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WREN
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I opened the front door to my family home for strangers again for the sixth time in a week. I was inundated with calls from potential tenants within hours of advertising my house for lease. And while I knew I needed to do it because my job search was providing no results, the idea of people I didn’t know living in the house my parents cherished hurt my heart, and no one who had shown any interest so far was good enough. Maybe because deep down, I didn’t want to open my home to others. It was my private sanctuary and sharing it didn’t appeal in the slightest. But, a week of not being able to afford food, and the debt collectors blowing up my phone—at least until the phone company cut it off—made me swallow my pride.
Plastering a fake, bright and cheery smile on my face, I greeted the couple standing on my front step.
“Hi, I’m Wren.” I reached my hand out for the man to shake and just about wet myself.
Tate Montgomery.
The Tate Montgomery.
Model. Bad boy. Hot as, well... a hot potato.
“Hi, I’m Tate,” he introduced himself, though he didn’t need to. His grip was strong and warm and... He was holding my hand.
Tate Montgomery was holding my hand. My breath caught in my throat.
I opened my mouth to speak but words failed me. So, instead I stood there with a starry-eyed expression on my face and nodded.
Yes, he was Tate.
The man I enthusiastically admired in the tabloids, and every social media site under the sun. The only man who warranted post notifications switched on. The man who I may have dreamed about once or twice sweeping me off my feet and confessing his undying love for me.
I think I squeaked. And judging by the way he smiled, he heard it too. His lips pulled wide, flashing his oh so perfect white teeth and the dimple in his cheek, just barely visible under that short, scruffy beard I so desperately wanted to rub my cheek against. His eyes crinkled in the corners with silent laughter.
Tate Montgomery thought I was funny. I didn’t even care he was laughing at me acting like a complete fool. He thought I was funny. Taking a breath, I pulled myself together and gave him a real, genuine, albeit slightly star-struck smile before running one hand over my hair, trying to smooth the flyways in my messy bun.
“And this is Rachel, my girlfriend,” he said releasing my hand and gesturing to the woman I had forgotten was standing right beside him.
My smile fell and my nose crinkled as I took in Rachel Eastman’s appearance. Oversized designer sunglasses, obnoxious fedora hat and off-the-shoulder black maxi dress, stretched tight across the plastic watermelons she called breasts. Her long, fake blonde extensions hung down her back in loose waves.
She was the It Girl. The woman every guy wanted to date, and every girl wanted to be. Every girl except me. She looked hungry and over-inflated. Pretty sure I could safely use her chest as a life raft should we ever get hit with a Tsunami up here.
She tilted her nose up and took a step closer to Tate, wrapping one hand tight over his bicep as though trying to show me he belonged to her. I would not roll my eyes. I needed to be friendly and courteous.
I needed Tate to want to rent my house out, because I lacked the funds to survive, and he had it in spades, and also because I’d be foolish to turn Tate Montgomery down for anything.
“It’s lovely to meet you,” I said, getting lost in Tate’s twinkling eyes, before letting my gaze drift over to Rachel briefly and adding, “both.”
I stood to the side and waved them in. “Please have a look around, and if you have any questions, I’ll be in the kitchen.” I closed the front door behind them and left them to it. It had been my experience in the past week that showing a house to people was awkward. I didn’t like standing there and watching strangers go through my house and inspecting every little detail. And they didn’t like when I hovered watching them like a hawk, so it was best to leave them to it. That way they could discuss things privately and I wouldn’t get offended when they didn’t like the artwork on the walls, or the sculptures in the recesses of the hallway.
I made my way into the kitchen and sent a silent prayer up to anyone listening to not let the power be cut off before Tate moved in.
I knew he would. I could feel it in my bones. He needed the security and privacy of our exclusive gated community because when you had one of the most recognizable faces in the world; it was a necessity. Also, because rumor had it, he’d been told to lie low after a nasty incident during a recent photo shoot in which he picked up the photographer’s state-of-the-art camera and threw it at his face.
