Penelope

Saturday rolls around and, of course, my schedule is packed. At seven A.M., I get a call from Patrick saying there's an issue with one of the pipes. I have to wake Cassian up and drag him out of bed—I literally have to drag him out of bed. It's difficult and my muscles are sore, but it seems to do the trick. He sits up and screams at me for a good thirty seconds before climbing to his feet and trudging to the bathroom. He slams the door so hard the mirror in the hallway shakes. The sound of running water follows.

I roll my eyes and slam my fist against the bathroom door. "Quit being a dick, Cassian!"

"Then don't wake me up at such an ungodly hour on a Saturday morning, Pen!" he shouts back. I hear him turn off the tap. And then there's nothing.

Nothing.

I knock my forehead against the door and sigh. He's the man who will fall asleep anywhere. I bet he's sleeping in the bathtub. At this rate, we're going to be late. We can't make Patrick wait longer than half an hour.

"Cassian!" I shout, slamming the heel of my hand against the door. "Get your ass moving! We're business partners and our obligation is to oversee this project together. So pick your mopey ass up and get dressed."

When there's no response, I pluck a bobby pin from my hair and prepare to unlock the door. "What a child," I murmur, turning the bobby pin. "For the love of God, I'm going to have to dress him and brush his teeth and freaking spoon-feed him. If I had known a shitty date would make him so temperamental, I would have sabotaged it."

The lock clicks, and I shove the door open. Clothes and towels are scattered across the tile, as are Cassian's sandals from our trip to the beach yesterday. He went swimming and tried to coax me into the water, but I refused. Being eaten by a lake monster isn't how I want to die. As my gaze follows the trail of dirty laundry, damp towels, and shoes, I wonder why men treat bathrooms as a pigpen. I can't handle a splatter of toothpaste spit on my mirror, let alone clothes on the floor or dirty shoes.

When I lay my eyes on the man standing in front of the sink, a silent gasp escapes my lips.

"Oh my God!" I exclaim, covering my eyes. I spread my fingers apart so I can peek through. "You're naked!" I'm totally checking him out, but I don't care. How can I not take this opportunity? His naked ass is cute.

He turns around and leans against the counter, cupping his junk in his hand. There's a sardonic grin on his face. "Hey, Pen. I'd love some help to get dressed. My boxers are over there." He jerks his head to the walk-in closet. "If you want to spoon-feed me, I'd prefer applesauce. Pureed veggies aren't really my thing. As for the fuck-up date..." He trails off and runs one hand through his hair, giving me an optimal view of his sex lines and brown skin. "Next time I try to go on one, whack me over the head with a broom, okay?"

I open my mouth. Close it. His hand isn't covering everything. My mouth turns dry at the sight of his package. Now, I'm not one to judge a man by the size of his penis, but holy fuck. I clench my stomach muscles and take a deep breath, willing away the sudden longing between my thighs. My palms are clammy. He's the actor of every woman's dirtiest sex fantasy.

"I, uh, um, okay?" I breathe, blinking a few times.

He grins at my lack of ability. "My boxers will not walk over here themselves." He glances down at his hand. "I would grab them myself, but someone burst into the bathroom and admire my appendages."

My gaze moves over him in a slow sweep, catching on the hard lines of his abs and then the bulge beneath his hand. I'm tempted to throw myself at him and flirt with relentless indignation. While I let alcohol bring out the worst in me, I wouldn't have drunk if Cassian could just open up his eyes and realize he's got a fabulous, strong woman right in front of him. He would have been able to avoid that disaster of a date. Flirting that's fuelled by indignation is the most potent and usually results in a wildfire of emotions. He'd love it.

"Good morning to you, too, Pen," he continues. "Is this going to become a regular thing? You busting into bathroom unannounced to stare at me?" He shrugs, his hand that's cupping his junk moving with the motion. "Don't get me wrong—I like your pretty eyes raking over my body. But I thought we had somewhere we needed to be. Does the name Patrick ring a bell?"

