples of my cheeks.
"Oh, yeah, Angel.” He nodded. “And when I insisted you put them back on, you took off your silk blouse too." He smiled his crooked smile and blew out a low, hoarse whistle. "That was a sight to see."
"And then what happened?" I pressed, not wanting to hear more but needing to.
"And then, you passed out. Cold. Naked. On my floor."
He leaned in closer as this mischievous glint glimmered in his eye. "God, you're the sexiest little thing I've ever seen."
My forehead heated. Can your forehead turn red? Because I was pretty sure that it was. Visible sweating was taking place. "You managed to get my shirt back on, but not my underwear?” I asked, quirking an eyebrow.
He grimaced with humor. "Well, every time I tried to get your underwear back on, you kept kicking your feet." He let out a thick, throaty laugh.
I dropped my head in my hands. This could not get any worse. Or could it?
"Let's just say, I tried twice. I could’ve tried harder, but shit, baby ... that ass. That perfect ass of yours." He bit his fist, looking tortured. "I just wanted to take a bite."
I peered at him through my fingers. "You bit my ass?"
"No, but I wanted to. I did enjoy the view, though."
I dropped my hand and pulled the blanket closer to my chest. "Pervert," I muttered, not really upset with him. Just that my life was over. All of it. I could never face this man again, yet I knew I’d have to.
He raised one eyebrow, looking amused. "I'm only a pervert if you didn't like me checking out your ass."
His flirty look had my lips wanting to curl up in a smile. "I'm so embarrassed. I don't think I want to hear anymore. Would you please stop?"
"Okay. Stopped." He pressed his lips into a tight line as if gluing them shut.
We sat in silence as I wrung my hands in my lap. "Promise me you'll never make me a drink again."
His laughter floated up his throat. "But I haven't had that much fun in a while."
"Cade."
"Okay." His eyes were sincere, and he raised one hand as though saying an oath. "I promise."
I bit my lip and peered over at him sheepishly. "Thanks. You know ... for taking care of me and all.” I twisted the bed sheet within my fingertips. “That's never happened to me before. Ever. Where I drank myself into oblivion."
He shrugged. "It's okay. Everyone needs to let loose once in awhile, and it's not like I've never got butt-ass wasted before."
He tipped his chin. "It's nothing, Angel. I'm used to taking care of people. It's what I do." He moved from the bed and stood. "Candice was an alcoholic, among other things, so I know all about cleaning up puke." He turned to walk toward the bathroom, taking the basin full of my vomit with him. "I took care of her until she killed herself in the car accident. My father was in the car, too."
I gasped, and my hand flew to my parted lips. I didn't see his face, but I could only imagine what he was feeling. The little tidbits I’d learned about his family explained so much about Cade, yet a big part of me believed I hadn’t even scratched the surface.
Chapter 10
My first couple of days handling the downtown locations was coming to an end. I had to say, I was pretty proud of myself and on an ultimate high. I was rocking my job, proactive in contacting our contractors and getting every complaint assessed and every repair fixed. The zoning and city ordinances were all up to date with all our inspections. I was starting this right and making sure that I didn't disappoint my family and I lived up to the Armstrong name.
Driving down Elgin Avenue after work, I slowed to a stop in front of Allswell. Thoughts of Cade and what happened a few nights ago surfaced—his careful attention as I vented all my frustrations, his gentle affection when he took care of me, his soft tenderness cleaning me up when I had thrown up all over his bed.
I touched my cheek, still embarrassed at the memory. I could still conjure the stink of everything that had come up from my stomach, the memory still fresh.
Yet not once did he make me feel uncomfortable like he was happy to take care of me.
Dithering there in my car, I decided I wanted to see him. If I was being honest with myself, I missed him.
I pushed through the door of Allswell, and as always, there was a line waiting to be seated. One hostess peered at her papers in sheer concentration while others cheerfully ushered customers to their tables.
After walking straight to the bar, I raised my hand and got the attention of another bartender. I leaned over the counter. "Is Cade in the back?"
"No. He won't be back for a couple of days."
My stomach dropped with disappointment. "Oh. Do you know where he went?"
"Home, to take care of his mom." This time it was Kristy who had spoken. She approached me and waved off the other bartender to tend to other patrons. "He goes home often because he has family obligations to take care of." She eyed me with disdain, skimming my suit and the Hermes bag slung over my shoulder. "I don't know what game you're playing here."
I leaned back and crossed my arms over my chest. Automatically, my walls were up. "I'm sorry. Cade and I are just friends. I'm not playing any games."
She raised a judgmental eyebrow, and her lips puckered with annoyance. "I know you spent the night the other night."
