by Chelsea Fine
We both nod and shrug.
“Thank you for taking care of everything for my dad’s will,” Kayla says.
“Certainly,” he says. “Anything for James. I’m just glad it’s all done with now. And it was a treat meeting you. James wasn’t sure if you’d come, because of what happened with your mother and all.”
Her eyes flick over his face, hard and wary. “It was… It seemed like the right thing to do.”
I focus on my lemonade glass, feeling like an intruder on their conversation. I don’t know what happened with her mom but whatever it was must have been unfortunate.
“Well I’m glad you came. Both of you,” he says, looking at me. He scratches his chin. “It was an interesting will though, wasn’t it?” He shakes his head. “James always had an odd sense of humor, but asking you to handcuff yourselves together for money? Well that’s just a bit over-the-top, even for him.”
We whip our eyes to him.
“Did you say money?” I jolt up in my seat, my heart pounding as Kayla’s gaze zeroes in on him like he’s the only thing in the room. She grips the edge of the bar and leans in.
“Well… yes,” Eddie says. “The letter James wrote explains how to find the money he left you two.” He wrinkles his brow. “Did I forget to mention that earlier?”
“Yes!” we say at the same time, loud enough to turn a few heads at the bar.
“Oh, my. I could have sworn…” Eddie rubs his mouth. “What a mistake. Well, I apologize. But that’s what the will said. If the two of you agreed to be handcuffed together, you could pick up James’s letter and follow his instructions to the money he left you.”
Kayla’s eyes grow wide. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.” Eddie nods.
“Holy shit,” I mutter.
I’m so elated right now I could shout. Old Man Turner left money, for me, and all I have to do to get it is lock myself up to his super-hot daughter for a few hours?
Hell To The Yes.
Kayla’s mouth hangs open in shock as she whispers, “I can’t believe this.”
“There are a few caveats, of course,” he continues. “You’d have to stay handcuffed until you found the money, and you’d have to share the money—”
“Sure. Yeah. Of course.” I nod impatiently. “So how much money are we talking here? Three zeros? Four?” I lower my voice. “Six?”
Eddie shakes his head. “I’m not allowed to disclose that information. James felt that you knowing the amount would negate his purpose in leaving it to you.”
Kayla blinks a few times. “That makes no sense.”
Eddie shrugs. “But that’s the nature of wills. They don’t have to make sense.”
“What about the papers we signed today?” I say. “Does that mean we forfeited the letter?”
“Because that was before we knew that the letter was more than just a letter,” Kayla points out.
I scoot my chair around the corner of the bar so I can be closer to the conversation, and pull up right next to Kayla. She smells like coconuts. I glance at her throat. Coconuts are delicious.
Eddie waves us off. “You have twenty-four hours to change your minds. If you decide you do wish to be handcuffed after all, you can swing by my office tomorrow and we’ll draw up new papers. Thank you, Amber.” He smiles as she hands him a brown paper takeout bag. “Now if you’ll excuse me,” he says. “I have a pile of paperwork waiting for me at home and those documents aren’t going to read themselves.”
As he moves to leave, the wheels in my head start turning. I’m not crazy about Kayla. But if being handcuffed to her all day can dig me out of this money pit I’m trapped in, then chain me up! I need that money.
All I need to do now is convince Kayla that she needs it too.
7
Kayla
I’m speechless. And it’s taking everything in my power not to run after Eddie and beg him to draw up new paperwork right here at the bar. My father left me money.
My father.
Left me money.
I’m so shocked and relieved I could squeal. I might, actually. No, that wouldn’t be cool. I will not squeal in a room filled with people who are already judging me because of my bra size.
I slide my eyes to the raven-haired girl beside me who hasn’t stopped throwing dirty looks my way since I sat down, especially since Daren started talking to me. She’s probably a casualty of Daren’s undoubtedly long trail of broken hearts. Poor thing. I kind of feel bad for her. Broken hearts are the worst.
And speaking of Daren… he sure as hell better be on board with getting cuffed to me because we are going to get that letter.
Eddie wriggles his way through the crowd and out the front door with his food. The moment the door closes behind him, Daren and I snap our eyes to each other.
