Bad Things (Tristan & Danika #1)

by Lilley, R. K.

  I stopped glaring, but I was wary of the compliments.

  “Relax, okay?” he said, studying my face. “I’m not hitting on you, and I won’t. What are you, like eighteen? Way too young for me. I’m just stating facts. Normally women don’t appreciate other women as hot as you underfoot.”

  I was glaring again. “I’m twenty-one, and Bev is my best friend. I’ve been working for them for two years.”

  He threw up his hands, giving me an apologetic smile. “Sorry. I’m not trying to be a dick. It just surprised me that you were the nanny Jerry was telling me about. He gave me no hints that you were, well, hot.”

  “How old are you?” I asked him, still smarting from the too young comment.

  “Twenty-six.”

  “That’s not that old,” I told him.

  “I know. Just too old to be dating eighteen-year olds, or even twenty-one year olds. Frankly, though, I’m bad with women my own age, too, when it comes to relationships, which is why I don’t do them.”

  I couldn’t help it. I had to ask. “So what do you do?”

  “Hookups. Brief, casual hookups. How about you?”

  I shook my head, pursing my lips at him. I couldn’t quite believe that we had jumped to this already. He was a man to be careful of, to be sure. “I do relationships. No exceptions. Never had a casual hookup in my life.”

  He sighed, measuring some flour into the mixing bowl. “Well, I guess that makes things less complicated. We’ll be friends, then.” He shot me a sidelong smile that was downright irresistible. I thought that this was one of the strangest conversations I’d ever had, being that we had just met. Only, it didn’t feel like we’d just met. He spoke to me like he’d known me forever, and it was hard to refuse anything he said in that low voice of his.

  I nodded, giving him my own, rather begrudging smile. “Okay, friends, since we’ll be living under the same roof for the next week.”

  “Okay, then. My first job as your friend will be to show you how to make the best chocolate chip cookies in the world.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Tristan walked me through every step of the cookie making process, and I pretended to pay attention, but that attention kept wandering to his spectacular arms while he worked. I barely kept my composure when he used the mixer, and I watched his ripped arms vibrate with the movement of it.

  “Did you catch that, Danika?” he asked me with a smile.

  I shook myself out of it, looking at his face. “Huh?”

  He shook his head at me, his smile widening. I found my eyes focusing on the shadow of a beard lining his jaw. I’d never found the unshaven look so attractive before.

  “You’re a little troublemaker,” he told me matter-of-factly, going back to his cookie dough.

  “Me?” I asked, and I wasn’t sad when he didn’t respond. We didn’t need to get into a conversation about Trouble.

  He spooned little balls of his dough onto the cookie sheet very precisely. He slid the pan into the oven, setting the timer.

  “Do you like to go out?” he asked me as he washed his hands.

  I couldn’t seem to take my eyes off his hands. “Go out?”

  He dried his hands and approached me, stopping just short of my legs. “Yeah. Go out. Like to bars and clubs and parties. What do you like to do for fun?”

  I opened my mouth to answer, but my mind was pretty blank. Fun? What did I do for fun? I kept busy, that was for sure, but was any of it strictly for fun?

  “I swim with the boys a lot. And I walk the dogs.”

  He blinked at me, and I wanted to smack my own forehead. I sounded like a weirdo, even to myself. “You swim with the boys and walk the dogs? When was the last time you went out?”

  I mulled that over, quickly coming to the conclusion that I would not admit how long it had been since I’d ‘gone out’.

  I was saved from having to even attempt to answer by the swarm of dogs that invaded the kitchen. They had all followed Bev into her room, but had apparently finished saying their hellos.

  Dot moved between Tristan and me, letting out a little warning growl, and taking his place to guard me.

  Tristan studied the dogs, his hands moving to his hips as he took them in. “Are you going to introduce me?” he asked.

  I couldn’t help it, my lip curled at him in a smirk. “You want me to introduce you to the dogs?”

  He shrugged, that easy smile of his in place. “If you don’t mind.”

