Chapter six
Parker
“Fuck!” Jolting upright, I blink away the memory of the morning my life changed forever. Shoving the blankets off, I swing my legs out of bed and head straight to the bathroom.
I hate waking up before my body is ready, especially when my heart feels like it’s trying to break out of my ribcage. I haven’t had that dream about Sasha in months, and now my brain decides to conjure it up again?
As I stare at myself in the mirror, the same dread that always accompanies those memories flows through me. And the fact that Cashlynn is moving in today doesn’t help. I’m not ready for this.
It’s been four years since I’ve lived with someone else.
Four years of keeping my space exactly how I like it, of keeping my life simple and controlled.
Sex is one thing, but living with her will be a whole different level.
I blow out a breath, gripping the sink to steady myself.
I can’t let her get under my skin, but I already know that’s going to be easier said than done.
After a workout in the garage and a quick shower, I head to the kitchen to make a cup of coffee. I’m dropping a K-Cup into the machine just as the doorbell rings.
Bracing myself and mourning my last moments of solitude, I head for the door. I open it to find Cashlynn standing there in a red two-piece workout set that’s practically painted on her skin, leaving little to the imagination.
Fucking hell.
“Good morning, roomie!” she says, way too fucking cheerfully. I’m not a morning person, and the fact that she apparently is might be yet another source of conflict for us.
“Good morning,” I say gruffly. I step aside to let her in, shutting the door with a sigh as she breezes past me.
“Oh my gosh! Your house is beautiful, Parker.” She sets her duffle bag by the door and starts to look around as I stare at her bag on the floor.
“Is this all you brought?”
“No, I have more in my car.” Still taking in everything, her gaze roams over the white kitchen cabinets, the gray countertops, the large center island, and then moves to the living room—black furniture, gray carpet with perfect vacuum lines, and a single vanilla-scented candle on the coffee table in front of the bookshelves flanking the TV.
When she’s done assessing my home, she turns back to me and says, “It’s so… clean.”
“I like things clean,” I say, not elaborating further.
If you ask my siblings, I’m the type-A, anal-retentive one, but honestly, messes give me anxiety.
Therefore, there is very little in my home to make a mess of.
The walls are fairly bare, everything is always in its proper place, and I always pick up after myself. I like things a certain way—sue me.
“Well, I will tread carefully, then.” She drags her hand along the island countertop and before stepping closer.
“Thank you again, Parker. I know I’m disrupting your life and invading your space, but I want you to know that I’m extremely grateful.
I probably sound like a broken record, but I mean it.
” She places her hand on my chest, staring up at me with those amber-colored eyes of hers—the same ones I was transfixed by the moment I met her.
“You’re welcome, Cashlynn.” Needing space from her, especially her citrus and vanilla scent, I take a step back and clear my throat. “Let me show you to your room.”
Technically, if we were really engaged, we’d be sharing a room. But, for my own peace of mind, Cashlynn will be sleeping down the hall from me. It’s the only way I’ll survive the next four months. Plus, it’s not like there are fucking cameras in my house to verify our relationship is legitimate.
No. When we’re home, we need to keep our distance.
Yup. That’s rule number four.
When I open the door to the guest room, I instantly feel uneasy. “I don’t have many guests, so sorry that it’s not more homey.”
Cashlynn steps inside, glancing around at the sparse space—a queen bed with fresh sheets, a single nightstand in the corner—and then spins to face me.
“It’s fine. I don’t need much.” Then she turns to the window.
“And the lighting in here is amazing.” She walks up to the window and stares out at the street with a smile. “Yeah, this is perfect.”
I cross my arms and lean against the doorjamb, studying her. She’s smiling, relaxed, and acting as if her moving into my home is some kind of vacation, not an upheaval of her life. “Are you always this happy?”
She glances at me over her shoulder and arches a brow. “Are you always this grumpy?”
“I’m not grumpy.”
“Ha. Okay.” She waves me off with a grin.
“Seriously. How are you so cheery today? We’re wrapped up in this lie for months now, and you’re acting like today’s your birthday or something.”
She ponders her next thought as she stares at me. “Not that you’d understand, but I had an epiphany last night while I was lying on the twin bed in my dad’s guest room.”
“And what was that?”
“For the first time in my life, I don’t have the weight of responsibility resting on my shoulders.