“We’re doing this,” we say at the same time. Followed by a confused, “You want to do this?”
I nod. “Yes.”
He nods back with bright brown eyes. “Me too.”
I shrug. “It’s not like we’d have to stay handcuffed for very long.”
“Of course not,” he agrees. “We’ll let Eddie cuff us, grab the letter, then uncuff ourselves once we know where the money is.”
“Right. And then I’ll go get the money.”
“Whoa.” He holds up a hand. “You mean, we’ll go get the money.”
“No. I mean I’ll go get the money,” I say. “Why would we go get the money?”
“Uh, because Turner left half of it to me?”
I scoff. “Yeah, because he didn’t think I’d show up. But guess what?” I mock a gasp. “I showed up.”
“And we’re all honored by your presence, Your Majesty.” He smiles sharply. “But that doesn’t mean you get to swipe my half of the inheritance.”
“Swipe? You’re rich,” I spit out. “What do you need the money for?”
“I’m rich? You’re the one who’s been living off of Daddy’s dime for the past ten years.”
“What are you talking about?” I scrunch up my face in confusion. “I’m broke.”
He scoffs. “Sure you are.”
My eyes widen. “I am.”
He shrugs and spins the ice in his glass. “Well, that’s too bad because half of that money is mine.”
I purse my lips.
Greedy. Selfish. Spoiled. Rich boy. There’s no way I’m sharing the only thing my father left to me. No way.
I didn’t get to have him in my life for five long years, and as insane as it sounds, the fact that my crazy father designed some kind of weird letter hunt for me to go on makes me feel loved—or at least remembered. And I don’t feel like sharing my father’s last memory of me with some pretty-boy heartthrob who has nothing to do with my family.
And besides, if I want to get into nursing school I’m going to need tuition money. Lots of tuition money. This might be my only opportunity to make something better of my life. There’s not a chance in hell I’m going to hand over half of my future to Daren Ackwood.
Not that he needs to know that.
“Fine,” I sigh in feigned reluctance, rolling my eyes to really sell it. “We’ll split the money.”
He nods. “Damn straight we will.”
“Hi, Daren,” coos a female voice behind me.
I turn to see a blonde Barbie doll standing beside a brunette Victoria’s Secret model, both wearing revealing tops and seductive smiles.
“Hey, Lizzy. Tanya.” Daren flashes them his dimple. “You two look lovely tonight.”
They giggle. They actually giggle. Grown women shouldn’t giggle.
But he’s right. They do look lovely, tight shirts and all. They’re very attractive and from the way they’re sizing him up I’m guessing they know Daren intimately.
“This is my friend, Kayla,” he says, gesturing to me. “Kayla, meet Lizzy and Tanya.”
I nod at them with a tentative smile. “Hello.”
They look me up and down. Then flash me fake smiles and eve
n more fraudulent greetings.
“Love the shoes,” the Barbie says. I think she’s the one named Lizzy. She nods at my old sneakers with an air of satisfaction.
The other one—Tanya—says, “Nice… shirt.” She glances at my chest where I’m sure she’s doing girl math to see which of us has greater boob mass.
It takes all the self-control I have not to tuck my feet farther under the bar or cross my arms over my chest. There’s nothing wrong with my shoes. They’re old and ripped up a bit, but it’s not like they’re clown shoes with neon patches on them. And my shirt is completely normal. But still I feel an itch of insecurity start somewhere deep inside me and I want to slap myself for letting it exist.
They’re clearly trying to impress Daren with their false niceness. But from the look of disapproval on his face, he isn’t fooled at all.
I don’t have a lot. But I’m not ashamed of what I do have. And these two bullies are only picking on me in their passive-aggressive ways because they’re threatened by me. If I wasn’t so used to girls treating me this way, I might say something snotty in return. But instead, I smile as pleasantly as possible and remind myself that they are human beings with feelings.
I glance down at my ratty shoes and say, “Thanks. I try to dress comfy as often as possible.” I look at them and appeal to the one thing I know we have in common: being girls. “High heels might look cute but they’re a real bitch, am I right?” I smirk.
