Perfect Sense (Perfect Series Book 1)

by Amanda Cowen

  “Cash, answer me!” I shout, a single tear trickling down my cheek.

  “I’m two hundred thirteen days clean,” he responds through gritted teeth. “I spent a year in the majors in and out of additional programming and then six months in rehab before I started this season with the Bruisers.”

  I let out the breath I’ve unwittingly been holding, my voice shaky. “But I’ve seen you drinking-”

  He shakes his head. “You mean the soda water and lime I’ve been guzzling at events? I’m clean.”

  “You’ve been doing all this while you’ve been playing?”

  “Yes.” He turns around, his eyes clouded with an unmistakable pain. “I’m not a fucking helpless soul, Mittens. Everyone goes through shit. I dealt with it the wrong way and I’ve paid for it. In more way than one. Now will you accept the deal or not?”

  “Why me, Brooks? Why not call the girl in the text message from this morning to get your next fuck? Or the strawberry blonde prostitute, or any other girl for that matter?”

  He shakes his head, silently responding to some internal conflict that causes a trace of a frown to play on his lips. “Quinn, when I’m with you I feel. I’ve been numb for the past four years, going through the motions and fucking up everything in my life without a conscious and without feeling until I met you. You’ve changed me. You make me want my old life back. The life I had before everything turned to shit. The real me.”

  The soft hint of desperation in his voice, practically brings me to my knees, but I remain silent as he continues, “I’m not ready to stop feeling. I don’t want to be numb anymore. And I can’t promise you I won’t fuck up or that my baggage won’t destroy us. But what I do know is that I never want this feeling to go away.”

  “I want to believe you.” I drop my head in my hands, unable to erase the text message from this morning out of my mind. I tilt my head back up. “But I am terrified of getting my heart broken.”

  “Believe me. I want to let you in.” He curses under his breath, and his eyes briefly shift up to the ceiling then back to mine. “Listen Quinn, I don’t have a family. All I have is a dark fucked up past. When the world sees Cash Brooks, they don’t know the life outside the lights and the rink that I keep to myself and hide and protect. A life I don’t expect you to understand.”

  I pull my eyes away from his, finding the floor as I feel an unwanted heat blossoming on my cheeks. Fighting with my lips I will away the urge to dig deeper - unsatisfied, confused and no right to feel that way.

  “Please, Mittens, say yes.” He leans in like he is about to claim my lips, stopping just close enough that I can feel his lips as he speaks causing all conflicting thoughts to disappear at the anticipation of his touch. “Give me all of you for one weekend, no holding back. You and I both know we make perfect sense, sweetheart. If you want me, I’m yours.”

  “Cash - “I am caught off guard as he leans in and kisses me softly on the lips, reminding me how incredibly perfect his lips feel on mine. My heart flutters. I feel the desperation in his kiss as our tongues dance together, slowly, until he finally pulls away and places his index finger over my lips, silencing me.

  “Don’t you dare say anything unless it’s, yes.”

  It’s one simple word. That’s really all it is, but in this moment I know the power of that one simple word and how it will forever change my life.

  Locking my eyes with his, a quivering mess, I breathlessly respond, “Yes.”

  The sound of the door crashing open causes a lump to form in my throat. Cash and I push away from each other to see an angry Theo standing in the hallway. His hair is a wild mess and his tie is loosened with the top of his shirt unbuttoned. The lines on his forehead deepen as he shifts his eyes between me and Cash inches apart from each other.

  “Your five minutes is up,” he sneers keeping his angry eyes on Cash. “The National Hockey League wants their answer. Now.”

  Silence fills the hallway. “I’ll agree to whatever the league wants as long as Quinn’s name stays out of it.” Cash points to me with a scowl on his face. “I want her reputation as a league employee to remain intact and her internship unaffected.”

  Theo nods. “That’s all I ever wanted. I’m glad you’ve come to your senses.”

  Cash pushes past Theo, knocking him with his shoulder as he re-enters into the boardroom.

