Page 16 of Coco and the Misfits (The Candyverse #4)

COCO

“I have a job for you,” Atticus says. “If you want it.”

I keep opening my door to huge, handsome alphas and I’m all for it. I only wish they would give me a little warning first. My heart is pounding and my body is on fire, torn between fear and desire. I stare back at him, unable to form words.

He looks so good. There’s something about a muscular man in a tailored suit that has me speechless. It exudes so much power and confidence, it gets me wet.

He’d get me wet even in a clown costume, let’s be honest here, but still, this dark suit… Damn.

Eventually, I realize I’ve left him on the doorstep and he’s probably waiting for an answer, so I wave him inside to buy myself time.

He enters, those green eyes scanning my dollhouse apartment as if expecting someone to jump out from the bedroom to attack us.

God, I hope not.

“Everything okay?” he asks. “You haven’t noticed anything unusual?”

“Unusual? Such as?”

He walks past my sitting area and stops by the window with the window-seat I consider my nest. “Anyone following you. Anyone waiting for you.”

“Do you really think those guys will come after me?” I follow him to stand beside him. “They picked me up randomly in your bar.”

He nods. “I hope so, and I hope their interest in you is over.”

A chill runs through me. “I never thought I was targeted on purpose. What makes you think I might have?”

“Nothing. Call it a hunch.”

“I don’t like your hunch.”

He barks a short laugh and lifts a hand to tuck a pink strand behind my ear. His touch is electric. “Neither do I, believe me.”

“Do your hunches normally prove to be right?”

“In business? Yes. In my personal life… not so much.”

“Now what does that mean?”

His hand lingers on my neck, light yet burning. “Look.”

“Atticus…”

“Call me Ace. You…” He bows over me, his long fingers sliding into my hair. “Damn, Coco, you’re such a pretty girl. I?—”

“What job?” I swallow hard and force myself to move away both from him and the topic. “What job did you find for me?”

His hand falls to his side. “I need… help with housekeeping.”

“With your house.” Zach’s words come back unbidden. I frown at Atticus, searching for the right words to ask him what the hell he’s thinking of me. “Explain.”

His brows go up. “What do you mean? Isn’t it self-explanatory? Cleaning. Tidying up. That sort of thing.” Now his brows knit. “If you want. My apologies if I misunderstood the kind of job you were looking for.”

A faint laugh escapes me. “You didn’t. That’s… I could do that.”

His frown eases. “Warning, though. My home isn’t pink and pretty like yours.”

“No? An alpha who doesn’t like living in a pink gingerbread house? Who would have thought?”

“I know. I’m such an outlier.” His mouth twitches. “I also don’t hoard chocolate cake in my fridge.”

“Damn.”

“Or have nests piled high with pillows.”

“No pack, then?”

He goes still and I belatedly realize I’ve poked a sore spot. “No, no pack.”

Why? The question is on the tip of my tongue but I manage to swallow it back down. Enough indiscretion for one day, Coco, I scold myself.

On cue, he turns toward the door. “I’ll be on my way. Took up enough of your time, showing up unannounced to?—”

“No need.”

“No need?”

“For announcements. If you wanna come back.” I all but skip to block his way. “Atticus?—”

“Ace.”

“Ace. Thank you.” I gaze up at him and his green eyes brighten. “I’ll take the job.”

“You sure? Think about it first.”

I probably should. I don’t know him, even if he saved my ass the other night. Even if he slept beside me and never touched me sexually.

But I’m an impulsive person. So I throw my arms around the neck of my knight in tailored armor. Er, suit. “I accept the job offer.”

After a moment, he puts his arms around me, too. “That’s great. I’d appreciate the help.”

As if a mogul like him has need of poor little omegas like me to keep his mansion in order. I want to laugh but I also want to cry because he’s being so kind.

Unless there is a hidden agenda.

Wait, though… if he had wanted to take advantage of me, couldn’t he have done it by now, without any need of offering me a job? I all but threw myself at him and yet he pulls back.

He smiles. “I’ll leave you my number and the address. Sleep on it. If you still want the job tomorrow, call me.”

I nod.

He doesn’t kiss me. Doesn’t do anything else. Still the gentleman, and I appreciate it but… do I?

As he leaves and I lock the door after him, I try to sort through my thoughts and feelings. He doesn’t want to be a Band-Aid on a recent wound, and I can understand that… or is it simply that he doesn’t want me?

Why should it surprise me? Being kind, being protective doesn’t imply he wants to sleep with me. He may not even want girls. Or omegas.

Or me.

So why does the last option hurt so much?

* * *

I spend the day tidying up my apartment. I need to keep myself busy and practice my cleaning moves.

Me. Atticus Ford’s cleaning maid.

It sounds funny but I can’t deny I’m dying of curiosity to see his house.

In the afternoon, I curl up on my sofa and work on my comic, my thoughts spinning.

Am I proud to be a cleaning maid? Work is never something to be ashamed of, I know that. But do I have more dreams? Hell, yes. I want to publish my comic and be a famous comic artist one day, only I’m not ready to submit anything yet.

Yet another thing delegated to “one day.” Another thing I was always told to move away from. Not serious. Too childish. “ That’s not a job, Coco. You can never live from art. You’re not Da Vinci. Learn something practical.”

Well, cleaning houses is practical. Can’t get any more practical and hands-on than that, right?

Mom and Dad won’t like it. Then again, they generally aren’t happy with the jobs I’ve worked. They think I can do better. They want their daughter to have a high position, a position they mention to their friends without feeling embarrassed.

I’m such an embarrassment. I try not to let it get to me, but sometimes I can’t help but feel bad about it. About myself. For being difficult and weird. About not making something of myself and letting everyone down.

