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I walk to work where I change in the back before starting my shift at Hooger’s. I’m thankful for the busy diner because at least the work distracts me. When I go to sleep tonight–if I do at all–it’ll be the last time I sleep in the trailer. And while I want out, it’s the last time I’ll have any sense of independence and freedom before becoming a pet to a stranger.
When I get home from work later that night, I pack my bags for Mr. Purcell’s house.
I hardly slept a wink, and when morning comes, I feel the weight of exhaustion hanging over me like a dark cloud. My eyes are sunken and swollen, and I can barely climb out of bed.
Today, I’m going to settle this thing with Cameron Purcell. I’m going to his mansion to tell him that no, I will not be his concubine despite his offer of free rent to my dad. I’m a woman with my own will, and I do not accept his terms.
Randy ignores me when I make an appearance at the breakfast table. Or more likely, he’s already drunk despite the early hour. He slurs a couple words and then rambles off to his own room. We have no last meal together, but come to think of it, I can’t remember the last time we shared a meal. Sometimes, he would stop by the diner for a free snack, but it’s been at least a few months since he did that. Morosely, I pick up my purse and head to the bus stop.
On my phone, I look at the address Randy texted to me late last night: 2481 Bougainvillea Lane. Hmm, that sounds like the fancy part of town.
The bus comes, and I hop on, picking a seat in the back. As the bus wends its way through our city, I watch as the surroundings slowly become more beautiful. Soon, the grass on the ground appears more green, and the exteriors of the houses and buildings are more elaborate. Everything appears cleaner, and in better condition.
I catch sight of myself in the window and study my appearance critically. My brown hair is wadded in curly tangles and my skin looks flushed. I look like I haven’t slept or showered in days, and suddenly I realize it’s true because I haven’t showered in a day. After getting home from the diner last night, I spent the night packing a bit before falling into bed. Thankfully, I brushed my teeth this morning so at least I won’t smell too offensive.
Soon, we’re passing beautiful Victorian-style houses with circular driveways and elaborate gardens. Tall pine trees cover acres in the woods on both sides of the bus, and finally, the vehicle pulls to a stop at the sidewalk. The doors swish open, and I hop out before looking around. How am I going to find my way to Cameron Purcell’s mansion?
Conveniently, there’s a sign that says “Bougainvillea Lane” right at the corner. I begin trudging along the road, and find that Bougainvillea Lane is actually a private drive. I walk and walk and walk, and feel like I’ve been hiking for miles until the path ends, and a lovely mansion comes to view.
I gulp. Cameron Purcell lives here?
The lane leads up to a cobblestone driveway with a round-about that contains a beautiful marble water fountain in the center. Mr. Purcell’s freshly cut lawn consists of bright green grass and his home alone has to be three stories if not more. Looking at the outside of the house makes me want to run back to the trailer park. I haven’t seen houses this exquisite even in the movies. It makes my mouth go dry and my eyes widen. Why does a man with this much wealth want me?
I make my way up the marble steps to the portico. Standing there, I feel as if I’m standing in line to go into a museum. My fingers reach out to press the doorbell, and a few second later, the door opens, revealing Mr. Purcell himself.
My first thought is how surprised I am that he answered the door instead of the housekeeper I expected. The second thought is that this man is godawful gorgeous. How is it humanly possible it is for a man to be this handsome? Mr. Purcell still has sleep in his eyes and a crooked smile on his mouth as he stands in the doorway wearing grey sweatpants that hang deliciously on his hips. The white t-shirt he’s wearing does an excellent job showing off his bulging biceps and lean torso, and his black hair sits disheveled on his head from last night’s sleep. Damn, mornings look good on him.
As I stare at him, for just a moment, I see those deep blue eyes flare, and something hot runs through my form. This man wants me, I realize, and the knowledge makes me quiver at the front door. I should say no, but suddenly, I realize that I’m attracted to him too.
