Hating Cain Read online

  “They’d all have a cow if they found out I served pre-made pancake mix from the grocery store.” He put on an affected voice as he grasped his mug handle and raised his pinky. “It’s just not high society.”

  “Who cares about that?” I grumbled. “They taste good.”

  Cain chuckled and leaned his chin into his palm. “Nothing’s changed since you left, so that means you don’t remember much of Rosecreek.”

  Even though it was true, I grew irritated at the implication that I’d fallen out of touch with my hometown when I’d grown up here, just as he had. I shrugged and didn’t reply, focusing on finishing the rest of the food on my plate. Noticing that Cain had obviously left the majority of the food for me, I did my best to put it away so as not to be rude.

  I could do without him watching me as I ate, though. I paused and turned to him. “What?”

  He popped a strawberry into his mouth. For some reason I couldn’t help but follow the ripe fruit slipping past his lips, the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed it.

  “What did you mean when you said you don’t do traditional art anymore?” he asked.

  I grimaced. I was hoping he hadn’t noticed that. Even though it was my own fault for bringing it up, irritation flared up in my chest and leaked into my voice.

  “I can’t afford it, okay?” I said. “Real paint and materials are expensive.”

  Cain was quiet–a feat, for him. He averted his gaze and absentmindedly picked up a blueberry.

  For a moment, he didn’t reply–and the uncomfortable silence spanned between us like a yawning chasm, pushing us further and further apart.

  Finally, Cain cleared his throat and murmured, “I see.”

  A feeling like poison spread in my gut and I instantly lost my appetite. Being snarky was one thing but looking down on me for being poor was unacceptable. Hot shame and anger mixed together in my chest. I threw the fork down and stood abruptly.

  Cain glanced up, startled. “Where are you going?”

  “I should’ve known better than to come here,” I muttered.

  “What?” Cain sounded baffled.

  “That’s all this was, wasn’t it?” I demanded. “The food. You felt bad for me for being poor, is that it?”

  “Johnny, I–”

  But I didn’t bother staying to listen to what he had to say. If he thought of me as some sad, down-on-his-luck orphan who needed his hand-outs, he was sorely mistaken. I didn’t need his help. I didn’t need anybody’s help.

  “Johnny, will you just wait a second?” Cain yelled exasperatedly behind me.

  “Don’t talk to me again,” I snapped.

  I walked out the front door and didn’t look back.

  4

  Cain

  Well, that was a disaster.

  Flustered and angry, I trudged back into the kitchen where the remains of the breakfast sat. At least Johnny had had the courtesy to clean out most of it, leaving me less to deal with. I dumped the rest of the food into a stainless-steel bowl and lowered it to floor. Roxy wagged her tail, wolfing down leftover eggs and bacon.

  “What the hell is his problem, Rox?” I asked. “We were just having a conversation! Why’d he get so upset?”

  Roxy was too busy eating to answer.

  “I mean, I didn’t know about his–” I threw my hands in the air, trying to find the right words even though he wasn’t around to hear them. “His financial situation until right now!”

  I growled and slumped against the counter, stewing in my annoyance. It hadn’t even been a whole day since Johnny moved in and he was already getting under my skin.

  This wasn’t how this was supposed to go at all.

  Roxy stepped back from the spotless bowl and licked her lips. I dumped the rest of my own eggs in the bowl since I was too irritated to finish them. If Johnny and I kept getting into arguments like this, my dog was going to turn into a pink football.

  I thought back to our conversation, trying to figure out what exactly set him off. We’d been doing just fine until I asked him about his real-life paintings. Geez, he was sensitive.

  I sighed heavily, running a hand through my hair. I didn’t want to fight with him, but I also didn’t want to apologize when I barely understood what I’d done wrong. I’d been the first to offer the olive branch and he slapped it right back in my face.

  Fine, then. Have fun being lonely in Rosecreek, where everyone else is even bitchier than I am. Hell, maybe you’ll fit right in here.