I shake my head and spin on my heel. I grab the first pair of boxer shorts I can get my hands on, not caring if they're clean or dirty. Leaving is the only option I have to clear my head of what I've just seen. "Here," I mutter, tossing the boxer shorts at him. "I'll step outside and wait. We'll pick up something to eat after the meeting with Patrick." I peek through my lashes, giving myself one more view of his body. "Just... just hurry, okay?"

Boxers in hand, Cassian gives me a two-finger salute. "Yes, ma'am."

With my cheeks blazing, I head out of the bathroom, collect my purse from the couch, and head out to the vehicle. I don't care if Cassian snaps at me for driving his vehicle. I need something to distract me. Anything.

I rest my forehead against the steering wheel and take a deep breath. There has to be a way to curb this toxic crush. He's a good man, but fawning over him regularly isn't good for my mental health. I know I can't change the way he feels about me. So why do I keep hoping?

I take several more deep breaths and then sit up just in time to see Cassian locking the front door. He stuffs his hands in the pocket of his sweater and jogs down the pathway to the vehicle. He climbs into the passenger seat.

"Hey, Pen," he grins, buckling himself in. "How was the show?"

My cheeks become an inferno. "Cassian, I, um..."

"Yes?"

I'm in love with you, and I was wondering if you wanted to go out on a date with me. I've been in love with you since the business trip. And while I don't consider myself shallow, you have an amazing penis.

I sigh. While my heart desperately wants me to express my feelings, my mind has a blockade up. Cassian's upset, but I know how his thought pattern works. As soon as the sadness is gone, he's going to rebound and try to win Ophelia back just as I suggested. Although he never admits to it, he follows any advice I give him. Whether that's a blessing or a curse, I have yet to know. "I'm sorry I barged in on you. That was inconsiderate. I'm not sorry about dragging you out of bed, though. We're late because of your antics."

"My antics?" he chuckles, flicking my ear. "You're the one who couldn't stop staring at me."

I swat his hand away. "Please tell me you washed your hands."

His grin turns malicious, but before he can say anything inappropriate to me, I hold my free hand up. "No inappropriate comments about smell or anything like that. I haven't had coffee and I'm intolerant."

He frowns and slouches in his chair. "You're no fun, Pen."

I stick the keys in the ignition and start the engine. "I'm fun when I drink wine."

My comment earns a snort. "And I'm fun when I smoke, but I guess we can't have everything we want."

After I've shifted into reverse, I back out of the driveway. My heart feels heavy and I can't stop myself from sighing.

"No," I reply. "I guess we can't."

* * *

"As you can see," Patrick says, pointing to a crack in the pipe. "The pipe wasn't sealed correctly, and it's resulted in some cracking. Luckily, the budget can handle this. It's a small crack that's only affected one pipe. The reason I called you in, though, is because I'm concerned about the rest of the piping." He gives it a light kick. "If it's the same quality, it could quit on us in two years, give or take. Would you guys be willing to get them fixed so there's no future issues?"

Cassian releases a sigh of frustration. "Ophelia said there wouldn't be any issues."

"Well," Patrick replies. "I dont know what to tell you. This pipe needs to be repaired."

"We'll do it," I reply.

"Penelope," Cassian hisses. "It could cause us to go over budget."

"It won't be unbearable," I argue. "We can afford it. Dealing with a leak or a crack in the future would cause us to rip apart the kitchen. It will cost us more in the long run if we don't do it now."

Although he looks uneasy about the decision, he sighs and nods. "Fine. But I'm calling Jake first to make sure he's okay with this, too."

He trudges over to the window, removing his phone from his shorts.

I stare after him. Strange feelings are building within me. I'm upset with Cassian, but I also feel bad for him. His ego has taken a direct hit from Ophelia's rejection. I'm also shaken from our encounter this morning. I can't get the image of him being naked out of my head. I'm annoyed and turned on. Mostly turned on.

