Chelsea Fine - Perfect Kind Of Trouble

Just then, the car following us takes a turn and is no longer behind us. I sigh in relief as I stare at the empty road in the rearview mirror.

“See?” Daren smiles at me. “No one is following you.”

I nod and let out a little laugh. “Wow. I feel dumb. I keep thinking we’re being followed and we’re clearly not. I’m so jumpy. Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine. I’d be freaked out too if I thought someone who may or may not be a mobster was after me.” He playfully grins, which helps ease my anxiety. “But you’re safe.” His eyes stay on mine. “And besides, you have me.” He wiggles our cuffed hands. “I’ll protect you. You know, with my free hand.”

I chuckle, my fear slowly draining from my veins as he winks. I’m oddly comforted by the fact that Daren is physically attached to me. I’ve gotten so used to being on my own that I’ve forgotten how nice it is to have someone to share things with. Excitement. Adventure. Fear. Having someone at my side makes everything better. And it certainly makes this whole thing with Big Joe less scary.

“Oh my!” I smile at Daren. “You’re my knight in shining… steel manacles.”

He bows his head. “At your service, milady.”

My smile stays in place for the next few miles as we joke about sword fighting with handcuffs on, and soon all my fear has completely melted away. Daren has that effect on me, I’m learning. He has a way of distracting me from things that might otherwise get me down. It’s kind of… sweet. He’s sweet.

We drive to the ritzy side of town where the neighborhoods are all gated with grand entrances and Daren directs me to a gated community called Westlake Estates. I turn in and pull up to the security booth at the front of the community. No one is manning the booth at this late hour, leaving the security completely at the mercy of a keypad.

I lean back in my seat so Daren can easily reach the keypad. “Do you want to—”

“Five six four five,” he says.

I stare at him. “Did you just give me the code to your gated community?”

“I did.”

I grin. “Oh my. I might just have to start calling you my friend now.”

He scoffs. “It’s about time.”

With a laugh, I punch in the numbers. A buzzing noise sounds from the box before the nine-foot-tall grand gates slowly start to open.

I marvel at the rolling hills and water-featured entrance of Daren’s community and I swear I can almost hear angels singing as we drive through. This is easily the most expensive neighborhood I’ve ever been in.

“Just follow this road all the way to the stop sign,” Daren says. “Then take a right until you come to a driveway at the end of a cul-de-sac.”

I do as he says and he points ahead of us. “That’s it, right there.”

My lips part. Of course he lives on the top of a hill in a cul-de-sac—a cul-de-sac that no other houses are on. He owns his own freaking cul-de-sac! I’m so collecting gas money from him. I cruise up the steep driveway at the base of a mansion. And it is a mansion.

He points to the side. “Drive around back and park beside the pool house.”

“You have a pool house?” I shake my head. “Why am I not surprised?”

He lets out a strained sigh. “Just park.”

The neighborhood is well lit, with fancy lampposts every few yards, but the mansion and pool house are completely dark. No lights turned on, inside or out.

I bite the inside of my cheek. “Does anybody else live here?”

He shakes his head. “My mom lives in Boston and my dad’s in jail, so now it’s just me.”

“You have this huge house all to yourself?”

“Something like that.” He points to a nearly hidden area beside the pool house. “Just pull under that tree and park.”

It seems weird to park in the most isolated area of the yard, but I don’t question his logic as I pull forward and turn off the car. Once the headlights go out, the only light in the car is from the dim moon filtering through the clouds.

With dried mud still caked to my skin and clothes, I grab the bag of goodies and open the car door, scooting over as Daren and I repeat our getting-out-of-the-car-while-handcuffed routine. He’s seems to have more difficulty in the dark, grunting and cursing as he bangs his knees on the dashboard and knocks his head against the roof. I almost pity him.

I glance at his dark mansion.

Almost.

When we’re both out of the car, I grab my suitcase from the trunk before following him to the back of the house. Instead of heading to the back door, however, Daren moves to a window beside the door. Jiggling the frame, he pops the window out of place and slides it to the side. My wrist flops around next to his. Then he starts climbing in.

“What in the—what are you doing?” I say, completely confused.

He picks up my suitcase and tosses it inside along with the bag from the bakery. “I don’t have a key.”

“How do you not have a key to your own house?”

“It’s a long story,” he says half in and half out of the window.

“This is your house, right?” He doesn’t answer and I gasp. “Are we breaking into some rich guy’s place?” My voice grows louder. “Because I am NOT going to be an accomplice in your shady criminal behavior. We already have handcuffs on! If you think—”

He yanks me up against his body and closes his hand over my mouth as I warm against the hard muscles of his chest. “Would you keep it down?”

Teetering, I have to lean against his leg so I don’t fall over, which forces me to press even more of myself up against his broad frame. All I can think about as he stares at me in the moonlight is how pretty his long eyelashes are and how I’m really starting to like the smell of oranges—even though he’s breaking us into some rich guy’s house.

“I’m trying not to draw attention to us,” he says. “And you yelling isn’t helping.” He swallows and looks away. “And this is my home. Kinda. So you can calm down.” His fingers lightly brush against my throat as he lowers his hand from my mouth.

I can’t tell if the gentle touch was an accident or not, but my hungry body doesn’t care. It just wants him to do it again.

“This is ‘kinda’ your house?” I say, frustrated and turned on. “What the hell does that mean—oompf!”

