Page 32 of Mr. Wrong (Hollywood Knights #1)

Thirty-Two

Lex

When I walk into the main house, Cassie is waiting for me on the back stairs like she is every morning.

When Landon is gone, I try to get here as close to seven as I can, so I cause as little disruption to Greta’s schedule as possible.

The last hour or so with Ellenore has thrown me off schedule, so when I roll in, it’s somewhere between seven-thirty and eight o’clock.

“It’s you!” Cassie crows from her perch on the stairs, jumping up to hurdle her little body at me when I let myself in. “Where’s Elle?” she asks, a slight frown on her face. As excited as she is to see me, she’s also disappointed that Ellenore isn’t here with me.

“She’s coming.” I give her a quick smile. “We’re going to make breakfast for her, cool?”

The question wipes the frown right off her face. “Cool.” She gives me a smile and a nod. “Can we make eggs Benedict?”

Because it’s the fanciest breakfast in our repertoire and it’s obvious that she’s eager to impress Ellenore, I give her a nod and smile back. “Sure,” I tell her. “But remember that Hollandaise is kinda hard.” The last time we made it she cried because the sauce broke and came out lumpy.

“I know, but I thought about it and I like her,” Cassie says, that frown of hers coming back because she’s worried about how I’m going to take her decision. “Elle—I like her and I want her to like me back, is that okay?”

Because I feel the exact same way and I’m afraid I fucked things up with Ellenore for good, I have to force myself to keep smiling. “It’s better than okay,” I assure her, setting her on her feet. “I’ll get rid of Greta, you get the eggs.”

Walking Greta to the door, I tell her that we won’t need her until her regular time tonight. “Are you sure?” she asks, confused. “When Mr. Landon is gone, I usually come at seven.”

“I’m sure.” I give her the same nod and smile I gave Cassie. “Landon asked me to be as helpful and accommodating to Ellen— Elle as I can, so we’re going to split the day shift.”

“Okay…” she says, giving an odd, half-smile as she reaches for the doorknob. “I know no one asked me, but I think this is a good thing, Mr. Alex.”

My mouth quirks when she says it because Greta is the only person besides my mother that calls me Alex. “Landon was right.” I give her another nod. “Cassie needs her.”

Something draws Greta’s attention and I follow her gaze out the window set in the door to watch Ellenore step out onto the front porch of the pool house and pull the door closed behind her before making her way toward the main house.

She’s traded the jeans and T-shirt I watched her put on after her shower for a pink sundress, topped with a bright green cardigan, her long dark hair loose and caught away from her face.

“I think we all need her.”

Hearing her say it drags my gaze away from the window.

Looking down, I catch Greta looking up at me, watching me watch Ellenore.

If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear that the old woman knows exactly why I was late this morning.

“See you tonight, Mr. Alex,” she tells me, pulling the door open to step out onto the back landing.

“Good morning,” she calls to Ellenore on her way down the steps and Ellenore gives her a wave and smile in return.

“Good morning,” she says to Greta’s back as she moves through the garden gate. Seeing me in the doorway, Ellenore’s smile fades around its edges a bit as she comes to stand at the bottom of the porch steps. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” I say back like we barely know each other. Like we weren’t making each other come and yelling at each other less than an hour ago.

“Thank you—” She waves an arm at the pool house behind her. “for feeding Morris. I nearly forgot so he appreciated it.”

Her cat’s name is Morris and she’s named after her grandmother. I add those bits of information to the scant pile of Ellenore factoids that I’ve managed to gather over the last few days. “You’re welcome,” I tell her, struggling with what to say next because I have to say something . I can’t just—

“Elle!” The door is pushed open even further as Cassie streaks through and down the steps and throws herself at Ellenore to scramble up her leg like a deranged squirrel. “Do you like eggs Benedict?” she asks, hooking her arms around Ellenore’s neck.

“It happens to be a favorite of mine.” She gives me a nervous glance before focusing on Cassie. “Is that what you and Lex are making for breakfast?”

Cassie nods and gives her a beaming smile. “Yes, it’s my second favorite after apple pancakes. You look like a watermelon today.”

