Page 54 of I Knew You Were Trouble

“Four years now.”

As long as Pete’s been at Troublemakers. Hmm.

“You don’t like it?”

She lifts a shoulder. “It’s fine. Flexible. But the pay is low, I’m obviously one of the oldest ones there, and benefits are crap, even for management.”

I’m not too familiar with the job market here. In our small college town, a lot of the positions people go for are internships or the minimum wagers, like Troublemakers, the theater, fast food, ice cream shop… that kind of thing. When I went to Troublemakers, it was purely to make friends and gain a true college experience. I haven’t had to use my paycheck for anything but fun.

“Would you consider leaving the theater?”

“That’s the dream. If I ever get a sponsor for my boarding, that’s exactly what I’ll do.”

“I have no idea how that works,” I admit. “They pay you to skate?”

“And do competitions and stuff. I wear their gear and rock it so they get some good promo.”

“Sounds like a lot of pressure.”

“And so much fun.” Her eyes light up, just like when she was with Mona Lisa. If only we could all get paid doing what we love.

Oh, wait. “Hey… you liked taking care of the horses, right?”

“You kidding? Best day ever.”

Excitement tenses my shoulders. “Would you consider doing that?”

Her smile fades, a tiny wrinkle appearing above the bridge of her nose. “Taking care of horses?”

I nod. “My parents are always looking for some farmhands. You could train with Luke for a bit, then you would care for them.” I’m making it sound so fun, but it’s not. I quickly add, “It’s not easy. Real dirty work, lots of physical activity—”

“Are you for real, right now?” she says, all smiles gone.

Shoot, did I overstep? “Never mind.” I shake my head, pinching my eyes shut. “It was just an idea.”

“No, no… I’m not mad. I’m in shock.” She straightens, sliding her oven mitt off, not taking her eyes off me. “You’d really pay me to take care of your horses. Like full time.”

“It’s a sunrise to dinner type of job, yeah. And my parents would be paying you, not me.” I let out a wobbly laugh. “My mom would probably work around your boarding, too. And we offer benefits.” Mom runs the farm for the most part, especially the hiring. It’s how we got Luke—she met him at a conference for the deaf where she was a keynote.

She opens her mouth, and I hear a whispered f-word at the same time that the front door swings open with a bang.

“Maddie!” a squeaky voice shrieks, and I jump, knocking a stray spatula to the floor. Maddie completely ignores my mess and skids into the living room.

“Monkey!”

The sound of a hurricane rocks the wall separating the kitchen and the living room, and I bend for the spatula, an awkward wave washing over me. Oh gosh, here comes the kid, and I am theworstwith kids. I never know what to say, how to act, if I should put on a baby voice or talk to them like normal, or what they’ll like or if they’ll see just how awkward I am at being in my own skin.

Kids pretty much know exactly who they are in that moment in time. And I’m totally lost.

“Candace here yet?” I hear Pete say, and his voice sends a rocket blasting through my belly. My hands fly to my hair, and I brush through the strands, making sure it’s smooth and cute. Like I’ve ever cared before, but he air freshened his room for me.

“Kitchen,” Maddie says, her voice muffled, I imagine by a ten-year-old’s tackle hug.

I fumble with the spatula, trying to set it on the counter with shaking hands. He didn’t want me to see his place, didn’t want me near it just a few weeks ago. I hope he doesn’t regret that decision.

Pete

Candace leans against the counter by the stove, giving a lopsided smile that looks cute and ridiculous all at once.

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