I shook my head vigorously, not sure why I felt the need to maintain my innocence with her. "Nothing happened. Nothing."
She shifted her weight and ducked in, propping her arms on the bar. "Sure, whatever.” Her tone dripped with sarcasm. “All I know is that you have some sort of hold on him. He's been through a lot of shit. So, whatever you're doing, whatever you have planned, cut it out. He's got too much on his plate."
I sucked in my cheeks and bit back the words that I was goi
ng to say. We warred for seconds without words. Then her cutting voice sliced through the silence. "You rich girls think you can do whatever you want."
I reeled back, face tight. I didn’t have to deal with her crap. I’d done nothing wrong. "You don't know me,” I said flatly. “So, you can take your rich girl comment and ... and stick it up your ass."
My ears burned, my breathing sped up, and my nails dug indentations on the insides of my palms. I'd never wanted to punch someone so badly in my whole life.
I half ran out of that place before I did something I'd regret.
Being so busy at work, the next few days flew by fast. A new tenant was moving into one of our vacant properties, and since the property was on Elgin Avenue, it was in my territory.
Though I was busy, I couldn't help but think of Cade, hoping he was okay, hoping his mother was fine. I know that he'd said she was unwell, but I wasn't sure what that meant entirely.
I was standing in our vacant property, making sure the cleaning people were doing their job, and everything was up to code before our tenant moved in when my phone rang with an unknown number.
"Hello?"
"Hey, Angel."
Two words that made my body betray me and had a shiver running down my back. The simple sound of his voice made my senses spin. "Hey."
"Kristy told me to call you and make sure everything’s okay. She told me what happened the other day and wanted to make sure everything was fine with our lease." His tone was laced with worry.
I moved to the side of the room and rested against the wall, pleased with the shine on the newly-polished floors. "You signed a five-year lease with Armstrong. Just because one of your employees doesn't like me doesn't mean I can amend your lease, Cade. Even if I wanted to, which I don't, I'm pretty sure that's illegal."
He chuckled. "Where are you right now?"
"I'm just a few blocks away from Clark and Lasalle. You know, the hard life of being a landlord." Something plagued the back of my mind. Although he was my tenant, our relationship had crossed into the land of friendship with vomit and naked sleepovers without sex. "How is your mom?" I asked, knowing I should keep our conversation purely professional, but I had to know that everything was okay.
He didn’t answer, but said, "Can you come by later? I'm not really a phone person."
I knew I shouldn't have. I should only go to Allswell on business and nothing more, but I found myself agreeing anyway. "Sure. I'll be over soon."
Thirty minutes later, I was walking into Allswell during the busy lunch hour. When he saw me enter, Cade's whole face lit up, and his signature crooked smile surfaced. Smitten, I staggered in my step, taking him in and needing a moment to collect myself.
Breathe.
There was no denying this powerful force of attraction I had toward him, an undeniable pull. Horizontal gravity.
"Hey," he called over when I approached.
After I sat on the stool by the bar, he handed me a tall glass of water with a slice of lemon. "Water by day. Shots at night, right?"
I grimaced, just thinking about the other night. "Yeah, I'll never be drinking like that ever again."
He winked at me. "Never say never."
I smiled, remembering why I had come. "How are you?"
"Good, now that you're here." He placed both hands on the bar, leaned in and scoured my face as though I was the light in the room.
Sigh.
I kept my face casual, though my heart fluttered widely in my chest. "You're flirting again."
"Maybe." He smiled, then tipped his head toward Kristy, at the end of the bar pouring drinks for a couple of guys in front of her. "Sorry about her. She's from home, and she kind of gets protective of me."
"So, you have history?" Curiosity ate at my insides. I wanted to know every single detail of his history, his life, what made him Cade.
His smile faded a little when his eyes flickered toward her. "We dated briefly, for a week. Biggest mistake ever. Totally incompatible as a couple, but we're great business partners. Now she heads up and trains at all our new locations. We normally get along until she gets all mama bear on me. Protective and all."
Suddenly, her reactions toward me became vividly clear.
Cade turned my way, lifted his arm, and made his muscle pop. "Like I need protecting, right? I think people need protecting from me." He dropped his head, his words low and seductive.
I coughed through the heat rising to the apple of my cheeks. "It's fine. I ... I just came in to talk to you about what happened the other night.” I lightly fingered a loose strand of hair on my cheek, needing to do something with my hands because my fingers itched to touch him. “Thanks for listening. You're the best therapist any girl could ever hope for."
"Don't mention it." His eyes locked with mine, taking me in. His gaze was riveted on my face.
