Perfect Kind of Trouble

by Chelsea Fine

  Scanning his face, I try to read his eyes but there’s nothing familiar in their brown depths. He’s been like this all morning. Pensive. Anxious. I know we’re going to meet Eddie and his dad, but I don’t understand why that has him acting so nervous. The handsome happiness he almost always has on is locked away, somewhere behind the shadows passing his face, making me wish I knew how to take them away.

  “So where am I going again?” I ask as we pull out of the driveway.

  “The courthouse,” he says. “It’s on the north side of town. Just take the main road until you reach the turnoff by Wilcox Farm.”

  We drive in silence. Every few minutes, I catch him staring at me. Sometimes his gives me a small smile and other times he quickly glances away.

  Being with Daren last night was amazing. The way he touched me and moved against my body. I didn’t feel like a piece of meat in his arms. I felt like myself. I felt important. But now, even chained to his side, I feel a hundred miles away from him.

  Daren clears his throat. “So about my dad…” he begins. “He’s uh… he’s not the most pleasant guy, so don’t let him bother you or freak out when we get there, okay?”

  Now I’m nervous. “Why would I freak out?”

  “I don’t know. I just… I haven’t seen my dad in almost a year. We weren’t on speaking terms when he went to jail, so I’m just not sure how he’ll react to me today.”

  I nod. “Okay.”

  This is obviously a big deal for Daren and the only reason I get to peek into this very personal part of his life is because of these stupid handcuffs. Shame sweeps over me as we drive. My desire for this inheritance has inadvertently made me intrude on his life.

  From the corner of my eye, I see him stretch his neck and crack his knuckles. Anxiety rolls off him, filling my tiny car with a thick tension. I glance at our cuffed wrists. If there was no inheritance, I would be fine. I don’t need a lump of money to get my life in order. I’m smart and capable. Do I really want to force Daren to show me a part of his life that has him squirming? Am I that financially desperate?

  I look at his profile and think about how he likes to cook and is working so hard to pay off a stranger’s medical bills. For all the beauty of his face and body, his heart is the most stunning thing about him. And here I am, using him to get money.

  “Maybe we should swing by the hardware store and find some bolt cutters to snap these things off,” I suggest, lifting our joined wrists. “That way you can have some privacy with your dad.”

  He looks taken aback. “But then we’d forfeit and you wouldn’t get any money.”

  I shrug. “So what? It’s just money. I’ll make do.”

  He stares at me for a long moment before shaking his head. “No. I can’t ask you to do that. Besides, it’ll be fine today. With my dad.” He gives me a lopsided smile that looks more strained than sincere. In fact, everything about him looks strained. His shoulders are rigid, his jaw is flexed, and his eyes are hard and distant. No smile in the world could mask the turmoil in his expression.

  Stressed. Angry. Nervous. Afraid. His eyes flip from one emotion to the next, never settling.

  My stomach twists in anguish, not for myself, but for him as he stares out the window and murmurs, “It will be fine.” A sure sign that it will be anything but.

  28

  Daren

  Do you know how difficult it is to be granted entry into a public courthouse when you’re handcuffed to another person but not for legal reasons?

  Pretty fucking impossible.

  Kayla and I spent a good hour with the security guards, answering questions and giving recorded statements about why we’re handcuffed together explaining that, yes, we chose to be chained together and, no, we are not under duress.

  Eddie came out at one point and helped smooth over some of the confusion. It took eight security guards, two police officers, and one notary public to get us cleared for entry, but we managed to make it inside.

  And that wasn’t even the hard part.

  The hard part was biting my tongue when I walked into the holding room and saw my dad laughing with the bailiff. He hasn’t taken any of this seriously since day one.

  I glance at Kayla. She gives me an encouraging little smile and I quickly look away. She offered to cut off our handcuffs and forfeit her inheritance—an inheritance that would give her a better future—for me. And she didn’t even bat an eye.

  No woman has offered to sacrifice something so important for me. I don’t know what to say. Or think. Or feel about Kayla right now. So I’m avoiding eye contact until I figure it out.

