Page 8 of Wild Pitch

Fuck.

I stand from the couch, walking toward her. I’m trying to keep my cool here, but her attitude gets me so worked up every time we’re near each other, I end up wanting to choke her or fuck her.Or both at the same time.Her eyes widen as I stalk her way, but she keeps her chin lifted, fake confidence exuding from her small body. “Come on, Monroe,” I say quietly, reaching out and ghosting my palm along her jaw. Her eyes flutter shut, and I swear I see her lean into my hand the tiniest bit, which surprises the fuck out of me. A smirk spreads across my lips. “You and I both know you need me just as much as I need you.”

That seems to snap her out of whatever trance she was in. Her deep blue eyes go impossibly dark, and her brows pull tight in anger. She slaps my hand away and pushes atmy chest, throwing me off balance and making me stumble backward a step.

“I don’t need shit from you or anyone else,” she seethes. “I can take care of myself. So why don’t you go back to Florida and find some bimbo to be your girlfriend? You’ll have a lot better luck controlling someone like that with your money and fame than you will with me. Get the fuck out of my house, asshole.”

I’m shocked by her reaction, but scramble to take the words back, not knowing why they triggered her so quickly. “Wait,” I rush out. “I’m sorry. I know you don’t need anyone. I didn’t mean it like that. I just think this situation has the potential to help us both.” My apology seems to make her fume a little bit less, but I can tell she’s conflicted. Her lips are pressed tightly together and her nostrils flair slightly with every inhale. She fidgets with the hem of her shirt as she shifts from one foot to the other.

“How?” she asks. “What could you possibly offer me besides doing PR for you? I’m not qualified to do that, even if I wanted to.”

I let out a breath, thankful that she’s not kicking me out. But once again, my lack of a plan has me at a loss for what to say. If I tell her I’ll pay her to be my fake girlfriend, she’ll lose her shit. She obviously doesn’t like the idea of being reliant on anyone besides herself, so I need to tread carefully if I want her to hear me out.

“Have you ever thought about working for yourself?” I ask. I already know she has from my conversation with Grace, but I wasn’t given many details, so I’m flying kind of blind here. She narrows her eyes, and her tense arms drop to her sides. Seeing the opening, I take it, continuing to speak before she has a chance to stop me. “What aboutstarting your own business? You could take the time in Daytona to get everything in order, make some fresh new contacts, then you’d have the freedom to go wherever you want with it.”

She shakes her head. “Already tried. My credit score isn’t high enough to take out a loan. I need more time to save up before I can do anything like that. I just need to find something else and keep putting money away.”

Bingo.

“How about this?” I begin. “Come do this for me, and I’ll invest in your business as a silent partner.”

She chews on the inside of her cheek, contemplating my offer. I internally pat myself on the back for having the wherewithal to come up with something that would reassure her that she’d still be in control of her own life. After what seems like minutes of silence, she finally speaks.

“Okay.”

Fuck yes.

“But under one condition,” she rushes out.

“What?” I ask, raising a brow in question.

She puts her shoulders back, looking right into my eyes. “Every dime you give me will be paid back,with interest. I don’t need a handout, and I refuse to take one, no matter how rich and unconcerned you are about your money. It matters to me that I make my own way and don’t have anything for people to hold over my head. If you can’t agree with that, you can find someone else to help you.”

I nod my head rapidly in agreement. “Yeah, of course.” I’d love to know why she thinks I’d ever give her money then hold it over her, but that’s not important right now. The only thing I’m worried about is getting the fuck out ofhere before the bitchy side of her personality pops back in and fucks this all up for me.

She shakes her head in defeat. “When did I get this desperate? Pretending to date arguably the biggest dickwad on the planet just to survive.”

Okay, drama queen.

“All I heard was ‘biggestdick’,” I say with a grin. “So, thank you.”

She rolls her eyes, but I don’t miss the way she’s tamping down a smile. I can’t believe I got her to agree to this. That was some Jedi mind shit, right there. I extend my hand out between us for her to shake, but of course she doesn’t.

“Rule number one of this arrangement,” she says, looking down at my open palm like it’s covered in dog shit before bringing her narrowed eyes to mine. “Don’t touch me.”

I drop it to my side, giving her a tight nod.

“Whatever you say, Mayhem.”

SIX

MONROE

I’ve beenon the road for almost twelve hours. I’m somewhere in the middle of North Carolina, and even though I left Hope Harbor pretty early this morning, I’m exhausted. It’s weird how you can be busy all day and still have energy, but when you sit behind the wheel of a car for hours on end, you feel like you ran a fucking marathon.

A cramp seizes my leg muscle, and I decide that it’s time to pull over and get a hotel room. I need to sleep if I’m going to make it another eight hours. Riggs insisted that I fly; then he’d have my car shipped down to Daytona. And while it was a logical idea, I refused. Something about the fact that he was making perfect sense didn’t sit right with me.

I was being a bitch.Whatever.

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