Page 25 of A Man of Wealth

I feel it then, the outline of the letters. I pull my finger away almost as if the branding will burn me, but he grabs my hand and places a kiss on the tips of my index and middle finger.

“Come on, I’ll make you pancakes.”

I look up at him as I reach for my shirt. “You’re making pancakes?”

“What? I’m offended! I am capable of cooking,” he says with a cute pouty lip.

I lean up and kiss him. “How are you so full of surprises?”

He laughs against my lips. “I’m beginning to think you really are a bad investigative journalist.”

I swat his ass. “Not funny.”

“It’s a little funny, my curious cat.”

I glare at him. “Not funny.”

He shrugs as a giant grin spreads across his face transforming him from the scary beast to something quite the opposite of that. He holds out a hand to me and I take it as he leads me down the narrow stairs.

He rummages in the small kitchen for supplies. “Out here?” I ask.

He nods. “Of course, the kitchen works. The burner is propane,” he says as he turns it on and sets a cast-iron skillet over it. He whips up the batter in under a minute.

I sit at one of the two chairs along a breakfast bar and watch him cook. I find it interesting that he has a mansion mere feet away, but instead of going there, he chooses to remain in this small house that can’t be more than four hundred square feet.

His shirt is still unbuttoned, so every time he turns, I’m treated to a peek at his abdominal muscles. Placing my elbow on the counter, I prop my head in my hand and watch my own private cooking show. Conner flips the pancakes without a spatula and catches it back in the pan.

How have I studied these men for so many years and yet it’s like I don’t know them at all? Conner Sterling is a total mystery. His public persona might as well be that of a lion, yet here in his tiny home, he’s like a lamb.

Was I blinded by a false hatred of him? I’m left questioning everything about myself and what I believe. I thought I was smart. I thought I could see through all the bullshit in this godforsaken city, yet, I couldn’t have been more wrong about this man.

Is he scary? Yeah, a little. I certainly wouldn’t cross him. Is he a giant dumb oaf? Nope. Not even close. Is he still keeping secrets from me? Abso-fucking-lutely. I sigh. There’s a lot more to unpack here. I’ve just uncovered the tip of the iceberg.

“Here you go, lovely,” he says to me as he plates a pancake and hands it to me with a little flourish as though presenting a five-star meal to a queen. I laugh as I accept the plate and pour some of the piping hot syrup he has set on the counter over my pancake. My pancake is shaped like a cat.

“A cat?” I ask with a raised eyebrow.

He leans forward and kisses my forehead. “A kitty for my curious cat,” he states as he pulls away and sets to work on his own breakfast. “There’s coffee over there. Take your pick,” he says, motioning to a one-cup coffee maker in the corner. I hop off my stool and choose a flavor, popping the cup into the machine. It only takes a minute before my steaming hot coffee is ready.

I sit down and taste my pancake. “Delicious,” I declare.

He smiles and pops in a coffee cup for himself while he plates his pancake.

“No shape for you?” I ask as I point to his blasé round pancake.

He winks at me. “Only guests get the very best.”

I shake my head and chuckle. I take a bite of pancake and a drop of syrup gets on my chin. I go to wipe it away with my finger, but Conner beats me to it as he leans in and licks the spot.

“I didn’t think I could like syrup on anything other than pancakes,” he muses as he licks his lips. “But I stand corrected.”

I blush. The man has me blushing. What the hell?

“We should get cleaned up,” he states as he takes the last bite of his pancake and motions to my plate. I nod that I’m done, and he goes about cleaning and putting the dishes away. I offer to dry the plates, but he merely points toward the small bathroom and tells me the shower is free.

I laugh and walk inside, sliding the barn door shut. The bathroom is small, but not nearly as small as one would expect. It even has a closet with a stacked washer and dryer. The floors must be heated because when I flip on the switch, I feel the warmth radiating from them. The man has thought of everything. I’m not sure why that surprises me. I shouldn’t be surprised at all, yet I keep finding new and interesting things about Conner Sterling. He might just have a soft center beneath that hard shell of an exterior.

I contemplate that as I get under the shower spray. The shower is large, which makes sense since its normal inhabitant is like a real-life giant.

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