  Theo sighs out loud and narrows his eyes me, and my red guilt ridden cheeks. “Whatever you did or said to Brooks to have him make a statement and agree to the press release saved the Bruisers asses in the eyes of our affiliates.” He takes a step closer, then stops and bites down on his lip, pointing a finger at me from across the hall. “But I don’t like what is going on here. Not in the fucking slightest.” And with that, he walks back into the boardroom, slamming the door behind him.

  Chapter 11

  My sleep is restless and interrupted by confusing nightmares of Cash and Theo, with unwanted appearances from my father and flashes of DENIED letters from Harvard. I blame my sleepless night on yesterday and my continued involvement in preparing Cash’s statement to the press. I worked late, alone in my office with a very cranky Theo. Cash and I were forced apart, while the National Hockey League and the media prepared for the live midnight press release.

  Beyond exhausted, I ran on three coffees and emotionally ate everything in sight, including a small tub of peanut butter. By the time the press release started, my stomach hurt and I had dismissed ten missed calls from my dad. Theo was no longer speaking with me. Cash was withdrawn and silent. And I was a nervous wreck watching him read word for word of what I wrote in front of the cameras, denying our relationship or that he was back on the wagon. The first omission a flat out lie, the second I could only hope to be true.

  Rolling out of bed this morning, my mind is a scattered mess. I am irritable and aroused, anticipating the rippling effect of my deal with the blue eyed devil; Alone with him for the whole weekend.

  Pushing my curls out of my face, I tell myself to get a grip, nothing bad is going to happen, and remind myself that the way I feel about him will not control me.

  I am not pathetic.

  I can do this.

  It’s only one weekend.

  I let out a large sigh and pull open my bedroom door. I follow the sound of Lyndsey’s giggles and smell of freshly brewed coffee lingering from the kitchen. My heart swells at the familiar rasp of his voice. I stop dead in my tracks, wondering if I am still dreaming and pinch my skin.

  Ouch! Definitely not a dream.

  What is Cash doing here?

  My legs feel as wobbly as a newborn giraffe, but somehow they carry me out of the bedroom, through the living room and right to the kitchen. Cash is standing next to Lyndsey flipping through a newspaper and sipping on coffee.

  He is wearing the sexiest pair of jeans with a thick black belt extenuating his toned and inviting waistline. My gaze shifts upward to take in his tight white t-shirt covering every single ounce of brawny steel on his torso and arms. When my eyes finally find his face, I try to look beyond the handsome features that take my breath away every time I see him, but I can’t.

  He is breathtaking.

  “Hey,” he murmurs, bringing his eyes in line with mine. “Rough night last night, huh?”

  “What are you doing here?” I exhale, taking a cautious step backward.

  “Sealing the deal.” He winks, taking a sip of his coffee. “Our flight leaves in three hours.”

  “Excuse me?” I round the kitchen island and pour myself a cup of coffee. I lean against the counter and meet his eyes over the rim of my mug. “And where on earth do you think you’re taking me?”

  “Top secret.” He slides past Lyndsey and presses up against me as his hand finds the small of my back. Licks of desire flicker low in my belly, travelling and burning between my thighs from his touch. “Pack your bags, Mittens I’m colleting my debt and we’re getting the hell out of here.”

  I shake my head. “It’s Friday morning
. Technically, the weekend doesn’t start until the business day is done.”

  “Did you forget that I’m suspended for three games? My weekend starts now.” His sexy drawl has my stomach doing this weird flip floppy thing. It takes me a few seconds to respond.

  “And my weekend starts eight hours from now. I was planning on going into work today.”

  “You worked over twenty-two hours’ yesterday. I heard Theo tell you last night that you could take today off. A deal is a deal, Mittens.”

  “You’re going to love where he is taking you,” Lyndsey pipes up over his shoulder.

  “You told her about all of this?”

  He shrugs. “She’s your sister.”

  “No one can find out about this—us.” I glance over at Lyndsey sitting on the kitchen counter with an impish grin on her face.