  Determined not to ruin the rest of my Saturday morning by mentally bitching and moaning over Johnny, I decided to suck it up and take Roxy to the dog park. Watching her frolic with her dog friends always eased my mood, even though it was a private Rosecreek park and therefore all the dog owners were faker than silicone butts. Still, the topics there always managed to stay in the safe dog-related radius, so hopefully I wouldn’t get dragged into an unsavory conversation.

  As I loaded up Roxy and her water bowl in the front seat of my SUV, I couldn’t help but glance in the direction of Johnny’s house. I hoped bitterly that he was having fun doing whatever he was doing, locked up alone in that big mansion all by himself–because he certainly wasn’t winning anyone over with his crappy personality.

  After snagging a parking spot, I unloaded an ecstatic Roxy and her things from the car. She dragged me towards the gate with the full force of fifteen pounds. The short drive had already helped dull my thoughts of Johnny and I was excited to see if any of Roxy’s dog friends were present.

  Funny how my dog has more friends than I do.

  Past the double-gate system, a loose circle of people stood around. I recognized them all as Rosecreek residents–my neighbors–and their respective dogs. I unclipped Roxy’s leash and she took off like a shot across the fresh, dark mulch.

  The gathered people briefly glanced at me. Cynthia was there. I always forgot she owned a dog, considering I barely saw her walking it. It was a yellow lab, a dog just as blonde and airheaded as her.

  I waved a brief greeting but kept my distance from the main group. It was always a double-edged sword coming here. Roxy getting to play depended on the other dogs’ owners showing up, but if they did, that meant I was forced into some fake conversation.

  I averted my eyes and poured some water into Roxy’s dish, setting it on the ground. But Roxy whined at my heels, torn between wanting to stay at my heels and play with the other dogs, who were close to their owners. She finally picked her choice and bolted over to the other dogs.

  Little traitor, I thought.

  “Cain!” Cynthia called when I didn’t join them, urging me over. “Come over here!”

  I sighed. Knowing I’d look flat-out rude ignoring her, I trudged towards the group and put on my best smile.

  “Hi everyone,” I said.

  They all greeted me.

  “Did you have to put sunscreen on your little dog this morning?” a man named Dylan asked with a smirk. A golden retriever hung at his side with its tongue lolling out.

  “Nah,” I replied. “She only wears it when we’re out for a long time.”

  I knew from the smug look on Dylan’s face that his question was a sly dig at Roxy’s hairlessness, but I was used to remarks like that by now. If he thought to insult me by insulting my dog, he had another thing coming.

  “You’re not staying?” Cynthia asked.

  I shrugged. “Nah, I just wanted to let Roxy play for a bit. I’ve got a busy day.”

  That was a lie, but these people didn’t need to know that.

  Cynthia clicked her tongue. “That’s too bad! This is Molly’s only walk during the week so I stay as long as I can to wear her out!”

  She and the rest of the crowd chuckled while I mentally rolled my eyes. I didn’t know why she wore under-exercising her dog like a badge of honor.

  Molly the lab started running, kicking up dust and inviting all the other dogs to chase her. I watched Roxy bark excitedly and bolt after her like a little pink bullet. Despi
te her small size, she was faster and more agile than some of the other dogs.

  Kaitlyn, one of my other neighbors who lived directly across the street from Johnny, piped up. She turned her attention away from the running pack in time to avoid seeing her chihuahua faceplant in the mulch. “Oh, that reminds me, Cain. Did you get Cherry’s invite?”

  Cherry was the slightly-older-than-middle-aged woman who lived down the street from me in a mansion nearly twice the size of my own. She was always organizing events, but I didn’t know what this particular one was. “No, I didn’t.”

  Kaitlyn bit her lip, probably hoping she didn’t cause a stir by accident. She smiled sympathetically. “Oh, I mean, I’m sure she just didn’t get around to popping it in your mail yet.”

  I shrugged. It wasn’t the end of the world if I wasn’t invited to the Rosecreek Party of the Week, but to not be invited was practically an insult. But I wouldn’t let that show on my face. Instead I winked and said, “Hey, I’m patient.”

