Cruel Money (Cruel 1)

“Well, in philosophy, we try to explain the existence of God and our reason for being. I would hope that I could explain why sex for pleasure brings us happiness.”

I laughed and nodded. “Fair.”

I sank back in my chair again and assessed him. I knew nothing about philosophy. But I could probably listen to him talk about it all night. His clear love for what he was doing drew me in. I found it interesting that, of all the things that he’d said and done with me in Paris, it was this that felt the most real. That he’d wanted to escape his family and become someone else. That he’d wanted to be a professor and study philosophy. I hadn’t known how much of that was bullshit, but six years later, he was living it.

“You really were telling the truth in Paris,” I said softly.

“About everything that mattered.”

“Huh,” I said, getting to my feet and moving to stand before him. I took the glass of bourbon out of his hand. He looked surprised when I drained it. “Would have never guessed.”

“Disappointed?”

I shook my head. “If I could change in six years, maybe you could too.”

“Maybe?”

“It’s still up for debate.”

“Seems fair.”

I held up the empty glass. “Want another?”

“I can get it.”

“Yeah, but I offered.”

“Are you going to get your own or keep drinking mine?”

“That’s up for debate too.”

“Then, make it a double,” he said with a flash of a smile.

“Be careful, Kensington. Leading an ethical life comes from creating good habits. Wouldn’t want to see you slip up,” I teased as I walked back toward the house.

“One philosophy lesson, and she’s already teaching the teacher.”

“I’m a quick study.”

“Don’t I know it?” he said, his eyes molten.

I knew that look. I knew exactly what he was thinking about—every minute we had spent together where he taught me just how much sex wasn’t for procreation. Now, I was thinking about it, too. And I knew that we absolutely couldn’t have a repeat. Ever.

Lord help me. This man. Fuuuckkk.

Natalie

13

“Aristotle, you cannot drive,” Penn said. He tilted his head to the side and narrowed his eyes at his puppy, who was currently standing in the driver’s side of the Audi convertible with his paws on the steering wheel, as if to say, Ready to go, Dad!

“Aww, let him drive,” I said. “What would it hurt?”

“Us!”

I laughed as he hoisted Totle out of the driver’s seat.

We’d spent the last week slowly getting used to being in each other’s presence. I’d been careful not to veer the conversation back to dangerous waters again. Being attracted to him was one thing. Inevitable. But acting on it…that would be blatant stupidity. I trusted him about as far as I could throw him.

The last thing I wanted was to fall back into his trap. So far…we seemed infinitely better as tentative friends. And I was okay with that.

“Give him to me.” I held out my hands for Totle.

“By all means.”

He passed him to me, and I let Totle nuzzle down into my lap in the passenger seat. Penn threw our things in the trunk, and then we were off.

“I still can’t believe that you only brought one tiny bag.”

“We’re just in the city tonight,” I reminded him.

“Yeah, but every other woman I know would need a whole suitcase for that.”

“You’re exaggerating.”

“Not by much,” he said, fiddling with the stereo.

“Well, that’s absurd. Katherine is the one who is going to doll me up. I literally only need pajamas, a change of clothes for tomorrow, and my toothbrush.”

Penn shrugged. “I agree, but that’s not the norm.”

“I guess not.”

Penn drove around the circular drive and out onto the main road toward the city. His phone connected to the stereo, and soon, music filled the speakers. To my surprise, I recognized the song.

“Is this ‘Bad Habit’ by Liz Longley?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Yes, it is. I didn’t think you’d know this one.”

“Oh my god, I love her music. I went with my little sister to see her perform with Delta Rae once, and she’s so funny in person.”

“I’ve never seen her before. Every time she’s in town, I’m too busy.”

“Well, next time, we can go,” I said before I could stop myself.

Penn grinned.

“As friends,” I quickly clarified. “Just friends.”

“Of course,” he said. “I didn’t know that you had a sister either.”

“Oh, yeah…Melanie,” I said, turning to look off in the distance.

“You’re not close?”

“Are you close with your brother?” I may or may not had Googled the Kensingtons since Penn moved in and found out he had an older brother, Court, who seemed like a troublemaker.

“No.”

“Why not?”

He slid his gaze to mine and then back to the road. “You’re avoiding my question.”

“Melanie is wonderful. She’s seven years younger than me. She dances and sings and has straight As. She’s had the same boyfriend since we moved to Charleston when she was eight. Basically, she’s perfect.”