Something Real

by Cheriana-1

His overnight millions didn't make him happy. Actually, Edward felt more like he'd lost it all — until a pretty girl in a beat-up pickup truck nearly mowed him down, and he found everything money couldn't buy. There's more than one way to strike it rich. (All Human) *Tied for 1st place in the Public Vote for the TFN For Richer or Poorer Contest*

Author's Note:

Originally written for the TwiFandom News "For Richer or Poorer" contest held in August 2020. Original ending has now been expanded, since I'm no longer working under a word limit. (Basically, I expanded the lemon at the end.)

This fic will later be continued into a full story, although I have to finish Beyond Unreasonable first because there are a couple people who might actually hunt me down and shoot me if I don't. (And I'm not complaining! I love those people who let me know they're enjoying it and kick my butt to update!)

Awards:

*Tied for 1st Place, Public Vote award*

*3rd Place, Judges' Vote award*

*Recipient of Judge's Favorite award (Judge mariescullen)*

*Best Clapback on Entitlement Award for best rags to riches story*

---

When one purchases a flashy prototype sports car that costs triple the price of the average suburban McMansion, one generally expects that it will get them from point A to point B without dumping their ass on the side of the road just outside some little no-name town in Washington.

And one would be wrong, apparently.

Considering his shoes also fell into the category of obscenely expensive, Edward couldn't even gain the slight satisfaction of kicking the shit out of the tires.

Why did he let his sister talk him into these things? Alice knew how he felt about all of this ostentatious garbage. So why did he keep going along with it?

Probably for the same reasons he was currently driving into this sleepy little town she claimed to have seen in a "vision" — because psychic medium was her latest get-even-richer-quick scheme — insisting that he just had to visit this particular place on this particular day.

Boredom and curiosity, namely, were those reasons. The kind of boredom and curiosity that only came about due to being very, very goddamn rich and useless.

He should just call Rosalie, the far more useful sister — he didn't really mean that, but he was actually sweating in his bespoke Italian suit Alice had promised he'd love — and beg her to fly out on the jet and do her vehicle voodoo. It wasn't like Rose was any busier than the rest of them, these days.

But his maleness dictated that he must first pop the hood and stare into the inner workings for an undetermined number of seconds.

He gave that up when he couldn't even find the damn hood, much less any way of popping it open. That's what he got for forking over a cool million dollars for what amounted to an overgrown toy for spoiled little boys. Which, apparently, was what he had become in the past year.

He was never, ever, EVER listening to his sister again. Either one of them. Which meant that calling Rosalie and letting her give him shit about being auto-clueless was eliminated as a possible plan.

He could call AAA, but where was the fun in that? He'd only gone along with this insane trip in the first place because if something interesting didn't happen soon, he was going to take up illegal skyscraper climbing or cliff diving or something equally life-threatening, just to remember what it felt like to have something to lose.

A godawful rumbling approached from the distance, drawing his eyes up. Whatever it was hadn't yet come into view, so he stared instead at the giant green sign that his car had managed to break down right in front of.

The City of Forks Welcomes You

And that was nice of them and all, but he'd had enough and he hadn't even entered the city limits yet.

The source of his mysterious rumbling sound came into view, topping the hill about a quarter mile past the sign, headed his way. Out of Forks. Which was a good sign about the occupant. Whoever was very slowly driving that big orange piece of shit might not have had decent taste in vehicles or even know where the accelerator was, apparently, but they at least had enough sense to be leaving this godforsaken place.

A gigantic old orange pickup truck from a sleepy town. That just had to mean some hillbilly with a toolbox. It might not mean they could fix a million-dollar car, but it might at least be amusing watching them beat the useless piece of junk to death with a well-intentioned wrench. And Alice would want to kill him, which he currently considered a plus.

So he didn't even think twice. Him and his many thousand dollars' worth of apparel sauntered right out into the middle of the road, pulling out a pocket square he'd rolled his eyes at when his sister foisted it upon him. He shook out the careful folds and waved that thing for all he was worth. If Forks Hillbilly Number One needed a grease rag, he knew exactly what he was offering.

But his hillbilly turned out to be a little slip of a girl with long, glossy brown hair and dark pools of chocolate for eyes, with a tear-streaked face and dark circles under her eyes.

In that one glance through the windshield, his guts clenched. He thought she must have been the prettiest thing he'd ever seen in his life. Dark circles and all.

And then she damn near ran him right over.

Looking back on it later, he would be fairly certain that was the very moment he lost his heart. Ironic that it should happen at the same instant he very nearly lost his legs.

Because did he mention? Just as he was realizing the pretty brown-eyed girl didn't see him and was about to turn him into well-dressed road pizza, he lunged back toward the safety of his car...at the same moment that she saw him and swerved right toward the useless flashy thing too, to try to miss him.

It was a good thing he was light on his feet. He was very nearly standing between the two vehicles when she slammed directly into his ill-fated vehicular investment. And not even Carlisle's surgical skills and his more money than God could have grown him new legs.

---

She came tumbling out of the orange truck, running toward him before he could even get back to his feet — because, yes, he had jumped out of the way. Dived through the air like the star outfielder for the...shit, he couldn't even think of a team. Baseball wasn't his thing.

In his defense, it was hard to focus on baseball players when he was staring up at creamy legs in cutoff shorts that probably cost three bucks at the local Walmart, topped with a pretty little blue shirt that was his new second-favorite color. Right after dark chocolate brown.

"Oh my God!" The girl's eyes were wide as she knelt above him, hands moving around a foot or so above his body like she wasn't sure what part of him to check for blood and broken bones first. "Are you okay?"

If he said no, would she stop waving her hands around like a magician trying to make him disappear and actually touch him? Because if so, then he was gravely injured.

"What's your name?" he asked dazedly, grinning up at her. A little too dazedly.

Okay. Full disclosure. It was possible he had hit his head when he landed, and that may have had something to do with the fact that he was ready to start naming their future children. It was also possible that his brother-in-law Emmett would find that shit hilarious, so he was keeping it to himself.

He wasn't really sure why such a simple question as her name led to such panic, but it brought him slightly back to reality. The dark-haired angel above him, the one who just might give him mouth-to-mouth if he stopped breathing, suddenly jerked her hands back and leaned away, instantly defensive.

"I have insurance," she blurted out. "I swear."

"And I'm Edward," he replied, still grinning, and held out his hand. He managed to refrain from the obvious Dad-joke tragedy — nice to meet you, I-have-insurance — but it was a close one.

How hard had he hit his head?

He'd really expected her to shake his extended hand. Instead, she mistook his intention and jumped to her feet before grabbing his wrist firmly. And then she heaved him upward, trying to pull him to his feet.

But she was tiny, and he was both dizzy and more solidly built than he looked in Italian silk, thank you very much. So of course, that ended up with him landing back at her feet in an undignified heap when she dropped him. As one does.

The first crash landing had dazed him. The second one sobered him back up. Ribs really weren't meant to bounce twice in two minutes.

"Thanks, Geico," he deadpanned, trying to save face at the fact that his ribs now throbbed like a son of a bitch and he was really just trying to figure out how many macho points he'd lose for crying. He gallantly held his hand out again, instead. "This time, you could just shake it. And maybe tell me your name?"

Instead of trying to kill me again, his ribs seemed to scream in fear, because goddammit, the third time might be the charm.

She turned pink to the top of her hairline, and any part of him that wasn't already fully intrigued was an instant goner.

He'd met a lot of beautiful women in the last year. The majority of them had been ready to throw their panties at him for just one hit of the shiny new Cullen fortune. He wasn't under illusions on that topic. It was neither his sparkling personality nor the ole' family jewels they were after, even if he was fully aware that his good looks made their 'noble' sacrifices for his money somewhat less burdensome for them.

He was a red-blooded guy, not a saint, so at first he went with it. He had even enjoyed the attention, for a little while, before it grew monotonous and...empty.

But of most importance, suddenly, was the dawning realization that in that entire year of being considered one of the West Coast's newest and richest most eligible bachelors, he hadn't met one woman — not even one — who had blushed at him.

Or tried to mow him down in a ghastly behemoth of a pickup truck before refusing to tell him her name and then dropping him on his ass. Quite literally.

Even her soft, warm hand was flaming red when she leaned over him and delicately placed it in his — finally — and let him shake it. She awkwardly jerked her hand back and straightened up just a little too quickly, instead of trying to draw out the contact and caress his fingers like the gold-diggers who threw themselves at him.

He had quickly learned how to shut that shit down cold.

This girl? He was a little disappointed she hadn't tried it, because he'd have let her get away with it. With a big sappy smile on his face.

Yep, him and his ribs were both so very, very screwed.

There was just something about her, something vulnerable that woke up every protective instinct he never knew he possessed. Even though he was the one lying on the ground like a damsel in distress.

He wanted to know why she had been crying just before she attempted to mow him down… and so help him God, he wanted to fix it. Whether that meant using his checkbook, his fists, or handing her his damn heart to do with as she pleased, he was down for it.

"I'm Bella," she finally told him, only after she had her hand safely out of his and shoved into her pocket. "And I'm so, so sorry. I know you're not supposed to say that. But oh my God, your car."

She was starting to look a little pale, looking past his prone body at the million-dollar vehicle he'd yet to even glance at. So he quelled his inner drama king and hauled his battered ass up off the ground, hovering at her side in case she needed support. She didn't even come up to his chin.

