Chapter 10
COURTNEY
Parking my car on the curb, I lean forward to double-check the address. I don’t know what I was expecting when Kaede invited me to dinner at his place, but it wasn’t this.
The cheery red front door opens, framing him as he leans against the jamb.
He looks like a model in dark wash jeans that are molded to his thighs, a black T-shirt that hugs his chest, and .
. . oh, fuck . . . bare feet. I don’t know why that seems so sexy, so .
. . intimate. Usually, I’m not a foot person at all.
In fact, I have had more than one person growl at me to be still when getting a pedicure because my feet are crazy ticklish and there’s something inherently ew about feet.
But I want to see Kaede’s, like a little peek into a part of him I haven’t seen before. Here, little piggies!
Arms crossed over his chest, he looks at me with one inky brow raised in question. You coming inside or bailing on me? that brow says.
The whole picture could be a magazine ad for cologne or real estate or . . . sex. My belly does a flip flop worthy of a fishing boat in a turbulent storm at sea. I open my door, taking a deep breath to settle my nerves as I get out.
Kaede meets me at the bottom of the small trio of stairs in front of his house, bare feet and all. “Hey.”
“Hey.” Lamest response ever, but I think I’ll celebrate actually forming a single-syllable actual word instead of the drooling groan that threatens to fall from my lips. I glance at the house again so I don’t drown in his eyes. “This isn’t what I expected.”
A jolt of tension shoots through him, but he relaxes so quickly, I could almost believe I imagined it. “You figured I’d live in a dump?”
I laugh, certain that’s a joke. Nothing about Kaede McWarren says ‘dump’. He’s not flashy like my brother, but he’s quality through and through, not just superficially. “No, of course not. It’s just . . . this is a family type neighborhood, and you’re . . . a bachelor.”
I almost said a player, but honestly, that’s not my business. Actually, it is now that we’re doing this whole engagement deal. Monogamy is bullet number three on my list of things to cover tonight.
He looks up and down the street and shrugs. “I did the number crunching, and this was the best investment. Come on in.”
He holds out an arm, inviting me up the stairs. I take them, the most curious kitten in existence and wanting to see Kaede’s space as quickly as possible, but I feel eyes on me. I glance back and see Kaede staring at my ass with a pained look on his face.
Probably thinking I need another workout session with AJ and to lay off the late-night donuts.
I move a little faster through the red front door, which Kaede closes behind me. Following his lead, I kick off my heels, thankful I went through the ticklish torture of a pedicure over the weekend.
Inside, I scan his place quickly, wanting to memorize every detail I can. I’ll take them out of my mental piggy bank later and play them over and over again, looking for meaning and hints about who Kaede is, but I don’t have time for that in the short moment while he locks the door.
“This is . . . home.” He sounds nervous, as though he’s scared I won’t like it. Or maybe scared I will like it and become a stage-five clinger when this whole charade is over.
I can imagine him shutting that pretty lipstick-colored door in my face and yelling through it, “It was pretend, Courtney. You’re nothing but my best friend’s little sister. I’d never be with you for real. Leave.”
“It’s beautiful,” I say crisply, preemptively going to my usual chilly defense.
The truth is, his home is beautiful. It’s not what I would call cozy.
It’s too minimalistic for that with the living room focusing on function.
There’s a black leather couch that looks as soft as butter and begs me to fall into its comfortable plushness, a glass coffee table without a single fingerprint smudge, and a Mid-Century style entertainment center beneath the wall-mounted television.
There are touches of warmth here and there, brass in the knobs on the entertainment center and the legs of the table, a single pillow in a deep cognac velvet, and a fluffy rug that makes me dream of stretching out and reading a book.
Maybe while Kaede plays video games, I think as I spy a controller on a shelf of the entertainment center.
The fantasy comes to me clear as day. We’d sleep in, have morning sex in his bed, and then make coffee together.
I’d lie on the fluffy rug in soft cotton loungewear, and Kaede would sit on the couch playing games, utterly at ease and comfortable in each other’s presence.
But after only a chapter in my book, he’d come sit on the floor with me and his fingers would tease down my back.
I’d be delighted but act annoyed so he’d keep going.
He would grab handfuls of my ass in his strong hands, kneading my flesh and spreading me until he slipped the seam of my shorts to the side and his fingers found my slickness. He’d groan at the feel of me . . .
