Chapter Three
Sydney
I walked into my parent’s house with white, ripped skinny jeans on and a beanie. I knew it was childish to dress down on purpose, but sometimes seeing the horrid look on my mother’s face just—fed my soul.
The food smelled amazing. To be honest, it was half of the reason I made the weekly visit to my parent’s mansion. Being a grown up always seemed like so much fun until it actually happened. Paying for my own things on my art teacher salary sucked ass. Family portraits lined the hallway. Portraits that were there for show. Portraits of us before everything went to hell. I didn’t glance at them because I didn’t need a reminder of what my brother looked like. He haunted my dreams every night.
Despite my recent visits, it wasn’t the scowls on my parent’s faces that slowed my pace, it was the man in the button-down shirt sitting across from my seat at the dining table.
“Sydney, come inside.”
My mouth parted at the sight of him. The darkest of nights couldn’t compare to his James Dean hair. A pair of pale green eyes held my stare. But it wasn’t his eyes that made me turn my head but the way his mouth turned up into the meanest-sexiest smirk I’d ever seen.
“Sydney!”
I focused on my parents. My mother’s terrified expression at my jeans didn’t even make me smile, my heart pounded too loudly in my head, he was all I could focus on. “Sorry,” I whispered, walking the short distance to the table.
When he spoke, it hit bone. His voice was deep and rich like I had imagined. “I’m Cash Jenkins,” he said. “It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Henry.”
One breath, two—gasp—three breaths. Slowly, I looked up at him. Like I feared, being closer to him made my stomach tighten, my heart rate quickened. His cologne collided into my space, demolishing any chance of me getting him out of my head. “Sydney,” I said.
The corner of his full, full mouth twitched. “Sydney,” he said, and it felt right to hear his voice speak my name. I watched his lips for a few seconds too long before lowering my gaze to the table.
Dad grunted. “Well good heavens, come sit down. I’m about to starve to death.”
“You sure can’t tell,” I whispered, sliding my backpack to the floor beside my chair.
Mother clapped her hands once. “It’s so lovely for you to join us, Cash. I’m sorry you had to wait.”
I rolled my eyes, knowing my mother sent daggers my way. “My class ran late, Mother. If you’d read your text messages, you’d know.”
She waved me off.
“You teach classes?” he asked.
I swallowed and shifted my gaze to his. “I teach art classes at the gallery on Pecan.”
Cash shifted forward, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up above his forearm, showing me the muscle that hid behind the fabric. “Are you any good?”
Dad chuckled from the end of the table. “That’s debatable.”
I felt Cash’s eyes on my face, but I stared my dad down. “Beats working for the family business.”
Dad’s dark eyes darkened. “Where’s our food, Luna?”
Luna hollered something back that I couldn’t decipher. She was the only woman allowed to talk back to my dad, even though I did it anyway. She just didn’t get any flack about it.
Her Cajun fish was the best thing you’d ever put in your damn mouth. And my dad loved to eat, so he’d tolerate anything to keep her around.
Luna came out a few seconds later, her long braid that matched my own hung loosely down her shirt. Her dream catcher necklace swung with each step. The huge smile on her face told me that she knew the guy sitting across from me was gorgeous. The woman had practically raised me since birth. Let’s say my mother didn’t really have that motherly touch.
She pressed a kiss to the top of my head and sat the crab legs down in the middle of the table. “Sweet honey, I’m so glad to see ya here.”
I turned in my chair to hug her. “He’s sexy as sin,” she whispered into my ear. I giggled.
“Secrets don’t make friends,” my mother said.
Luna flung her braid. “And how do you know how to make friends, Mrs. Henry? I didn’t realize you had any.”
Mom’s face flushed red; her eyes shifted to the wine in her right hand. It had become a permanent fixture lately.
“Stop nagging my wife and give me my food, Luna. You know how I am when I’m hungry.”
Luna rolled her eyes, and brought out the rest of our food, not before making a grand show of bowing.
