I watch as his dark eyes skate over the bar before they finally land on me. I can feel his perusal from here, and it makes me squirm that much more in my seat. He takes long steps toward me, eating up the distance.
“Princess.” He plops into the seat across from me.
I swallow down a sip of my drink. “What did I say about that?”
“Sorry. It’s just hard when you look like you’re straight out of a castle.”
“No castles for me.”
“You sure?” Cash eyes me, leaning back in his seat.
“Do you need something to drink? Is that going to make you less ornery?” I quirk a brow at him.
Cash ignores me, flagging down a server to order a beer.
A Breckenridge Avalanche.
“You think I’m ornery?”
“I can see why you get the bad attitude with the press,” I mumble to myself.
“Are you always like this?” Cash asks as a beer is set infront of him. He shrugs out of his jacket, exposing a long line of tattoos.
I can’t help but drink my fill. Duncan was as clean-cut as they come. Manscaped to within an inch of his life.
Cash is the exact opposite. Sure, that’s part of my reasoning for wanting to do this, but is it going to work?
“My attitude isn’t the one that needs adjusting.”
“It’s not my fault reporters are dumb.” Cash shakes his head at me.
“I’m not disagreeing that they ask stupid questions. You just can’t tell them that.”
“Did Cassie put you up to this?”
“You know I can think for myself, right?”
Cash shrugs. “Seems like something Cassie would put you up to.”
I pick up my old fashioned and take a long sip, trying to cool the annoyance that is swirling inside me. All because of the man sitting across from me.
He needs my help. I don’t want tonothelp him, but he’s making it hard. I can see why Cash has such issues with the press.
His entire personality isI don’t give a fuck.
Even the way he’s sitting here in the bar—and that damn backward hat—says he doesn’t care. His eyes are taking in the small bar. There’s not much to it, but it’s close to my studio and I like it.
“Is it that you don’t care about the team?” I ask, studying him some more.
“What?”
“I’m trying to figure out why you’re like this.”
Cash snorts, swallowing down his beer. “Trust me, Princess. You won’t.”
“You have to give me something if we’re going to make this work.”
“What, you want to know why my childhood turned me into the fuckup everyone seems to think I am today? Hmm?” He quirks a brow at me, leaning across the table.
