Talk This Way. Dakota Cassidy
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But if Sanjeev wasn’t enough, the running tab at the coffee shop you keep for the women at the homeless shelter who go out job-huntin’ every day would be.” If she hadn’t already been a smidge in love with Landon’s heart, finding out that piece of information would have cinched the deal.
“Homeless women from the shelter need coffee, too.”
“Do you have any idea how much the bill is each month?” Enormous. That’s how much. But Landon had worked something out with Arlo, and each morning, no less than twenty women filed in to get their coffee and muffins, all courtesy of this kind man’s gold-lined pockets.
He shrugged as though it was neither here nor there. “They need somethin’ warm in their bellies to start their days. I can provide that. Besides, coffee and muffins always hits my spot. And do you have any idea how ripped off I’da been if you hadn’t kept Arlo on the path of the righteous with that bill?”
She flushed. Arlo had tried to pad the bill, and when Cat caught him, she’d spoken up and threatened to tell Landon. Another one of her bucking-the-system moments.
“I suppose you didn’t think I knew?”
“I...”
Landon nodded and smiled that handsome smile. “You don’t think I got all this money because I threw it around without payin’ attention to where it was goin’, do you? But that right there—that’s what makes you a good soul, Catherine Butler. Your heart’s bigger than all of Texas. I know. I’ve been there. I’ve seen you with the people at Oakdale. Your mama told me all about what you did for Howard at Arlo’s. You’re a passionate, free spirit, always lookin’ out for the little guy. Sometimes that gets in your way. I’m bettin’ that free spirit of yours was what got you fired today.”
That comment made Cat wince, her heart tightening in a ball. Her mother often called her just that—a free spirit, happy to enjoy what life doled out rather than forcing it to bend to her will. She’d floated most of her adult life—from job to job, just barely making ends meet. Jack-of-all-trades, master of none. But her life was her own, and she made all the rules.
And look where that got you today, free bird.
Cat peeked at Landon. “Do all free spirits have such big mouths and the employment history of a sixteen-year-old at the age of almost thirty?”
Landon barked a laugh, making the birds under the big oak tree scatter. “Free spirits sometimes need tethering, is all. Still free, just more centered while they’re bobbin’ around up there in the sky, reachin’ for those stars.”
Those tears of regret burned her eyes again. What was she going to do? She’d just barely been able to make the payments she’d managed to work out with Oakdale as it was. “I’ve made a real mess of things, Landon.”
“That’s why I asked you what you’d say to me helpin’ you.”
“I know what you asked me, but I don’t want handouts. So I’d say thank you kindly, Landon Wells, but no thank you. I’m sure there are plenty o’ other people out there willin’ to abuse their friendships with you because you’re rich. I’m not one of them.”
“I know enough to know a good human bein’ when I see one. Seen more than my share of bad. I can tell the difference.”
She was here, at this place in her life, because she’d refused to conform to society’s idea of what an adult should be. Turned out, society was right, and most people her age were at least able to help their aging parents if they did what society dictated and got good jobs, planned for the future. But her? Nah. She’d middle-fingered the notion.
For being such a complete idiot, she didn’t deserve help. “No handouts.”
Landon smiled again like he had some secret that amused him. “Okay, then. What about a hand up?”
“To?”
“You’re gonna call me crazy,” Landon joked, but his eyes twinkled.
“As if that’s not a hyphen on your name?”
“So will you hear me out?”
Her throat went dry. “I’m almost afraid to answer that.”
“Will you listen if it means you’ll have security and a 401K?”
Cat fought a sharp inhale. All the things she’d never had. Resources she could have tapped into had she played by the rules. “How do you know I don’t have one already?”
“I make it my business to know everything about the people I like—especially the people I like who are in a nasty pinch.”
He didn’t say it as though he had a leg up on her, or even like he was looking down his nose at her. “Have you been pryin’ into my personal affairs, Wells? Using all that lovely money to research my sordid past?” she teased.
But Landon merely chuckled at her reaction. “Now don’t go gettin’ the wrong idea there, pretty lady. I’m not some crazy who wants to collect your skin to make a coat. I know our friendship hasn’t extended outside of Oakdale, but my intentions are all on the up-and-up. So just say you’ll hear my pitch, and if you don’t like what I propose, you can get up and walk away, and never see me again. But not before you tell me the secret to those happy swirls of whipped cream.” He winked.
Really. What did she have to lose but a few minutes of her time she’d only spend berating herself for this vicious cycle of unemployment she was caught up in? She was broke and desperate and all Landon required was her ears.
So what was the worst that could happen right here in broad daylight?
Chapter Three
Turned out, it hadn’t been the worst thing to happen to her in broad daylight—not by a long shot. But plum crazy? Yes, sir.
Landon had indeed offered her what he called help. He’d done it with flourish, lots of arcing hand gestures and that ever-present amused twinkle in his eyes.
As Cat made her way toward his home, the towering glass-and-chrome building where Landon had invited her to a home-cooked meal by Sanjeev, passing expensive shops and cars worth more than she’d make in a lifetime of work, she felt around the inside of her purse to be sure the can of pepper spray was where she could find it.
After the tale Landon had told her, she was more than a little skeptical. No. She was downright incredulous, leading her to wonder what she really knew about the real-world Landon Wells anyway. Where did all his money come from?
She’d read all about the internet businesses he’d created, seen the occasional gossip article linking him with a prince in some far-off country. He’d certainly had his fair share of wild adventures.
So was he just eclectic-crazy, or crazy-crazy?
Please don’t let him be a serial killer. Not after he’s been so nice. Her day had already been ugly enough.
As a precaution, one she felt sick with guilt about even considering, she’d made sure her pepper spray was in her purse before leaving her place. There’d be no drugging an unsuspecting Cat Butler and stuffing her body parts into a black garbage bag and dumping her body at the local Winn-Dixie, thank you very much. That wouldn’t pay her mother’s hospital bills.
Yet, how could she possibly stay away after what he’d proposed to her? It was outrageous. She’d done nothing but think about it all afternoon long.
All while she’d dug out a dress for the dinner and taken a long, hot soak in the antiquated tub in her studio apartment. And while she’d blow-dried her hair and applied her makeup.
Now, as she gave the doorman her name, her legs trembled and her heart beat painfully hard.
The spry gentleman, dressed in an immaculate black suit with brass cuff links at his wrists and a gray tie, swept his arm toward the elevators. “This way, Miss Butler. Mr. Wells has a private