Page 16 of Taking Chances in Cedarwood

He had to spill his guts. Oddly enough, the more he talked, the freer he felt. “I admire you. You can do it all. I’ve never written a check, used a bank card properly, lived on my own or paid a bill. I have no workable skills outside of acting. When you saw me at the store, I really was in a jam. I’d used my ID, not a bank card, to buy food because I grabbed the wrong one, then got so flustered I couldn’t think straight. I can’t cook and never learned how to shop for myself. I’m pretty sure I bought every kind of cookie in that store.”

“Who shopped for you?” Andrew asked.

“Servants.”

“Right.”

“Remember the commercials for Funny Ones, the cereal that’ll make you laugh?”

“A joke in every box,” Andrew said and nodded. “I do. It’s nasty cereal and the jokes were terrible.”

“Try eating fourteen bowls of it.” Cain rubbed his stomach. “I hated every time we shot one of those commercials.”

“You were Benny?” Andrew asked.

“The one and only.” He’d been the original Benny and had only been replaced when he hit a growth spurt.

“You’re putting me on.”

“I wish I was.” He’d never told anyone about his past—not about eating all that cereal or hating the taste. People knew he’d starred in the commercials. Hell, every time they wanted to do a piece on his career, the media started with those awful commercials. “I started baby modeling when I was six months old and I’ve been in the business ever since. I did cereal commercials, car commercials, one for light bulbs, a television show that lasted ten episodes, then another that lasted three years. I’ve been in tween movies before being a tween was a thing. I did teen movies, graduated to major motion pictures with bit parts, then television films and rom-coms. My parents and managers kept me working because I paid the bills. I kept them all in the lap of luxury without realizing it. They have the reins on my money and I wasn’t kidding. I’ve never used a bank card or signed a check.”

Andrew stared at him and said nothing. Cain couldn’t read his expression and his heart sank.

“I know,” Cain said. “It’s sorry and a lot to take in.” He chuckled. “Anyway, I’ll get that money to you.” He wasn’t sure how, but he’d figure something out. “I’m sorry I put you out. Thanks for the lemonade and tour of the garden.” He left the porch. If he did anything well, it was retreat. He blinked back tears. He’d never told anyone about his past—no one outside of an official interview. Women didn’t give a shit about his personal life. They’d been paired up with him on the studio and his manager’s orders. All they wanted was fame. He’d never dated a guy and had few friends. He’d tried to keep a lid on his personal life, but Andrew made talking so damn easy.

He headed out to the car, and with each step, the heaviness in his soul increased. He didn’t let many people in and wanted Andrew to be different, but he couldn’t make the farmer accept him.

“Cain.” Andrew strolled up to the car. “How’d you learn to drive or get a license?”

“A movie.” Cain turned around and leaned against the fender. When he looked up, Andrew had caged him between the vehicle and his body. He slid his hands over Andrew’s chest—hard in just the right places and the perfect amount of muscle. He smelled of straw and perspiration. His hazel eyes sparkled, and Cain noticed the sprinkling of freckles on Andrew’s cheeks.

“A movie?” Andrew asked.

Cain cleared his throat. “I did a film where I spent a lot of time in a car. To keep things legal and for the right shots, I got my license. My parents didn’t have to sign anything, so they didn’t know about what I’d done until the film was over.”

The muscle in Andrew’s jaw twitched. “How old are you?”

“Thirty, like I said.” He hated sounding sheepish. He’d waited so long in his life to do so many things. Normally, he’d say he was twenty-five, but his acting resume claimed he could play anything from twenty-two to almost forty. “You?”

“Thirty-four,” Andrew didn’t move. “You’ve really been sheltered all this time?”

“When you’re the one who keeps your parents in money and you don’t know any better, then yeah.” Cain bowed his head. “It’s silly.”

“Not really.” Andrew tipped Cain’s chin, forcing him to look into Andrew’s eyes. “We all have different experiences. Yours are not the same as mine.”

“No.”Does Andrew really understand?

Andrew paled, then backed up. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” He loved being that close to Andrew. For a few moments, his life felt normal.

“I don’t even know if you’re gay and I’m grinding on you.” Andrew rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry. Do you even know if you’re gay?”

“Are you? Gay?” He hoped so. Andrew rubbing on him would make so much more sense, and he thought he remembered Andrew saying he was homosexual. He wanted Andrew to cage him in again and kiss him.

“I’m gay.” Andrew nodded back toward the pride flag on the pole in front of the house. “You haven’t been out, have you? Give yourself time to find out what you want. Liam is taken, though.”

“What?” He frowned. “Liam? I knew that, and I’m not interested in him. He’s just a costar in an upcoming film.”

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