  “Daren, my boy!” My dad waves at me with his cuffed wrists and smiles. “Like father like son, eh?”

  I curl my lip. “I’m nothing like you.”

  “Ouch.” He mocks a look of hurt. “Are you still pissed about Connor? Because you don’t have to pay his bills, you know. He can get a loan from the hospital or work with his insurance company—”

  “No, Dad. Just—” I inhale. “Just no. Someone needs to pay for the medical care he needed because of your horrendous decision making. And it shouldn’t be the guy who just recently learned how to walk again.”

  I purse my lips, thinking about the first time I saw Connor after the accident. It was the first court date and the poor guy was sitting in court in a body cast with two black eyes and a breathing tube sticking out of his neck. And my father wasn’t even fazed.

  He sighs. “Then I guess you’re welcome to be that martyr. Sweet Jesus, is that little Kayla Turner?” Dad’s eyes light up as he looks Kayla over. “My goodness, girl. I haven’t seen you in ages.”

  “Hi, Mr. Ackwood.” She smiles politely.

  “Call me Luke.” He smiles back. “Now why in the hell are you handcuffed to my son?”

  She bites her lip. “Well, uh…”

  “None of your business,” I say, taking a seat in one of the metal folding chairs on the other side of the table. I pull one out for Kayla as well and she sits beside me, crossing her legs.

  She pulls her phone and a pair of earbuds from her purse and holds them up. “I’m just going to…” She puts the buds in her ears and soon I hear the distant sound of music streaming from her phone. I let out a silent sigh of relief, grateful she won’t have to listen to this conversation—however it may go.

  I look at my dad. “Eddie tells me you’re refusing to plead guilty.”

  “So that’s how it’s going to be, then?” he says, spitting the words out like I’ve greatly offended him. “You’re not going to speak to me for ten months, and then when you do come to see me, you come leashed to Kayla Turner without explanation and try to give me legal advice?” He laughs out loud. “Oh, my boy. That’s priceless.”

  Eddie shuffles into the room, looking out of breath and a little bit sweaty. “Sorry. Sorry. I forgot which room number we were in and got a tad bit lost. But I’m here now!” He smiles.

  My father says, “Eddie, why is my son handcuffed to Kayla Turner?”

  Eddie frowns at me. “You haven’t found the money yet, I’m guessing?”

  I shake my head. “Turner’s letter turned out to be more of a scavenger hunt. We’re still looking.”

  Eddie makes a face of concern. “Oh my.”

  Dad looks at me. “What in the hell does a scavenger hunt have to do with your handcuffs?”

  I flex a muscle in my jaw. “Old Man Turner left us money in his will but we have to be handcuffed together until we find it.”

  Dad laughs again. “Well isn’t that a kick in the pants? Chained to a pretty girl and searching for treasure.”

  “Can we please get back to why I’m here?” I say, my patience less than thin.

  “Yes, yes.” Eddie pulls up a chair and sits. “Here’s the problem, Luke. If you don’t plead guilty, and this thing goes to trial, you could serve up to eight years if we lose.”

  “Then we’d better not lose.” He grins nonchalantly.

  Eddie’s phone rings and h
e glances at the caller ID before standing back up. “I have to take this. I’ll be right back.” Once again he leaves, and I turn to my father.

  “This isn’t a game, Dad.” I look at him sternly.

  He leans forward. “Don’t you think I know that? But I don’t want to storm into a courtroom and plead guilty to almost killing a man.”

  “But you did almost kill a man!” I say. “You are guilty.”

  “Which is exactly why I want to go to trial.” He sneers at me. “Why do you want me to plead guilty so bad?”

  I lower my voice and lean in. “Because it’s the right thing to do.”

  He eyes me for a moment then shifts his gaze to Kayla and shakes his head. “Doing the right thing doesn’t always get you to the right places. I did the right thing with your mom. I was faithful to her. I was loving and honest and all that sappy shit a good man is supposed to be. And what did she do? She fucking left us.”

