Page 20 of I Knew You Were Trouble

“But you hired me because I’m bad.”

She tosses her head back, her wavy, red-brown hair hitting me in the face. “Always need to argue with me, don’t you?”

“Part of my charm.” Hey, she argues with me, too.

Pete

The crackle of the fire fills the room, and the sun starts to fade. I tilt my head at my toes kicked up, the flames flickering beyond my feet, the smell of apple pie lingering in the air, and warmth in every inch of the room, not just the ones that need heat. It’s gotta be nice.

“You seriously live like this all the time?” I ask after a couple minutes.

“Like what?”

I take my hand from the blanket and wave it around. “This. You can afford this on your paycheck? ‘Cause I doubt it. We work at the same place.”

She lets out a laugh and sinks into the couch. Her hip slightly touches mine, but I don’t think she notices, since she keeps it there. “Here it comes.”

I jerk back at her tone. “Here what comes?”

Her head rolls toward me, the fire reflecting in her dark irises. “You’re going to give me the spoiled brat look.”

“There’s a look, huh?”

“Yep. And it happens every time I tell people that my parents own that house up there. That this guest house is usually rented out, but they gave it to me to use while I went to school… that they also pay for. Oh, and guess what? They pay my utilities, too.”

“Damn.” The word falls off my tongue, and yep, I’m giving her the look. I know it. She knows it. And I can’t help it.

“See!” She points at my face. “Told you.” A hollow laugh flutters from her lips, and she tucks her hand back under the blanket.

“You called it.”

“Finally, you agree with me.”

I smirk. “Is ‘the look’ why you never told me?” I thought I had her pretty much pegged as a person. We’ve worked together for two years. I know she’s an only child, that she started painting at the age of five, that she listens to country music, that she dropped out of university to start art school. I know her favorite color is all of them, that she cuts and dyes her hair every six weeks, that she’s ticklish on the elbow, and she loves to order virgin drinks in fancy glasses.

This is all that I’ve learned from her just by knowing her. Candace isn’t too much of a mystery, but her wealth is definitely something she’s kept hidden.

I am surprised by a few of her fears, though. I haven’t even gotten through the whole list.

Candace shifts and doesn’t answer. It’s cool if she doesn’t feel like sharing. I’m not too keen on letting her know my financial situation. Especially now.

I lean up and dig in my back pocket for her list. It’s damp and the ink is bleeding all over it. Candace’s mouth pops open, shock and disgust written in the darks of her eyes.

“Is that my list?”

“Thought we could go over some of these.” I peel it open, careful so I don’t rip the thing to pieces.

“Stop.” She snatches it from me and hoists herself out of the couch. The cushions are so comfy though it takes her a couple of tries, tripping over me to get to her feet. “I’m getting you a new one.”

“What’s wrong with that one?”

She glares at my joke, and then disappears down the hallway. I rub my hip where hers was keeping it warm, missing her body heat already. For such a little thing, she sure puts off heat like a radiator.

When she comes back, she slumps into the couch, her hip no longer up against mine, and hands me her new list.

I force down a laugh. It’s laminated.

“Can we start with the red ones?” she pleads. “I’m much better easing into things.”

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