They hesitate. Clearly they weren’t expecting me to respond with such civility. The Lizzy girl breaks out a real smile.
“Totally.” She glances down at the expensive pumps she has on. “Pain. In. The. Ass.”
“Tell me about it,” Tanya adds, tapping her own fancy shoe.
For a brief moment, we aren’t enemies.
Then Tanya turns her attention back to Daren. “So, handsome…” He grins. “We looked for you last night, but couldn’t find you.”
His smile teeters. “Yeah, well. It was a long day.”
Lizzy pouts her lower lip. “We wanted to cheer you up. It must have been such a sad day for you.”
His eyes flick to me and, for a split second, I see real loss in them. He clears his throat. “It was a little rough but I’m doing okay.”
Tanya places her hand on his knee and a silky smile slides over her face. “You think you might need some cheering up tonight?”
Lizzy slips on her own sexy smile and leans forward.
What are they, a package deal?
To his credit, Daren has the decency to look mildly uncomfortable. “Actually, ladies, I’m all set for tonight. But I appreciate your concern.”
They each shoot me a look of contempt, clearly assuming that I’ll be cheering him up in their place tonight, and just like that, they’re back to hating me.
I can’t win.
After saying their farewells, the girls saunter away and Daren turns to me with a pointed look.
“Did you notice how I introduced you just now? As my friend. And it didn’t even hurt.” A smile plays at his lips.
I take a sip of my beer and watch Barbie and Victoria slither through the crowd. “If those are the kind of ‘friends’ you keep then I’m not so sure I want to be part of the group.”
He gives me an apologetic look. “Yeah. Sorry they weren’t cool. They’re not as bad as they seem. I swear. They just have self-esteem issues and jealousy problems. And you’re…” He looks me over. “Well, you’re probably everything they want to be.”
Ha.
“I seriously doubt that,” I say.
“You’re beautiful, is what I mean,” he says casually.
Most guys can’t compliment a girl without looking slightly uncomfortable. Not Daren, though. Nope. He’s cool as a cucumber.
He adds, “Some girls aren’t nice to beautiful girls.”
I mimic Tanya. “Tell me about it.”
As he takes a sip of his drink, I play with my napkin again, suddenly aware that he’s sitting right next to me. He sets his glass down and my eyes follow the movement. His purple sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, exposing his tan forearms and hands. His has nice skin—flawless skin, actually—stretched over lean muscles and long fingers. My gaze travels up to his face and finds him watching as I shred my napkin to pieces. Our eyes meet and I swiftly look elsewhere.
The first time I saw Daren, I was thirteen and drinking a glass of iced tea in my father’s kitchen. I remember because upon seeing him I choked a little on my tea and it dribbled down my chin. He was the same age as me but with his broad shoulders and strong jawline he looked older. When I asked my father who the boy in the backyard was, he replied, “A good kid who needs something to be proud of,” whatever that meant. Then he told me his name was Daren Ackwood and I immediately registered the identity.
Ackwood.
Wealthy family. Adulterous scandal.
I’d heard the gossip around town and immediately felt sorry for the boy pushing the lawn mower. If I knew the dirt on his family, surely everyone else in town knew it too. And that couldn’t be easy for him.
After that, I didn’t give much thought to Daren Ackwood. Until the following summer. We were both fifteen and Daren was in the yard, mowing the grass, but this time without a shirt on.
If I had been drinking iced tea at that time, I certainly would have choked on it all over again. He was more attractive than the year before and had layers of muscle lining his tan chest now. Those muscles rippled with his movements and glistened with his sweat, and for the first time in my life, I wanted to touch a boy—really touch a boy. Which was strange for me because I was as prudish as they came.
I slant my eyes to Daren in the barstool next to me and bite my lip. If fifteen-year-old Daren looked appetizing without a shirt on, I bet twenty-one-year-old Daren looks downright delicious.
Ugh. No.
No, Kayla.
Boys are bad.
I’m not a prude like I was all those years ago but I’m not free and easy with my sexuality either. I’ve learned through a series of disappointing boyfriends that boys only care about my body and their own pleasure.