"Not supposed to say what?" he asked in confusion. "Your name?"

"Admit fault," she answered distractedly, completely missing his best attempts to pull her gaze to his face. He was bobbing around like a cork and she didn't even notice. "It's, like, the first rule of insurance. It's even on the little card. Oh my God, your car!"

He was just about to call her Geico again and tease her for her weird obsession with insurance, maybe get another pretty blush out of the deal, when he realized she was going down. And not in the fun kind of way.

"Bella!" he called her name, catching her around the waist as she slumped into his side.

And then he groaned, digging down deep until the explosion of pain from his bruised ribs subsided, at least enough that he could hold his breath and heft her up into his arms without passing out right along with her.

Of three things he was absolutely certain.

1) Bella was a menace.

2) There was some part of her — and he had no idea yet how dominant that part might be — that had a definite vendetta against his ribs.

And 3) He was unconditionally, irrevocably in like with her.

---

It wasn't until he was trying to wrestle open the door of her truck to have a suitable place to put her down — preferably without returning the favor of dropping her on her ass — that he noticed the bed of her truck was loaded high with what looked to be everything she owned. Neatly labeled boxes, a mattress, some cheap furniture.

So she had been leaving Forks for good. And somebody strong had helped her, because there was no way such a tiny girl had hefted everything he saw into the bed of that truck alone, much less tied it down with as much tension as it was secured.

Possibly a dad or brother. Could be a boyfriend.

Why the hell did that thought bother him?

And who was waiting for her on the other end to help her unload all this stuff?

Equally importantly, why had she been crying?

He was getting more and more curious by the moment. And more concerned, which was a new feeling for him. He hadn't found much to be concerned about in the past year, much less another person.

He was also really, really hoping that the police weren't about to come along and see him shoving an unconscious girl into a vehicle. Carlisle Cullen might be almost ridiculously indulgent with his children, but he was not going to be amused if he got a phone call that his only son had been very publicly arrested for kidnapping. Nor would the shareholders.

But he couldn't leave her on the edge of the road, and his mangled car didn't exactly have anywhere to let her lie down — and again, kidnapping is bad — so he managed to get her into her own truck feet-first and slide her across, lying her down with her head in the driver's seat. And he accomplished it mostly without incident, other than his ribs cussing him out.

She was already starting to come around by the time he was able to let her go and pull his phone out, just about to call 911.

"Easy, Bella," he soothed, as her eyes opened. She still startled when she saw him leaning over her from where he stood outside the driver's door, bent down with his head inside, upside down from her perspective.

"It's okay," he reassured her, with a gentle tone he'd never heard from his own voice. "You passed out. I was just getting you out of the road. I'm going to call an ambulance, okay?"

But it wasn't okay. That was clear from her reaction. She sat up so fast he had to duck his head back out of the door to keep her from slamming into him. Although, at this point, her breaking his nose would be preferable to more abuse to his midsection.

She swiveled around until she was sitting in the driver's seat facing him.

"You can't do that!" she begged. "Please...I can't go to a hospital. I'm fine."

He hesitated. "I don't know. You might need to get checked out. You hit my car pretty hard."

She had forgotten that, apparently, and it wasn't a welcome reminder. She groaned, dropping her head down to the steering wheel.

"Your car," she lamented, for at least the third time. "Oh my God."

For some reason, he smiled. "Yeah, it's toast," he told her cheerfully. "I'm pretty sure we're supposed to call the police now and swap phone numbers and stuff. I mean, you're the insurance girl. You tell me."

He was trying to be funny, maybe coax a smile out of her and get her phone number for real. But she looked completely panicked when her head shot back up.

"Oh God. The police. Are we still in Forks?"

He glanced up at the sign. The City of Forks Welcomes You. He glanced warily back at the woozy girl who still looked a little too pale.

"Uh...just outside, maybe? It's hard to say. Why? You have something against the Forks Police?"

Tears welled up in her eyes as she resignedly shook her head, biting her lip as she turned her gaze away from him and the first tear fell. She looked utterly defeated, presumably waiting for him to make the call.

And that was the moment he took complete leave of his senses. Because for all he knew, she was running from the police. He was an open-minded, modern kind of guy. Just because she was a pretty girl didn't mean she couldn't also be an axe murderer. He congratulated himself on his enlightenment just for considering the possibility.

"I'll make a deal with you," he offered anyway, fully aware that he was about to just write off a million-dollar investment with no hope of ever recouping the cost.

Hope entered her eyes. And he knew he had made the right decision. He decided he was keeping that hope there.

"To not call the police? I'll seriously do anything," she gushed. And then realized what she'd just said.

She fidgeted in her seat, turning that lovely shade of pink again that had so captured his attention. Her eyes involuntarily ran down and back up his expensive suit, and he was pretty sure he actually felt it. His eyebrow went up in a pretty clear WTF while he tried not to squirm, because he was at least reasonably certain she wasn't the type of girl to proposition her way out of trouble.

She turned even redder when she made it back to his face and saw his bemused expression.

"I mean..." she stammered, "not anything anything. I didn't mean it like that."

He tried — and was not entirely successful in the effort — to hide the smile that was crookedly creeping across his face. But she was reaching an alarming shade of red, so he decided to take pity on her and just ignore that entire exchange.

"So if I agree not to call the police or an ambulance," he continued instead, with his original plan before Bella's mind evidently entered the gutter first, "you agree to give me a ride to wherever you're headed and let me help you unload all this. I'll get somebody to pick me up afterward. Assuming, of course, that we can get your truck to crank back up."

He eyed it warily. Her big hulking truck looked absolutely none the worse for wear, as opposed to his mangled heap of what was now very expensive scrap metal. So it was a pretty safe bet on the truck functioning.

His ribs surviving long enough to unload all that furniture, on the other hand...while wearing Italian silk and it was hotter than hell outside...

Ah, well, he'd cross that bridge if he managed to reach it. There was a damn good chance this girl would kill him first anyway, if the past five minutes were any indication. It just might be a moot point.

"What about your car?" she asked, and a little thrill raced through his stomach because she must be considering his offer.

He spared the machine a glance and a careless shrug. "I'm pretty sure it's not going anywhere." Considering how many times in a row he'd tried turning the key before he gave up and walked out into the road like an idiot, he was actually pretty damn certain of it. "I'll arrange to have it towed."

She scoffed, a tiny disbelieving little sound. "Yeah. I don't know much about cars, but I can tell that's not the kind of car you just leave on the side of the road."

That one he had an answer for. A definitive answer.

"That," he said, gesturing dramatically toward the traitorous car that had dumped him on the side of the road first, his voice rising theatrically, "That is exactly the kind of car you just leave on the side of the road."

She giggled a little at his mutinous glare toward it, despite having no way of knowing exactly what caused his ire. And he didn't care why it amused her. He just wanted to hear that sound again.

"If you say so," she said skeptically. And then she apparently lost the battle to keep her eyes on his face, because they were wandering down his body again.

"Hey, listen...I hope I didn't give you the wrong idea," she said, suddenly shy, all while the path of her eyes continued to give him the wrong idea some more. "I'm not — I mean, when I said 'anything', I meant like try to pay you back or...or work for you or something. You look like a businessman, that's all. I didn't literally mean, you know, anything. So if that's why you're doing this..." she trailed off uncertainly.

Again, he couldn't hide his smile if he'd tried, so he went with it and just turned on his best dazzling, megawatt grin, the one that had put him on the cover of more than one magazine proclaiming him "most eligible bachelor" or "hottest catch on the West Coast".

"So just to be clear," he said in a serious tone belied by his expression, "that's a no, then, on chaining you up in my dungeon?"

Her eyes grew wider and her lips parted in shock before he quickly rolled his eyes and she realized he was kidding.

And then she flung her hand out sideways, backhanding him right in the gut. "That wasn't nice!" she scolded. "You scared me!"

The ribs again. What was it with this girl? He grunted but managed to keep his eyes from watering, because he'd be damned before he'd admit that tiny little hand actually hurt.

"I'm pretty sure I'm the one who should be scared," he muttered in a very manly way, totally not gasping like he was dying. Or something like that. "You're not an axe murderer are you, Bella?"

Her eyes were still kind of wide. "No! Why? Are you?"

Seriously? He was the wannabe murderer now? He could point out that in the five minutes he'd known her, she'd already tried to run him over, then attempted to pick him up only to throw him right back onto his ass, followed by collapsing all of her weight into his already bruised side, and then topping that whole thing off by freaking slugging him.

And he was still trying to save her.

Instead, he gestured in the direction of his ridiculously flashy car. "Yeah, of course I am. That's why I drive that. So I can blend right in."

If she swung at him again, he was fully prepared to block it. A guy can only take so much. Instead, she cracked a tiny smile. "Okay. Yeah, that would be pretty stupid. So not a serial killer?"

"Nope. Normal guy."

Normal guy with a billion dollars and a hero complex, apparently, but probably best not to point that out.

Like she had heard that thought, she grew serious. "So why are you doing this? I mean, I can't really pay you, and...I mean, I really wasn't offering to sleep with you." She was staring at him, more baffled than suspicious. "So like I said...why are you doing this?"

He couldn't tell her the truth:

Because something about you makes me feel fiercely protective, and I'm afraid the next guy you mow down might try to hold you to that offer to do anything.

