Page 20 of Living Hell

“Give me my dream? I earned this.” I got up and stomped over to her. “You don’t need my money. Besides, you said it yourself that your agent owns the property. I will be paying rent to her.”

Iona stepped forward and with the attitude of a spoiled teenager, she shoved her hands onto her hips. “And how are you going to find out where to send the payment? You have to give me the check.”

“I can look up her office address online. It’s not that hard.”

Her hands fell from her hips as her shoulders sank. “Damn it, I hadn’t thought about that.”

“This is getting ridiculous, Iona. We both keep trying to work together and end up fighting about silly things. Can we start over?” I stuck out my hand.

The corner of her lip twisted as she eyed my palm with suspicion. Sighing, she shook it. “You’re right. It’s the town. Coming back here wasn’t my idea.”

My eyes widened in surprise as I tried to ignore the electric heat that traveled up my arm from her touch. I let go of her hand and shoved mine into my pockets, gently avoiding the finger I hurt earlier.

Rule number one, no touching Iona.It does funny things to my body. Horny teenager things that would make this situation a whole lot more awkward than necessary.

“Then why are you here?”

Groaning, she walked around me and fell back onto the couch. Her legs spread wide and her arms took up most of the space, and I chuckled remembering how she sat like that anytime she was sent to the principal’s office. I knew because I was usually sitting outside the principal’s office, too.

“It’s a long story involving me and how I screw up just about everything I touch.”

“I was sorry to hear about the passing of your mom.”

I saw the news and the celebrity news magazines. Gossip hounds claimed it was no accident. One idiot even reached out to me and asked if the accident was planned. I told him many things, none of them having to do with Iona or her mom and everything involving a pencil and his asshole.

Iona turned her gaze toward the mantle. “Thank you.”

“What I said earlier about the accident . . . I really didn’t mean it. It was wrong for me to use that moment to hurt you just because you called me Toonces.”

I felt like an asshole. There was something about that nickname that bothered me. Maybe it was because my dad had come up with it.

“I get it. I shouldn’t have made fun of you with name calling. It was childish.”

There was silence.

Her mom was a good person. Once Iona and I had become friends, I spent most of my time at her place. They didn’t have much to eat but whatever Mrs. Dell had, she’d always offered me some.

“I miss her,” I said and meant it. There were times I wished Mrs. Dell was my mom.

“I made a horrible mistake,” she said.

“What?”

“I mean, coming here.” Iona stood and swiped her phone from the table.

“You never said why you had to come here to begin with.” I shrugged and watched as she searched the room, picking up a small bag by the front door. “Maybe I can help you? Get you back to Hollywood?”

The way she stopped searching her bag and stared at me made me wonder if I had made a mistake in offering help.

“I recognize that look. You’re plotting something.” I slowly stood from the couch, worried what she was planning.

Her schemes always backfired.

Her eyes sparkled with nothing but bad plans—I knew that look all too well. “What if we pretend to get married?”

I waited for her to tell me she was joking or that there was more to this plan than marriage. But the longer I stood and watched the beautiful woman with long black hair that shone like a river at midnight, the more it dawned on me she was serious.

“No.”

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