  I pointed to Mango first. “That’s Mango. She’ll slobber on you, and get on top of you when you’re sleeping, but she’s the sweetest dog in the world.”

  He nodded, moving to stroke his hands over the big dog. She was putty in his hands.

  I pointed to the next dog, a little, black and white lhasa-apso. “That little one is Pupcake. She’s the easy-going one, and the boys’ favorite.” He had her rolling onto her back in seconds.

  I pointed to the spotted brown coon hound. “That one is Coffeecup. He’s the youngest, and he and I are working through some issues.”

  He laughed at the name, stroking the dog. Coffeecup licked his face, and he didn’t bat an eye. Son of a bitch. “Dare I ask about the issues, or is it a touchy subject?”

  “It’s touchy,” I told him. The wild dog was driving me up the wall bonkers lately, and I didn’t want to explain all of the reasons why.

  I pointed at Dot, who was nuzzling into my dangling leg. “This is Dot. He’s the guard dog of the bunch.”

  Tristan nodded, bending down to pet the dog, his hand not an inch away from my leg. Shockingly, Dot let him, his tail wagging, no snarl in sight, close proximity to me and all. What the fuck?

  “How did you do that? Dot never takes to strangers.”

  He wiggled his fingers at me. “Haven’t I told you? I have magic hands.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  He straightened, pulling a pack of cards out of his pocket. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t noticed them. I’d been enjoying how he fit into his jeans rather intently…

  He shuffled the cards. I could tell by the way he handled them that he practiced a lot. His hands were big, which made the deft movements of his fingers more impressive, and more distracting.

  He fanned the cards out, smiling at me. “Pick a card, any card.”

  I arched a brow at him sardonically. “Are we really doing this? Card tricks?”

  He nodded, his smile widening. “See, skeptics are my favorite. So much more room to blow your mind.”

  I rolled my eyes, but I picked a card, extracting it carefully, keeping it turned away from him. I almost rolled my eyes again when I saw that it was the Queen of Hearts.

  “I want a new card,” I told him.

  He just laughed, shaking his head. “Just memorize it and put it back.”

  I did, making sure he couldn’t see it.

  He started shuffling the cards again, not even glancing down.

  “I’ve seen this trick before,” I told him.

  His brow furrowed, and cards started shooting from his hands, going everywhere. “Hm. You have?” he asked.

  I nodded, uncertain if throwing the cards everywhere had been part of the trick.

  He whistled loudly. “Mango, bring her the card.”

  I glanced down at the dogs, totally lost. “What the…?”

  Mango had a card in her mouth, and I bent down to her, holding a hand out.

  “Don’t eat cards, silly. That’s even worse than a stick of butter…” I trailed off as I pulled the Queen of Hearts out of her mouth.

  I straightened, thrown for a loop. I raised my wide eyes to Tristan’s smug ones. “How on earth did you do that?”

  He wiggled his fingers at me again. His magic hands.

  “Jazz hands are hardly an answer,” I told him.

  That had him doubled over laughing, and me smiling, because I already loved the sound of his laugh.

  “Seriously, how did you do that? How in the world did you have Mango in on the trick?”

&
nbsp; “Magic hands is the only answer you’ll ever get out of me. So, can you still say you’ve seen that trick before?”

  I just shook my head, trying hard to figure out what all he had to have done to pull that off.

  “Those are some…fun dog names.” He startled me out of my thoughts.

  I shrugged. “The boys named all of them except for Mango. I thought they did a pretty good job. They’re funny kids.”

  I turned my head as Bev called my name, approaching the kitchen with a smile. She turned that smile on Tristan as she got close. She was a tall, slender woman, with cornflower blue eyes and reddish blonde hair. She was forty-eight, but I didn’t think she looked it, her pale skin showing just the faintest signs of aging. Her features were attractive, her figure trim, and she was always dressed impeccably.

  “I’m so sorry, Danika,” she told me. “I didn’t realize this was a friend of yours. I feel so rude, storming off without introducing myself. I thought, well, I thought he was another of Jerry’s…projects.” She swept her hand in the air, as though to wave the idea away.