“Well, finally,” Dad said. “Let’s eat.”
How in the hell am I supposed to eat with him sitting across from me—no, in the same room?
I nibbled at my plate while Dad dominated the conversation. It only took me a few minutes to realize it wasn’t a business dinner which spiked my interest. Why was he here? Was my mother trying to hook me up with this guy? He’s a little old for me. How old is he? I didn’t want to give my mother the satisfaction of knowing I’d enjoyed someone she’d set me up with.
“What do you think, Sydney?”
When I glanced up, my fork clanked against my plate. His demeanor was relaxed. One arm draped around the empty chair beside him, the other rested on the scotch glass I hadn’t realized my father had poured him. “Hmm? About what?”
He looked down at his plate, and I couldn’t recognize the look on his face, but his jaw tightened. “I didn’t realize I was so boring.”
“No,” I blurted out. “I mean—I’m sorry. I zoned out.” Mouth, please meet my foot.
Dad shook his head. “I didn’t expect anything more.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked. “Why don’t you explain it to the entire class, Dad?”
Dad narrowed his eyes. “I saw the newspaper this week. It doesn’t take a genius to know that you don’t do a lot of anything. Don’t think I forgot about it already. Your mother and I are fed up with it.”
Crap. Why would he bring this up now? Did they bring this man here to humiliate me? “Yes, because enjoying myself is something we Henrys just don’t do. When’s the last time you and mom had fun? Or had sex?”
I knew I’d gone too far when Dad’s right eye twitched. He slammed his hands down onto the table, rattling our plates. “Life isn’t fun; life is hard work. And life sure as hell isn’t about sex.”
Warmth slid underneath my skin. Everything told me I didn’t belong in the room anymore. Someone had sucked out all of the oxygen. How did this even happen? I stood from the table and grabbed my backpack. “Everything tasted great Luna,” I said, because I knew she stood behind the kitchen door, listening.
I bolted from my seat, not giving the dining table another glance. When the humid August air touched my skin, I relaxed. My parents wouldn’t come after me, they never did. I was only five yards away from being in my car. I stepped off the stairs, and that’s when I felt five large fingers wrap around my elbow. He spun me around, roughly, pulling me dangerously close to him, the heat from his hand scorched my skin. “Wait,” he whispered, his eyes dropping to my mouth. His pale eyes shined vibrantly in the moonlight. I had a hard time believing anyone could speak to him without melting. “It was good to meet you, Sydney.”
I opened my mouth to speak but shut it. I had hardly said two words to him. My dad had gotten drunk and ruined it all. I almost asked him why he was really there. Why he’d torment himself, but I’d probably never see him again. It didn’t matter. “Yeah, you too, Cash.”
One Week Later
“So, you’re leaning away from pink and silver?”
Frankie groaned into the phone. “I hate this. Why did I have to fall in love with him? Why did I say yes? I mean these decisions are going to be the death of me.”
I shoved opened the art galleries door with my butt. “Stop bein’ so melodramatic. I’ll try to come up with more suggestions tonight. My class starts in ten minutes.”
“Well, email me those colors when you get them. I’m cooking for Jeremy tonight.”
I rolled my eyes. “Sounds like so much fun.”
She snorted. “If you’d cook for a guy, he’d ask you to marry him too.”
I snorted. “I’d never cook for a guy unless I was promised good sex in return. My love for doggie style could possibly outweigh my hatred for cooking.”
“You’re insane.”
“I’m honest.”
Mr. Scott wasn’t at his desk, but I saw his office door cracked at the end of the hallway. If I had to guess, he was mid-season into Grimm. I readjusted the box full of fresh canvases and hauled them toward my office, my phone pressed against my shoulder. “You’re too honest,” Frankie said.
I stopped mid-step when I noticed my office door slightly cracked. I never left it opened. Slowly, I kicked the door inward.
