her nose, too fucking adorably as her shoulders fall. “It’s way too hot here not to have a pool, Mountain,” she announces as she walks through the racks of clothes.
“Sorry, babe.”
She looks over her shoulder at me, her lips twitching into a grin. “Maybe I’ll be able to talk you into putting one in at your house?” she asks hopefully.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I stare at her, keeping my face expressionless. Her hopeful gaze drops at the same time her shoulders do. “Guess I’ll just have to get a kiddie pool,” she sighs.
“Be my guest,” I grunt.
Her lips turn up into a grin and she grabs some scraps of fabric that I assume are bathing suits, her mood instantly uplifted. It doesn’t take her long to grab some tank tops, shirts, shorts, and underthings.
I’m surprised that she doesn’t put up a fight about the clothing options. For a woman raised in a seriously rich as fuck atmosphere, the five years she was alone must have been really fucking rough because she is not complaining one bit.
“You keep watching me, but you look shocked at everything I do,” she points out as we make our way to the electronics.
My eyes travel the televisions, looking for one that will be good enough for me to watch when I’m home with her. The TVs at the clubhouse are top-notch, which is what matters most because I spend, and will continue to spend, the bulk of my time down there. Leighton is just going to be a little something to entertain me when I need a break.
“You’re not what I expected, that’s all,” I say.
She doesn’t respond right away. She stays quiet as I talk to the clerk about the television that I want, then pay for it. They give me a receipt and tell me they’ll meet me out front when I’m ready. Thanking them, I turn to her and push her cart toward the front of the store. She’s quiet the entire time, that is until we’re in line.
“What did you expect?” she asks softly.
I don’t even look at her, my response comes immediately, and after it spills from my lips, I wonder if I should have thought of my words before I spewed them.
“Expected you to be a high-class rich bitch. It’s what I’m attracted to. It’s what I prefer.”
LEIGHTON
High-class rich bitch.
I almost laugh out loud.
I’m so far removed from both that it’s kind of comical. My father had money. He raised me with expensive things, plenty of them, but spoiled little rich girl, I was not. Never was allowed to be. Maybe from the outside looking in, people thought that about me, but I’m not sure who even knew I existed.
I wasn’t allowed to go to school, private or public. I never had friends my age, which in hindsight, was a really fucking good thing. It gave my father fewer girls to abuse. I never asked for any of the latest and greatest things, because I knew that I wouldn’t get them.
My father was rich, I had nice clothes that someone else picked out for me, I had a nice house and monitored food in my belly, but asking for things wasn’t acceptable. I would be punished if I did that, and I was not a child who enjoyed being punished in any way, shape, or form.
I don’t look at the total on the cash register as the clerk rings everything up, I don’t want to know. I’m indebted to him, and I know without a doubt that I will never be able to pay him back, not monetarily at least.
Looking at my sandals, I wonder what this life is going to be for me. He obviously thinks that I’m something I’m not, and I have a feeling he’s extremely disappointed. I’m not sure how to be that for him, a high-class rich bitch, I’ve never been that before.
I’m silent the rest of the ride home. He is too, and I’m grateful for that. It takes over an hour to get back to the house. I watch it come into view and feel a sense of peace as soon as he pulls the pickup into the driveway.
This may not be my forever home, but right now it’s where I’ll be and for whatever reason, it feels safe. For the first time in years, I feel a sense of safety and security that I don’t think I’ve ever felt before. I’m under no illusion that what I’m feeling is