Penthouse Prince(15)

Swallowing my pride, I say the words I should have said a long time ago. “I shouldn’t have dumped you the way I did. I was young and stupid.”

She watches me closely with narrowed eyes, then asks in an acid tone, “That’s your excuse? That’s all you’ve got to say about it?” She stands and snatches up her purse. “Good-bye, Lexington.”

I grab her hand. “Wait!”

“Why should I?” she mutters, but doesn’t pull out of my grasp.

“Because I’ll tell you the truth.”

She stares at me for a long moment, then finally sits back down, still glaring at me.

I let go of her hand and swallow past my suddenly pounding heart. “I . . . I was scared.”

Now she looks confused, as well as angry. “Of what?”

“Of falling in love. Messing up. Breaking your heart . . . or my own. Of betraying your brother’s trust.” The feel of her hand lingers on my skin. “I was about to leave for college, and I thought trying to do a long-distance relationship for four years would be impossible. And even if we somehow made it work, it’d be over anyway as soon as Dak found out.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me all this back then?” Her voice is fragile, and I hate myself for causing it. “I thought we were happy. I would have done anything for you, and then you threw me away out of nowhere.”

“I didn’t know any of this stuff at the time—I was operating off pure instinct. It took me years to figure it out.” I force a laugh. “Like I said, I was young and stupid.”

She says nothing, barely meeting my gaze.

“It was puppy love, Corrigan,” I say softly. “I didn’t think it would last. I thought that if I let it go on, eventually I was guaranteed to do something dumb and hurt you.”

Her response is barely audible. “You did.”

Ouch. Fuck. “I know. And I’m sorry.”

I hurt her. Betrayed her trust. It kills me, even now.

She exhales, loud and shaky. “I have more questions.”

I have no idea whether that means she’s accepted my apology, but I can let it go for now. “Anything.”

She leans forward, her elbows on the table and her gaze keenly fixed on me. “Who is Grier’s mother? How did this all happen?”

My stomach drops as if I’d missed a stair. “If I tell you . . . will you do it?”

Her eyebrows dart up. “Are you seriously trying to bribe me right now?”

“No. Of course not.” I drag my hand down my face. Along with everything else I remember about Corrigan, she’s still just as tenacious too. “Okay, fine. I promise I’ll tell you everything you want to know. But first, I have something to ask you.”





7




* * *





CORRIGAN



When my brother mentioned that Lexington Dane was looking for a favor, I was sure I’d thought of just about every possibility, A through Z. Did he need advice? Maybe he needed to borrow my weed whacker? Or, my personal favorite, did he need a ride to the airport so he could turn around and go straight back to New York where he belongs?

But what he’s asking is crazier and more demanding than anything I ever could have dreamed up.

“Please at least consider it. I need someone to look after Grier while I work, and I trust you.”

I blink at Lexington, half tempted to scrub out my ears to make sure I heard him right. He wants me to look after his two-year-old daughter who, up until twenty-four hours ago, I didn’t even know existed? That’s a much bigger favor then I could have ever imagined, and one that has caught me completely off guard.

I steady myself by grasping the table, watching my knuckles turn as white as the marble countertops next to us.

“Please be her nanny. It would only be part time,” he says, as if that justifies this insane situation. “Just until I can land on my feet. Things are overwhelming with mom right now, and figuring out how to manage my New York properties from afar. I need to know I have someone I can count on and someone I can trust entirely with my daughter.”

I stare at my hands, dodging his electric-blue eyes, which I can feel pleading with mine. “I don’t know. There are some really great day cares in town that might be—”

“All the day-care centers are already full for the summer,” he says. “And when I asked Dak, he mentioned that you have the summer off.” Lexington pauses, and when I look up at him, his mouth pulls into a gentle smile. “Congrats, by the way. You’re a teacher, just like you always wanted.”

My mouth opens for a moment in shock before I can snap it closed. Why does he remember my high school dream job? I figured he threw out every memory of me when he left Wilmington.

“I teach first graders, not preschoolers,” I say, turning my head over my shoulder to get a look at Grier.

She’s got a vise grip on that stuffed bat toy, but she seems more interested in our conversation than playing. If she were a bit older, she might have turned away and pretended not to be eavesdropping, but not Grier. She just studies me from across the room with curious blue eyes. “But you’re good with kids,” Lexington says, drawing my attention back to him. “I seem to remember you babysitting your way through high school. Isn’t that how you paid for your homecoming dress junior year?”