The box of canvases crashed to the floor. “Sydney!” I heard Frankie yell, but my phone slipped to the floor.
He stood in the middle of my office; his hands shoved into the navy slacks, a white button-down snug against his torso. “What are you doin’ here?”
He lifted a dark brow. “It’s nice to see you, too,” he rasped. “I’m here to talk to you, Sydney.”
Me? Why? Panic crept up my neck. Hadn’t I been humiliated enough? Cash stepped forward and picked up my mess, setting my canvases down on my desk. I still hadn’t moved; I felt frozen to the floor. It’d been torture not thinking of him for an entire week. I’d only had to listen to it when Luna called every other day, reminding me of how hot he was, like I’d forgotten. “Mr. Scott showed me some of your work on exhibit upstairs.”
He what? Jesus—ugh—Mr. Scott. I pressed my lips tightly together. “How nice of him.”
Cash’s eyes lowered to my mouth, my neck and then to my breasts. “You’re brilliant. The blue one,” he said. “The blue one is my favorite.”
Meadow, he meant Meadow. I’d painted it my first week here when things were better in my life. “Thanks.”
Cash tilted his head to the side and leaned backward against my desk. My pulse quickened in my neck, his eyes examined me like I was the last woman on earth and he planned to make me his. “Why are you here, Mr. Jenkins?”
He narrowed his eyes at me. “Please, don’t call me Mr. Jenkins. It’s Cash. Just Cash.”
I nodded. “Okay. Why are you here, Cash?”
Kicking from my desk, he slowly walked around my small office, looking at all of my artwork on the wall. I felt so vulnerable with everything hanging for him to see, I hated it.
Shutting the door, I made my way over to my desk, nervously opening my roll sheet for class. “You love this job?”
There wasn’t a condescending tone to his voice. It wasn’t like the way my parents ask me; it was genuine. “Yes.”
When I glanced up, he stood closer, both palms flat on my desk, his eyes scanning my face. “I want you to paint the murals in my office buildings. We’re opening a new store in Dallas, as well. I want you to paint those, too.”
I kept my eyes down, scanning the names of my students like I didn’t know them already. “How much would I get paid?”
He cleared his throat, and I felt the need to look up at him. “I’ll pay you five thousand for each mural. Sound fair?”
Five thousand? I struggled to pay my rent in my crappy apartment downtown because I refused my parents help. Five thousand dollars per painting would change my life. “If you have thousands of dollars to throw around, I suggest you pay someone better than me.”
Suddenly the roll sheet wasn’t in front of me anymore. He grabbed it and closed the front page. “I’m offerin’ you a job. I’d appreciate if you’d look me in the eyes when you say no.”
I guessed his manners were only applied sometimes.
I didn’t want to look him in the eyes because I knew I’d say yes. I wanted to say yes, scream yes, but it didn’t seem like a good idea. How can I work for someone that I couldn’t look in the face? I glanced up, meeting his pale gaze, my heart skipped two beats. “I can’t abandon my job here.”
“I wouldn’t make you. In fact,” he reached into the back pocket of his slacks and pulled out a folded contract. “I’ve already got the contract made for this. Why don’t you at least look it over before you say no? I think you’ll reconsider.”
Slowly, I pulled the contract toward me, shoving it into my top desk drawer. “I can do that, Cash. I appreciate it.”
He stood up, reminding me of how much taller he was than me. With a careful look, he tucked one hand into his pocket. “Thank you, Sydney. I hope to hear from you soon. I’ll be in touch.”
Cash walked out of my office, and I felt myself relax into my chair. “Crap,” I whispered, rubbing my forehead. I reached for my top drawer but pulled my hand back into my lap.
My cell phone buzzed, and I found it underneath my desk from when I dropped it. “You didn’t call me back? What happened?” Frankie yelled into the phone.
I braced myself against my desk. “You’re never gonna believe it,” I whispered. “Cash Jenkins just asked me to work for him.”