  “Don’t worry, Quinn, mums the word.” She hops off the counter. “I’ll take care of Dad and Theo. As far as I know, you and Olivia took off to Las Vegas for the weekend. Consider yourself officially free of their control. Don’t worry. I’ve got you back.”

  “Thanks, Lynds.”

  “You’re welcome.” She rubs my shoulder and walks out of the kitchen and into her bedroom.

  A smile touches my lips. All my worries leave my head as I drink in Cash. Bright blue eyes and a scruffy jaw with a pair of lips I am dying to lick.

  And he’s all mine for the weekend.

  I place my cup of coffee down on the kitchen counter. “I’ll grab my things.”

  I don’t know what he has done to me, but being with Cash brings out the rebellious and free-spirited side of me that has been missing from my life for way too long.

  A slow lazy grin spread across his face. “I’ll be waiting outside. Our ride to the airport will be here any minute.”

  A stretch limousine isn’t exactly the type of transportation necessary for a thirty-minute ride to the airport. I slide my sunglasses on top of my head, pulling my luggage behind me, towards an extremely hot looking Cash. He opens the rear door and I try my hardest not to think about all the sex he has had with various women in the back of a limo. I can’t think about it and remain calm. My attraction to Cash consumes me. I want to be the only woman he’s with period. I know it’s crazy. And I know I can’t expect that from him. It would be like forcing a wild animal into captivity. The bitter taste in my mouth as I slide into the back of the limo poisons my emotions. I hate and love that I know how it feels to be touched by him.

  He tosses my luggage into the trunk then slides in beside me onto the leather seat. He reaches over me – his scent like honey and cinnamon washing over me as he hits a button to my left. The driver’s voice booms through the speakers. “Ready, Mr. Brooks?”

  “Bexley International Airport, Greg” Cash leans back, draping his arm along the back of the seat. My phone starts ringing and Cash’s eyebrows shoot up and his gaze narrows. “Are you going to answer that?”

  I glance down at the screen lit up with a familiar number, and I swallow hard. “No, it’s my dad.” I turn my phone on silent and shove it into my purse. “I have no desire to hear him lecture me right now on everything that transpired over the past couple of days.”

  He grins wickedly. “I knew you had daddy issues.”

  I roll my eyes and shake my head. “You think you know everything, don’t you?”

  “Am I wrong?” he says, expression smug.

  “Yes and no…” I trail off, not liking where this conversation is headed. But I have the feeling I am not off the hook.

  He turns his body to face me before he leans back in the seat. “It’s obvious you’re not the kind of girl who can be tamed. Hell, you’re feisty as shit and bold as a bull. So what gives? Why do you let what Hilton Ashby thinks control you?”

  “Because he’s always been the only stable person in my life.”

  Cash leans forward with curiosity written all over his face. “What about your mother?”

  I turn my gaze to the window, watching the tree line blur together along the side of the highway. I have a decision to make. I can continue to keep my guilt and secrets buried inside, never letting anyone in. Or I can confide in Cash the real reason that I hate to disappoint my father. I haven’t talked about my mother in years.

  The warm touch of his hand slipping over top of mine causes me to turn his way. “Quinn? You okay?”

  Lifting my eyes, I meet his steady gaze. I see understanding, telling me he is okay with my decision whether I choose to say more or hold back. When his thumb runs slowly along the top of my hand, I shiver at his gentle touch.

  “It’s not that simple to explain.”

  He smiles. “Nothing is ever simple.”

  My heart swirls with emotion. I want to trust him. I want to tell him. I avoid his eyes, reluctant to willingly provide him with the dark parts of my family’s past. But if I don’t open up to him, how can I ever expect him to open up to me?

  “You really want to know something that personal about me?”

  “Quinn, I want to know everything about you.”

  I pull my hand away from his and place it in my lap. I can feel his eyes on me, but right now I’m not ready to look at him. I have no idea if I’m going to regret all I am about to tell him. Sighing sadly, I look into his eyes and then down to his mouth. “My childhood was chaotic. After Lyndsey was born my mom suffered from postpartum depression and self-medicated with alcohol. She drank…a lot. My father didn’t trust her to properly care for us while he was on the road playing hockey so we grew up with a nanny. Because he lived a high-profile life he wanted to keep our personal life private and swept my mother’s problems under the rug for years. He tried to get her the help she needed, but she was too depressed to even want to help herself. It wasn’t until I was in elementary school that she was finally diagnosed, taking the proper steps she needed to get better.” I pause, suddenly insecure with my admissions.