  “Dad.” I rub a hand down my face. “This isn’t about Mom—or any other woman.”

  He waves me off. “It’s always about a woman. And let me tell you something else.” He lowers his voice. “Kayla Turner isn’t going stick with you either.”

  “She’s not with me, Dad. We’re just together to find the money.”

  “Say whatever you want, but I know that look in a man’s eyes. The look that says I want to be worthy of this girl. The look that says I want to do the right thing for this girl. But at the end of the day it doesn’t matter.”

  I roll my eyes and sigh.

  “Because you aren’t good enough for her,” he continues quietly. “And I know she’s handcuffed to you now, and you’re probably thinking that you stand a chance, but she’s just using you. That’s the truth, and the truth hurts.

  “Look at her, Daren. She’s young and beautiful, and she wants someone who’s stable and has money. And as soon as she gets that inheritance and you two unchain yourselves, that’s just what she’s going to go find. You don’t stand a chance, son. All the good looks in the world won’t keep a girl like Kayla Turner waiting around for you while you get your shit together.” He purses his lips and shakes his head. “She’s going to leave you. Women always leave. Hell, your own mother left you.” He inhales. “So if you know what’s best for you, you’ll drop this high-flying fantasy of yours where you and Kayla live happily ever after and get back to reality.”

  I don’t like my father. I despise him, mostly. But I can’t argue with his words. He’s right. Kayla deserves something more than me. This world we’ve created, with scavenger hunts and handcuffs and sleeping in the dark, has always been temporary. I’ve always been temporary.

  Eddie bustles back into the room and puts his cell phone away. “Sorry about that.” He sits back down. “Have we made any progress yet?”

  Dad leans back in his seat. “I still don’t want to plead guilty, Eddie. I’d rather take my chances in the courtroom…”

  They start discussing their odds in court while I sit back, pretending to listen. My eyes drift to Kayla, who’s scrolling through the music on her phone, oblivious to the conversation that just happened. I run my eyes over her soft face and slender arms and my chest tightens as I think about last night.

  I had that soft face in my hands and her sweet body tucked beneath mine. She was kissing me back with passion—I couldn’t have imagined that. The way she moaned and exhaled; the way she moved against me and melted around me… those aren’t things I imagined. But could she really just be swept up in this hunt and last night was just a part of the game?

  I study her for a moment. Is she faking it for the sake of the inheritance? For the fun of it? It doesn’t seem likely, especially since she was willing to forfeit the inheritance in the car this morning. But maybe that’s all fake too.

  I rub a hand over my mouth, totally confused. This is why I don’t get attached to girls. They get in my head and make me second-guess everything. Then they get in my heart and scare the shit out of me with the prospect of being left behind.

  What happens when we find the inheritance? Will Kayla leave? My heart drops as the answer seeps in. She will. She’ll leave me.

  She shifts in her chair and gives me a small smile. I smile back, but it’s forced and feels wrong on my lips.

  “… at least consider what we’re asking, Luke,” Eddie says to my father.

  I tune back in to the conversation.

  My dad sighs. “Fine. I’ll think about pleading guilty. Think about it.”

  “Excellent.” Eddie looks at me. “Isn’t that good news?”

  I nod. “Yes. Good news.” I stare at the table with a heavy feeling in my gut.

  That might be good news, but the fact that Kayla Turner is probably going to leave me is not.

  Dad was right. The truth hurts.

  29

  Kayla

  The drive out to the old lavender ranch is tense and uncomfortably silent. Daren hasn’t said a word since we left the courthouse and I’m not sure if I should speak.

  I carefully say, “So that seemed to go… okay.”

  “Don’t,” he says.

  I blink, slightly hurt, but say nothing else.

  I wonder if maybe he’s being cold because of what happened last night. I know he’s a womanizer, and I know he’s not big on commitment, so maybe he’s upset because he woke up this morning and realized he, literally, can’t escape me. Then everything with his dad this morning just angered him even more.

  “Listen,” I begin, hoping to alleviate some of the stress radiating from his side of the car. “What happened last night… it wasn’t a big deal.”