“Courtney, you okay?”
Kaede’s voice, filled with worry, brings me back from the danger zone of my fantasy. “Yep, fine. Totally fine.”
I am not fine. I am so fucked, and not at all in the good way, though my panties are soaked through and my cheeks are on fire.
“Oh, well, I was just saying that Violet helped me decorate. If you can call it that. She and Archie came over one time, for like five minutes, and the next thing I know, she’s sending me vision boards with what my house could be.
” He laughs, low and quiet. “I chose what I liked from the list of stuff they sent, which was ridiculously long. Why do people need six pillows, two blankets, baskets with more pillows and blankets, and crap all over the wall like someone sneezed out décor like snot?”
I laugh, looking around though I’ve already figured out that there is none of that here. That he picked each of these pieces says something about him.
I’ve known Kaede for over half my life, but only now, standing in his living room, do I feel like I’m actually getting to know him.
He’s a parfait, maybe. Lots of layers, and the more I discover, the more I’m starting to realize just how yummy he actually is.
“Well, it’s lovely. You chose wisely,” I assure him.
“Thanks. I appreciate it.” Confidence has crept back into his voice. It’s a revelation, another layer to his parfait.
He was worried that I wouldn’t like his place.
I wonder just how much of him is a public facade that he chooses to present when there seems to be so much more beneath the surface. It’s . . . interesting.
“But I have to warn you, my place is full of pillows in every shape and size, blankets so soft you want to wrap up in a cocoon and never come out, and snot décor all over the walls.” His brows rise by millimeters with every word out of my mouth.
“And the worst part?” His lips twitch as if he’s holding back a smile that threatens to break free despite his tight control.
“Violet didn’t have a thing to do with it.
I pick by touch. If it’s soft and fluffy, I buy it.
Don’t care if it matches, if it’s hideous, or if it’s two-ninety-nine from the bargain bin. If it’s soft, it’s mine.”
That smile breaks loose, lighting up his whole face and making him go from dark and dangerous to joyful and happy.
“That actually surprises me about you. I figured your place would be full of designer pieces you hand selected and be totally all-business. Function over form.”
He follows up that killer smile with a deep, bass-filled laugh. Though my stomach has gone sour, I laugh along like I’m supposed to.
Is that how he sees me? Like a cold, rich bitch? Of course it is. That’s how everyone sees you, and it doesn’t matter if it’s the truth or the cloak you have to put on just to be taken seriously.
“Let’s get to it. We’ve got a lot to cover if we’re going to pull this off.” My defenses are up and fortified. Nothing getting in or out. Just like any other business meeting, I tell myself.
Kaede blinks in surprise at my one-eighty-degree switch. “Oh, yeah. Have a seat.” He leads me around to the couch, which is as comfortable and buttery as I expected. I pull the velvet pillow to my lap, hiding behind it, and curl my feet beneath me.
“Thanks again for doing this and for coming over tonight. I didn’t think it’d be safe to talk about this stuff at the gym or a restaurant in case there were spies.
” He runs his hands through his hair, messing it up in that ‘I woke up like this’ way.
Girls on Instagram say that, but what they mean is they spent two hours doing their hair in ‘natural’ waves and their makeup in ‘natural’ tones.
I truly believe Kaede does wake up like this.
Sexy as sin, mysterious as the ocean, and all masculine power.
“No problem. We need to be seen going to each other’s houses too. It’s good coverage just in case. Did you find any other suspicious members I should be on the lookout for?”
“No,” Kaede says on a sigh, “and believe me, I looked. I should’ve seen this coming a mile away, especially from a guy like Jeffrey Sanders.”
He’s beating himself up hard over this, but he doesn’t have to. Lesson learned with Sanders—the hard way—but now, Ross and Kaede know how he does business and will be prepared. “You can’t know everything all the time. It’s not humanly possible.”
His lips twist into a slightly bitter smirk. “That’s rather ironic coming from you. You’re as bad as I am about controlling every little thing.”
That at least is true, and it’s a compliment coming from him. “It takes one control freak to recognize another.”
His smile changes, becoming genuine, and I mirror it. One more thing in common.
“I think I should start us off on the true confessions. I didn’t make dinner plans, exactly, which means I’m quite possibly the worst date ever, but hear me out on my reason . . .”