Working Stiff: Casimir (Runaway Billionaires #1) (24 page)

She got the can of coffee down from a shelf and showed him how to put the filter in, how much coffee and water to measure into it, and how to turn it on.

“That’s it?” he asked.

“Yeah. That’s it.”

He laughed. “When I was last home, my housekeeper assured me that it’s a complicated process, something that I couldn’t possibly do for myself. She seems to believe that her job hinges on
that.
Doesn’t Cash have a staff?”

“He has cleaning people come in a couple times a week, but he can take care of himself. He doesn’t need a staff.”

“Interesting. He’s always been very private. I imagine that’s part of it, too.”

He wasn’t private. Usually, he was an extrovert of the first order who was the center of every conversation.

Although, now that she thought about it, Cash didn’t talk about himself much. He talked to other people about themselves.

She asked Maxence, “Was he so private when you guys were in school together?” she asked.

Maxence tilted his head and watched the coffee drip for a moment. “I’ll let him tell you about that.”

“You guys do keep each others’ secrets, huh?”

He shrugged. “Arthur told me what you said about Casimir’s car accident.”

“It was really bad. He’s still recovering, really.”

“Physically, he seems all right.”

“He’s still taking it easy in the gym. I think the incision still might be sore inside, the one where they took out his spleen.”

“We’ve got to get him out today. If he wins this round, it will establish that we will allow him to become a hermit.”

Rox nodded. “He’s not going to want to.”

“I’ll be back from Mass in a few hours. After that, we will get him to that animal shelter of yours, yes?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

The coffee finished gurgling into the pot, and Maxence took a cup, black. It did seem that he was intent on mortifying his flesh, even with black coffee. They talked about politics and cats while they drank a cup each.

He did, however, seem to savor even the black coffee as if he hadn’t had it for a while.

When she mentioned the animal shelter again, Maxence asked questions about how long she had volunteered there, how many animals it housed, what their needs were, and how much she was spending every month to keep it afloat.

And he smiled.

Rox tried really hard not to stare when Maxence smiled, but
damn.

She said, “I buy a couple hundred dollars’ worth of food every month, and I know that Brandy buys that much, too. She’s down there every day, though. The county employs people during business hours—barely, for minimum wage, and it’s almost all teenagers whose daddies are on the city council—but not on weekends. Brandy runs that place, keeping everyone rotating in and making sure that the chores get done every day. I just do the books and help out on Sundays.”

“That’s admirable,” Maxence said, and he smiled again, a slow glow that started deep in his dark eyes and spread over his face.

“I feel stupid that I haven’t gotten him out of the house before now,” Rox admitted.

“No, no,” Maxence said, and Rox heard more of an accent in that. Something not-British. “He needed to be cared for and coddled for a while. I doubt he’s ever had that before. You took care of him when he needed it, and you didn’t turn away.”

She frowned. “Well, of course not.”

“Some people are very shallow. I sense that you’re not. That’s good for Casimir. I think
you’re
good for Casimir. We all overindulged in hedonism when we were younger, and Casimir started later and so felt he had to catch up. He needs someone like you, someone who will take care of him. Now, however, he needs to be kicked out into the world. You called for reinforcements at just the right time.”

“If you don’t mind, where are you from?” Rox asked. “Your accent isn’t quite as British as Cash’s.”

Maxence leaned in. “Really? What does it sound like?”

“A little French, maybe? A little Italian?”

He shrugged. “I’m Monégasque, from Monaco. It’s near Italy and France.”

“Hmm. That’s interesting. What’s Arthur?”

“Do you think he has an accent?” Maxence asked, leaning on his elbows. His biceps bulged under his shirt. The three of these guys walking down a street was going to cause a riot.

She said, “British, just British, I think.”

Maxence’s smile was more amused this time. “He’s one of the few of us who is an actual Anglophone. He is English,
very
English, more of an Englishman than any one of the English princes. Just ask him.”

Rox laughed. “That sounds ominous.”

“He needles people, but sometimes, he’s just what we all need.” Maxence finished his coffee, checked the time on his phone, and held out his hand. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Rox. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Do you need a ride somewhere?”

“Not at all. Arthur and I rented cars, but thank you.”

