With a slight frown, I rushed to my window, spotting Cane walking up the sidewalk that was scattered with orange and brown leaves. My heart nearly failed me when I saw a woman at his side, her arm linked through his.
Straight, slick brown hair.
Rosy red lips.
Tall and thin, but not so thin that she didn’t have curves.
She was stunning, from what I could see.
I stepped away when I heard the doorbell ring, my heart racing. I was too nosy to stick around in my room.
I walked down the stairs as casually as possible, the hem of my frilly pink dress flowing around my thighs.
Mom and Dad were introducing themselves, and then I heard laughter and the woman's shrill voice say, "Wow, I love your dress!"
I finally stepped around the corner as all of them chatted and greeted each other.
Cane looked at me first.
And then Mom.
And then her.
She was even prettier up close. Silky, beige skin, green eyes, and perky breasts. They weren’t fake either. I instantly envied her.
"You must be Kandy," she said, stepping toward me. She even had manners. Wow.
"I am," I said, tipping my chin. She pulled me into a hug, and my eyes stretched wide. I found Cane's gray-green eyes, and a smile twitched at his lips.
I avoided a frown.
"So nice to finally meet you! Quinton has told me all about you! I'm Kelly." Quinton. She used his first name? Intimate…
She pulled away, and I smiled at her. It was forced and tight. "It's nice to meet you too, Kelly."
“So, dinner is ready! How about we pop open that bottle of wine you have there, Cane, and let's eat!" Dad declared.
"Oh, that sounds amazing," Kelly chimed. "I've been saving my appetite for tonight's dinner. Cane has told me all about how wonderful your cooking is, Mindy."
Mom beamed and thanked her graciously. Great. She knew how to kiss Mom's ass, too.
Mom wasn't an easy woman to please, but she loved compliments about her cooking and clothes the most. After all, she worked hard trying to perfect her look and her delicious dinners. She'd scroll through Pinterest like a madwoman, asking me constantly if something looked good enough to wear or cook.
Kelly walked with Mom to the kitchen, Dad following after them to most likely help. Cane was unbuttoning his suit jacket, about to put it on the coat rack, when he glanced over his shoulder at me. "What do you think of Kelly?" he asked.
"She's pretty," I admitted.
He smirked. "I know." He hung his jacket on the coat rack. "Jealous?"
I narrowed my eyes at him, my heart slowly thudding now. Asshole.
He was only kidding, but he had no idea just how jealous I really was.
Kelly was charming and witty. She was simple and practical. She knew when to laugh and when to appear concerned, shocked, and so on. She was everything I was not, and I wanted to hate her—I really did—but I couldn't.
She didn't deserve my hate.
She didn't know about the hardcore crush I had on my dad's best friend.
She only knew me as Kandy Jennings, Derek and Mindy Jennings' eighteen-year-old daughter.
So instead of directing my hate toward her, I passed it over to Mr. Quinton Cane himself.
Yes, it was childish of me to no longer accept the chocolates he brought to our dinners, and to not say more than two words to him whenever he happened to drop by. It was beyond childish of me to hurry and finish my food and excuse myself from the table, just so I wouldn't see him and Kelly holding hands, or kissing, or sharing an inside joke. It was dumb of me to think he even cared how I felt, when he didn't even have the slightest clue.
Well, I thought he didn't care, until one day I was leaving school and his car was parked in front of the building. It was April in Decatur, Georgia, and the sun was beaming down, no clouds in sight.
Cane was leaning against the passenger door of his Chrysler 300 wearing gray suit pants and a black button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a pair of Ray-Ban sunglasses covering his eyes. I couldn't tell behind the dark tint of the lenses, but I was pretty sure his eyes were fixed on me.
"Oh my gosh,” Frankie gasped as we walked out of the building. “Who is he?”
I stopped walking, focusing on him. "My dad's friend. The one I’ve been telling you about," I mumbled. I had no idea why he was here right now.
"Oh—the hot, rich guy!” she said, almost loud enough for him to hear. I wanted to strangle her. My face flooded with heat and embarrassment swept through me.
I stopped and held Frankie's wrists, looking her deep in the eyes. "Play it cool. Is he still looking at me?"