Patrick frowns. "Are you okay, Penelope?"

I swallow the lump in my throat. I'm far from being okay, but I can't tell him I saw Cassian waddle around naked in the bathroom this morning. That would be far too embarrassing for both of us. "I'm okay," I reply. "I haven't had my morning coffee yet. I'm a little slow."

He chuckles, stuffing his hands in the pocket of his flannel shirt. The sleeves are rolled up, revealing a tattoo of a sparrow. "That's understandable. Kind of ironic, considering you work for a coffee company."

"Ironic," I murmur. All I can see is Cassian's hand covering his junk.

"So," he says. "Are we're still on for tonight?"

I groan. "You still want to come to the family barbecue?" Judging by how the morning has fared, I'm thinking it's best I avoid attending the family barbecue. Luck isn't on my side.

"Sure," he shrugs. "It's at a beach lot, right? If we get bored, we can run off into the sunset."

God, what else did I tell him when I was drunk?

I should have expected him to take me seriously when I invited him to my parents' house. It's difficult to tell when someone is drunk over text messages—unless they're using inappropriate language. Patrick is aware I invited him out with me and he's being kind about it. Unlike Cassian, he doesn't deserve the Dick of the Day award. Cancelling on Patrick doesn't seem fair. "That, um, sounds like a good idea," I reply. His eyes are bright with an emotion I can't decipher. It sets me on edge, but I have to give him the benefit of the doubt.

"You don't seem excited."

"Like I said," I reply, keeping my tone even. "I haven't had my morning coffee. My family..." I trail off, tugging at my ponytail. "The people I call my family aren't actually my blood relatives. They adopted me, so I feel like there's added pressure on the people I bring home. Don't ask me why. It's just a feeling I get. They put their time and lives aside to raise me and I don't want to disappoint them." I pause, realizing how impolite I sound. "Not that I'm worried about you.

Patrick smiles at me. "I understand."

I draw my bottom lip between my teeth so I don't speak again; all I do is nod.

"Jake's okay with it," Cassian says, stepping back into the conversation. "We should get going, Pen. We have an appointment with the bakery. Your mom is waiting for us, too. She's been texting me with a passive-aggressive tone, wondering why we're late."

"Right," I reply, turning back to Patrick. "I'll text you the details."

"Okay," Patrick smiles.

Cassian frowns. "You're coming to the barbecue?"

"Yeah," he replies. "Penelope invited me."

Cassian's jaw tics and he shifts his body in front of mine, as if he's protecting me. "Okay. Well, we'll see you later, then." He loops his arm through mine. "Come on, Pen."

Before I can say goodbye to Patrick, Cassian's already pulled me out of the room.

When we're outside, walking down the cobblestone path, I shove Cassian away from me. "What the hell was that?" I demand.

He frowns. "What was what?"

"I was talking to Patrick! You interrupted us."

Cassian rolls his eyes. "You were the one who told me this meeting had to be quick. Besides, you don't even know Patrick. He could be a rapist for all you know."

"How dare you!" I fume. "How dare you judge my character judgement skills! You are such a prick!"

He levels me up, pressing our chests together. "I'm looking out for you, Pen."

I stab my finger against his chest. "I don't need your protection and nor do I want it. I can handle myself."

He presses his lips into a flat line and averts his gaze from mine, but he doesn't step back. When he exhales, I can feel his hot breath on my lips. It smells like spearmint toothpaste. My heart rate picks up, and the more time we spend pressed together, the more I wonder if he's going to do something unexpected.

I'm aware of every move he makes, of the way his eyes graze over my lips and the low dip in my shirt. But before I can make sense of what's happening, he steps back and clears his throat. "Fine. I'll step back. But that doesn't mean I trust Patrick."

"And just because you're a man doesn't mean you know what's best," I fire back. Acting with indifference, I push past Cassian and head for the vehicle, my heartbeat irregular.