Because somebody needs to keep an eye on you so you don't pass out again, and if you do, I'm throwing you over my shoulder and taking you to the hospital whether you like it or not. And I'm paying the bill, because I have a feeling that's why you don't want to go.

Because I need to know where you're headed so I can find you again, because my heart flipped over in my chest the second I saw your face and that's never happened to me before.

She might try to run him over again if he said any of that crazy stuff to a girl he just met, and honestly, he couldn't blame her. He had little sisters and he knew how to use his fists. And if some guy had ever started that shit five minutes after meeting Rose or Al, he'd have put that knowledge to good use.

So he casually shrugged instead.

"I've got nothing better to do today. And if you don't mind me saying so, you seem like you could use the help."

She was tearing up again, and they'd been down that road once already, so he already knew it wasn't a thing he could handle. He put his hands up and made a shooing motion. "Slide over," he told her. "I'll drive."

He might have sounded cocky, but he kind of couldn't believe when she actually did it, despite her protest. "It's my truck!"

"Yeah, and we've seen how that goes," he muttered half to himself, climbing in and turning the key in the ignition before she could come to her senses and change her mind. The beastly thing rumbled to life and he smiled triumphantly, like he actually had anything to do with it. "Where to?"

Her hesitation and her lower lip trembling were the first indications that his day had just become even more dramatic, even before she bit into that quivering lip and quietly told him the truth.

"I...I don't really know."

---

It took some doing, sitting right there on the side of the road, but he pulled the story out of her.

Her dad died. Eight months ago.

He had been the chief of police in Forks for many, many years. He died on the job, trying to defuse a domestic hostage situation. The bullet that some worthless, abusive asshole had intended for his own wife had hit Bella's dad, instead.

The entire Forks PD had eventually made their way to her house to pay her their respects personally.

That at least explained why she didn't want to involve them.

She had been trying to hold down all of the bills and the mortgage by herself ever since, all with a crummy retail job at some dinky sporting goods store called Newton's and while trying to take community college classes.

It hadn't worked. She was losing the house, and she couldn't afford school anymore, either.

Her best friend, Jake — and it must be mentioned that Edward hated this guy upon very first mention of his name, simply by virtue of his existence — had "selflessly" offered to marry her and take care of her.

Bella was pretty certain Jake was a saint; Edward wasn't so sure. Because if he was that good of a friend, why couldn't he do something to help her without requiring an implied sexual contract? It sounded a little sketchy and self-serving to him.

But when she declined Saint Jake's oh-so-magnanimous offer, the guy had at least still helped her pack everything up, believing that she was going to Phoenix to stay with her mom.

Strike two. What kind of idiot would willingly let this girl walk out of his life without putting up one hell of a fight first?

But she had misled Jake. She wasn't really going to her mom's.

In all reality, she had exactly zero idea where her mom was. Which was also why she was broke, incidentally. Aside from the house, her dad had never thought to make anyone other than Bella's mother his beneficiary on anything. Everything else he owned, including his life insurance, was tied up in probate until Bella's flighty mother could be located. And Bella had used all her savings to pay for her father's funeral, so she ran out of money fast.

Edward listened, slightly awed. She hadn't told this Jake asshole how bad things really were, apparently. She was an independent one.

She was also completely on her own with nowhere to go. All she knew was that she wanted to start over somewhere fresh. Except she had only a few hundred dollars to her name and a truck full of stuff with nowhere to put it.

It got worse.

She had only been able to take what she could fit onto the truck, and the date on her official notice to vacate was tomorrow. Everything else she and her Dad had owned would then be thrown out into the rainy Forks weather in front of the house, to eventually either be stolen or make its way into a garbage dump.

When she almost ran over Edward, she had been in the process of leaving Forks a day early because she just couldn't bear to stay and watch. As of about 15 minutes before they met, she was essentially homeless.

If it wasn't for the fact that she stared out the window away from him the whole time she was pouring out her story, and that her body language was sending off a very loud and strong 'don't touch me' vibe, he'd have pulled her into his arms and hugged her. He wanted to.

Either way, for the first time in the last year, ever since the Cullen family made it big financially and yet somehow managed to lose everything that actually mattered in the process, he had a cause he cared about.

That cause was making sure that Bella — and God, he didn't even know her last name yet — was going to be okay.

And she would. Because there was very little he wouldn't do to ensure it.

---

There was complete silence in the truck for a full minute after she finished her story.

He was trying to figure out a place for them to go. And yes, he meant them, because the chance that he was leaving this too-trusting girl anywhere alone was next to nil.

And then inspiration struck.

"Where's your house, Bella?"

She turned a tear-stained face toward him, looking confused, like she had almost forgotten he was even there, listening. "Huh?"

"Your house...your dad's house. There's still a few hours left before dark. I can have a truck dropped off there, and I'll help you load up anything else you want to keep. My family's old house is just outside Seattle, and you can use it to store everything. We'll stay the night at your house and head out tomorrow morning. You can follow me there and keep your stuff there as long as you need. You can even stay there, if you want. Rent free."

Her mouth opened and closed wordlessly. "You have to be kidding me," she finally got out.

His brow furrowed. "What?"

"I didn't tell you all this because I expected you to fix it!" She sounded almost angry. "I don't even know you! I don't know your family!"

Yeah, okay, he realized, he hadn't approached this the best way. Him and his dad had been outnumbered by women for years, and yet he had just made rookie mistake number one: coming up with all the answers when he was supposed to be listening.

So he kept his voice calm and just shamelessly diverted the topic off point. "They'd like you. Believe me. I mean, maybe not Rosalie, but she doesn't really like anybody other than Emmett, so..."

Bella threw her hands up like he'd just proven her point. "Who's Rosalie? And Emmett? And...and — and wait, why wouldn't she like me?"

That final question came with an abrupt shift in demeanor that included a little hurt in her voice. And it warmed him from the inside out. If he wasn't very damn careful, he'd fall hopelessly in love with this girl.

He smiled crookedly. "Rosalie is my very spoiled, vain, shallow sister. She's the best mechanic you'll ever meet, though. As far as not liking you, she doesn't like anybody she thinks might be prettier than her. And don't take this the wrong way, but you're kind of gorgeous, Bella."

She stared at him, slack-jawed, and he didn't want to send her into shock, so he quickly continued.

"And Emmett is her very newlywed husband, my brother-in-law. He's an MMA fighter. Pretty well known, too. I kicked his rear end once, though. Laid him out flat." He puffed his chest out for effect, and she bit her lip and looked away to hide her smile.

Tough audience.

"Rear end?" she finally echoed, looking back at him with a question on her face.

"Yeah...uh," he admitted a little sheepishly, and hoped he wasn't the one blushing now. "You caught that, huh? That's my dad coming out in me. He raised me to watch my language...you know, around ladies. I know. It's sexist and old fashioned, but...well, I guess you could say it stuck."

Her head tilted to the side, studying him a little more intently now. He wished he could know what she was thinking.

"Is Rosalie your only sibling?" she asked after a moment. He felt a surge of relief, because at least he had her talking again.

But on the other hand, he couldn't think of a worse topic.

"Uh...no. There's Alice. But I'm trying really hard here to keep you from running away screaming, so I'm not even going to try to explain Alice. She just got married, too — double wedding with Rosalie. Her husband Jasper's an Army Ranger. He got deployed almost immediately after the wedding, so it kind of sucks to be Ali right now."

And when Ali was bored, Ali meddled in his life, so it kind of sucked to be him too. Except today, her meddling was working out really, really well for him, so he kept that part to himself.

Bella was still studying him closely, considering. She wasn't kicking him out of her truck yet, so he decided to throw a hail Mary.

"Listen. You have no reason to trust me. I get it. But it sounds like you've been overdue to catch a lucky break for a while now. Maybe I'm it. And I don't normally do this kind of thing either, but I really do just want to help you. No strings attached. You won't owe me a dime...or anything else, for that matter. And I actually do mean anything."

She smiled just a little, catching both his meaning and the fact that he was using her own phrasing on her.

That smile had him deciding to press his luck. "Although...if you decided you wouldn't mind having dinner with me at some point later, just because you wanted to, I definitely wouldn't object."

And there it was. Cards on the table. Ball in her court. Diving in headfirst. In for a penny, in for a pound. Putting his money where his mouth was. He hoped she'd put him out of his misery soon, because he was not only out of cliches, he was also sweating bullets.

"The house is back the other way," she finally told him by way of answer, more than a little shyly. "Back in Forks."

Of course it was. Of freaking course it was. He'd known the moment he broke down in front of that big green sign that Alice had got at least one thing right: the city of Forks, Washington had plans for him, and he wasn't getting away that easily.

---

Arranging a tow truck for his car and then a U-Haul to be delivered to her house ended up being more difficult than he had originally planned, wasting more time by the side of the road.

For starters, Bella didn't have a phone — something he intended to remedy quickly, because the thought of her driving around all alone with no way to call for help nearly broke him out in a cold sweat.

And his phone had been in his pocket when he took a dive. He must have landed on it, because the screen was a shattered mess. The thing was still functional. It just took far too many tries to accomplish anything.

He eventually managed it, and they were ready to get on the road.

But he had no more than got her big bulky truck turned around and headed in the right direction, when Bella decided she wanted to hear his story.

Not that he could really blame her. But he cringed anyway, because this...this was what he had been dreading.

