Man-Child
. . .
Ellie
Channeling the strong, independent woman my mom had raised me to be, I did not call Cade back.
Instead, I blocked his number.
He could go pay someone else to be his wife.
But I did get back to living my life.
Whiskey and I straightened up the attic, did a little yoga, and even ventured down to help Kitty in the café with her single customer.
She didn’t make a huge deal out of me returning to the land of the living, but I knew she was tickled pink when she slid a mocha and chocolate muffin across the counter to me.
We chatted and counted inventory and played with the cats like I hadn’t just spent days wasting away in the attic. It was just a normal, quiet day at the café.
Until I caught Kitty glancing at the door for the hundredth time with a growing frown.
I followed her gaze, but it looked like the same old paint-chipped red door to me. “What are you looking at?”
She tore her gaze away, blinking twice. “Huh?”
“You keep staring at the door. Are you waiting for someone?”
“Sort of… ” Her frown deepened, and she checked her watch. “He’s late. It’s just my luck that you finally come out of hiding, and now he doesn’t show up!”
My brow furrowed. “Who are you talking about, Kitty?”
She huffed. “Mr. Coffee Black has been posting up in the café for days now. Asking about you. Waiting to see you. He has his own table in the dark corner.”
My heart fluttered like the traitor it was.
That didn’t sound like something Cade would do.
“And now he gives up?” Kitty scowled, shaking her head. “I was just starting to like him.”
I snorted. “Thanks for the support.”
Her face fell, and she reached for my arm. “Oh, Ellie Belly, no. No, no. I’m sorry. I tried to give him the cold shoulder at first, but then he sat in the corner there for three days like a sad puppy just waiting for you to come down. I guess he grew on me.”
I frowned. A sad puppy?
That definitely didn’t sound like Cade.
Settled in a chair near the windows, I took my time sipping a mocha with Whiskey at my side. He’d been hesitant to venture more than a foot away from me at all times, but the second I finished my chocolate muffin, he took off to sit atop the highest cat tower in the café.
It was his favorite spot to judge everyone from.
The weight of looming bills and compounding debt finally helped me work up the nerve to reactivate my Sunshine Cuddle Services app profile. Since I’d broken my NDA with Cade, I doubted he’d pay me for the hours worked.
Guess I should’ve been a bit more thorough reading that contract.
When the app loaded, I stared at my schedule in stunned, open-mouth shock.
I was booked—fully booked—for the next three years.
And it was the same name staring me in the face from each booking, making my heart kick against my rib cage.
Cade Westbrook.
I rubbed my eyes and blinked to refocus, but I wasn’t seeing things. Cade had booked all my appointments through the next three years. All of them.
Every. Single. One.
Somehow, he’d even replaced my appointments with existing clients, which shouldn’t have been possible.
Every hour showed the same thing:
Cade Westbrook.
Cade Westbrook.
Cade-freaking-Westbrook.
This couldn’t be happening.
“What the heck is he doing?” I murmured, rubbing a hand over my chest.
I restarted the app, but he was still there.
His name. His penthouse. And each booking had two sentences in the special requests section: I screwed up. I’m sending a driver to pick you up at 7.
My jaw dropped to the floor, and I practically ran to direct message him through the app.
Ellie
This is harassment.
He responded immediately.
Cade
I need to see you.
Ellie
Too bad. Cancel those appointments. I’m not meeting up with you.
This had to be a joke—like the first profile that’d hired me to cuddle with Cade. But I couldn’t fathom their motive.
Another message arrived while I spiraled.
Cade
My driver will be there at 7 every night until you change your mind.
I scowled at the screen.
“A driver? He can’t even bother to pick me up himself?” I grumbled to Whiskey, who ignored me from his tower while I mashed a response out with my thumbs.
Ellie
Don’t waste your driver’s time. Just leave me alone.
I closed the app and stuffed my phone deep into my bag, leaving it at that.
Cade and I had nothing more to say to each other.
I wasn’t just living once I stopped messaging Cade; I was thriving. My days were filled with helping out at the café, visiting Sadie and Bruno’s, swimming in Sadie’s pool, PBA meetings, and taking Whiskey out to explore the city.
Since Cade didn’t cancel his appointments or report me, I was even getting paid to no-show. I would’ve felt guilty, but if he wanted to keep giving me money to do nothing, that was his prerogative.