” She sighs, but her lips are curved up.
“I mean, I know I have to make things happen starting tomorrow, but I get to choose what that will be.” She shakes her head, looking at me.
“I’ve never had that kind of freedom before, Parker.
And because of you, I get the chance to change the trajectory of my future.
So yes, I’m cheerful today. And I’m not going to stop letting you know that I appreciate everything you’re sacrificing for me. ”
When she says things like that, it makes me want to unlock the cage I’ve built around my heart and maybe even hand her the key. Let her show me what it might feel like to live freely for a change instead of keeping everything in perfect fucking order like I’ve done since Sasha left.
“By the way, while it’s on my mind, I wanted to talk to you about rent,” Cashlynn says, pulling me from my convoluted thoughts.
“Rent?” I ask, frowning.
“Yeah. I’m barging into your life and your home, so I want to contribute.”
I shake my head, holding up a hand. “That’s not necessary.”
She crosses her arms, giving me a determined look.
“Yes, it is. It’s the least I can do. Plus, I’m a pretty good cook.
Maybe feeding you regularly will soften you up a bit.
” She pats my stomach playfully and my abs tense on reflex, triggering the memory of her nails raking down my skin as she sank to her knees that night.
I shake off the thought quickly. “I appreciate that, Cashlynn, but—”
“How about I play you for it?” she asks, cutting me off.
The corner of my mouth quirks up, even though I try to fight it. “You want to play me for it?”
She nods. “Yup. I think it’s only fair. But this time, no secret moves.” She points a finger at me, narrowing her gaze.
I shrug, pushing off the doorjamb and stepping close, leaving just enough space between us for our hands. “Fine.”
She smiles mischievously up at me. “Great.”
“On three?”
“Yup.” She positions her hand in front of her as I do the same.
“One, two…”
“Three,” we say simultaneously as she lays her hand flat, indicating paper, and I show scissors.
“Looks like your money is no good here,” I tell her, still smiling. But when I catch myself, I quickly reset my expression to its usual scowl.
“Fine. But at least let me cook for you.”
“Sounds like a fair trade.”
She rubs her palms together. “Excellent. Now, can you help me grab the rest of my stuff, please?”
“Of course.” Trying not to stare at her ass too hard as she walks away from me, and failing miserably, I follow her out to her car where we take turns unloading boxes, bags of clothes, and blank canvases.
“What’s with the canvases?” I ask.
She raises an eyebrow, smirking. “Do you not know what canvases are for, Parker? Spent too much time with animals to understand the concept of art?”
“No need to get sarcastic, Cashlynn.”
“I thought sarcasm was your language.” she teases, dropping the last box in her bedroom before standing tall again, brushing hair from her face that’s fallen from her ponytail.
“Just answer the question.”
“Well, hopefully I can fill those canvases with some artwork to go in my gallery.”
“You have an art gallery?”
She smiles wide and then plants her hands on her hips. “Not yet, but at the end of four months, I’m hoping I will.”
Pieces of the puzzle start clicking into place. “That’s what your dream is? To open an art gallery?” I ask, trying to wrap my head around it. But Cashlynn must sense the disbelief in my voice because her smile fades and she becomes defensive.
“Look, I don’t need your criticism, Parker.
I’ll get enough of that from my dad. This is what I want to do.
I want to help people tap into their creativity, to explore talents and find art that makes them look at the world differently.
I don’t expect you to understand since your world seems pretty black and white.
” She spreads her arms wide, gesturing at my immaculate house.
“But I have an entire business plan drawn up. I’ve been thinking about this for years, and I think Carrington Cove is the perfect place for something like this. ”
“I’m not being critical, Cashlynn,” I say apologetically. “I’m just trying to understand.”
She takes a shaky breath, her bottom lip trembling. “Well, I don’t need you to understand,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “But at least try to be supportive, okay?”
Before I realize what I’m doing, I’m walking toward her, tipping her chin up so she’s looking me dead in the eye. “Isn’t that what I’m doing as the fake fiancé?” There’s a hint of humor in my voice, and thankfully, it brings a faint smile to her face. “Being supportive?”
She swallows roughly. “Contrary to what you might think, I’m not stupid.”
“I never said you were.” Our eyes remain locked, but when my gaze dips down to her lips, I instantly take a step back, needing the distance.