On the upside, she wanted to get to know him better.

That might not have been a problem if there was even one flattering thing to truthfully tell her.

There wasn't.

"So what do you do?" she'd asked him, turning in her seat to face him. He could feel her curious eyes on him, but he kept his trained on the road.

He let out a nervous laugh and told her the truth.

"Nothing."

Not a damn thing, his mind echoed.

"No, I mean really," she persisted. "The suit, the car...do you, like, own a business or something?"

He could lie. He had a sleek, shiny little container of business cards in his pocket, touting him as the Assistant CEO of Cullen Technological, a Branch of Cullen Engineering. Carlisle had them made for him, in an attempt to legitimize him in some way, knowing in his own heart that his son had become just as useless and drifting as his daughters.

He could just show her one, stop her questions.

But he didn't do that. Because flattering or not, he suddenly realized he wanted this girl to know him. The real him.

His fingers gripped the steering wheel a little tighter, and another nervous chuckle broke free. "Um...well...it's kind of complicated."

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, and shit, he practically saw it when her walls went back up and her gaze dropped to her hands.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I didn't mean to pry."

"No!" he replied quickly, trying to catch her eye again. "It's not that. It's just...I don't know where to start." She still wasn't looking at him. His tone softened. "You can ask me anything you want, Bella. Please. I want you to. I do."

She took him at his word. She bit her lip and looked at him, more hesitantly than before. "How old are you?"

Apparently, she'd decided to try something a little less inflammatory.

"I'm 26," he answered quickly. "And you? If you don't mind my asking."

"23," she responded just as quickly. She was tiptoeing around him now, and he kind of hated it.

She sat mulling her next question over, sneaking glances his way, until he couldn't take it anymore.

"Okay," he sighed. "Whatever question you're dying to ask me right now? I want you to just say it, and I promise to answer it honestly."

"Are you in the mob or something?" she blurted, and he was so shocked that he forgot to watch the road for a second, staring at her with his mouth hanging open. It unnerved her enough that she kept talking. "I mean... is that why you didn't want to call the police either?"

He didn't mean to laugh at her. He really didn't. But he couldn't help it. She looked so immediately chagrined, though, that he reined it back in pretty quick.

"That was you who didn't want me to call the police, remember?" he reminded her, still chuckling. "No, Bella. I'm not a serial killer, and I'm not in the mob, and I'm not a drug dealer or any other kind of criminal either. I've never even had a parking ticket, much less been arrested." He sighed, his demeanor changing. "And even if I got arrested, my dad would probably just get me out of it."

His annoyed tone at the end had just given her an opening, and she was quick enough to take it. "So...your dad, then. What's the deal there?"

He took a deep breath. No going back now. "I'm sure you've heard of Carlisle Cullen?"

Here it came...

But instead of instantly squealing and losing her mind, her brow furrowed and her answer was completely indifferent. "No. I don't think so. Um, you're going to turn right up here."

Good Lord...marry me...

Probably not the best approach. So he shrugged instead of proposing.

"He's a surgeon first, billionaire second. Most of my life, he never made much money, because he ran a free clinic and did everything he could to help people. He was just a lot better at fixing patients than billing them. So we didn't have a lot, but he worked just enough hospital hours to make sure we had clothes on our backs and food on the table. Life was...pretty good, actually."

The wistfulness in his own tone surprised him.

Memories flashed across his mind:

Esme packing him a brown bag lunch for school every day and reminding him to bring home the sandwich bags so she could reuse them.

Carlisle barely being able to afford private boxing lessons for his completely obsessed son, who imagined himself the next heavyweight champion of the world, but having to buy him secondhand equipment and keep it in repair with duct tape.

Alice being thrilled about her latest hand-me-downs from Rosalie, instead of ordering designer clothes from Paris by the crate.

Rose tinkering with go-kart engines from the junk yard, instead of modifying Aston Martins and Rolls Royces.

Those had been the days. And he hadn't even realized it.

"But?" Bella prompted, snapping him out of it. So she heard that tone in his voice too.

One hand left the wheel, clenching into a fist in his lap. "A few years ago, Dad got an idea for a surgical tool, something that would be disposable but cost-effective, and also reduce the invasiveness and recovery time for patients. He invented it, got the patent, and founded Cullen Engineering. He sold crates of them to pretty much every hospital on the planet. And then a year ago, he sold the patent. I can't tell you for how much, but if I did, you wouldn't be worried about my car any more. I could buy fifty more if I wanted them. Which...let's be very clear...I really, really don't."

And he'd still have another 10 mil or so to blow through before he had a hope at getting his life back. But he'd keep that fantasy to himself.

"Wow." Bella was staring at him. "I mean...wow. But you don't seem too happy about it."

His jaw muscle was jumping. "Sometimes I'm not." He chanced a glance Bella's way. She looked a little like she felt sorry for him. The irony was...ironic. He was out of cliches and metaphors, apparently.

"Dad saw a chance to make things up to all three of us for everything he felt like he denied us growing up. So instead of making us work for it, he split every penny he made four ways: a fourth for himself and my mom, the other three fourths equally to me and my sisters. He wanted us to be free to do whatever we wanted in life." Edward scoffed bitterly. "He slightly overestimated our ambition, I guess you could say."

Bella nodded slowly. "So when I asked what you do and you said 'nothing'..."

"Exactly. I was telling you the truth. I quit my job, and so did my sisters. I was in my surgical residency, too. I had my whole life planned out. And now...just nothing. I can buy anything I want. But I'm bored and useless."

Bella studied him intently, and at least she didn't look disgusted. He'd take it. "Is there anything you like to do? Any hobbies?"

Finally, something he could answer. "Oh, that's easy. Boxing."

"Boxing?"

She looked at him like he was a little insane, and he couldn't help but smile. This was the part that was too out there for her to get on board with?

"Yeah. From middle school, all the way up through college. When I told you I kicked Emmett's tail once? I wasn't kidding. I was pretty good."

That was an understatement, actually. He could easily have made the Olympic boxing team, if he hadn't been so busy with his surgical residency that he barely had any time to train — and had also been afraid of damaging his hands. He told her none of that.

"Was pretty good," Bella echoed. She was quick. "So you don't box anymore either?"

He grinned ruefully. "Only when my brother-in-laws jump on me. Like I said, one's an MMA fighter and one's special forces. Fighting is their preferred method of bonding. We've all learned a lot about each other's styles, so I can handle myself pretty well in a fight. If somebody tries to kidnap me for ransom, they're in for a shock."

Bella squirmed in her seat, looking uncomfortable. Great idea, Edward, he realized...tell the skittish girl whose truck you just commandeered that you're a human fighting machine. He turned the conversation back in a "safer" direction.

"I don't know. I guess what bothers me most is that I never realized how guilty my dad felt all those years with the free clinic, like he was putting other people in front of providing for us. I never saw it that way. He was just my hero, you know?"

The touch of a tiny little hand closing over the fist he'd forgotten he had clenched in his lap just about bowled him over, a feeling close to electric shock. He looked over in surprise, and she was offering him a tiny understanding smile.

"Yeah, I do. That part I can relate to," she said, and squeezed his hand. He gratefully unclenched his fist, flipping it over to let her hand rest in his. He squeezed her fingers gently as remorse flooded him.

"I'm sorry, Bella. Here I am complaining about my dad, and you just lost yours."

She squeezed his hand back. "It's okay. I get it, I think. It sounds like you just want something to work for. Something real."

And she was the most real thing he'd met...ever. "Yeah," he said hoarsely. "That about sums it up."

She awkwardly pulled her hand back to push her hair behind her ear, her gaze flitting back to the road. "I get that too. It's why I wouldn't marry Jake, even if it would have made my life easier. I love him, but I'm not attracted to him. Not at all. Not like..."

She cut off abruptly, but he didn't fail to notice that her eyes almost involuntarily flicked back across him. And that she was blushing again.

He really, really wanted to hear the end of that thought.

But it wasn't to be. Because just then, Bella pointed out the window in front of them before he could figure out how to respond.

"We're here. That's the house right up here."

---

When he pulled into her driveway, he took in the white two-story house. Bella had taken care of the place. The yard was neat and tidy, the front porch clean and inviting.

He was so busy with the plan already formulating in his mind that he almost forgot about Bella beside him, until he heard her shaky intake of breath.

"I thought I'd never see it again," she said quietly, almost to herself.

He watched her for a second. She was making no move to get out of the truck. And she had reached out to touch him earlier. So he went with his first impulse. As he got out, he grabbed her hand and pulled her gently in his direction to follow him out the driver's side door.

"Come on, Geico. The truck should be here soon. We'll save as much as we can, okay? Do you have boxes, or do you need me to go find some?"

She didn't let go of his hand once her feet hit the ground. In fact, she stepped a little closer, like she found his presence comforting as she chewed on her lip and watched the house warily. It made him feel ten feet tall. If she wasn't letting go, he sure as hell wasn't.

"No, I boxed up everything I wanted already. I just didn't think about not being able to fit it all on the truck. Jake thought I was such an idiot."

Well, he thought Jake was one, so he guessed they were even. Even so, a flash of anger shot through him.

"Actually, it was pretty smart," he said lightly, concealing his urge to demonstrate his boxing skills on Saint Jake's face. "Should make things pretty easy."

