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Bella-

Chapter 1

Bella: 15

Edward: 27

3 Years Earlier

I took the application and scanned the paper before looking back at the cashier. "How much does this position pay?"

He gave me an impatient shrug. "I don't know, little lady, but if it's more than minimum wage, I'm going to have words for the manager." His gaze searched me from head to toe before meeting my eyes. "How old are ya?"

I licked my suddenly dry lips. "I just turned fifteen two days ago."

Someone bumped into my back, and I threw an annoyed glance in his direction. Restlessly, he pulled at the black beanie covering his head and flashed me an apologetic smile. "Sorry 'bout that. Should watch where I'm going."

"Yes, you should," I say, redirecting my attention to the man behind the counter. His annoyance was growing by the second, but I didn't care. I was determined to find a job this summer if it was the last damn thing I did.

Ever since my dad was shot in the line of duty, landing him paralyzed in a wheelchair, we'd been struggling to pay the bills and keep food on the damn table. Instead of airing my dirty laundry for this man, and all the world to know, I shifted, as my own frustration mounts. "How the hell is anyone supposed to pay bills making minimum wage? That can't be more than seven dollars an hour. How many hours would it be?"

"Welcome to the real world, little lady," he mumbled with a shake of his shaggy blond head. "I have no idea, but I have customers lining up behind you so if you would kindly …"

"I swear if you call me little lady one more time," I warned, throwing another look at the guy who kept bumping into me over my shoulder. I was on the verge of ripping my hair out, and this jerk behind me apologizes once again, flashing a smile I'm sure has melted many panties over the years. I'm not in the mood to be charmed or disregarded, for that matter, glaring at those even white teeth. Grabbing a candy bar, I slammed it on the counter. If this fool wouldn't take me seriously I was about to lose my shit. "I know you're not the manager, but you do work here, right?"

He glared back at me as he snatched the candy bar up, and promptly, scanned it. "I'm trying to, but I have this irritating teen harassing me." He slid the candy across the counter, his eyebrows dancing near his hairline. "That will be a buck fifty."

I fished through the pockets of my tattered jeans and pushed the last two dollars I had toward him. "How many hours would I get if I waste my time filling out this application for minimum wage?"

"Twenty-five, if you're lucky. Now if you could step aside," he waved, already dismissing me as he focused on the man behind me.

Just to be a dick, I stood there, releasing an aggravated sigh of my own, I smirked back. As sweetly as I could manage, I said, "Would you happen to have a pen I can borrow?"

"Oh for Christ's sake." Yanking a cup toward him, he pulled out a pen and tossed it on the counter. My jaw clenched as I watched the ballpoint roll toward me, barely suppressing the urge to give him a piece of my mind.

Satisfied I'd hassled the asshole enough, I moved further down the counter, and began filling out the application. Even if the job paid shit, and had shitty hours, I still needed a way to put groceries in the cupboard. I was just finishing my date of birth when I felt a tap on my shoulder. Surprised by the unexpected touch, I jerked around to find the guy who kept bumping into me, standing a foot away.

The corner of his mouth lifted into a smile, and for the first time, I realized just how handsome he was. He had razor-sharp cheekbones, a straight nose, perfect full lips with straight even teeth, and stubble darkening his jawline. As ruggedly handsome as he was, I fixated on the color of his eyes, somewhere between navy and royal blue. "I heard you are looking for a job. I might know about a position if you're interested."

Something about his remark hit me oddly, and a weird sensation jogged through my veins. Stifling the flash of heat that darted down my spine, I shook my head. "Whatever you're selling, I'm not buying it."

Shock was apparent in his eyes, and his hands lifted into the air as if he's surrendering. "Nothing inappropriate, you're way too young for me. I'm just looking for someone to clean for me, but I can promise it will pay more than minimum wage."

PRESENT-DAY

I used my key on the front door, slipping inside the foyer that was larger than the apartment I shared with my dad, I hurried to the alarm and punch in the code. I have always hated dealing with this damn alarm, and its insistent beeping. The piercing sound kicked up my anxiety by a solid ten notches every freaking time I had to deal with it. It was like a race against the clock to remember the digits to shut the damn thing up. Hitting the last button, I breathed a sigh of relief when the numbers went dark, indicating I accomplished shutting the damn thing off.

I glanced toward the darkened halls. Apparently, no one was home yet, which was a huge plus. I didn't think I could stand hearing that witch curse him out today. Taking a deep breath, I moved deeper into the house. "Hello? Anyone home?"

When no answer came, I chanced a look in the direction of their door. Usually, the solid oak was closed and locked, the only room in the house they didn't like me to clean, but today it was ajar. I had to admit I was tempted to sneak closer and take a peek. After cleaning this house for the last three years, I'd never seen the inside of their room. Squishing the urge that plagued me, I bit my lip and forced myself in the opposite direction, following tan granite to the spacious kitchen.

I squinted past the sunlight burning bright from skylights above the stove. The glint shining off the stainless steel stove nearly blinded me, the beam making me blink past the brightness several times to bring the room back into focus.

