Chapter Two

Grace

When I pulled up at the house that belonged to my ex, my stomach dropped.

He was such an absolute dickwad.

A spoiled, rich, hot-as-fuck dickwad.

And the house? Gorgeous. Overlooking the Pacific cliffs, with a wall and turrets, lush landscaping and sprawling wings. Cullen McKnight, rough, dirty, no-good biker with a penchant for cheap women and loud parties lived here?

I checked the address I’d gotten from a friend of a friend and asked the cabbie, “You sure this is 1212 Riviera Way?”

He nodded.

Hmm. Maybe the friend of a friend had been playing jokes on me. “There isn’t some other 1212 Riviera Way, is—”

“No,” the man said to me in a heavy Spanish accent. “This is it.”

I took a deep breath, remembering the last time I saw Cullen. His living arrangement a little over two years ago had been a dirty basement apartment where his master bed was also the living room sofa.

Then I remembered reading something about him in the newspaper. He’d never said as much to me, but his father was Brent McKnight. Yes, the Brent McKnight, lead guitarist for the 80’s hair band The Fritz. He died in a drug overdose about two months after I’d left and his only heir? Just happened to be Cullen.

Or so the story went.

I couldn’t be sure. All he’d ever said was that he and his dad weren’t on speaking terms. And one thing the dickwad wasn’t, was verbose.

But this? It could’ve been a millionaire rock star’s house. It looked flashy enough.

The cab driver cleared his throat. “You gonna get out, or you just gonna sit there staring at it all day?”

I gnawed on my lip as I checked the meter. $18.30. Stay or go, that was the question. It’d have been a tough decision, if I didn’t have only twenty dollars to my name.

I forked over the crumpled bill, studying the house, really hoping the jerk was home. It was a long walk back to the homeless shelter downtown, and my feet already hurt from pounding the pavement, looking for work.

As I grabbed the handle and pushed open the car door, a light in the foyer went on. I could see the shape of someone moving through the sidelights by the door.

That was a good sign.

He was home. Maybe not alone, but still home.

I didn’t care if he had a dozen girls living with him, which frankly, I wouldn’t put past him. I just needed one of those bedrooms. Maybe a little cash. That was all.

The cabbie gave me my change and I hoisted my bag onto my back. Then I reached beside me and bundled Ella into my arms. She looked up at me through the shadows like, Shouldn’t I be asleep already, momma?

I kissed her forehead, savoring her sweet smell. Yes, soon. We’re gonna find you a safe place to rest.

I didn’t just want that. I wanted her to have safety, permanence, love—all the things I never had growing up. But right now, I’d settle for sleep.

“Thanks,” I said to the cabbie, bumping the door closed with my hip.

I wavered on my feet with the weight of the heavy backpack containing everything I owned, and the eighteen-month-old baby in my arms. She was all I cared about in this world. I walked up the winding path to the front door and pressed the doorbell with my elbow.

Cullen never did anything fast. He always had this easy, fuck-it-all way about him. So I was surprised when he ripped open the door, right away, a surly smile on his face. He said, “Hey, baby, you—”

And then he stopped. His smile faded.

Didn’t take a genius to know he’d been expecting someone else. Someone female, probably red-haired, built like a thoroughbred, with curves to kill for.

Same old Cullen.

Those killer silver-blue eyes went from me, to Ella.

“Holy fuck,” he breathed out.

I wished he looked like a piece of shit. But no, these past two years had clearly been good to him. He was tattooed, built and sexy, with a full beard and a brooding stare. He’d let his hair grow out a bit, a lock of his dirty blond curls sweeping down the center of his forehead.

“Holy? You flatter me. The fuck wasn’t all that good,” I said, adjusting Ella in my arms as she tugged on my no-frills ponytail. “Hello, Cullen.”

He turned away from me, showing off his strong, muscular back. Just what I didn’t need to see. His gorgeous, ripped abs and hard chest, covered in tattoos, which was what got me in this trouble in the first place.

