Page 12 of Mr. Wrong (Hollywood Knights #1)

Twelve

Lex

See you around, Elle-who-is-not-an-actress?

That’s all I had to say?

See you around?

Jesus, I’m lame.

Even as I think it, I know that’s not the problem. Not the whole problem anyway. The problem is that I like her. Want to see her again—and not just to get her naked. I want to talk to her. Spend time with her.

That’s what I decided to tell her while she was in my bathroom.

That I liked spending time with her. Talking to her in the dark.

Waking up next to her. I was going to ask if I could see her again.

Take her out on a date—a real date. One that involved food or maybe a motorcycle ride up the coast. That’s what I’d decided on, but then I remembered that I don’t have room in my life for that. Not with Cass—

She’s not your daughter, Lex. She’s mine and it’s my responsibility to do what I think is right for her.

That’s what my brother said, right before he fired me. Right before he told me I needed to get a life. A real life.

A life of my own.

What he doesn’t seem to get or give a shit about is that I had a life—a real life—and I gave it up for him.

For her.

So, the problem isn’t Cassie anymore. It isn’t that I’m too busy or focused on helping Landon raise his daughter—it’s that I’m no longer focused on anything.

I’m an out of work, college drop-out. I’m good for a few hours’ worth of orgasms but beyond that, what would I have to offer a woman?

Especially one like Ellenore. Someone who is smart and sweet and totally removed from the Hollywood bullshit I’ve been steeped in for the past several years.

Like it fucking matters now, anyway.

Ellenore is gone and there’s no getting her back.

I let her go without even asking for her phone number.

Under normal circumstances, I’d just go back to the bar I found her in and wait for her to show back up but that won’t work either.

I might not know much about her but I know enough to tell me that she’ll never go back there—probably so she won’t run the risk of running into me.

Shoving it all aside, I walk across the driveway, throwing my hand up and waving at the windows set into the apartment over the garage. No one waves back but I know he’s there. He’s always there.

Killian Davis.

Cassie’s bodyguard.

That’s his official title anyway. What he really is, besides Landon’s best friend, is a junkyard dog who walks upright and knows how to flush a toilet.

He also happens to be Landon’s best friend.

If something goes down within a five-mile radius of Cass, he knows it.

I have no doubt he knows about Ellenore, just like I have no doubt that he’ll be cornering me at some point and asking why I insist on making his life so goddamned difficult.

Since I can’t change it and I wouldn’t, even if I could, I put that away too. None of it matters, anyway. I’m moving out as soon as I’m able to land another job.

Oh yeah? What are you qualified to do? You dropped out of college and spent the last six years of your life changing diapers and opening juice boxes.

Pushing through the back door, I see Cassie sitting on one of the lower steps of the back stairs, waiting for me in her PJs, like she does every morning. When she sees me, her straight, dark brows slam down over her bright blue eyes.

“You’re late,” she says, standing up to stalk her way over to me, hands on her hips, adorable face tipped up at me in a scowl.

“How do you know I’m late?” I say, fitting my hands under her arms and lifting her so I can set her on the kitchen counter I’m standing next to. “You can’t even tell time.”

“Can too.” Her little chin juts out at a stubborn angle as she aims her blue-eyed glare in my direction. “You always come when the little hand is on the eight and the big hand is on the twelve. The big hand is on the five now. That means you’re late.”

I make a show of looking at the kitchen clock, hanging above the sink.

Looking back at her, I give Cassie a low whistle, in hopes of deflecting her observation and any questions that might follow, because while I’d really hoped my brother would see me walking Ellenore to the gate so I could watch him blow a gasket, I really don’t want to answer any who was that girl questions from my six-year-old niece. “I’m impressed.”

She rolls her eyes at me, her bare heels drumming against one of the lower kitchen cabinets. “I'm serious, Uncle Lex.” Despite her attitude, I can see how upset she is. Her chin is trembling and her fingers are all twisted up in her pajama shirt. “I was scared you weren’t coming.”

Hearing her say it makes me wonder just how much she heard of the fight I had with Landon yesterday and it makes me hate my brother even more, because of course he’s going to leave this to me. He’s going to make it my job to tell Cassie that—

“Oh, good—you decided to show up.”

I look away from Cassie to watch my brother cross the kitchen, on his way to the fridge. “Where else would I be?” My tone is pointed—reminding him that we’ve yet to officially tell Cassie that I’m being replaced.