This place was a goddamn wonderland compared to the cramped apartment I shared with my dad. A large dinette sat to one side with huge picture windows overlooking the grounds. Acres of neatly mowed grass were visible from where I stood, a large built-in deck leading down into a brick barbecue while a stone pathway leads to a full-length pool.

I was fifteen when I landed the job of a lifetime. Fifteen. I'd looked everywhere for work. Something that paid more than minimum wage, something I, as a teen and full-time student could do without having a shit ton of experience. Why on earth a rock God would ever give me the time of day was beyond me. Maybe it was the holes in my shoes, or possibly my luck had decided to look up that day. Whatever the case, I have cleaned for the rock legend and lead guitarist of Ivory Kiss, Edward Cullen, for the last three years.

I ran my hand along the marble island smiling at my good fortune. It was the third anniversary of working here, and honestly, next year when I headed off to college I was going to miss the hell out of this job. Of course, the house and the job weren't the only things I would miss. Biting the inside of my cheek, I spied the black guitar pick next to the chair on the floor. Smiling, I head across the kitchen and pick up the small black triangle.

The house was immaculate, not even a salt shaker out of place. Even so, I managed to find a guitar pick almost every single day in the most unlikely spots. An ivory one with Ivory Kiss scrolled across the smooth surface under the couch cushions. A black one with a white kiss print in the bathroom near the soap dish. I even found one in a pan when I was looking for a saucepan to make chicken noodle soup one day.

With a quick look around to ensure I'm alone, I stick the pick in my pocket before I turned abruptly for the pantry. I knew I was being ridiculous, but sometimes I thought Edward left the picks in random places, knowing I take them. I shouldn't but for some insane reason, I just can't resist. It's not like I'm a freak who likes to steal. I would never even consider the notion, but those damn picks were too damn tempting.

There's a cherrywood box under my bed with every last one of them inside. This one I just found would make over three hundred by now.

If I wanted to make a quick fortune I could sell my tiny treasures online. They were just too special and meant way more than the couple hundred bucks they would go for on some website. Plus, Edward paid me nearly four hundred a week to clean this house, so I wasn't in dire need of instant cash. I hit the jackpot that day at the grocery store that's for sure.

Edward Cullen was certainly not leaving little treasures for me. He'd probably fire my ass if he ever found out I was taking them. Rolling my eyes at my absurdity, I opened the pantry and collected my bucket of cleaning supplies. I checked the contents of my bucket, wood polish, toilet bowl cleaner, duster, rags, and all-purpose cleaner is all present. Arranging the chemicals, I stepped back into the kitchen and turned toward the hall.

"Hey, babe, I wasn't expecting you back so soon," a deep raspy voice said. Startled by the unexpected endearment, I stopped dead in my tracks, my eyes landing on the man himself. He was coming out of his bedroom, a thick white towel wrapped around his waist, his navy eyes lifting to land on me. He visibly winced, holding his hand up as he shook his head. "Sorry 'bout that. Thought Angela was home."

A flash of heat spiked through my chest and splintered throughout the rest of me. He was what all men aspired to be. Muscles from head to fucking toe, rock hard abs, chiseled jaw, sharp cheekbones, and a killer smile. Tribal art wrapped around his arm and snaked around his shoulder, licking at his neck. Barbells pierced his nipples, and a fine layer of hair is dusted across his perfectly etched chest. The familiar ache I have associated with Edward leaps to life as I stand there gaping at him as if I'm a fish out of water.

The corners of his nicely bowed lips twitched as if he knew exactly what I'm thinking. Butterflies are bouncing in my stomach, and somehow, I peeled my tongue from the roof of my mouth. Forcing myself to maintain eye contact with Edward was a fucking trial, his gaze far too electrifying lately. I managed, a lopsided smile taking over my mouth. "Nope. Just me."

"Good," he mumbled, stepping further into the dimly lit hallway. Droplets of water trail down his pecs, heading for those delicious abs, and I swore, the muscles in my thighs practically quivered. He laughs, "That means I have another hour of peace."

I bit my tongue to keep from agreeing with him. For the last nine months, I've had to watch that banshee degrade every move Edward makes. It was beyond me why he married Angela, to begin with, but to endure her constant put-downs daily was a whole other story.

If you asked me the man was a saint for dealing with the she-devil. Hormones or not, I could never treat someone I chose to marry like that. My eyebrows flicker as I studied him closely. "I suppose you do." I looked away from the intensity of his gaze and take a deep breath. My heart flips in my chest as it stuttered, and slowly resumed its beating. "I should probably get to work. This house isn't going to clean itself."

He shifted, drawing my attention to his bare feet, and unable to help myself, I trace the hair from his ankle to his knee. I was dying to know what lay beneath that terrycloth. I might have just turned eighteen, but I'm not an idiot. The guys at my school, hell all of California didn't hold a candle to the man before me.

"What rooms are on the agenda today?" He moved a few steps closer, causing a rush of heat to skip down my spine. Ignoring the effect he had on me, I squared my shoulders and focused on what he asked.