Me? I was a hell of a lot softer, and, well, chubbier than he’d last seen me. Despite going to bed hungry a lot more, I still hadn’t been able to lose the baby weight.

It just made me hate myself more as I stood in front of him, opening myself up to his inspection.

I opened my mouth to speak, but he beat me to it. He scrubbed both hands through his dirty blonde hair and turned back to me. “What are you doing here?” His eyes fell on Ella. “And what the hell is that?”

“That?” I was hit for the first time since I left him with a feeling I’d almost forgotten. The inexplicable rage only he could light in me. “Damn, Cullen, you are such a charmer.”

His upper lip curled in a snarl.

“She’s not a that. She’s a she. Her name is Ella. And I’m not sure. But I think she might be a baby.”

“Funny. Yours?”

“Actually, she’s the latest fashion accessory. Everyone’s carrying one around these days.”

Typical, he never reacted to any of my quips. He looked her over, from her chubby little toes to her pretty bow lips, to her bright blue eyes. No one could say that Ella wasn’t gorgeous. Complete strangers stopped me in the street to tell me how beautiful she was. She had a magnetism people just wanted to be around.

Well, except for the dickwad in front of me.

He took a step back.

“Why are you here, Grace?”

I was pleased he remembered my name. That was a feat for Cullen. There was no doubt in my mind he’d probably had a hundred girls in the two plus years since I stormed out of his apartment, each one with bigger tits than the next. I bet he’d never even found out their names before fucking them. He probably didn’t even make it into bed with most of them; he probably just fucked them in an alley somewhere.

I knew this, because I knew Cullen. We had a relationship that lasted six whole months, and that was the longest he’d ever been with the same woman.

He was more than a player. He was the champion of the game.

It was starting to get cold outside, and the wind off the ocean was whipping up something fierce. Everything I was carrying was slowly and surely weighing me down, so much so I was about three seconds away from falling into an ugly heap on the floor. I pointed into his white foyer, complete with fancy crystal chandelier, which seemed so, I didn’t know. Anti-Cullen? “Can I come in?”

He ran his tongue over his top teeth and gazed out the door, past me. Then he scratched at the back of his head and flattened himself against the door to let me pass. “Yeah. For a minute.”

I walked inside, gnawing on my cheek as I moved much too close to his chest. I didn’t want to do it. I hated being at Cullen McKnight’s mercy for anything. I’d been there before, and it was like extricating myself from a massive spider web. But I had no choice, now. Nowhere to go. No one to turn to.

I looked around—the foyer was sparkly. Through an arched doorway, I spotted a granite kitchen countertop, covered fully in all the kinds of bottles I’d expect from Cullen—Tito’s Vodka, Patron, Fireball, Jack, as well as an assortment of empty beer bottles. He didn’t talk much about his past, but he had told me he’d grown up with his father having parties all the time. I bet this was just normal for him. “I heard about your dad. I’m sorry.”

He shrugged. “I’m not.”

“I thought you’d go and sell this place. It’s not really you, is it?”

He studied me. “How do you know what I am?”

I frowned. Correction: I’d known Cullen. Maybe I didn’t know him anymore. “I guess I don’t.”

He let in a breath, as Ella stopped looking in wonder at the chandelier and started to whine. He pointed to the door. “All right, well, nice catching up, but—”

“How about if I stay a little longer than a minute?” I blurted.

He closed the door and turned to me, eyebrow raised.

My eyes trailed to the floor. And then it all just poured out: “I had a place to live. A reliable sitter. A car. But then I lost my job. I couldn’t afford rent. I sold my car and have been staying in a hotel, until I couldn’t afford that. I stayed one night at the shelter, but I don’t want to go back. It’s not safe there for Ella. I wouldn’t ask you unless I really needed it, Cullen. Please.”

I swallowed the bile in my throat. I hated begging Cullen for anything.

His eyes narrowed. “You’re telling me you got nowhere to go?”

I nodded. Ella blew a raspberry with her cute little lips and gave him one of her killer smiles.

