Page 31 of The Renegade Billionaire
My ass hits the chair again as Madison and her three friends hurry to the kitchen, carrying dirty dishes. So many questions are floating around in my head that I don’t even know where to start.
The swinging door to the kitchen is still swaying gently when laughter cuts through my focus. I turn back to find Pops watching me with a suspiciously smug expression and a smile that makes me think he’s all too happy to play matchmaker himself.
It’shours before the last guest leaves. After the initial rapid-fire questions session, things settled down, and by the time dessert was over, I found I was enjoying myself.
I never checked my phone to see if my family had caused any more headaches for me yet. In fact, I’m not even sure where it is at the moment, and I don’t care. Instead, I head to the kitchen because I know that’s where I’ll find Madison.
The door swings open with a nerve-grating sound. There must be some kind of oil or something for that. I’ll have to remember to ask Pops in the morning. Three beers for the old man, and he was in bed before his friends even left.
Madison spins around to face me. The bottom half of her shirt is soaking wet, and she’s wearing hideous lime green rubber gloves.
“Did the faucet break again?” I ask.
Confusion makes her brows pinch together as she looks from me to the sink and back again. “No, why?”
I move closer and point to her T-shirt. She glances down and laughs. “I’m guessing you’ve never hand-washed dishes before?”
Shame burns in my face. I’ve lived a life of privilege even if my parents made sure I knew I was a burden to them.
“Once or twice in college, but my fraternity house had a chef and a house cleaner on staff.”
“I didn’t peg you for a frat boy.” Once again, there’s no judgment there. It makes me wonder if she ever judges anyone.
I shrug. “I did whatever I could to avoid my parents.” Even living with my grandfather, they still found ways to make my life a living hell because they also refused to hand over guardianship of me—it was Alistair’s way of maintaining control.
She’s biting her bottom lip as she listens. Then she returns to face the sink. “I’m sorry your family didn’t see your worth. I hope you’ve found people who do.”
Those words slice through my armor. She truly cares if I have people to depend on, and she doesn’t even know me. It makes me want to care for her in ways I’ve never even considered caring for another person before.
It’s as though her kindness is weaved with magic meant only for me, and I’m not going to lie, it’s kind of terrifying the fuck out of me.
“Grey is like a brother to me,” I say, then cautiously move to stand next to her at the sink. Picking up the towel on the counter, I wait for her to hand me a wet dish.
She’s hesitant to let me help again, and she holds the plate between us before finally relenting and handing it to me.
“You really don’t need to help,” she says, her voice a whisper.
“Do you ever allow anyone to help you, or do you always do it yourself?”
“It’s just easier to do things myself sometimes.”
“Ah,” I say. “You’re a people pleaser. Do you ever put yourself first and say no?”
Her body stiffens next to me. “I take the path of least resistance.”
“You avoid conflict.”
She huffs and places one dripping gloved fist on her hip. “You’re a paying guest, and someone Pops duped into overpaying.”
“Not true,” I say, taking another dish from her soapy hand. “That was my choice. If I had to eat out for breakfast and dinner, I’d be paying a lot more. If anything, I’d say you’re undervaluing your service.”
We fall into companionable silence as she washes and I dry. It’s not until we’re down to the last casserole pan that she responds.
“We can’t charge more until this place is restored.”
“How’s the restoration going?” I think I know the answer, but I want to see how honest she’ll be with me.
A twinge of guilt sours my stomach. I’m asking for honesty when I haven’t been truthful from the start.