He kept her hand in his as they walked through the yard and onto the porch, and she only let go to take down the envelope she had taped to the front door with the key in it for whoever would have showed up the next day to take possession of the house.

That thoughtful gesture made his heart actually ache.

There was another paper attached to the door right below it — the notice to vacate that had been posted to her door.

He scowled at that particular paper and yanked it down too, wadding it up in his fist.

"Edward!" Bella spun on him, eyes wide. "I think I'm supposed to leave that up."

She didn't know it yet, but it wasn't going to matter. He'd pretty much just decided he was getting this house back for her, no matter what it took.

But that eviction notice still fantastically pissed him off.

"Assholes," he muttered, with feeling, and after a shocked second she smiled at him.

"Thought you didn't use bad language in front of girls?"

He shrugged. "I said I try. But in this case, I'll make an exception."

She gently brushed her hand across his forearm in gratitude before taking the key out of the envelope and unlocking the door.

---

A split second after the door opened and Bella stepped inside, the sound of running feet drew Edward's full attention.

Not least because they were coming straight at Bella, and she instantly screamed.

He had barely enough time to grab her by the arm and yank her back out the door and behind him before the intruder reached the door and tried to barrel right past him, through the door and out onto the porch...

Where Bella was.

He stepped in front to intercept him and absorbed the impact, bracing one leg behind him. With a hard shove, he pushed the intruder back through the door into the house.

And he followed right behind, ignoring the fact that getting slammed into had painfully jangled his bruised ribs.

"Bella, go get in your truck!" he called over his shoulder, because he still didn't know what he was dealing with. He'd left her keys in the ignition. She could get away if she needed to.

Because it didn't really matter how good he was with his fists if this guy had a gun.

A knife, on the other hand...let the fucker try. Jasper got hand-to-hand combat training in the Rangers, which meant that Edward and Emmett both did too, from Jasper. So he knew exactly how to deal with some dick waving a knife around.

But this guy had neither weapon, fortunately. Unfortunately, the idiot was rushing at him again, and made the poor choice to swing on him.

It was an amateurish, panicked, wildly thrown punch that Edward easily dodged.

What the ineffectual attack did accomplish was to obliterate any remaining patience he might have had.

So he drew back and threw quite possibly the most perfect punch he ever remembered making — at least without boxing gloves.

The thud of fist into jawbone was near immediately followed by face hitting floor.

That guy wasn't going to be getting up soon. He was down for the count.

---

When shaky, terrified breathing was the next sound that hit Edward's ears, he knew before he ever looked behind him that Bella was not in her truck.

Sure enough, when he turned, she was standing wide-eyed behind him on the porch, completely pale and ashen, staring past both him and her door to the guy on her floor. At least, she was until Edward took a step in her direction. Then she startled, her eyes flying to him instead. Her mouth was still hanging slightly open.

He froze and held his hands out to the side, not sure whether to approach her or not. It was a vivid reminder that they didn't really know each other.

"Easy, Bella. It's okay. I'm not going to hurt you."

Not what she was worried about, apparently. Because to his surprise, once he had her full attention, she immediately ran straight to him and grabbed his hand. Which, if he was honest, was a thing that hurt like a son-of-a-bitch.

"Oh my God! Are you okay?" she asked in a strangled panic, which kind of gave him deja vu. Because he had heard those words somewhere once already that day. Her well-meaning examination of his knuckles wasn't really doing him any favors, but he didn't pull his hand away, either.

"I'm fine. Are you okay?" he asked, sounding completely calm. But shit, he could already see that her bicep where he'd grabbed her was turning red. That was probably going to bruise. And yeah, it couldn't have really been helped at that moment, because it was either that or let her get hit by an unknown intruder running full tilt to escape, and he'd just reacted. But he still knew that shit was going to bother him every time he saw it.

He had the strangest impulse to put his lips on it and try to kiss the hurt away.

Instead, he watched her closely, a little worried she might actually be going into shock.

"I'm fine," she gasped, neither looking nor sounding like that was the truth.

"You know this guy?" Edward asked, grabbing her hand and pulling her in the door with him to get a better look. He still kept himself between Bella and the unconscious guy, just because.

She drew a shaky breath. "No. I've never seen him before."

"Ever get any threats? Your dad have any enemies?"

She was looking at him all wide-eyed again, and putting his arms around her was getting tougher to resist by the moment. "Not that I know of."

Edward's eyes scanned the room. A window was busted out, which must have been how the guy got in. Asshole missed the key taped to the door, apparently. Most likely, when he heard them coming, he had only wanted one thing: out. They had just been in the way.

The guy was wearing a backpack, Edward noticed. So he let go of Bella's hand and knelt to remove it. None too gently.

When he opened it and started pulling things out, Bella tensed, coming to stand beside him where he knelt, almost brushing his shoulder.

"That's one of my dad's old watches. Yeah...and those are some of his tools. I had to leave a lot of his stuff behind before."

The handgun Edward could see in the bottom of the backpack might or might not be her dad's, too, but he didn't pull that out and show her.

"Hey...look at me," he said, instead, quickly closing the bag and standing up with it securely over his own shoulder. He stealthily inserted himself right in her line of vision, blocking her view of the guy on the floor. "They legally have to advertise foreclosures in the newspaper. Thieves know that too. Guy's probably just an opportunist looking for stuff to steal. I know how you feel about involving the police, but I think we should. Can you call 911 while I keep an eye on him?"

She shook her head no, but he noticed she took a step closer to him, like she felt safer closer to him, and it made his heart lurch. "Phones got cut off a month ago," she told him.

This girl had been living alone here for a month with no phone service? What if she hadn't decided to leave a day early? She'd have been there, alone and with no way to call for help, when her house was broken into.

He kind of wanted to punch something again.

"Here." He reached in his pocket and retrieved his phone. "My lock code is 1234. It's in bad shape, but why don't you go outside and see if you can get it to work? I'll stay here in case he wakes up before they get here."

---

It was an hour and a half later by the time the police got done taking their statements and left with one very swollen-faced prisoner. It only took that long because the loser had made them call EMS to come check him out, just as soon as he got one look at the suit Edward was wearing and quickly started claiming he'd been "brutalized".

Edward just rolled his eyes. Good luck against the Cullen family attorneys, shithead.

He quickly turned his attention back to eying the neat stacks of boxes he'd soon be loading onto the rental truck he'd paid a sizable sum to have delivered so quickly in such a small town — a truck that managed to arrive before the Forks police.

Loading it wouldn't take long.

Saint Jake was the one who was an idiot — certainly not Bella. Her neat taping and labeling of boxes was going to make Edward's job almost ridiculously easy.

Saint Jake was also a pretty big guy, a thing he found out when Bella produced a t-shirt and sweats from a box labeled "Donate" that was already on the back of her big orange truck. She said Jake had left them at her house at some point and hadn't wanted them back.

Still, he barely restrained the urge to grab her and hug her when she almost shyly offered them to him, and not just because he was sick of sweating in Italian silk. This girl was literally killing him. She had only had a certain amount of space on her truck when she originally left, but rather than take a box of treasures for herself, she'd made sure to take along a box of things she intended to donate to Goodwill, rather than letting it go to the trash heap.

God. If he had his way, she'd never want for anything again. Ever.

---

When he was down to probably an hours' worth of boxes left to load — factoring in a good fifteen minutes just for preventing catastrophes, because after the third time he had to reach out and catch her, he realized that Bella was a menace on foot as well as behind the wheel — just about the time the sun was starting to set, his stomach started growling like a roaring lion.

Of course she noticed. And she lit up like a Christmas tree.

"I never really cleaned out the kitchen. There's still everything I'd need in there to make a spaghetti bake," she told him so enthusiastically that he couldn't help smiling in return. "I don't have anything for a salad, but I have some frozen bread, and I could do dessert. Let me make you dinner, as a thank you for all this. I owe you that much, at least."

And that sounded utterly fantastic, whether he knew what a spaghetti bake was or not. He liked spaghetti, and he liked...baked things. Okay, he just liked food, pretty much. And he liked Bella. God, he was such a sap.

But he waved her off, mostly because of that comment about owing him.

Because she didn't.

And then there was the fact that if she was in the kitchen, she wasn't there working with him, laughing with him, literally stumbling into his arms every few minutes, getting to know him and falling in love with his sparkling personality and rockin' hot bod. Per the most recently updated version of his plan, which was currently receiving updates approximately every 30 seconds.

"No, don't do all that," he said, wiping sweat off his brow. "I can just order a pizza." Of course, with my shattered phone, it might take another hour to make the call...

The way her face fell was his undoing. "Oh. I really would love to do something nice for you. But if you'd rather have pizza..."

He wondered what had made her so timid, why insecurity seemed to wash over her at the very slightest sign of rejection from him, like earlier in her truck when he had hesitated to answer her first question. If Saint Jake calling her an idiot was a routine thing, there was a good chance that bastard had something to do with it. He was developing more and more of an urge to meet this jerk. And lay him out.

Despite his better judgment, he walked over to Bella and put his hands on her shoulders. "I would not rather have pizza. I just don't want you doing anything because you feel like you owe me something. But if you're really not too tired, spaghetti sounds amazing."

She started turning pink again, but in a good way, a smile starting in her eyes and working its way down her face. He watched mesmerized. Damn, he loved that blush already.