As he was standing to leave, Rox rummaged around in a cabinet and found Cash’s stash of protein bars. She grabbed three and held them out to Maxence. “Here. Eat these in the car.”

He looked at them and blinked. “I shouldn’t, before communion.”

“Then take them for the drive back.”

He accepted the bars and thanked her.

He left, and Cash and Arthur came into the kitchen soon after.

Arthur was wearing a silvery blue dress shirt that was the exact color of his eyes.
That
probably wasn’t an accident. He nodded at her but staggered straight for the steaming coffee pot.

Cash sat at the table and draped his arm around the back of Rox’s chair. He had reapplied that white bandage to his cheek, reaching almost all the way from his square jaw line to his emerald eyes.

Arthur spooned sugar into his coffee and added milk before he sat down. “So when are we leaving for the animal shelter?”

“Maxence said that he’ll be back after Mass,” Rox told him.

Arthur rolled his eyes and said to Cash, “I don’t know why he’s going through with this charade. His uncle will never let him take Holy Orders.”

“Why would his uncle have anything to say about what he does with his life?” Rox asked.

Cash glared at Arthur and told her, “Complicated family dynamics.”

“Dynastics,
you mean,” Arthur said.

“Stop,” Cash told him.

“Fine.”

She would get it out of Cash, and if he didn’t come clean, she was going to corner Arthur and make him tell her what the hell was going on. This was ridiculous.

They drank coffee, ate, and watched news on the television hanging from the ceiling over the breakfast bar until Maxence came back from Mass just over an hour later. He sauntered in from the garage and took a spot at the table.

“How was church?” Arthur asked, a bit of derision in his voice.

“About like you’d expect,” Maxence said, checking his phone.

Cash didn’t comment but just drained the rest of his coffee.

Rox was cleaning the coffee pot at the sink. Maybe she should teach Maxence how to do that, too, and she almost called him over, but she up-ended it to drain and turned around to the guys.

Arthur stood and walked over to her, reaching around her to place his cup in the sink. “And now we’re all off to volunteer at the animal shelter.”

“I have work to do,” Cash said. “You guys can go with her.”

Cash was gazing into his empty coffee cup so he didn’t see the instant of calculation that passed through Arthur’s silver-blue eyes.

Arthur snaked his arm around Rox’s waist and dragged her against himself.

She stumbled as Arthur pressed his body to hers. A week ago, she might have grabbed his ass, but right now, she had her hands up and was already pushing at him. “Hey!”

Arthur said to Cash, “Excellent. That’ll give us a chance to get to know Roxanne
so
much better.”

Yeah, that’s right. Rox had all the hotties making passes at her for absolutely no reason whatsoever.

She pushed Arthur’s chest. “Get off me.”

Maxence was hiding a smile behind his phone.

Cash glanced up and saw Arthur’s arms around Rox and her shoving at his chest with an annoyed look on her face.

He stood. “Get your hands off her.”

Arthur dropped his hands and chuckled. Rox straightened her tee shirt and went back to washing her cup. If that limey grabbed her again, he was going to learn how Southern girls defended their virtue, and she just bet that an effete European wouldn’t even see her knee coming.

Arthur said, “Come on, Casimir. You don’t want to leave your ladyfriend alone with two notorious rakes. We would steal her from you even before she saw me snuggling a kitten.”

“Oh, yes,” Maxence said. “Two notorious rakes. You wouldn’t dare.”

Cash said to Maxence, “I thought you were reformed.”

He shrugged, still trying to hide his smile. His big, dark eyes widened. Wow, he looked like he was wearing mascara and eyeliner, but when Rox had shown him how to make coffee, she had seen him close enough to be sure that he wasn’t. He said, “You never know when I might snap. I hear people are wagering on it.”

“It’s true,” Arthur said. “I have ten thousand laid down that he’ll go on a bender in Monaco around Christmas, but I’d be more than willing to let that go to see him break with my very own eyes.”

“Ten thousand dollars?” Rox asked, aghast.

“Euros,” Arthur said.

Sweet baby Jesus, that was even more money. She rolled her eyes and turned back to washing her cup, even though it was already spotless and sanitized.