  Relieved that she hadn’t started a neighborhood war, Kaitlyn nodded. “Right. She’ll get around to it.”

  Just then our attention was drawn to the front gates as the familiar creak indicated a new arrival. All the dogs skidded to a stop, too. From the crest of the hill came the sleek prick-eared shape of a pure white shepherd, sending a chill down my spine.

  But it wasn’t the dog I disliked.

  Her owner came sauntering in behind her, no doubt sneering down at the rest of us through a pair of sunglasses. Nash McPherson. High school bully extraordinaire–and a man who hadn’t changed a day in ten years.

  I bit back a groan. If I could, I’d grab Roxy and go, but doing so would cause a scene and making a scene in Rosecreek was something I always strove to avoid.

  Goddamnit. Of course he’s here when I’m already having a bad morning.

  I intensified the fakeness of my smile and joined in the greeting with the rest of the group. I noticed Roxy lifting a paw hesitantly, not rushing to greet the white dog, and wondered if she’d picked up on my nerves.

  “It’s okay, baby,” I murmured, leaning down to give Roxy a scratch behind the ears. “You can stay here with me.”

  Nash strode down the slope, the white shepherd never leaving his heels, like she was a robot. He stopped just before the edge of the hill met the flat ground so he stood an inch above everyone else.

  Douchebag.

  Nash looked directly at me, or at least I assumed he did–it was hard to tell with his stupid sunglasses that he never took off.

  “Cain!” he called. “You’ve come out of your writing cave to mingle with the normal people.”

  “Yep. I, too, take days off,” I replied, trying to match his snarky tone.

  “Write any bestsellers lately?”

  “Yes, actually,” I said evenly. “My last novel topped the charts for a month.”

  News of my success obviously took him off guard. He ignored my reply and quirked a brow at my dog instead. “Shouldn’t you two be in the section for little dogs? This area’s for real dogs.”

  Wow, how original. I’ve never heard that one before.

  I gestured to the other small dogs present, including Kaitlyn’s chihuahua. “If you’ve noticed, there’s more small dogs here than big dogs.” At the twitch in his lip, I added, “And none of the larger dogs have any issues playing with them. Does yours?”

  The twitch turned into a frown. He snapped his fingers, calling his shepherd to attention and making her sit instantly. I assumed his little display was to show off what a great trainer he was, but I just resisted the urge to roll my eyes again. If he wanted to hold a dick-measuring-contest with our dogs, he was more of an idiot than I thought.

  “C’mon, Roxy,” I said, turning away and patting my leg to get her attention. “We’ve got some groceries to buy, don’t we? See you, everyone.”

  Roxy’s tags jingled as she followed me towards the gate.

  “Oh, don’t worry, Cain,” Kaitlyn called after me, apparently oblivious to the tension between Nash and I. “I’ll swing by Cherry’s today and ask her about that invite!”

  Even though it wasn’t necessary, I appreciated the gesture. “Thanks!”

  Roxy and I were nearly at the gate when a tennis ball whizzed past my face. A white blur followed, making me stumble back and trip over Roxy. I yelped as I fell on my ass. Laughter came from the dog park crowd and my face turned red from anger and embarrassment. Nash’s shepherd snatched the ball that had obviously been thrown to cut me off and trotted back to her owner.

  Nash smirked at me. “Sorry.”

  Furious, I got to my feet and stormed out of the gates, somehow even angrier than when I first arrived. Between Johnny and Nash, I couldn’t catch a break around here.

  At least Johnny had the decency to humiliate me privately.

  But Nash apparently hadn’t had his fill of being evil incarnate in high school and had to keep dragging it on in the present day.

  My tires squealed as I pulled out of the parking lot and shot down the road home. I was so distracted that I almost missed Johnny’s familiar figure. I slowed down. He was walking down the sidewalk with a reusable bag in his hand, which I assumed was for groceries. But if he was looking for a grocery store, he wasn’t going to find one the way he was walking.