"I can help you with the rest of these boxes first?" she offered sweetly. "But dinner might take a while."

His stomach growled again. Right on cue, and she giggled.

"Got it. I'll be in the kitchen."

---

When he was done loading up the last box and Bella was still banging around the kitchen — a place where he felt even more spectacularly useless than usual — he saw his chance to enact his final version of The Plan. Trademark Edward Cullen.

He poked his head in the door and told her he'd be outside. Then he made his way out the door, down the steps, and into the moonlit front yard before he pulled out his phone.

Yep. Still shattered. Great. Because this call was going to be fun enough anyway...like the stubbed toe, public speaking, turn your head and cough type of fun.

On his fifth try, he finally got the right numbers dialed and got the call through.

"Edward? Is that you? Oh my God, where are you? Are you alive? Where are you?"

He sighed. Alice would be Alice. It wasn't like he hadn't given Carlisle a heads-up why his mangled car was being towed home, a heads-up which he knew had been passed on.

"Yes, it's me. Same answer. In Forks. I hope so. And still in Forks."

Didn't even slow her down.

"They towed your car here. Did you see what it looked like? You should be dead! What the hell happened to you?"

"Relax, Alice. I wasn't in it. Listen, I need you to do me a favor. What's the name of that attorney Jasper uses, the one that got you that house you wanted so bad?"

Alice sounded confused. "Do you mean Jenks? Are you suing the guy who hit you? If you need an attorney, why not just use dad's?"

Because he didn't want the Cullen name anywhere near this, for one thing.

"I have my reasons." He looked over his shoulder. "And no, I'm not suing. Kind of the opposite, in fact. Look, actually, can you make the call for me? I can't really talk right now. I need Jenks to secure a property for me, and I don't care what it takes. Wake him up if you have to. It's a foreclosure."

Alice went all business on him, just like he'd hoped. This was an area she actually had experience in. When she had found the house of her dreams for her and Jasper, there had been just one problem: it wasn't for sale. So Jasper had put his shark of an attorney on the case to broker a deal that would make everybody happy, most especially Alice. Because whatever Alice wanted, Jasper got it for her. He doted on her.

That had always made Edward roll his eyes before. He had the sinking feeling he was standing on the precipice of the same abyss. Because he'd known Bella less than a day, but she wasn't going to be losing her goddamn childhood home. Not when Edward Cullen had the resources to stop it.

"Address?" Alice snapped out curtly.

"Uh...hang on." After another glance over his shoulder that confirmed Bella was still preoccupied in the kitchen, he jogged down to the mailbox, hoping Bella hadn't thought to check it with everything going on.

He cheerfully committed his first federal offense, yanking the little door open. Sure enough, there were a few stray pieces of mail. He plucked one out and squinted at it in the low light. He ended up having to switch to speakerphone so he could use his phone's flashlight to read. Thankfully, it turned on on the third try.

"Okay. House most recently belonged to a Charlie Swan, maybe Charles." He rattled off the address. "It's somewhere in the foreclosure process. Tell Jenks to offer the bank whatever it takes, but get me this house. And I want the deed put into Charlie Swan's daughter's name, free and clear. It's Bella, possibly Isabella. 23 years old. I'm guessing same last name, but I'm not sure. Have him find out. Tell him I'll pay double if he gets this all done fast. Oh, and Bella needs to find her mother too, Charlie Swan's ex-wife. Last known address was in Phoenix. Have Jenks put an investigator on that."

He could hear the scratch of Alice's pen flying across the page, but it stopped abruptly when she processed he'd mentioned Bella for a second time.

There was a suspicious silence for just a second when he finished. And then Alice's squeal would have woke the dead.

"Edward Cullen, you met somebody! A girl! Named Bella! And you like her!"

He rolled his eyes, looking back over his shoulder like a damn prison escapee, and quickly slammed the mailbox shut again. Still no sign of Bella, but he could have sworn he heard the front door a second ago. And of course, his abused phone chose now to freeze up and refuse to swap back off of speakerphone. Because Alice was only getting louder.

"Wasn't that the whole reason you sent me here?" he asked distractedly, still trying to get the screen to respond in any way. The stupid thing wouldn't even let him hang up, which was his best option right now.

Alice got defensive. "Well...yeah. I mean, of course, I knew this would happen. I'm not surprised at all. I knew all about this Bella when I sent you there."

If haughty had a name, it was Alice. Edward grinned, giving up on fighting his phone for the moment. Because finally. A chance to prove his sister was full of shit demanded his full attention.

"Okay, Miss Psychic. Describe her."

Alice hesitated but not for long. "Hmmmm...yes, I can see her now. Tall, blonde and graceful," she said confidently.

His grin grew wider. Yep. Alice was completely full of shit.

"Try short, brunette, and clumsy. Like, can't walk across the floor without a disaster clumsy."

And Alice tried to split his eardrum again with another squeal.

"Oh my God, I love her already! Are you bringing her home with you? Please bring her home with you! She's going to be my best friend, I just know it! When do I get to meet her? Can I be matron of honor? No, wait, I'd rather plan the wedding. You need me. Oh no! Are you guys going to elope? Is that why you're buying a house so fast? Edward Cullen, if you elope, I'll never forgive you! Where's Bella? Let me talk to her."

"I'm right here," came the softly amused — and horrifying — voice behind him that made him whirl around so fast he nearly broke his own neck.

Well, shit-damn-fuck. Because there stood Bella, half smiling and half biting her lip, probably pink to the top of her hairline, although it was too dark out to tell from a distance, and he had no idea how much of that she had just overheard.

Cards on the table was one thing. But Alice... Alice was a whole other dimension.

"Ooooh! Hi, Bella! I'm Alice. Make my brother give you the phone! I can tell you where he's ticklish, if he resists."

And his traitorous, backstabbing, life-ruining phone still refused to respond to any of the buttons he was so urgently stabbing like his life depended on it.

Disconnect, damn you.

"Alice, I'll gladly buy you a Porsche if you just stop talking now," he offered desperately, giving up on the screen to stare wide-eyed at Bella instead, not even trying to hide the panic on his face. Bella bit her lip harder, stifling a giggle.

Alice just scoffed. "I can buy my own Porsche. In fact, I just might do that after I'm done talking to Bella. Yellow, I think. I'm going through a yellow phase. Now give Bella the phone!"

And fuck him if Bella wasn't getting closer, holding out her hand to take it.

Nightmare, meet reality.

He closed his eyes and extended the phone, not letting it go at first when she lightly pulled.

"I sincerely apologize for what's about to happen," he said dryly, before releasing the phone. If he could just find a suitable place to hide, he would be curled up in a ball somewhere, rethinking his life choices.

But there was a God, apparently. Because when he opened his eyes enough to peek, his phone screen flickered twice and the damn thing died for good just as Bella softly — and a little tentatively — said hello...and then said it again...and then again with no answer, because Alice was mercifully gone.

Bella, having no idea of the glorious miracle that had just taken place, shrugged as she held the phone back out to him. "Um...I think she's gone."

He took it and shoved it into his pocket — deeply into his pocket — a little too eagerly. Then he cleared his throat. "Yeah. So anyway, that was my sister. Don't say I didn't try to warn you earlier. And, um...how long were you standing there? Because I can explain. I think."

Bella, for reasons he couldn't explain, seemed more relaxed around him than she'd been since he met her. After hearing Alice essentially propose for him, he had expected the opposite.

"I believe you were telling your sister what a klutz I am," she told him, raising an eyebrow, and he instantly replayed the entire nightmare back through his head.

Okay. So she missed the first part about the attorney. That was good.

But she did hear Alice marrying them off and asking why he was buying a house. That was bad. He wasn't a commitment-phobic guy, but it was a little soon for marriage talk.

Except he was just as full of shit as Alice, because if he said the thought of gifting Bella the deed to the house as an eventual wedding present hadn't already crossed his mind pre-Alice, he'd be a damn liar.

He chuckled in his best approximation of casual, one hand automatically coming up to rub at the back of his neck. Which may or may not have been flaming red. "Yeah...sorry about that. I mean, the klutz thing is pretty true, obviously, but..."

He didn't get to finish that thought because she whacked him in the arm. And this relationship was looking up, because she missed his ribs entirely this time. If that wasn't some kind of goddamn sign from the universe, he didn't know what was.

His boxing reflexes kicked in and he lightly caught her hand before it could withdraw.

"I was going to say 'but I think it's cute'. I don't mind catching you."

And the entire atmosphere around them changed.

Bella's smile faded, and she tensed, looking up into his eyes. Then her gaze flickered briefly down to his mouth. Her tongue darted out and touched her lips. And yes, she instantly turned pink again, which he could really see this time, considering how close she was now.

He wasn't sure when blushes had turned into a damn aphrodisiac, but there he was anyway, already approaching half mast in Saint Jake's borrowed sweatpants that weren't going to do much to hide it.

But he hesitated for just a second too long, wanting to make sure he was reading her signals right and Bella really wanted to kiss him, because the whole "let me do something to repay you" vibe he kept getting from her just had him a little off-balance.

By the time he noticed how dilated her pupils were and was just about to go for it, he had missed his perfect chance to try to kiss her. She nervously pulled her hand away and took a step back, looking anywhere but at him.

"Um...the food's ready," she said softly. "I know you have to be starving."

He nearly groaned. Was he trying to get friend zoned? Because this was how a guy gets himself friend zoned.