So, Tate Montgomery may have had an attitude problem. Who wouldn’t when your entire life was on display for the world to see?
The tabloids liked to call it anger issues, and his agent had apparently strongly suggested he take a break from the limelight and seek ‘help’.
Anger management.
That was why he was here in the hills. And as long as he didn’t take out his anger issues on my house, I’d happily let him... and Rachel lease the property.
“You said in your ad,” Tate’s gravelly voice sounded from behind me. I spun to face him and tried not to show how startled I was that he appeared out of nowhere while I was lost in thought. “The pool house was occupied?”
“That’s right.” I folded my arms across my chest, before realizing that made me appear closed off, so I placed them on my hips. But that made me look too open, like I was showboating and wanting his attention on me. I snorted, unattractively. Like he’d give me any attention. I dropped my hands to my side.
Tate’s eyebrow lifted, and he ran his hand across his jaw, scratching his strong, stubbly chin.
“I like the house. I want the house, but with my...” He winced and bit his lip trying to find the words.
“Anger problems?” I offered helpfully.
His eyes narrowed and jaw clenched. Maybe that wasn’t what he was going to say. I pressed my lips together to stop myself from helping any further.
“Need. For. Privacy,” he ground out through gritted teeth. Five minutes in the hills and he was already making progress; he was seething but trying to reign in his anger.
I tilted my head to the side and smiled. “Of course, sorry.”
“Would I get to meet the person who’ll be living in the pool house? I want to ensure they are...”
“Not a crazy fan or something?”
“Something like that. Look, I need discretion.”
“Not a problem.”
“So, can I meet them before signing anything?”
“You’re looking at her.” I lifted my arms elegantly to the side and curtsied.
Yep. I curtsied in front of Tate Montgomery. Way to play it cool, Wren.
“You?” He raised his eyebrows and looked at me in disbelief.
“It is my house.” I crossed my arms, not liking his attitude. Lucky his face made up for it.
“Then why the hell are you leasing it out?”
“I don’t believe that’s any of your business. But I can assure, should you want the house, your privacy will not be an issue. Discretion is my middle name.”
“You’re not going to run off and tell all your girlfriends I’m living in your house?”
“No.”
“The newspapers?”
“Do you think I’m stupid? If I tell people you live here, then people will come. I don’t want weirdos hiding out in my bushes trying to get photos of you and inadvertently snapping pictures of me when I’m pole dancing.”
Tate laughed and tried unconvincingly to cover it up with a cough. His gaze traveled down my body and made me shiver. He was appraising me, and I couldn’t tell whether or not I liked it, or if he liked what he saw.
“You pole dance?” He smirked.
“For fitness.”
“Right,” he said, sounding unconvinced as he pinched his bottom lip and looked me up and down once again.
Fitness. I knew what he was thinking, and I knew it was on the tip of his tongue to say it, but he was holding back because if he said my pole dancing clearly wasn’t having the desired effect, then he wouldn’t get my house.
I looked down at myself. I wasn’t thin by a long shot. But I wasn’t big either. And at least I wasn’t perpetually hungry like Rachel. My breasts were real. My lips were real. My eyebrows moved. And my thighs rubbed together. But I was fit. And I liked pizza and beer too much to care my hip bones didn’t poke holes in my pants.
“Babe!” Rachel called from outside by the pool where she was lying on my sun lounge, soaking up the rays.
Tate turned and walked out the French doors before calling out, “We’ll take it.” and leaving me scowling behind him.
Jerk.
If I didn’t need the money so badly, I’d tell him he could shove his lease where the sun doesn’t shine, but I was the poorest rich girl in town. I needed his money.
I rushed out after him. “Do you want to sign the lease now? Or should I send it to...”
Who would I even send it to? His agent? Management? Him?
“We’ll sign it now.”
“Great.” I forced a smile. “It’s in the office, I’ll just be a minute.”