By the time the expected knock comes on my door, I’ve managed to drive myself into a deep hole and I’ve finished all the considerable amount of ice cream in my freezer.

I discreetly burp sugar and chocolate as I open the door to this perfectly sculpted god of the gym, and feel… dejected.

“Hi,” Zach says and enters my humble, pink abode, sucking all the air from it with his golden presence. “Ready for our class?”

I nod and drag my feet to the sitting room where he proceeds to shed his denim jacket, remaining in a white T-shirt and jogging pants, just to tempt me.

By the way, just to be clear, I don’t have an issue with my body. I’m curvy. Hell, I’m generously curvy, and I like it. I don’t see why we all have to be thin. All body shapes are good, and omegas tend to be on the shorter, curvier side anyway.

But tonight, especially when he starts showing me various moves, I feel off.

It could be all the ice cream, of course. I feel queasy.

“Are you feeling unwell? We can stop for a moment. Come, sit.” He guides me to the sofa and I sit down gratefully. “I forgot you’re not used to exercise.”

“Way to make me feel good about myself.” I laugh.

“I didn’t mean?—”

I wave a hand at him. “You’re right. I’m out of shape.”

“I love your shape,” he whispers, lashes lowering.

“What did you say?”

“I’ll get you some water,” he mutters, jumping to his feet, leaving me alone on the sofa to gape after him.

Did Zach just make me a compliment? Is he actually flirting with me?

After Atticus’ rejection, Zach’s comment makes me smile. Do I need compliments to believe I’m pretty? Maybe. Shouldn’t I be confident and not need anyone else’s opinions of me? Oh, sure. But life rarely works that way.

Deep inside, we all have some insecurity or other. And it’s been a tough few days.

A tough few years, too.

Come on, this is Zach. The golden god himself. One of the alphas who not only caught my eye but also my thoughts. I find myself thinking about him a lot.

Wanting him.

Wanting to get to know him better.

When he returns with a glass of water, I grin at him. “So you like my shape, huh?”

His smile is sheepish. “Is that a crime?

“Depends. Do you want to be punished?”

His cheekbones flush again. “By you? Definitely.”

Oh boy. This alpha is killing me. He has puppy energy, while his body looks like the most beautiful, lethal machine ever built.

Built for me.

“Have you ever thought about forming your own pack?” I ask.

Zach laughs, folding his arms over that delectable chest. “I’m too young for that. Besides… I don’t think I’m top alpha material.” Color touches his golden cheekbones. “I wouldn’t mind… some guidance and management in a pack.”

Aw, that’s so cute.

“By the way,” I say, grinning at him, “I have a job! No need to look anymore.”

“You do?” He frowns. “What kind of job? I was about to ask Dad today about?—”

“Atticus gave me a job. At his house.”

“His house? Seriously?”

Not sure why I feel this need to tell Zach. I feel relaxed around him. Maybe that’s the reason. He fills the room like sunlight, warming me to my bones.

As for his bones, I’d love to jump them, but now he seems to be retreating without even moving from the spot.

“It’s what I’ve been looking for,” I say. “Cleaning and managing the house. That’s all.”

His frown is turning into a scowl. “I hope you didn’t accept.”

“Of course I did. It’s a good option. It’s good news, Zach.”

“Is it? So he can have you at his beck and call? Boss you around? Boss you into his bed?—”

“Zach!” My face is warm, and so is my chest. I feel insulted. “Do you take me for a slut?”

He swears. Turns his back to me. “Never.”

“I won’t let him touch him unless I want him to. Is that clear? I’m not a little girl. I can take care of myself.”

I may have some insecurity when faced with flesh-and-blood gods like Zach, but there are limits.

“He’s an alpha, Coco,” he whispers. “He’s twice your size. I haven’t even started teaching you self-defense yet.”

“Yet here I am with you, another huge alpha, in the evening, in my apartment. How is this any different?”

“You know me! You trust me.” He turns back around to give me a look that is... wounded? “You do trust me, right?”

“Oh God...” I roll my eyes. “Yes, Zach. I trust you. But I also trust him.”

“You barely know him.”

“He had every opportunity to fuck me and didn’t.”

He winces. “Is that supposed to give me peace of mind?”

“Why would it have anything to do with you?” I hiss.

“Fuck, Coco. If you don’t know that yet...”

“I don’t. So why don’t you tell me?” I meet his gaze. “Are you here to give me a self-defense class or to kiss me?”

He laughs. “You don’t beat around the bush, do you?”

“No. Would you like me to?”

“Hell, no. You’re perfect the way you are.” He’s back in front of me in a blink, gripping my chin, tilting my face up. “What do you want? A class or a kiss?”

“Can’t I have both?” I gulp. His gaze is intense, burning, boring into mine. “A girl has various needs. One can’t just?—”

His mouth crashes on mine, silencing me, and I wind my arms around his neck to drag him lower. I’m on tiptoe, not to break the kiss, to keep our lips fused together.

He tastes so good. His lips are firm, his tongue bold, tangling with mine instantly, stroking, battling, stoking the fire. His arms wrap around me, hauling me against his hard body, groaning against my mouth.

I can feel how aroused he is.

This isn’t a lie. It’s the truth. He really wants me.

My heart sings as he kisses me harder, and my body hums with arousal. I want him to undress me, touch me, fill me up and make me come. I need relief from this relentless desire.

I need him.

But almost as soon as we have started kissing, he wrenches his mouth away from mine and hisses.

It’s such an odd sound, I jerk. “What is it?”

He’s grimacing as if he’s in pain. “I have to go.”

“What? Why?”

He’s already stepping away, reaching for his denim jacket. “Things to do.”

“Is it me? Did I do something wrong?”

“You?” His mouth purses. “Not at all.”

“But then why?—”

He’s already gone.