"Yeah," he answered, and had to clear his throat because he sounded a little strained. "Yeah, you go on ahead. I'll try to text Alice back, and then I'll be right there."

He was not going to text Alice. So technically, that may have been a lie, but it beat the hell out of "I'll be there when I can walk straight without embarrassing myself." Didn't even feel guilty.

She bit her lip again. He wanted to reach out and free it, rub his thumb and maybe his tongue across it to soothe it, but she already looked like she wanted to bolt.

"Okay. I'll...see you inside."

She half walked, half jogged back up the driveway while he berated himself in the dark.

"Bachelor of the year, my ass," he muttered with disgust.

---

He seriously melted a little bit when he walked into the kitchen a few minutes later and she had already fixed him a plate and set it down at the spot next to hers.

And then he started eating.

If he hadn't been falling just a little bit in love with her already, the spaghetti would have done it.

Good Lord, this girl could cook.

The words he'd flirted around all day finally spilled out over his tongue after the first bite.

"Bella?"

"Hm?" she asked around a mouthful of spaghetti, still looking a little unsure of him after the debacle outside.

"Marry me," he said in an awestruck tone — and promptly shoved another mouthful into his face, prompting a surprised giggle from the dark-haired girl he was trying to set at ease.

"It's that good?"

"You have no idea," he said with his mouth full, around an embarrassing groan. "I mean, I guess you do, because you're eating it too, but — yeah, I'm gonna stop talking now."

That was a good call. It helped him cram food in faster and also appreciate the simplicity of sitting down to dinner at a country kitchen table with Bella.

His family used to do that, before everybody went their own ways. He hadn't realized he missed it. But this? He could do this with Bella every night for the rest of his life. She kept sneaking peeks at him over her plate, a little pink with his praise of her food — which was something he kept coming. And she had to know he meant it, because he devoured seconds and then thirds.

He'd been kidding about that marriage proposal, of course — until she pulled a tray of the most ungodly sinful brownies he'd ever tasted out of the oven. Then things started getting serious fast.

He ate four of them. Or inhaled them might be a more accurate description.

If that knucklehead from earlier broke back in right then, they were in trouble. He was so full he could barely move, much less knock a fool out.

"You know how you said you were making dinner to thank me?" he asked, when he finally couldn't cram in one more bite.

"Yeah?" she asked curiously, as she took his plate and hers and carried them both to the sink. "I mean, I tried. I know it wasn't close to enough."

He rolled himself out of the chair, because no way he was sitting on his overstuffed ass while she washed dishes alone. He found a neatly folded dishtowel in a drawer next to the sink and threw it over his shoulder, leaning back against the counter beside her with one ankle casually crossed over the other, waiting for her to hand him something to dry.

"More like a little too much. I'm pretty sure I'm in debt to you forever now," he told her, flirting for all he was worth, bumping her shoulder with his.

It was that damn blush's fault. If she'd have either rolled her eyes at him or shamelessly flirted back, like every other girl he'd ever met, he might not have completely lost his mind and rushed things faster than he'd intended.

But when she smiled sweetly and turned pink, nervously biting her lip as she looked up at him and noticeably tried to figure out how to respond to him, he was a complete goner.

His hand came up to cup her cheek, because he needed to touch that rosy pink to see if it felt as amazing as it looked. And she dropped the plate she was holding back into the sink, her breath catching. The water splashed them both, but damn if he cared.

He was still fighting temptation, rubbing his thumb across her cheek and searching for any sign he was misreading her signals and overstepping his bounds, when she surprised the hell out of him.

Reaching up with one of her small wet hands, she grabbed his face and pulled him downward, crashing their lips together.

It was like throwing gasoline on a wildfire. He groaned into her mouth, quickly taking control of the kiss as he caught her around the waist with his free arm and turned her to fully face him, tugging her flush up against him, where he still leaned back against the counter.

God, it felt like heaven, like she was made for the sole purpose of fitting against him. He traced his tongue across her lip softly, seeking entrance, and she opened to him immediately, her still-wet hands going to grasp the front of his shirt and hold on like she was afraid he might try to get away.

There wasn't much chance of that, not when his tongue was already happily exploring the warm recesses of her sweet mouth, which still tasted like the brownies that had done him in to start with. She gave as good as she got, pushing herself tighter against him and kissing him back with a surprising amount of ferocity. Her hands worked their way up across the broadness of his shoulders, exploring him too, before her fingers finally made their way into his hair and gently tugged.

He half groaned, half growled, his senses going into overload.

Oh, fuck, yes, do that again...

He flipped their positions pretty quickly, turning her so that she was between him and the sink, both of his hands gripping the counter on either side of her, caging her in his arms. All of his blood was headed south this time, and with it, his ability to think straight. Getting his hands off her would help.

With a groan, he pulled his mouth away too, searching for any resolve he might have left. Her little whimper at losing contact with him wasn't helping him locate it, either.

"Bella," he managed to rasp, and captured her lips in his for another hard kiss, because he was already half out of his damn mind. Then he remembered why he'd stopped kissing her in the first place, and managed to pull it together. For approximately 3 more seconds.

"This isn't just you thanking me again, is it?" he asked roughly. "Tell me the truth."

She shook her head emphatically. "I've wanted to do that since about five minutes after I met you," she breathed, weaving her fingers a little more tightly into his hair.

His hands came off the counter, wrapping around her tiny waist.

"I don't want a one-night stand with you, Bella," he warned. "I know how crazy this probably sounds, but I've got this feeling you're going to be it for me."

"I know. Same here," she told him, just before she stretched up on tiptoes and went after his mouth again. "I'm not going anywhere," she promised between kisses, getting a few words out at a time in between her assault on his lips. "It's my house — well, at least until tomorrow — so I promise — I'll still be here in the morning — if you will. I'll even make you — mmmm, breakfast — if you'll shut up now."

Well, okay then. There wasn't much way he could misread that.

The Edward Cullen Trademarked Plan had involved taking things slowly and respectfully. And he bid it a fond farewell, because the Bella Swan Plan was much, much better. Sex and food.

Carlisle Cullen had raised a gentleman, not some kind of masochistic moron.

With the hands he already had locked around her waist, Edward took one step to his right to move her away from the sink and then lifted, boosting her up onto the countertop. Her legs parted instantly, letting him step between them.

He started to go for her mouth again...

And then he groaned, tipping his forehead forward to lean it against hers. The realization that had just hit him sorely tested his commitment to not shouting obscenities in front of ladies.

"Um...I don't have any protection on me. Do you?"

The crushed look on her face mirrored his to the point it was nearly amusing. Nearly.

"No...but I'm clean and I'm on the pill," she told him, so hopefully that he couldn't resist the adoring smile that pulled the corner of his lip up. Her fingers curled in the front of his t-shirt like she was afraid he was going to try to get away. "I've only ever been with two guys, and the last one was over a year ago. I was tested last time I renewed my prescription."

He didn't really want to admit that the number of notches on his bedpost was a hell of a lot higher than two, thanks to his playboy days in the early throes of being a rich lazy bastard. He decided to keep it truthful but simple.

"I'm clean. And it's been a little while for me too." His body did not appreciate the words he said next, but he said them anyway. "I get it if you don't want to take my word for it."

The fact that her eyes lit up like she'd just won the lottery was simultaneously adorable and the biggest turn-on he'd ever seen.

"No, it's okay," she told him, her fingers drifting up to curl around the back of his neck and run through the hair there, actually sending a shiver down his spine. "I trust you."

And it was a good thing she did, because with those three simple words, he — much like his car — was toast.

She didn't have to drag his mouth to hers, this time. He was only all too willing, as he tugged her right up to the edge of the counter, aligning and pressing their bodies together in a move that pulled a moan out of both their throats just as their mouths fused together again.

He could feel her heat straight through both of their clothes, and it did things to him.

Her fingers clawing at his shirt and dragging it upwards reminded him of the sobering fact that he was still wearing Saint Jake's clothes. And fuck that when he was all over Bella, so he took a half-step back, reached back over his head with one hand and yanked the thing off.

That definitely gave her hands something to do, because it was clear Bella liked what she saw. He may not have been training like he used to when he was actively boxing, but he was still pretty well built. And pretty much every weight he'd ever lifted was worth it when her hot little hands started greedily exploring his chest and abs.

Her head fell back with a moan as he decided to let them both breathe for a second, his lips starting a trail down her throat to her neck. He found a spot near her shoulder that made her whimper and her hips buck forward into him deliciously, so he closed his lips around it and sucked.

If he didn't have such a good grip on her waist with one hand and the other tangled up in her hair, she'd have climbed right up the cabinets behind her.

Her responsiveness to his touch had him so painfully hard he had a feeling their first time was going to be both intense and over far too quickly. But he didn't intend to sweat it. He already had a promise of breakfast the next morning and an entire night in between to work with. Somewhere in there, he had every intention of taking his time with her and earning that breakfast.

He might have loved that pretty little blue shirt, but it was mostly just in his way at this point. He met her eyes for a second as his hand landed on the hem, raising his eyebrows in question.

She nodded her head enthusiastically, her pupils completely blown and her breath coming in gasps as she helped him lift it over her head.

The innocent little white cotton bra hit him harder than black lace would have, especially when she reached back with one hand and flicked it open herself.

He was definitely looking, and she was perfect. But he restrained himself from touching. Yet.