I retrieved the lease agreement from the office and returned to the pool where Rachel was still sunbathing.
“Uh, where’s Tate? I have the lease?”
She flicked her hand in the direction of the pool house and my blood chilled.
I stormed over to the pool house and caught Tate looking around my living room. “What are you doing?”
“Just looking around since I’m moving in.”
“In there.” I pointed back at the main house. “Not here. This is my private space. You leave me alone. And I’ll stay out of your way.”
He smirked and with a lift of his shoulders he brushed past me and strutted back over to his girlfriend who would look like a lobster if she didn’t get out of the sun soon.
I tilted my head back and followed him once again like a little lapdog. Was it so hard to stay in one spot for two minutes, or did he get a kick out of making everyone chase after him?
I handed him the lease agreement and a pen. “Rent is to be paid a month in advance, and a security payment is to be paid upfront also, and you’ll get that back at the end of your lease if you leave the property in the same condition.”
“I’m aware of how a lease works, Wren.” The way he said my name, rolling the R, like Wrrrrren, caused goosebumps to break out over my skin and my stomach to flutter. Why had my name never sounded that good before?
Tate signed the agreement and initialed where required before passing it to Rachel. She barely even glanced at it before signing and initialing everywhere he did. Come to think of it, I wasn’t even sure if she looked at the house, or just the pool.
Tate took the lease from Rachel’s outstretched hand and gave it back to me, before pulling her to her feet.
“I’m going to get my suit,” she said and waltzed inside.
Suit? What suit?
“Thank you, Wren,” Tate said as he kicked off his sandals and pulled his shirt over his head.
My eyes bugged out of my head as I admired the work of art that were his abs, all firm and golden brown. “Umm... what are you doing?” I squeaked as he tugged on the waistband of his shorts, pulling them down to reveal a pair of board shorts.
“Going for a swim. It’s hot.”
“What? Where?” My eyes darted to my pool.
“In my pool.”
He walked over to the diving board at the end and bounced on his feet a few times before back flipping into the water.
A perfect ten.
I stood there, unsure of what to do or say. His pool? It was my house. Tate’s head broke the surface of the water. “You can leave the keys on the kitchen counter.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The lease doesn’t start until...” I flipped through the agreement searching for the date and choked on air.
“Today.”
“No, that can’t be right,” I whispered more to myself than him.
“It is.”
I pulled my phone out of my pocket and checked the date. Sure enough, he was right. I had confused the dates and made today the beginning of the lease. I huffed out a breath. I was not prepared for this. Not today. I thought I still had a week. How could I mess up the dates that badly? I guessed that’s what I got for organizing the whole thing after drinking a bottle of wine. I needed the liquid courage to actually go ahead with the crazy plan to rent my parents’ house out and had my lawyer draw up a rental agreement template I could customize.
“Well... Umm, it’s not yours until you pay the security and first month’s rent.”
He couldn’t just move in, could he? And where were his clothes? Rachel said she would put on her suit, which since Tate was swimming in my pool, I assumed meant her swimsuit. Did they just drive around with their clothes in their car or what?
“Already paid.”
I folded my arms across my chest and scoffed. “Really? You magically put the money in my bank account without having my details?”
“No, I put the cash in your bizarre cookie jar. The one with the baby doll’s head for a lid. Creepy by the way.”
“I... You... Uh... How...” I was flailing, at a loss for words and so confused. I cleared my throat and stomped over to my cozy little pool house.
My cookie jar was not creepy. That doll had been my mother’s and then mine, and yes, it may have been missing an eye, but I liked it. It gave the jar character.
Grabbing Polly’s head and taking the lid off my cookie jar, I peered inside and sure enough there was a wad of cash. So much more cash than I had seen in months.
I giggled, excitedly, fanned myself with the money, and made a very important phone call.
I tapped my fingers on the counter impatiently while listening to the irritating dial tone until Joe’s soothing voice greeted my ears.
“Joe’s Pizza, what can I get you?”