The first night, I tiptoed past Whiskey perched on his velvet pillow and peeked out the window when seven o’clock rolled around.
A shiny black town car sat idling at the curb in front of Kitty’s with its lights on.
“That arrogant man.” I scowled, yanking my blue curtains shut.
The next night, I grew braver and went down to confront whichever unlucky goon Cade had sent.
I tapped on the driver’s tinted window, and an older man with impeccable posture and a fancy burgundy bowler hat rolled it down.
He said his name was Grady, and that he was here to drive me to the Nightingale.
When he refused my polite requests for him to leave, I brought him a bagel and decaf coffee for a snack.
It wasn’t his fault his boss was impossible.
Thus began our ritual for the rest of the week. Grady arrived promptly at seven o’clock, we exchanged pleasantries, I asked him nicely to leave, he politely refused, he asked me nicely to get in the car, I politely refused, and I gave him a bagel and coffee for his completely unnecessary stakeout.
On the fifth night, I handed him his bagel and coffee with a sigh. “I’m sorry your boss sends you on a pointless assignment every night.”
“I don’t mind.” Grady smiled, gesturing to his phone. “I’m getting paid to wait here, and my nephew taught me how to watch movies on this thing, so I’m set.”
My shoulders relaxed. Well, at least he wasn’t bored.
“I better get back inside.” I pointed at the café over my shoulder, already stepping backward. “Have a good night, Grady. Enjoy your movies.”
“Thank you, Miss Darling. Same time tomorrow?”
I couldn’t stifle a scowl. “How long are you planning to do this for?”
“As long as the boss wants me to.”
I hesitated, but my curiosity won out. “Is Cade a good boss?”
“The best,” he answered without hesitation. He unwrapped his bagel and tipped it toward me like a salute. “I’ve driven a lot of powerful folks over the years, and it’s rare to find one so down to earth. I’ll work for him as long as he’ll have me.”
Well, then.
I hurried inside before I could ask any other stupid questions.
The next day, a call I’d been dreading from Whiskey’s vet clinic came in while I was sweeping the café’s foyer.
“Hi, this is Diane with Westport Pet Hospital. I’m calling to schedule Lord Whiskerson’s upcoming surgery.”
“Hey, Diane.” I clung to the broom, bracing myself. “Um, I’m sorry, but I can’t schedule Whiskey’s surgery yet. Funds are a little tight right now.”
My paycheck from the app didn’t hit until the end of the month. I also really needed to look into the financial penalty for breaking that NDA with Cade, but just thinking about it made me nauseous.
“Oh, it’s already been paid for,” Diane assured me.
I went completely still, brows skyrocketing. “… It has?”
“Yes, we have a card on file to cover the balance.”
Suspicion swirled in my gut, and I squinted at the pink cat-themed wallpaper. “Whose card?”
“It belongs to a Mr. Cade Westbrook. He called ahead to make sure Lord Whiskerson could get scheduled ASAP.”
My brain buffered. Cade was still paying for Whiskey’s surgery?
I wasn’t sure what I said back to the receptionist—it might’ve just been gibberish—but I hung up without waiting for a response, then dropped into the nearest wicker chair.
This changed things.
When seven o’clock rolled around that night, I kissed Whiskey’s fluffy head and marched downstairs without giving myself a chance to second-guess this.
After a quick goodbye to Kitty and the cats while I grabbed a bagel and coffee, I left the café and walked straight to the passenger side of Grady’s car. He didn’t say a word while I opened the door, plopped down beside him, set his coffee in the cup holder, and buckled myself in.
I let out a sharp breath and tugged on the hem of my crochet crop top before planting both hands on my thighs. “Okay. I’m ready.”
Grady looked over with raised brows, and I winced. “Oh right. Your bagel.”
I retrieved the slightly smooshed to-go bag from my purse, and he took it with a smile.
“Passengers usually sit in the back,” he said lightly.
“Yeah, I already did that dance with Mac. It’s too awkward for me.” I pulled a face before realizing he might’ve been trying to politely correct me on a faux pas. “Unless you don’t want company?”
“No, no. I don’t mind at all,” he said, starting up the car.
“Good.” I took a deep, steadying breath, and drummed my fingers against my thighs. “Let’s roll, then.”
His grin was annoyingly wide as he pulled away from the curb.