I rarely pay guys any attention anymore, yet here I am, fantasizing about Daren Ackwood just like I did when I was a teenager. Ugh.
“So how much are you thinking?” he says.
I blink and pull my eyes off his chest. “What?”
He shrugs. “How much do you think your dad left us?”
At his question, my new incredible reality comes screaming back at me with bells and whistles.
My head jumps with ideas but doesn’t quite land anywhere. My father and I hadn’t spoken since before my sixteenth birthday so I didn’t know him well enough to guess. I know his family came from old money—enough money that my mom would bitch and moan about what a jackass he was when he stopped sending her child support and alimony—but actual numbers are just speculation.
Unless this is all just a cruel prank and my crazy dad is messing with my hopes, dangling the prospect of inheritance money in front of me like an unreachable carrot.
I shake my head. “I have no idea. A few thousand dollars, maybe?”
He lets out a low whistle. “That would be nice.”
I frown at him and his designer shirt. A few thousand dollars is pocket change to a guy like Daren. To me, it’s the difference between sleeping on a park bench and having a bed to crawl into.
“Or knowing my father,” I say dryly, “it might only be twenty bucks.”
“Maybe.” He nods with a grin. “But then we’d each be ten dollars richer.”
He has a point.
“So it’s decided then?” I toss the napkin aside and face him. “We’re going to handcuff ourselves together for what may or may not end up being a twenty-dollar bill?”
Amusement flashes in his eyes. “I’m game if you are.”
“Oh, I’m game,” I say with a slow smile. “I’m very game.”
He lifts his glass with a crooked grin. “Then her
e’s to handcuffs.”
I lift my drink to his. “Here’s to handcuffs.”
8
Daren
After cleaning up my plate, I head back to the kitchen. Jake is at the grill, calling out instructions to the staff when I walk in.
“Daren,” he calls out. “You’re on prep.”
“Sure thing,” I say. “Thanks for letting me help out. Again.”
“Anytime.” He shouts out an order to the guys on the line and flips a burger before giving me a curious look. “What’s up with you?”
“What do you mean?” I start washing my hands.
He shrugs. “You look… happy.”
I smirk. Hell yes, I’m happy. I just found out that I’m heir to an inheritance.
“Was it the blonde out there?” Jake nods toward the restaurant. “Is she the reason you’re in such a good mood?”
“What? No.” I scrub my fingers. “Well kind of, yes. But not like that.”
He slants his eyes to me. “Riiight.”
I scoff. “Come on, Jake. When have you ever known me to get happy over a girl?”
He considers. “Good point.” He throws a raw steak on the grill and pulls a cooked one off. “So what’s up with you then?”
I shrug. “Nothing.”
Yet.
After I finish washing up, I head to the chopping block while biting back a smile.
I still can’t believe it. James Turner left me an inheritance, that old dog.
Twenty dollars would be fine. But if it was more money… if it was a lot more money… my whole world could change. All the shit I’ve had to deal with these past few years, all the stress, it could all disappear—or some of it, at least—and I could have options.
And I didn’t think I’d ever have options. Not as far as my future was concerned.
I spend the next hour and a half slicing and dicing ingredients while bantering with the kitchen guys.
I love being in the kitchen of Latecomers. I love being in kitchens, period. There’s nothing quite as invigorating as the hustle and bustle of cooking. The prep, the flavor pairings, the sautéing and grilling. It relaxes me in a way nothing else ever has.
The first time I ever “cooked” was when I was nine. Marcella was making spaghetti sauce and asked me to help stir the simmering tomatoes. While I was stirring, she started to toss in some olives and I made a face. I hated olives in my spaghetti sauce. Laughing, Marcella asked me what I did like in spaghetti sauce. I told her I wasn’t sure what I liked because I didn’t know all of the ingredients. So she pulled out some basil, mushrooms, onions, and spices and had me taste each one. Then she let me make my own spaghetti sauce using the ingredients I liked. I cut up the mushrooms and onions and sprinkled oregano. Then I stirred the simmering sauce, the rich aroma filling my nose, until it was ready. We sat down to eat together, just the two of us in my parents’ giant kitchen, and I took my first bite.