  He nods at the road, working a muscle in his jaw without looking at me, then slowly swings his head to me and sneers. “Oh, I know.” He scoffs and glares back out the window. “I know.”

  I stare at him in confusion.

  What the hell is that supposed to mean? He knows? Like he had no intention of caring about me or us beyond sex? God. I was just trying to let him off the hook, but wow.

  I bite back a curse. Maybe I was wrong about Daren. Maybe he’s just like every other piggish guy I know.

  A few miles later we pull into the old lavender ranch, and I park just inside the gate. We get out of the car and are immediately assaulted by a miniature tornado of dust, sweeping over the deserted ranchland and funneling dirt into the sky. It blows over us quickly but my skin and clothes are already coated in a thick film of dust. Fantastic.

  I wipe my hands over my face and rub out my eyes. Daren does the same. When we open them, we instantly spy a note pinned to a post of the ranch sign.

  I look at Daren, waiting. “What, no ‘Eureka!’ or ‘Tallyho!’ for this one?”

  “Aha!” he says with false exuberance and a lame expression.

  “Whatever.” Restraining the scowl I want to throw his way, I hastily unpin the note from the post and scan the message inside.

  Congratulations, this is your last clue! Your money is in a safe place through the trenches. Good luck!

  “Through the trenches…?” I say. “What does that mean?”

  Daren turns around a few times. “Maybe there are some trenches dug out around the ranch somewhere?” His attitude seems lighter now that we’ve read the note, and I breathe a little easier.

  We search the grounds, sweating under the hot afternoon sun, but find nothing even remotely close to a trench.

  I bite my lip. “Maybe he has some trenches around his garden back at his house?”

  Daren shakes his head. “I practically built that garden. No trenches.”

  We brainstorm a while longer but can’t come up with any solid ideas.

  Daren kicks at the ground and curses. “This is so fucking annoying.” He throws his arms out. “Why couldn’t he just tell us where to go? Why did he have to make it so goddamn impossible with our cuffed wrists and these stupid hints?”

  “I don’t know.” I shrug. “Let’s keep thinking. Maybe he meant—”

  “No.” He sha
kes his head. “This is dumb. We don’t even know how much money we’re jumping all these hurdles for. For all we know, your dad left us a quarter.”

  “Maybe, but I really think—”

  “And the handcuffs! Why?” he says with dark eyes, pissed. “Why did he ever think this would be a good idea?” He jiggles our handcuffs somewhat aggressively.

  I narrow my eyes. “Why are you in such a bad mood?”

  He glowers at me. “No reason.”

  “Then quit bitching and help me figure this clue out,” I snap.

  His sour attitude doesn’t make any sense. If he wants outs, I already offered to cut off the cuffs. And if he’s scared I’m going to get clingy, he can relax since I told him last night wasn’t any big deal. I eye him for a moment. Maybe something else is going on here? Maybe something happened between him and his dad to set him off? I’m so confused.

  Forty-five minutes and two mini dust tornados later, we still have no idea what “through the trenches” means. And now we’re covered in dirt that clings to our faces and limbs thanks to the sticky sweat glistening on our skin.

  Another gust of wind blows more dust into my hair and eyes and I swat it away angrily. Daren swats at the dirty wind, accidentally meets my eyes, and quickly looks away with a scowl as he wipes his brow.

  Now I’m convinced his sour attitude is because of what happened between us. The bastard can’t even look me in the eye.

  “Maybe he meant a different kind of trench. Like a war trench,” Daren suggests.

  I scoff. “Yeah, I’m sure he wants us to trek through a battlefield and go digging through some war trenches.”

  He juts his chin. “Do you have any better ideas? Because all you’ve done for the past twenty minutes is complain. It’s hot. I’m tired.” He scowls. “What is your deal?”

  “What is your deal?” I say. “You’re the one who’s been in a pissy mood all morning and hasn’t spoken to me since we left your dad.”

  He snaps, “Why do you keep bringing up my personal shit? It’s none of your damn business. Can’t you just forget about my life for one fucking second?”