"No, I needed that,” I continued. He didn’t understand how much I had been craving his listening ear that night. I'd always been on the other end, listening to Roland, my sister, and my mother when my father was sick. I averted my stare, feeling sheepish. "So ... Thank you."
There he was. Doing it again. Scouring my face, searching me as if he was studying my soul.
I played with a strand of my hair, pulling some to the front. "So, how was your trip home?"
He quirked an eyebrow, and his smile widened. "Changing the subject on me? I'll bite. It was good. My brother Jordan came home."
"You go home often?" I sat on the edge of my seat, feeling eager. I didn't know half the things about my other tenants that I knew about Cade, and yet it wasn't enough. I needed to know more.
He shrugged one shoulder. "Yeah, at least twice a month. More, if my brothers can't make it. I told you my mother's not well, right?" A guarded look came across his face.
"You did." I took a sip of my water.
"Well, she's in a nursing home, and we make sure that someone visits her every weekend." He cut his eyes to the bar, the sadness in them showing.
"Does she get lonely there?" No one in my family had ever been put in a home. Not my grandfather or my grandmother. They had died in their house with home care and with my parents nearby.
"Lonely?” he scoffed. “My mother? Please." He waved a hand in the air. "She's the most social person I know. She put herself in a nursing home so she wouldn't be a burden." He let out a low laugh. "She's nuts, but I think we all feel better seeing her. I get homesick; so do the other guys."
"So, do you take turns to visit her?" I reached for my glass and took a sip of water, all the while continuing to study him.
"Yeah, it's basically on Jordan's schedule. He's filming constantly, so between Wyatt and me, we're picking up most of the weekends. But then Jordan will be off for months, and he'll take two months straight to see mom."
I blinked and held a hand up. "Wait. What's your brother's name again? You said he's in film?" Then it hit me as I put Cade’s last name with his brother’s first name, but it couldn't be. There was no way. "Jordan Ryder? Your brother is Jordan Ryder?"
He let out a deep, throaty laugh, one that I felt vibrate against my skin. "Yes. The one and only cocky ass. That's him."
"Oh, my god. You're kidding." My tone raised in pitch and I bounced on my seat, fangirling a ton and unable to hide it.
"I wish I was. Got his first gig over five years ago and then it was over. He rose to stardom. He's a good-looking guy," he said matter of fact, and I could hear the affection in his voice.
"Yes, he is! Can I meet him?" I fanned myself with one hand.
Cade's smile faltered, his mouth slackening. "I can get an autograph, but there's no way I'm letting my brother near a little sweet thing like you."
Is he jealous?
I lifted an eyebrow. "And why not?" I challenged.
"Because." He grabbed my glass and proceeded to fill it with a water gun connected to the bar. The conversation dropped; the topic of Jordan over.
I laughed, more flattered that Cade was jealous over me tha
n I was disappointed that he was shutting me down. "Is that all I get?"
"Yep,” he said. “That and another refill on your water."
In between Cade serving drinks and his down time, we spent the next few hours talking about anything and everything. About his family. About mine. About life. Everything short of world peace.
"Tell me one weird thing about you. Something no one would ever guess," I asked while he was wiping down the bar. A patron had spilled his drink a few minutes ago.
"I'm an excellent dancer."
I coughed out a laugh. "I remember." My cheeks warmed as soon as the words flew out of my mouth, my thoughts traveling back to the first night we’d met. His arms around my waist, his body flush against mine. "I mean ..."
"You mean, I bump and grind pretty well on the dance floor." His eyes danced with mischief while the warmth of my cheeks spread to the tips of my ears. "Angel, my mother was a dance teacher for years. Foxtrot. Cha cha. Quickstep. Salsa. We know it all."
My mouth fell ajar, and I jerked back, assessing if he was kidding. I hadn't expected that this tall, tatted male was a graceful ballroom dancer.
"Surprised?"
"Um, yeah. I think that's amazing."
"Do you want me to teach you sometime?"
"Teach me how to dance?" I squeaked in shock and reeled back. For a hot second, I thought he was joking, but the look on his face told me he was stone-cold dancer prancer serious.
His gray eyes intensified, and his voice lowered as he leaned in. "Or teach you other things, because I'm up for anything."
I snorted, trying to keep my wits. "I'm sure both of those are out of the question."
The glint of humor was heavy on his face. "Your turn. Name one thing no one would guess about you."
I tapped my fingers against my chin, thinking there was a list of weird things only a very select few knew about me. "I like to bake cakes, but not just regular cakes. I use fondant, and I like to build my cakes.” I beamed, thinking of my talent that I obsessed over. “I've baked a cake for every one of my family members since before I could remember. It's a tradition."
