Page 25 of Mr. Wrong
“Lex isn’t Cassie’scaregiver.” He starts walking again, like getting away from me will put distance between him and the mess he’s leaving behind. “He’s her uncle.”
“He’s more than that,” I blurt out while some far distant part of my brain yells at me to shut up. “I’ve been here all of thirty minutes and even I can see that.”
He makes a sound in the back of his throat without so much as sparing me a glance. “Regardless of what my brother is orisn’t, he no longer meets my daughter’s needs, Ms. Pierce.”
Something hot and ugly flares in my chest, anger on Lex’s behalf, and I have to swallow the words that surge up in his defense. “Regardlessof how you categorize him, your brother is obviously an important part of your daughter’s life,Mr. Trask.”
Stepping onto the cobblestone drive, I see a shiny red sports car that wasn’t parked there before and it hits me—how strange and surreal my life has suddenly become. In less than 24-hours, I’ve had sex with a total stranger who turned out to be my new boss’s brother and I am now arguing with that boss—who just happens to be the hottest star in Hollywood.
“I fail to see your point,” he says in a flippant, slightly condescending tone that would make my eye twitch if not for the fact that his jaw snapped tight when I mentioned Lex’s close relationship with his daughter. It bothers him that Cassie loves her uncle. Trusts him. Prefers him.
“My point is that it would’ve been nice to know that I was walking into a potentially adversarial situation,” I say, careful to keep my tone as neutral as possible. “If I’d known, I could’ve—”
“Would it have mattered?”
“Excuse me?” I stand here, watching while he opens the drivers’ side door and slides into the deep leather seat.
“If I’d told you about Lex and the potential conflict that your being here might start, would you still have taken the job?”
I think about where I was a few months ago. Everything in my life belonged to Derek. His apartment. His money. His friends. His plans for the future.
I’m twenty-five and everything I own, I was able to pack into the trunk of my beat-up Honda. Nothing about where I was headed in life had anything to do with where I really wanted to be.
I told myself that I took this job because I needed a plan. A soft place to land, but looking at Landon, I realize that while those things are true, I said yes to his job offer because I needed to prove that I don’t need Derek or his plans. That I can make a future of my own, even if I’m making it one day at a time.
“Yes.” I nod my head, stepping back when he swings the door closed. “I still would’ve accepted the job.”
“Then why are we talking about it?” He aims an exasperated smile at me through the open car window while he starts the engine.
Because I slept with your brother before I even knew hewasyour brother and that takes things from uncomfortable and unpleasant to downright weird.
“I’ll speak with Lex,” he says, shifting into drive. “We’ll figure something out about the living arrangements.”
Before I can say another word, he rolls up his window and drives away.
Eighteen
Lex
“What doyou think they’re talking about?”
I toss a look over my shoulder to find Cassie where she’s been since Landon and Ellenore walked out the back door—kneeling on the window seat, face pressed against the glass, head cocked and angled so she can see the driveway.
They’re talking about me.
Even though I’d bet my left nut it’s true, I don’t say it out loud. Instead I give her a disinterested shrug. “Who knows,” I grumble. “Hey, if you’re finished with your pancakes, walk your plate to the sink.”
“I bet he’s asking her out on a date,” she says, totally ignoring me.
Deep breath, Lex. Deep breath.
“He’s not asking her out on a date,” I say, hoping to God I sound amused and not homicidal over the possibility. “He’s probably telling her about your schedule like he said or what you like to eat for lunch.”
“No, he’s not.” She shakes her head without peeling her eyes off the window. “He doesn’t know any of those things.”
She’s right. I bet what Landon knows about his daughter would fit in a shot glass and leave room for more. “Okay,” I say, looking for another plausible, non-love connection, answer to why my brother and the woman I just spent the night fucking into a coma have been outside, talking to each other, for nearly fifteen minutes now. “Maybe he’s—”
“Oh, shit,” she exclaims, diving under the table. “She saw me.”
