Page 22 of Mr. Wrong
Honest?
Okay—I spent last night in your pool house, banging your brother, six ways from Sunday. I woke up with his head between my legs and he makes a really great cup of coffee.
“I’d like that,” I tell him, hugging the catalogs a little closer to my chest. “We can start by you calling me Elle.”
“Okay.” He flashes me a quick smile while rubbing the bridge of his nose with the tip of his index finger, the gesture so muchlike Lex that I feel my heart do a double tap against my ribcage. “Elle—call me Landon.”
“Okay.” I nod. “That’s fair.”
He smiles again. “I really am late so I’m afraid I’m going to have to leave it to my brother to get you settled in.” He lifts his hand again, this time gesturing toward a set of French doors tucked into the corner. “Did you bring your belongings?” He tilts his head. “I didn’t see any bags or—”
“No bags.” I shake my head, grappling for a second as to why I showed up to my first day of a live-in position without so much as underwear on.
Because your underwear are lost in his pool house somewhere—because his brother took them off and tossed them god knows where.
“I didn’t want to show up with a bunch of luggage—I wasn’t sure how much Cassie knew about the situation and I didn’t want to…” I snap my mouth shut against the rambling torrent of crazy that’s tumbling out of my mouth. “I can always go back for my things this afternoon.”
“I appreciate that,” he says, giving me one of his movie-star grins. “I’ll make arrangements with Lex—he’ll take you to get your belongings this afternoon.”
“No—I can get my things on my own.” I say it too loud. Shake my head too fast. “I don’t want to cause any trouble.”
The movie star grin slips a little but he recovers quickly. “Don’t worry—Lex is a good guy. He’s just not happy about the situation.” Before I can ask what that means exactly, he lifts his hand to usher me through the door. “But he loves Cassie so he’ll play nice, for her sake.”
“Okay.” More confused than ever, I force myself to think of Cassie and what’s best for her, rather than the fact that the thought of facing Lex again makes me want to find the nearest,heaviest rock and crawl under it. “I’m sure we’ll get along just fine.”
Sixteen
Lex
I can hearthem walking around the house—Landon taking Ellenore on a tour. Showing her around. Telling her to make herself comfortable.
“Dad says she’s my new teacher—that she’s going to live here with us for a while.”
I look down at Cassie, standing on a step stool beside me, her face aimed up to look at me. We’re making cinnamon apple pancakes—one of her favorites.
“That’s true.” I scoot the bowl closer to her and hand her an egg.
She frowns at the egg, her little tongue poking between her teeth when she gives it a sharp smack on the countertop. “I did it!” she says with a grin when the egg cracks on her first try.
I watch while she splits the eggshell and drops its insides into the mixing bowl. “Here,” I say, handing her another egg when she drops the empty shell into the bowl I have set up for garbage. “Crack this one on your forehead.”
“I’ll crack it onyourforehead,” she tells me, giggling and jerking away from me when I poke her in the ribs.
Second egg added, I help Cassie pour a measured mixture of milk and applesauce on top of the eggs. We’re both quiet, trying to listen to the conversation going on in the sunroom off the kitchen that Landon decided would make a good place for Ellenore to set up shop.
“I won’t like her if you don’t want me to,” Cassie whispers to me, leveling an earnest gaze at mine. Hearing her say it makes me feel like shit because it’s exactly what I want. I don’t want Cassie to like Elle. I want Elle to go away so things will go back to normal around here.
The real mind fuck is that as much as I want her to go away, I want her to stay.
Hell, I just plainwanther.
“Doyou like her?” I say, making sure that my tone is light and neutral.
“I dunno.” Cassie shrugs while gnawing on her bottom lip. “Maybe…” She shakes her head at me. “But I don’t have to if you don’t want me to.”
“Well,” I say, focusing on whisking the eggs and milk together. “I like her.” Even though it’s true, I have to make myself say it.
“You do?” She sounds skeptical, like she thinks I’m lying.