“I guess I do, don’t I?” This time the smile is accompanied by a laugh as Ellenore looks down at her pink dress and green sweater combination. “Thank you for noticing.”

“You’re welcome,” Cassie says while Ellenore mounts the stairs and I move aside to let them through the door. “I changed my mind about the dinosaur. Can I have it back?”

Setting Cassie on her feet, she gives me another nervous look. “Sure,” she says, dropping her over-sized bag on the counter. Digging through one of the side pockets, Ellenore produces the same plastic stegosaurus she tried to give to her yesterday. This time Cassie snaps it up without hesitation.

“Thanks, Elle,” she says, aiming a grin in my direction.

“Can I go put it in my treasure box before we start breakfast?” Her treasure box is an old shoe box we decorated by gluing cut-out pictures from one of Greta’s gardening magazines all over it.

Inside it are a few seashells we’ve collected on our day trips to Landon’s beach house in Malibu, a flower I picked for her last spring from one of the bushes outside the gate, a few shiny rocks she found in the yard that she’s convinced are diamonds, her Little Mermaid doll that she insists she’s too big to play with but still can’t seem to part with, and a single picture of Rachel when she was pregnant with her.

“Yeah.” My voice sounds a little rusty when I say it so I cover it up with a smile when I say it.

“Hurry up though—these eggs aren’t going to Benedict themselves.

” As soon as Cassie’s gone, I plunge in, moving toward Ellenore to close the space between us before I can stop myself.

“About this morning—I’m sorry.” I force myself to look at her, to meet her gaze when she aims those bottomless brown eyes up at me.

“Looking at your phone was a dick move—I was wrong to do it.” I reach up to run a rough hand over the back of my head.

“It went off while I was waiting for you to get out of the shower and I saw his name flash across the screen and I…” I got jealous.

So jealous I lost my mind for a few minutes.

Instead of admitting it, I just shrug. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“It’s okay.” She pulls that lower lip of hers between her teeth and chews on it a little, reminding me of the way I bit her in the shower. How fucking good she tasted when I licked the taste of her off my fingers. “I’m not mad.”

“You should be.” I have to curl my hands into fists to keep myself from reaching for her.

Touching her. “And not just about the shit I pulled this morning. All of it, Ellen— Elle ,” I say, stumbling over her name because she doesn’t like it when I call her Ellenore.

Because it’s her grandmother’s name and I think it makes her feel dowdy and plain.

Because even though she’s none of those things, Ellenore is a pudding girl and that’s something she’s struggling not to be.

“You should be mad at me for all of it.”

“It’s okay, Lex.” Instead of agreeing with me, she just shrugs and forgives me.

“I get it. I get how hard it is to get the rug yanked out from under you. When someone you’ve given everything to suddenly tells you you’re not good enough anymore.

That they’re done with you.” She’s talking about that douchewad who dumped her and I feel it again.

Jealousy, so thick and heavy I think it might smother me.

Jealousy because he was smart enough to figure out he fucked up and even though she denied it, I can’t help but believe that she’s going to give him a second chance.

Because he wears a tie to work every day and can give her things that I can’t. Things like security and stability. A house that doesn’t belong to his rich older brother. A future that doesn’t include someone like me. Someone who’s wrong for her in almost every single way.

“I’ll talk to my brother,” I tell her, offering her the only thing I have. The only thing I can give her. “I’ll tell him I changed my mind. That—”

“No.” She shakes her head. “You were right—Landon asked me to stay on full-time. He wants me to be Cassie’s home schoolteacher and I don’t…

” She trails off, her gaze shifting away from mine for a moment.

“Cassie doesn’t need me, Lex.” She shakes her head again and gives me a faint smile. “She has you.”

I need you .

I don’t let myself say it because it’s completely irrational and a little crazy to think, let alone say out loud to a woman I barely know. “Okay,” I say instead, clearing my throat while I force myself to nod. “In the meantime, we’re going to work together like you suggested—for her. Okay?”

“Okay.” She looks up at me and gives me a wide-eyed, tentative nod while the six-year-old in question comes pounding down the stairs, shouting about how much she hates making hollandaise sauce. “For Cassie.”