  I didn’t think I’d felt so shitty about myself in years as I did staring at the apologetic curve of her lips.

  “But anyway,” she turned to Tristan, holding out her hand. “I’m Bev.”

  Tristan didn’t hesitate to smile back, taking her hand. “Tristan.”

  Bev looked at me. “Jerry tells me you met him last semester. Why is this the first I’m hearing of it?” she asked, smiling. Bev’s smile was all open charm. No one in the world would have guessed she was a lawyer by that smile.

  I shrugged, feeling defensive and guilty as hell. “Nothing to tell. He’s just a buddy. He’ll only be staying for a week, I swear.”

  She waved that off. “Don’t worry about it. Stay as long as you like, Tristan. Any friend of Danika’s is a friend of mine. So where and how exactly did you guys meet?”

  “We had a class together,” I answered, shooting Tristan a glance.

  “What class?” she asked, as persistent as you’d expect from an attorney.

  “Psychology,” I threw out.

  “English,” Tristan said at the same time.

  I shot him a very unfriendly look for contradicting me.

  He grinned at Bev, totally unfazed. “Both. We had two classes together, actually. Danika was nice enough to share her notes with me.”

  Bev shot me a fond look. “She is meticulous.”

  I smiled back at her, vowing to myself that I would never lie to her again, no matter the reason. Damn Jerry.

  “I was just trying to get Danika to go out to a club with me tonight,” Tristan told Bev.

  I blinked at him, wondering what the hell he was doing.

  “She seems to think that walking the dogs is what a twenty-one year old should be doing for fun. I think she needs to get out more. Will you help me convince her?”

  Bev looked at me, her brow furrowing. “You know, Danika, I can’t remember the last time you went out. Tristan has a point. You’re twenty-one. You should be having more fun.”

  If looks could kill, Tristan would have dropped dead on the spot. He’d managed to get my Bev on his side in under a minute. I couldn’t quite believe it.

  He just smiled back at me, unfazed by my look of death. “It’s settled then. We’ll go out tonight. There’s this new club at the Cavendish casino. It’s great. You’ll love it.”

  I glared at him for a solid minute before I spoke. “You just want me to drive your sorry ass. You probably don’t even have a car.”

  I felt a little silly as both Tristan and Bev began to laugh.

  “You two seem to know each other well,” Bev gasped. “How have I never heard a word about Tristan before this, Danika?”

  I shook my head, but Tristan spoke before I could. He put his hand over his heart, giving me a heart-stopping smile. “That hurts my feelings, Danika. Don’t you ever talk about me?”

  He was enjoying this little charade, but I sure wasn’t. “Nope,” I said curtly.

  “Oh, Danika, you have to go out. I insist. Go have a good time. I don’t need any help with the boys tonight.”

  I grimaced. “I have things to do.”

  “Like what?” Tristan asked.

  “Well, for one, I need to walk the dogs.”

  “Okay. Let’s go do that now. I’ll come with.”

  I rolled my eyes, fully realizing that I was acting like a ten-year old. “Fine, but you have to walk Coffeecup.”

  He shrugged. “Sounds great.”

  “And I have to clean the pool,” I told him.

  “Oh, don’t worry about it,” Bev said.

  “I’ll help,” Tristan said, being strangely persistent.

  “And I have to finish the laundry.”

  Tristan shrugged. “We’ll get started after the cookies are done.”

  “You don’t have to do that today, Danika,” Bev tried again. “I can get to the laundry myself tonight, and the pool can wait. You could use a night off.”

  “We’ll knock those chores off in an hour, and she’ll still have plenty of time to get ready,” Tristan said.

  The oven timer started to beep, and he went to check on his cookies. Bev and I just watched him, not saying a word, as he put on oven mitts and slid the cookie sheet out of the oven. It was a strange and riveting sight; a ripped man at home in the kitchen. Baking fucking cookies. This man was so much Trouble…

  He studied the delicious smelling cookies for a long moment, then gave me a sidelong smile. “A perfect batch. You two have to try these.”

  I curled my lip at him. “I’m watching my figure.”

