Page 33 of Someday You Learn

“By the way, while it’s on my mind, I wanted to talk to you about rent,” Cashlynn says, pulling me from my convoluted thoughts.

“Rent?” I ask, frowning.

“Yeah. I’m barging into your life and your home, so I want to contribute.”

I shake my head, holding up a hand. “That’s not necessary.”

She crosses her arms, giving me a determined look. “Yes, it is. It’s the least I can do. Plus, I’m a pretty good cook. Maybe feeding you regularly will soften you up a bit.” She pats my stomach playfully and my abs tense on reflex, triggering the memory of her nails raking down my skin as she sank to her knees that night.

I shake off the thought quickly. “I appreciate that, Cashlynn, but—”

“How about I play you for it?” she asks, cutting me off.

The corner of my mouth quirks up, even though I try to fight it. “You want to play me for it?”

She nods. “Yup. I think it’s only fair. But this time, no secret moves.” She points a finger at me, narrowing her gaze.

I shrug, pushing off the doorjamb and stepping close, leaving just enough space between us for our hands. “Fine.”

She smiles mischievously up at me. “Great.”

“On three?”

“Yup.” She positions her hand in front of her as I do the same.

“One, two…”

“Three,” we say simultaneously as she lays her hand flat, indicating paper, and I show scissors.

“Looks like your money is no good here,” I tell her, still smiling. But when I catch myself, I quickly reset my expression to its usual scowl.

“Fine. But at least let me cook for you.”

“Sounds like a fair trade.”

She rubs her palms together. “Excellent. Now, can you help me grab the rest of my stuff, please?”

“Of course.” Trying not to stare at her ass too hard as she walks away from me, and failing miserably, I follow her out to her car where we take turns unloading boxes, bags of clothes, and blank canvases.

“What’s with the canvases?” I ask.

Sheraises an eyebrow, smirking. “Do you not know what canvases are for, Parker? Spent too much time with animals to understand the concept of art?”

“No need to get sarcastic, Cashlynn.”

“I thought sarcasm was your language.” she teases, dropping the last box in her bedroom before standing tall again, brushing hair from her face that’s fallen from her ponytail.

“Just answer the question.”

“Well, hopefully I can fill those canvases with some artwork to go in my gallery.”

“You have an art gallery?”

She smiles wide and then plants her hands on her hips. “Not yet, but at the end of four months, I’m hoping I will.”

Pieces of the puzzle start clicking into place. “That’s what your dream is? To open an art gallery?” I ask, trying to wrap my head around it. But Cashlynn must sense the disbelief in my voice because her smile fades and she becomes defensive.

“Look, I don’t need your criticism, Parker. I’ll get enough of that from my dad. This is what I want to do. I want to help people tap into their creativity, to explore talents and find art that makes them look at the world differently. I don’t expect you to understand since your world seems pretty black and white.” She spreads her arms wide, gesturing at my immaculate house. “But I have an entire business plan drawn up. I’ve been thinking about this for years, and I think Carrington Cove is the perfect place for something like this.”

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