  There was no traffic so I pulled over. He frowned at me. Then I wondered what I was doing.

  Why the hell did I stop?

  Instead of driving off, which was probably the smartest thing to do, I rolled down the window and asked, “Where are you going?”

  “Why’s that any of your business?” Johnny asked, but he sounded as confused as I felt.

  I pointed to his bag. “You’re going shopping, right?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Then you’re going in the wrong direction.”

  “What? No, I’m not,” he argued. “I remember going to the store down this way all the time.”

  Something about his cluelessness was a little endearing. “Maybe ten years ago, but things are different now. The store changed locations.”

  Johnny’s face fell, his cheeks taking on the slight pink tinge of embarrassment. “Oh.”

  Suddenly I felt bad for him. It probably didn’t feel good to proverbially eat shit right in front of your neighbor, especially after the argument we’d had this morning.

  The offer blurted out of me before I could stop myself.

  “Hey, uh, do you want a ride?” I offered. “It takes too long to walk to the store, to be honest.”

  I expected Johnny to refuse–after all, I probably would have in the same situation. But instead he balled his fists, released them, and let out a sigh. “Sure.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Hop in. Don’t mind Roxy.”

  As Johnny opened the passenger door and awkwardly took a seat, I held Roxy so he didn’t squash her by accident. I meant to put her in the backseat, but she hopped into Johnny’s lap like she was annoyed at being displaced.

  “Sorry,” I said sheepishly. “She’s the princess of this car. And of my life.”

  Johnny looked like he was on the verge of a smile. “I can see that.”

  “Let me just drop her off real quick at home so we don’t get kicked out.”

  “Right.”

  We descended into silence after that exchange, and I spent the short drive home wondering if I’d made a huge mistake. But when I parked by the front door and went to put Roxy inside, I found her curled up in Johnny’s lap, eyes pleasantly closed as he stroked the hair on her head.

  Maybe not. We’ll see.

  5

  Johnny

  The car smelled like strawberries, and since there was no air freshener hanging from the rear-view mirror, I assumed it was Cain’s shampoo. What kind of straight man used strawberry shampoo? Maybe it was something rich people did to be ironic.

  I don’t know what possessed me to agree to his ride except the fact that I had no car of my own, and of course the bus couldn’t enter Rosecr
eek’s prestigious gated community. Hell, I barely had enough cash on me to buy groceries in the first place, but it would have to cover a few essentials.

  Unless I wanted a repeat disaster of going over to Cain’s every single time I wanted a meal. No, thanks.

  I sat at the very opposite edge of the leather seat and stared out the window. I pointedly avoiding looking in his direction, even from the corner of my eye. But his sweet-smelling hair served as a constant reminder of his presence.

  I had a brief mental image of running my fingers through his strawberry-blond hair, inhaling that strawberry scent—then quickly shook it off.

  What the fuck? Being hungry is making me delirious.

  Cain was the one to speak first as we drove through the unnecessarily long street that led to Rosecreek’s front gate. “Roxy likes you.”

  “Yeah?” I said. “That’s cool. Dogs usually don’t care for me.”

  “Why?” Cain asked, sounding surprised.

  I shrugged. “I think I’m too big and intimidating or something. Maybe my voice is too deep.”

  “Maybe,” Cain agreed. “You definitely look a lot different than you did the last time I saw you. Before you left, I mean.”

  Before I left? That’s a nice way of putting ‘getting kicked out’.

  I changed the topic back to his dog. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but is she supposed to look like that?”

  Cain suddenly laughed, bright and airy. “Yes, she is.”

  “What’s funny?”

  He snorted. “When people ask about her, they’re usually a lot less polite. She gets asked if she’s a naked mole rat or whatever.”

  “Oh.” I scratched my head, suddenly feeling bad for mentally referring to her as an alien at first. “I mean, she looks… different, but she’s obviously a dog.”

  “You’d think that’d be more obvious to more people,” Cain said wryly. “Unfortunately most Rosecreek folks aren’t interested in much beyond their own opinions.”