Every day I came here and clean different rooms because let's face it, this place is way too big to clean all at once. "I'm going to do Angel's room, the guest bedrooms, and probably the bathrooms upstairs." I shift the weight of the cleaning supplies to my other hand, making a special effort to keep my wandering eyes under control. "Unless you have something else in mind. It's your dollar, Mr. Cullen."

His brow furrowed, his gaze searching mine, making me feel a tad uncomfortable. "Since when do you call me Mr. Cullen, Bella? You haven't referred to me like that in years."

It was true. For the past two years, Edward had become a very good friend to me, almost like a brother. The fact that Edward felt so comfortable with me sent a secret thrill shooting through my chest, a thousand fireflies scattering in different directions at the knowledge. We talked about almost everything from my first date to his doomed marriage. The only problem was, I didn't want to be viewed as a younger sister. Of course, considering he was spoken for, and I was nearly twelve years younger than him, I stood about as much chance with him as I did hitting the lotto. That fact instantly smothered the rush I was feeling. I shrugged with a shake of my head. "I don't know." Hoping to distract him from the direction of this conversation, I glanced down the hallway. "Were there other rooms you'd like me to clean in place of the guest rooms?"

Luckily, he let the matter drop as he shuffled past me on his way to the staircase that led downstairs. Flipping the light switch on, a soft yellow glow illuminated the stairs as he turned back to face me. "We had band practice here last night. You can probably skip upstairs today and do it tomorrow. I'm going on tour next month so we will be practicing more often until then. If you could make sure everything is in tiptop shape down there I'd appreciate it."

"Yeah, absolutely," I replied, my attention floating down the curve of his spine to his ass. Edward Cullen was built like a statue, truly a work of art, every muscle etched to perfection. The way that towel hugged his hips sent my heart into overdrive, and with as much willpower as I could manage, I tore my eyes away.

Luckily, his attention was diverted by the sound of the garage door lifting, and he didn't notice me ogling him. I squeeze past him, stopping at the first landing. "Am I going to need extra trash bags? The last time it looked like a cyclone ripped through the basement, the pictures were even crooked."

Edward's head dipped with a nod, and a too-rare smile formed on his lips. When I first met him, he smiled all the time but since marrying Angela, they were few and far between. "Probably. The band gets pretty roddy when we practice. Plus the guys brought their girls. Hell, I can't even remember what it looks like down there. But an extra roll of trash bags should be under the sink in the bar."

He just finished speaking when the back door opened, and Angela's shrill voice rang through the hallway. "I could use some help, Edward. I can't be toting this car seat along with my bags."

His navy gaze flashed to mine, and I noticed the aggravation in his blue depths. The muscle in his jaw twitched, and he clenched his teeth. Abruptly, he pulled his weight off the wall he was leaning against and disappeared around the corner.

Every time that woman spoke to him, I wanted to rip her damn throat out. She acted like being his wife is a huge inconvenience and everything he does disgust her. Why would she marry him if she despised him so much? That is the million-dollar question.

"Is Bella here?" She asks, and he must've nodded in answer because she hissed at him. "What the hell are you doing walking around in a towel while that little charity case is here?"

Humiliation burned hot in my chest. I had half a mind to go and give that greedy bitch a piece of my mind. It wasn't my fault my dad had walked in on a robbery gone bad or was shot in the line of duty. It wasn't my fault the pension they gave him wasn't enough to cover the heaps of bills that poured in. When the situation had become more than we could bear, I'd foregone my teenage years to work and pay what his checks didn't cover. Swallowing the lump of dread clawing at my throat, I eased further down the staircase, stopping midway, hoping to hear the rest of their conversation.

"Why are you always such a bitch? I thought you were home and came out of the bedroom to see. Don't talk about her like that." He paused for a second, and then, continued, "She's just a kid and has had a hard time. I always said if I ever amounted to shit, I'd spread the wealth."

"Whatever, Edward, you're such an idiot. What happened to the badass guitarist you used to be? You're so caught up in the family bullshit you've forgotten who you are." I heard rustling about just before she said, "Take this stupid kid you begged me to have. You said if I had her, you would take care of her."

"I had to take a shower, Angela. You couldn't watch her for two minutes?"

My heart squeezed painfully. How could a woman have such a beautiful baby and talk about her like that?

At the monthly cookout Edward had, he'd had a few too many drinks, and told me Angela never wanted to have the baby, and he'd literally begged her to. His wife wanted the highlights of being attached to a rockstar, the spotlight, the parties, and the attention, without the actual wifely duties. Listening to the way Angela spoke of Angel, I had to wonder if that's how my mother viewed me. Maybe that's why my mom packed her bags and split after Dad got shot. Renee had wanted to be a cop's wife without the responsibilities of carrying for her husband and kid.

I couldn't stand to hear anymore. As quietly as I could, I walked down the stairs, and Edward's reply was muffled as I continued until I was standing at the sink at the bar. I shouldn't care what that woman thought of me, and I didn't. Hearing Edward's reply about me being just a kid stung worse than anything she could say.

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