Cruel Money (Cruel 1)

Penn, who hadn’t said a word up until that moment, finally spoke up, “I think we should allow Natalie a moment of privacy. On a good day, we’re overwhelming. She shouldn’t have to meet the crew like this.”

My head whipped to the side. I was caught between anger and relief. Anger that he’d spoken for me. And relief that, dear god, I really needed to get the fuck out of there. It was way too much all at once. I didn’t people all that well to begin with. I was better one-on-one. But standing where I was and facing down his incredibly attractive and put-together friends when I wanted to yell at him didn’t help anything.

“Uh…yes. Privacy.” I nodded and then stepped around his friends. “Nice to meet you all.”

I raised my hand to awkwardly wave good-bye and realized a minute too late that it was the one that had been hiding my bra. My eyes widened in horror, and then I snapped it down to my side.

I opened my mouth to try to apologize for my behavior, but then I stopped and just fled down the hallway. I didn’t owe anyone in there an apology, except Lark. And, really, what good would it do at this point? There was no way that I was keeping this job after she saw me like that. She would most definitely tell the mayor that I wasn’t fit for the position. That whatever recommendation I’d gotten from my previous house-sitting job must have been fabricated. Because no one could have this many missteps and not be utterly incompetent.

The room I’d been assigned was a soft and luxurious guest bedroom with a white four-poster bed draped in a blue-and-pink-flowered duvet. It had an actual canopy on top. Everything was plush and inviting with a million and a half throw pillows of every variety imaginable and a rug so lush that my feet sank right into it. I was going to miss this room the most.

Only two nights in the down-feather bed, and it had already been the best nights of sleep of my life. I’d really been looking forward to another night in that bed. But, alas, it would not be.

I tossed my bra onto the bed with a huff, threw on a pair of shorts and an oversized T-shirt, and tied my hair in a messy bun on the top of my head. I kicked the sandy dress into a corner and then dragged the two suitcases out of the closet. I was a fast packer. Product of growing up as a military brat and traveling year after year after year to various locales the Air Force had sent us. As a vacation home watcher, I carried the entirety of my life in these two suitcases so that it was easy to move in. And, now, more importantly, out.

All signs had pointed that this was the perfect opportunity for me. Now, all signs pointed to run and run fast. I couldn’t have been more awkward if I’d tried. I wasn’t even that awkward when I tried. But something had just come over me. A cataclysmic reaction to being in Penn’s presence again. My brain had shut off, and my mouth had opened. Ready to unleash on a relative stranger.

A stranger who was the son of my boss.

Who apparently was friends with the woman who had hired me.

I shook my head in exasperation as I unzipped the suitcase and pulled out the packing cubes. What had I even been thinking?

Of course, I hadn’t been thinking. I’d just acted on impulse. Six years of pent-up anger had just unleashed.

I yanked open the first drawer and removed my clothes. This was such a fucking disaster.

Now, I had no idea what I was going to do for the rest of the year. This was a cushy job. Sit around and watch someone’s house? Get paid to do that? Um…yeah, a no-brainer. But, without that, I’d probably have to go home. Back to Charleston. A month at home had been plenty to begin with. Between my parents constant arguing about my job and nagging about the lack of boyfriend situation and my perfect little sister, Melanie, starting her senior year of high school with the same guy that she’d dated since we moved to the town. I couldn’t handle it.

I’d have to find another way. Maybe have Amy get me a job at the gallery even though she really didn’t need the help. And maybe I could move in temporarily. Current boyfriend—Steve or Chuck or Tom or whatever his name was—probably wouldn’t like that. They always thought they were the one until a few months later when Amy would kick them out because a new artist had come into town for her gallery. It was a recurring cycle. She loved artists. She somehow continued to settle for losers back home in the interim.