  “Quinn, I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

  Feeling Cash’s hand slip back into mine causes me to choke back the tears. I stare at our entwined hands trembling in my lap.

  Finally, I look up at him to see the questions in his eyes. But feeling his reassuring touch gives me the strength to continue. “I was so angry when I was a kid. My father was building his hockey career and I was the one stuck always taking care of Lyndsey because my mother wouldn’t get out of bed or she’d be too inebriated to even take care of herself. And things would only get worse whenever my father returned from the road or in the off-season. All him and my mother did was fight. She constantly accused him of being with other women and he always called her out on being a drunk.”

  He frowns, his eyes concerned. “How old were you when all of this was going on?”

  “My earliest memory of seeing my mother drunk was when I was six years old. Our nanny picked up me and Lyndsey from school. When we got home, we walked through the back door and into the kitchen to find our mother passed out on the tile floor with a bottle in her hand. I remember our nanny yelling and screaming, slapping her in the face to wake her up. And I’ll never forget the sound of Lyndsey’s crying and screaming when the ambulance showed up. We thought she was dead.”

  I turn to look at him, my eyes craving understanding. He probably wants to turn this limo around and drop me back off at my condo. I’m sure he’s never given any girl the time of day that willingly aired out her dirty laundry like some sort of broken soul.

  “I had no idea that you had been through so much,” he whispers.

  I release a breath. “I loved my mother so much, but the older I became the reality that her drinking was taking over her life started to weigh on me. I felt like I had no choice but to protect her. I took care of Lyndsey and worked hard to hide her drinking from everyone, including our dad. I’m the one who made her take her medication and I’m the one who picked her up off the floor and put her into bed whenever she would pass out from drinking. When my father would return from the road I would lie and tell h
im she hadn’t been drinking while he was gone. I would tell him she was getting better. I learned very quickly how to live on my own and take care of myself. Live without a normal mother. That’s why I focused so hard on my education. I never wanted to end up like her. I wanted to make a picture perfect life for myself, so I was never anyone’s disappointment, like she was my dad’s,” I trail off, holding back the tears.

  “Quinn, your dad can’t blame you for your mom’s addiction– “He reaches out and touches the base of my jaw, which causes me to shiver. I am so used to keeping things buried inside that I forgot what it felt like to be listened to. “You don’t owe him anything,” he murmurs, kissing the tip of my nose.

  I shudder, pulling his hand away from the side of his face. “I know he doesn’t blame me. I blame myself.”

  “For what? Dealing with a mother who was mentally ill?”

  “No.” I shake my head, biting my lower lip to fight the unwanted tears pooling in my eyes. “By the time I was in high school I couldn’t hide her addiction from my dad anymore. He forced her into rehab. And on my sixteenth birthday, she was released for the weekend to attend my party. My one wish that night, when I blew out the candles was that she would get better and that rehab would work. I wanted her to be the Mom I knew she could be.” I shift my eyes to Cash who looks like he wants nothing more than to hold me in his arms.

  He gives me a reassuring half smile laced with a hint of sadness. “How is she now? Has she gotten better?”

  I shake my head and look down at my hands folded in my lap. “No. I’m the one that found her.”

  “What do you mean you found her?”

  “That night I woke up to the sound of someone ripping open cupboards and rifling through drawers. I ran down the stairs and into the kitchen to find my mother shaky and sweaty knelled over and practically collapsed on the floor. She looked up at me and her bright green eyes were vacant and scared. She was so skinny and weak, staring back at me and holding onto an empty bottle of her medication in her limp hand.” A single tear runs down my cheek. Cash’s thumb grazes over my skin and wipes the tear away. I drop my head in my hands.