  His eyes flicked shamelessly over my body. “And you’re doing a damn fine job of it, but you can eat a cookie.”

  “Who could turn that down?” Bev asked.

  Who indeed? I thought resentfully.

  He was too bossy for my taste, or at least, I told myself that.

  “So what chore do we need to tackle first?” Tristan asked, while he slid a few still hot cookies from the sheet and onto a plate.

  “Dogs,” I said absently, still distracted by his ease in the kitchen.

  He nodded, bringing the plate over to us. “The cookies will be cool enough to eat in a minute. You’re eating one, and then we’ll walk the dogs.”

  I reached for a cookie, completely enticed by the smell. I was usually really good about dieting since I had to maintain my figure for dancing, but even I couldn’t resist the lure of his divine smelling cookies.

  He swatted my hand away. “I said one minute, Danika.”

  I glared at him for at least a solid minute.

  He only smiled. He offered the plate to Bev first. She took one, thanking him.

  I folded my arms over my chest, and just looked at him. I was trying hard to talk myself into refusing to eat a cookie, just to spite him, the bossy son of a bitch.

  He flashed a dimple at me, his golden eyes filled with mirth, and had the utter nerve to grab one with his own hand and hold it up to my lips.

  I took a bite, the smell and his charm irresistible to me. I closed my eyes, groaning as I chewed.

  I heard Bev making a similar noise. The man was not all talk. His cookies were as good as he claimed. It was just the perfect flavor combination of salty and sweet, and the texture was perfect, not too gooey, but melt in your mouth soft. I barely had to chew.

  Finally, after taking my time with the first bite, I opened my eyes to look at him. He was still smiling at me, his hand still holding the cookie to my mouth for another bite, but there was heat in his eyes now.

  I grabbed the cookie out of his hand, taking another bite. He nabbed one for himself, taking a huge bite. I watched him chew, transfixed by the hard line of his jaw as it worked. Finally, I made myself look away, finishing my cookie with slow, savoring bites.

  The boys rushed the kitchen right as I was finishing, and Tristan handed them cookies and paper towels, introducing himself.

  He was at ease with the k
ids, and they seemed to take to him instantly, just like everyone else had. The man was like a charm grenade.

  I gathered the dogs’ leashes from the laundry room, slipping into flip-flops and heading to the front door.

  Dot saw the leashes first, and rushed to the door, tail wagging. Bev had a huge backyard, but the dogs still loved their walks.

  I got them all ready, intending to leave whether Tristan joined me or not. I didn’t need help, and I didn’t quite understand his need to keep me company for my chores.

  He caught up to me as I was slipping out the door, holding it open for me. He held a hand out to me as we got outside, and I handed him Coffeecup and Pupcake’s leashes.

  We were just moving onto the sidewalk when he asked, “So tell me about your issues with Coffeecup.”

  I sighed. “Why?”

  “Why?”

  “Why on earth do you care about my dog issues?”

  “Because I’m curious, and I think it’s adorable that you have ‘dog issues’.”

  That drew a small smile, and an answer, out of me. “He’s rambunctious. He’s made it his mission in life to try to rush out the front door every time I have to open it for any reason. He’s gotten loose in the neighborhood three times this week.”

  He shrugged. “It’s a quiet neighborhood. It’s not like there are cars speeding around here. It’s gated. What’s the big deal?”

  I grimaced. “It’s a big deal because of the chicken lady.”

  That surprised a laugh out of him. “The chicken lady?”

  I laughed too, knowing how ridiculous it sounded—how ridiculous it was. “Yes. The crazy chicken lady.”

  He had to stop walking, he was laughing so hard. “Okay. You have to tell me this story. What exactly is a crazy chicken lady?”

  I shook my head, but I told him. “Well, there’s a community stable in the center of the neighborhood. Residents can rent out stalls. Most of the stalls are used for horses, but this one lady uses them for her prize chickens.”

  He arched a brow. He had a way about him that was so hard for me to resist, especially the way he gave me every ounce of his attention with single-minded focus. I drank up that attention as though I’d been starving for it.