Landon’s hand stalls on the handle of the refrigerator for a moment before he pulls it open. “Cassie, go on upstairs and get dressed, we have a visitor coming.”

Cassie looks from me to her father, her brows low and tight over slightly narrowed eyes.

She’s only six but she knows that her life is severely limited.

There are only a handful of people allowed here and a strange visitor isn’t one of them.

She settles her gaze on me, her brows lifting a bit. “Uncle Lex?”

I shoot my brother a quick, nasty glare before aiming a smile in her direction. “You heard your dad, kiddo,” I say, lifting her down from the counter. “Run up and get dressed and I’ll wait for you to start breakfast.” It’s our thing. Whatever she wants for breakfast, we make it together.

She doesn’t move. She just stands there, staring up at me, looking like she’s seconds away from a full-blown mutiny.

“Cassandra.”

Landon’s voice cuts between us and she flips her glare at him for less than a second before she takes off, stomping up the stairs and to her room to do as her father said.

As soon as I hear her bedroom door slam shut, I look at my brother. “If you think I’m doing your dirty work for you, you’re out of your fucking mind.”

He opens the fridge and pulls out a bottle of grapefruit juice and sets it on the counter. “Ms. Pierce is on her way,” he says, totally ignoring what I just said. “I’ll be here for the initial introduction but I have a production meeting at 10:30 so I’ll need you to facilitate the transition.”

“ Initial introduction ?” I have this insane urge to grab him and shake the shit out of him.

“ Facilitate the transition ? Are you even listening to yourself? She’s a little girl.

Your daughter ,” I remind him, my tone forcing him to look me in the eye.

“You can’t just drop something like this on her. I’m the only—”

My tirade is cut short by the shrill ringing of the landline, its short bursts signaling that there is someone at the gate, requesting entry. Landon picks up the phone, exchanges a few words with whoever is on the other end of it and punches in the code that opens the gate.

“I know what she is,” he says, hanging up the phone. “And I’ll admit that I didn’t handle this the way I should have, but I don’t regret my decision. This is what’s best, for all of us.”

“Why?” It’s a carbon copy of the fight we had last night. Knowing that, and that nothing I have to say will change anything doesn’t shut me up. It pushes me. Makes me loud and reckless. “Because I can’t give her what she needs?”

“No,” he practically shouts back at me. “You can’t—neither of us can.

” I expect him to follow the same bullshit line of reasoning he tried to feed me last night—that it’s time to start focusing on Cassie’s education.

That I’m not qualified to help her prepare for the next phase of her life—but he doesn’t.

“You. Me. Killian. Seth. She’s spent her entire life surrounded by men. ”

“So?” By some miracle I manage to not mention the fact that he doesn’t count because he’s never here.

He swipes an exasperated hand over his face and shakes his head at me like he can’t believe I’m being so thick-headed. “So, she needs a woman in her life, Lex.”

I feel the floor tilt under my feet and my gut clench. “She has Greta.” It might be the dumbest thing I’ve ever said. Greta is Cassie’s over-night nanny/housekeeper and more like a blue- haired, knitting drill sergeant than an actual woman. “She loves Greta.”

“Okay.” Landon swipes a rough hand over his face and shakes his head. “Let me be more specific—she needs a woman who was born after color TV became a thing.”

“She’s six , Lando.” I must be desperate because I haven’t called him Lando since we were kids and both Star Wars nuts. “All I’m asking for is one more summer with her. You owe me that much. Just a few—”

“She needs more than you can give her.” He picks up the bottle of grapefruit juice only to slam it back down on the counter. “Someone she can identify with. She needs a—”

“Mother.”

He looks at me like I just stabbed him, his mouth going slack, his face pale.

I’ve never brought up Rachel before. Not like this, and I instantly regret it.

She was Landon’s wife but she was my friend.

My best friend. Knowing I just used her as a weapon between us makes me want to punch myself in the face.

Before either of us can say anything else, the doorbell rings.

“I’ll answer the door,” he says, the shock and grief instantly wiped from his face, like the pain of losing his wife is something he can just brush off like dirt. “You go get Cass—”

“Fuck that,” I say, shaking my head while I skirt the kitchen island between us.

Bringing up Rachel was a dick move but like I said, I’m not doing my brother’s dirty work.

It was his decision to replace me with Mary- fucking -Poppins, he can be the one to break it to his daughter.

“I’ll answer the door while you go get Cassie. You have some explaining to do.”