Somewhere in the lust-addled recesses of his brain, he'd just realized that he was getting damn close to taking the girl he definitely might be hoping to spend the rest of his life with on her kitchen counter for their first time.

Call him a sappy romantic, but that wasn't happening.

He yanked her off the countertop and into his chest, and her arms and legs both automatically closed around him.

He knew where her bedroom was from carrying boxes, and he also knew it was the one room that still had a bed in it, thank God. The bed on the back of her truck was her dad's because it was nicer. Lust-addled or not, that scenario would have just been too much.

Even knowing where her room was, with Bella's lips attaching themselves to the flesh of his throat and neck, returning the favor of driving him insane, finding his way there was something that took longer than necessary. More than once, he found himself stopping to press her into the wall and kiss the hell out of her, her body grinding maddeningly into his.

He had been right. Their first time was well on its way to being intense and quick. When he lowered her onto her mattress and she immediately lifted her hips up to free herself from her shorts and panties — which he never even got to see, damn it — he followed suit and mercifully freed himself from Saint Jake's sweatpants.

He was on her instantly, pressing her deep into the mattress under him, his efforts to keep from crushing her hindered by her eager arms trying to pull him down more tightly against her. With her feet planted flat on the bed and her knees parted, his hips fell into the natural cradle of hers, flesh to flesh.

Heaven.

It would have been so easy to just take her, and that was clearly what she expected him to do. But one thing that he wasn't was a small guy, and the last thing he wanted was to hurt her. He needed to know she was ready for him first.

He kissed her deeply, slowly, trying to slow things down for the moment as he shifted his weight to the side of her and propped himself up on an elbow, giving his other hand free access to roam over her body and his eyes access to watch it happen.

He loved everything about touching Bella, not least being the way she responded to every stroke of his fingers, every sweep of his lips to her skin. He loved the way her legs parted so easily for him. He loved the little sounds she made. He loved the way she scrunched up the sheets in her fists and arched up when he started skimming his fingers through her silky folds.

It was like her body had been made for him and only him.

He also loved that the reverse held true. He was by no means inexperienced. But being touched by Bella made him feel like a 17-year-old boy again, ready to explode at the first sweet press of her lips to his skin, her fingers curling in the hair at the nape of his neck. She just had that effect on him.

When he slid one long finger inside her wet heat to test her readiness — and felt her tight walls fluttering, trying to draw him deeper — he knew he wouldn't last long when he got inside her, which needed to happen very damn soon.

But he got distracted by the way her head fell back on a moan, her hips bucking when his thumb started rubbing little circles around her clit as his finger started up a rhythm inside her, her mouth opening into a surprised O and her eyes widening as she stared up at him in wonder.

The look on her face told him all he needed to know. Whoever those two other guys had been, neither of the assholes had ever been particularly focused on her pleasure. So not a virgin, but not very experienced either. No wonder she had expected him to just skip to the end. Everybody else had.

He slid a second finger into her, and eventually another, carefully stretching her, but he never let his thumb slow its motion. He was well and truly sidetracked now, and that was just fine. He'd be damned if he was making it three selfish assholes in a row who took what they wanted without taking care of her first.

Third guy's the charm? For Bella, it was damn sure about to be.

And he wasn't just going to be the third guy, either. He'd just decided he was going to be the last one too, because he wasn't going to be giving her up after this. Everybody else just lost their chance permanently.

Too damn bad for them. You snooze, you lose. He was either going to keep her so satisfied she'd never need to look twice at anybody else, or he was going to die trying.

He bent his head, gently capturing one pink, stiff nipple between his lips, feeling the way her body arched up into his mouth, seeking deeper contact. But he pulled back with her, keeping the touch light. He laved her nipple with his tongue, swirling around it with the tip, until she was wild under him.

"Edwaaaaard..."

His own hips bucked nearly as violently as hers, grinding into the side of her hip at the sound of his name coming out of her throat as a deep, sensual, pleading moan. Ignoring his own desperately hard and demanding erection, he shifted his attention to her other breast, starting the process over but never losing track of the rhythm he kept up with his fingers inside her.

Her thighs started to quiver, her head thrashing back and forth, and he knew she was getting close. Her hand reached down and clamped around the wrist of his hand that was working her over, clenching him desperately. Her moans were near continual now.

"Edward, please..."

"I'm right here, baby," he told her in a low tone, without removing his lips from her breast. He gave the nipple a little suck and a nip, followed by a soft kiss. "I've got you." His thumb stepped up the pressure on her clit a little bit, his fingers sliding in and out of her with purpose now. "You can let go, Bella. I'll catch you."

His patience was fully rewarded when her walls clamped down around his fingers hard, a scream ripping from her throat as her whole body arched, her eyes rolling back in her head as her hips pushed toward the sky.

He gently worked her through it, drawing out the waves of pleasure as long as he possibly could until her body became too sensitive and he carefully withdrew his hand.

She rolled sideways into him then, breathing hard and trembling, and threw her arms around him, burying her face in his throat with a groan. He wrapped her up in a tight embrace. Her whole body felt limp in his arms, his raging erection trapped between them and begging for attention.

He still couldn't help the affectionate chuckle that he breathed into her hair as he soothingly rubbed her back. "I've got you. Are you okay?"

"Mm-hm," she hummed into his throat, nodding enthusiastically, and he chuckled.

If she kept this up, responding to him so freely, he was going to end up turning into one hell of a cocky bastard. Edward Cullen, sex god. Able to render beautiful women speechless using just his fingers.

And if she had liked that, he couldn't wait for her reaction when he made her come on his tongue.

But that was going to have to wait, because Bella had apparently felt what was poking into her stomach and decided it was time to return the favor. She rolled back to her back, looking up at him as her fingers started blazing a very dangerous path down his stomach.

Yeah, he knew better than that. He was getting close to his limit, especially after both watching and feeling her come all over his fingers. If she got her hands on him right then, he was done for. So he quickly snagged her hand and brought it back out of the danger zone, bringing it to his lips and placing a tender kiss on the knuckles.

"I'd rather be inside you. Is that okay, Bella? Will you let me make love to you?"

If anything, her eyes turned even darker, her lips parted. "Yes. Yes."

He still had her hand in his, so he laced their fingers together as he shifted himself over her, her thighs automatically parting to let him kneel in between. She wrapped her legs around his hips, cozying him up against her entrance, and he was pretty sure he'd died and gone to heaven when he started to inch forward into her heat.

She whimpered and grasped for his other hand with her free one. He took the hint and laced those together too, bringing both her hands up to the bed beside her head, their fingers locked together, eye to eye as he slowly pushed inside.

"Tell me if I hurt you," he whispered, and kissed her forehead, putting all his concentration into taking it slow when all his body wanted to do was pound her into the mattress for all he was worth.

He was nearly all the way there when she abruptly gasped, arching up against him and pushing against his hands, and he stilled completely.

"Bella?"

She gripped his hands hard, holding on when he moved to let go. "I'm okay. It's been a long time. And you're..." She stopped, biting her lip, and it was not helping his control in the slightest that she was actually blushing again, with him inside her.

He didn't make her finish what he suspected would have been a very satisfying sentence, much as he'd have loved to hear it.

Instead, he leaned his head down and kissed her deeply as he gave her a chance to adjust to him, ignoring the demands of his body to move. Sooner than he expected, the tension in her frame slowly drained away and she relaxed beneath him, her legs around him starting to pull him toward her, her hips trying to rise up to meet him.

Breaking the kiss so he could see her face, he pulled back a little ways and then pushed back in, sliding himself the rest of the way home with one smooth thrust.

She groaned, her hips undulating beneath him, and now it was him who needed a minute. Bella, however, didn't seem to be experiencing the same level of patience he'd had with her. Her whimpers and the way her heels dug into his ass said she wanted him to get it in gear.

Releasing her hands so he could get better leverage, he rested his weight on one hand and worked the other between them, touching and teasing her clit with just the right amount of pressure he'd already figured out made her toes curl.

He wasn't going to last as long as he might have liked, so he was going to make the most of the time he had to give her. And he'd be damned if he was going before she was.

As his speed picked up, so did her moans. Her hands, the moment he freed them, had wrapped around him. By the time he was driving in and out of her like a man possessed, she was clawing at his back. Bella had sharp fingernails, he learned.

He'd wear those marks happily. A damn badge of honor, as far as he was concerned.

When she screamed out his name and her entire body convulsed beneath him, her inner muscles like a vise around him, he couldn't hold it back any longer. His hand came out from between them, that arm wrapping around her waist and pulling her hips up hard toward him as he began to pump his hips in earnest.

Three more hard thrusts and he pushed all the way in and stayed, screaming her name as his own release hit him. He was distantly aware of her soothing hands on his back, her lips caressing his chest as he came so hard he nearly blacked out.

Every muscle in his body was done for a while. He barely had the presence of mind to roll off her and onto his side, quickly reaching out to get hold of her and inelegantly haul her to him so she rested on his chest as he tried to catch his breath.

When he had left home that morning, he had been lost. Drifting.

When he sank into Bella that night, it was like coming home.

What was even better was holding her in his arms now, afterwards, her dark hair like a soft curtain falling across his chest, realizing for the first time what a rich bastard he truly was.

Not many guys could say they struck it rich twice in one year.

TO BE CONTINUED...