He pulls me inside and I topple over the windowsill and into the house. He catches me before I fall to the floor but I’m already in a rage as I straighten in his arms.

“Are you crazy?” I glare at him, the tips of my breasts brushing against his chest as we stand face-to-face.

“No. I’m just in a hurry to get your loud mouth out of earshot from the neighbors.” He shuts the window behind us.

Looking around, I take in the inside of the mansion. It’s large and dark and…

Completely abandoned.

I turn and stare at him. “You have a lot of explaining to do.”

I hold up a hand. “Before you freak out, just remember you’re the one who insisted we stay at my place.”

She shakes her head as she looks around. “Did someone rob you or something?”

I scoff. “I wish it were that simple.”

“So what’s the story then?”

“You want the story?” I nod. “Once upon a time, my mom left and my dad became a raging alcoholic. Then three years ago, he lost his job and, instead of looking for a new one, he decided to drink and gamble away all his money. He managed to burn through his life savings, lose the house, and rack up three DUIs all in a matter of nineteen months. I got two jobs and tried to keep all the bills afloat, but last year, when his drunk driving nearly killed Connor and the poor guy had to have two major surgeries just to walk again, the hospital bills started piling up. So now most of the money I make goes toward Connor’s medical debt, the house I grew up in is in foreclosure, and my reckless father is serving two years in county jail.”

She rubs the back of her neck. “So you live here?”

I inhale through my nose. “Technically, no one lives here. The bank repossessed the house two months ago and put it into foreclosure. But since the market for large homes moves so slowly, it hasn’t been listed for sale yet so it’s just been sitting here abandoned. And because I can’t afford to take care of both myself and the medical bills, I’ve been sleeping here.”

She furrows her brow. “I don’t get it. Why are you paying medical bills for the guy your dad hit? Isn’t insurance supposed to do that?”

“Yeah, but neither my dad nor Connor had insurance. But Connor has a family and a good job and a mortgage…” I shake my head. “I just didn’t think it was fair to make a good sober man pay for my dad’s irresponsible behavior.”

Anger boils inside me as I think about my father’s response when he first found out he’d nearly killed Connor. He was still hammered as he waved it off: Well too bad. Connor will just have to find a way to pay his own damn bills.

I wanted to disown him, right then and there.

Kayla looks around again and breathes out a laugh. “Well at least this place is nicer than the Quickie Stop.”

I snort. “Everything is nicer than the Quickie Stop.”

She nods. “Good point. So… where do we sleep?”

“Upstairs. Come on.” Grabbing her suitcase, I lead her through the dark kitchen into the equally dark living room.

“Did the bank turn the electricity off?” she asks as we stop at the bottom of the staircase.

“No. But I try not to turn on the lights at nighttime. I don’t want to draw attention to the fact that a homeless guy is living in an abandoned house.” The moment they leave my mouth, I immediately regret my words.

I just told her that I’m homeless. Homeless.

I don’t need Kayla’s approval, but I certainly don’t want her disdain. And telling her I’m homeless isn’t going to help.

Who am I kidding? I do want her approval. I shake my head. Story of my life. Always chasing after the approval of women. First my mom. Then Marcella. And finally Charity.

And I lost each one. My mom didn’t want me, and Marcella was forced to leave me. And Charity… well, Charity was my first love and I blame myself for the events leading up to her death. I’m no good at hanging on to women, as desperate as I am to do just that, so the fact that I care about the look in Kayla’s eyes right now scares the shit out of me.

I let out a nervous laugh. “God, sorry. I won’t blame you if you completely freak out right now.”

She slowly shakes her head. “I’m not going to freak out.”

I eye her skeptically. “Why not?”

She cocks her head and quietly says, “Because I’m homeless too.”

Things have definitely changed since yesterday. Yesterday, I was the bitter daughter of a crazy man who was handcuffed to the arrogant son of a wealthy one. Tonight, I’m the poor daughter of a much beloved man who is handcuffed to the desperate son of an alcoholic.

“You’re homeless?” Daren repeats with a baffled expression.

It’s the first time I’ve said “I’m homeless” out loud, and I thought it would feel different coming out of my mouth. Shameful, maybe? Sad? But instead I feel… fine. Maybe even a little brave.

There’s something about sharing the same destitute state with Daren that makes me feel courageous. I’m not alone so I’m not afraid.

I nod. “My lease was up before I left Chicago, and I couldn’t pay next month’s rent, so I gave up my apartment and came out to Copper Springs without any money. Or a plan. The only thing I really have is my mom’s old car, which, fortunately, is paid off.”

“So we’re both homeless and broke, and neither of us have a plan for our life?” he says. “Whoa.”

“Whoa, indeed.”

“I guess we have more in common than we knew,” he says.

“And I guess we both have a lot riding on this inheritance.”

He nods. “It’s kind of the only thing I have to hope for right now.”

The desperation in his voice has me suddenly rethinking my plan to take all the money for myself. I didn’t have an issue scamming a spoiled rich kid who introduced himself to me as a “legendary lover,” but this guy—this penniless guy who sleeps in a vacant house and pays off a stranger’s medical bills simply because it’s the right thing to do—I can’t take money from. And honestly, he deserves it more than I do.

“Well.” Daren pulls a cookie from the bakery bag, breaks it in half, and hands a piece to me. Then holds up his own piece. “Here’s to having no plan.”