“And you never know what’s going to make those repressed types snap,” Arthur said. “Roxanne here might bend over at a most inopportune time while we were in the animal shelter, and
bam!
Father Maxence would be all over her ass like a bull elephant in musth.”

Rox turned around, her hands on her hips. “Could you guys
try
to treat me like a human being and not a walking vagina?”

Cash cracked up, and Arthur raised his hands helplessly. He stage-whispered, “I’m trying to make a point, here.”

“Come with us to the animal shelter, Cash.” Rox smiled at him.
“Please.”

Cash’s smile turned sheepish, and he looked away and back at her. “Oh, all right.”

KITTEN SOCIALIZERS

“Hey, Brandy! I’m here!” Rox called as she walked into the lobby of the animal shelter.

They had stopped at the big box store on the way to buy supplies. Arthur and Maxence pretended that they had seen such a store before, as they were worldly cosmopolitans who had seen everything from every walk of life, but they examined the enormous boxes of dishwashing soap with a little too much genuine shock.

Rox hoisted a thirty-pound bag of cat kibble onto the counter and yelled, “We brought dog and cat food!”

“About time you showed up. Why haven’t you called me back?” Brandy turned the corner at a trot and skidded to a stop, staring at the men. “Well,
hello.”

Rox said, “And I brought you some fresh meat, too.”

“You sure did.” Brandy took off the stained apron she was wearing, and Rox noticed that she sucked in her slim waistline and thrust out her small boobs.

Rox gestured. “This is Cash, the guy who’s been letting the motley crew and me live with him for a while.”

Brandy stared at Cash, taking in his bright green eyes, muscular chest, and tight waist, and turned to Rox. “Okay, now I get it.”

She rolled her eyes. “And these are two of his old school friends who are visiting, Arthur and Maxence.”

Lines of mock pain gathered between Arthur’s eyes. “Everyone keeps using this ‘old’ word. It’s most distressing.”

Brandy batted her thick eyelashes at them. “Hello, boys. You’re here to volunteer?”

“Yeah,” Rox said. “I told them they could socialize the kittens.”

“Are they coming back next week?” Brandy asked, smiling and sucking on her finger at Maxence, who smiled serenely, seeming to not notice the blatant sexual innuendo.

“I don’t think so. Are you guys staying that long?”

Maxence shrugged.

Arthur said, “Probably not. I imagine we’ll be back home by then, depending on circumstances.”

Brandy stopped smiling. “Then you boys can hose down the dogs’ pens. Kitten socializing is for people I can count on to be here every week.”

After the three guys had cleaned the dog pens and scrubbed a bunch of cat boxes, Brandy finally relented and let them socialize the kittens.

When Rox came to check on them, Arthur was sitting on the floor, flinching and giggling as two tiny balls of fluff used their needle-like claws to climb his shirt. When one reached his shoulder, he plucked it off and set it in his lap to scale him again.

Maxence was sitting on a steel table, swinging his long legs and using one finger to stroke the tiny skull of a very young kitten who was apparently in a coma in his other hand. He had taken off his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves, baring his thickly muscled forearms.

A tattoo of three shields, arranged around a Celtic triangle knot, inked his right forearm, just like the one on Cash’s right arm. On Maxence’s tattoo, however, the red and white diamond checkerboard pattern pointed toward his wrist.

Cash was sitting on the other side of the room. An adult gray cat was sitting on his legs.

Wow, if Rox had had her phone out, she might have just had the most popular page on social media: three hot guys with kittens.

Cash lifted his finger to his lips, though he was smiling, and his emerald green eyes were laughing. The bandage on his face wrinkled when he smiled.

The cat whipped around to look at Rox and crouched, skittish, but Cash whispered something to her, and she sat down and turned back to him.

Good Lord, that cat sitting on his lap was Fairy Dust, the cat whom no one else could touch and might be feral, the one who was slated to be a barn cat unless someone could get through to her. Her gray fur was matted and clumped from where she had been chewing it and pulling it out.

Cash held out his fingers to Fairy Dust. She sniffed them. The cat hesitated, watching him with wide eyes, and rubbed her cheek on his hand.

Rox tiptoed over to Cash and slid down the wall to sit next to him. He didn’t look at her, just kept his hand out for Fairy Dust.