Page 33 of Taking Chances in Cedarwood

“Cain Meadow Ables.” His mother pushed Andrew out of the way. “You cannot behave this way. People are watching. We brought you the proper servants to live correctly. Now stop this ridiculous act.”

Andrew wanted to say something, but this was Cain’s argument.

“No.” Cain slid off the truck bed and turned his back on his mother. He pointed to Larkin and Cape. “We’ll talk. You have my email and phone number. I expect to get final approval on the pictures and the article—deal? The interview will be yours exclusively.”

“You bet.” Cape jotted notes. “I’ll contact you tonight.”

“Perfect.” Cain nodded once, then approached Larkin. “I’ll help decide what gets posted and I’ll pay for most of the rest because I want them for framing.”

“No problem.” Larkin grinned. “They’re going to be dynamite.”

“I hope so.” Andrew slid his fingers into Cain’s back pocket. No one ever wanted to take his photo or told him he was handsome. He’d only ever posed for his high school photos and a few snapshots with Maddie. This was a whole different level.

Cain’s mother glared at Andrew. “You put him up to this.”

Cain’s father said nothing, and the silence unnerved Andrew. He’d never run into anyone he didn’t like—save for his ex-boyfriends.

Cain walked Larkin and Cape to the car. Cain said something Andrew couldn’t hear. When Cain returned, he applauded. “Congratulations.”

“Yes, congratulations on this big charade,” Dixon said, finally getting off the phone. “You’ve played house long enough.”

“House?” Cain rolled his eyes. “You are clueless.”

Andrew hung back. This was Cain’s fight. He could give support, but interference would add fuel to the fire.

“You can send the serving staff away,” Cain said. “I’m fine. Better than fine.”

“Too late,” Dixon said. “We’ve relocated your things to a better living situation. Why would you want to live in that shitty apartment? Pure trash. The furnishings were used and dingy, the carpets awful, and the neighborhood…what if the papers found out you were living there? You’d be the laughingstock.”

Cain shrugged. The building wasn’t the best, but it wasn’t too bad.

“Servers, guards and the mystery a person of your caliber needs is being provided at the better house,” Cain’s mother grumbled. “You thought you could keep us away. You need us and you need the luxury. You’re a star, not afarmer.” She said the last word like a curse.

“I needed freedom,” Cain shot back.

Andrew spotted the cattle poking around in the barn. He should get the chores done. He elbowed Cain. “I have to feed the girls.”

“Sure.” Cain kissed him. “I’ll help you when I’m done here.”

“The hell you will.” Dixon curled his lip in a sneer. “You can’t take care of yourself. How in the hell will you care for children?”

Andrew bit back a groan. “They’re cattle. Mimsy, Pansy, Buttercup and Rose. I need to get over to the barn and feed them.”

“I’ll be there in a moment.” Cain grinned. “Go. It’s okay.”

Andrew shook his head and cleared his throat. “Sorry to have to leave this party, but I’m required in the barn. Have a good morning.” He didn’t bother to look back as he left. The collection of intruders said things he didn’t care to hear. How could people be so rude? How had Cain managed to live with them for so long?

Maybe Cain hadn’t known any better. Andrew did, and he didn’t like the intruders at all. He wanted his heaven on earth with Cain.

Chapter Twelve

Cain hated the life that had once fulfilled his being. He still loved acting and considered his performances his best contributions to the arts, but he hated the pageantry and glitter his family insisted he use. No one needed that many servants or should spend that much money. Beyond that, he hated the way his family and agent had spoken to Andrew.

“Get your real clothes on and let’s go,” his mother, Marcia, said. “You’ve wasted enough time.”

Dixon stepped between Cain and the barn. “You can’t love him. He’s beneath you.”

“Think of your reputation,” his father, Ed, said. “You’ll be embarrassed. Will he know how to behave at a premiere? No, he’ll act like a farmer.”

---