Oblivious, he stalked past us, into his kitchen. I followed behind him. Jesus, every surface was covered in bottles. I plopped Ella down on his clean white floor and let the backpack drop to the ground with a thud. Then I lifted Ella back into my arms. When I joined him in the kitchen, he was chugging a beer.

“So, is that a yes?”

He just stared at me, mouth full of beer, lips still wrapped around the bottleneck.

He finally swallowed. “I don’t know, girl. I’m in the middle of things.”

I looked around. He sure was. The kitchen showed he was in the middle of drinking himself to death. The living room had been gutted, and everything was covered in tarps. It looked like he was doing some serious renovations. “I don’t care. You can put me and Ella in one of the rooms upstairs and I swear, we won’t make a noise. Or if not, call me a cab and give me cash for a hotel room and—”

Suddenly, the doorbell rang.

Cullen tossed his beer bottle in the sink with a loud crash that made Ella jump and she let out a yell. He didn’t notice. He strutted in his fine jeans, slung low on his perfect ass, back to the front door. I tried not to salivate over that tight waist and little curved area with the two dimples, right above the swell of his ass as he pulled the door open.

I was expecting either a girly little giggle, or a sexy purr. Cullen didn’t discriminate. I got both. A giggle-purr. I watched as his flavor of the week—or maybe just the night?— strutted in, throwing her arms around him. He murmured something to her, and she said, “Oh? Then why did you . . .”

“Come on,” he barked.

I heard her heels clicking on the floor as she came closer. When she appeared, clinging tight to Cullen’s side, she wasn’t too far off from what I was picturing. Too much red hair. Big boobs, pushed up to her chin. Legs for miles. Practically no clothes.

She took one look at me and frowned. “Cullen. I don’t do the threesome thing.”

“Whoa,” I said, looking at Cullen. “Neither do I.”

“That makes three of us,” Cullen said under his breath. Ugh, I couldn’t believe I’d wasted an egg on this guy. He cleared his throat. “Phoebe, this is Grace. Grace, this is Phoebe, my interior designer.”

Right. His interior designer. I tried to suppress a snort, but it came out anyway. “You’ve done wonders with the place.”

Cullen scowled at me and took my elbow. “Grace was just leaving.”

Bastard. I frowned and picked up Ella, who slumped her head against my chest. I hated making this such a long night for her. All she wanted to do was go to sleep.

And the dickwad was kicking us out so he could get his fuck on.

He motioned me forward and reached into the pocket of his jeans for his wallet. He grabbed my bag and pulled out two hundred dollars as he walked me toward the door.

Dropping the bag at the door, he handed me the money and reached for his phone, dialing up a number. As it rang, he lifted his chin from the receiver and said, “Once you get through with this money, are you gonna be right back in the same spot?”

I didn’t want to say yes, but, yes. There was no doubt. It was impossible to find a job with a kid and no money. I nodded.

By then he was already on the phone with the cab company. He gave them the address and hung up. Then he reached into his wallet and pulled out another two hundred, as Phoebe called to him from the living room.

“Cullen! You called me over here. Don’t make me wait.”

His gorgeous blue eyes were distracted from me for a split second. Then he said, “Where’s your grandmother?”

“She died,” I mumbled. “Over a year ago.”

I didn’t expect a sympathy card from Cullen for the death of my last remaining relative, and I didn’t get one. He gazed in concentration at Ella. “What about its father? What the hell’s he doing about this?”

I looked up at him, then back at Ella, trying to keep the tears from my eyes. I did not need to cry now. But Cullen could be so dense, sometimes. Didn’t he see that his daughter had his exact same, piercing silver-blue eyes? She even had that little dimple, right on the center of her chin. I used to stare at it with adoration when we spent long, lazy mornings in bed together.

In the silence, it suddenly dawned on him. Cullen wasn’t easy to surprise. He never showed a ripple. All I got was a slight widening of the eyes.

He leaned his thick arm against the wall above him and raked a hand through the wild blonde hair. His voice was low, barely a breath. “You’re fucking kidding me, right?”

I shook my head.

“She’s yours, Cullen,” I said finally. “Ella is yours.”