I Knew You Were Trouble (Troublemaker Series Book 1)

by Cassie Mae

  “Unless you want to stay.” The invite is out there before I can stop it, and I know I should probably take it back, but I don’t want to. “Yeah. You should stay. Spend the night and have Christmas morning with us, too.”

  She furrows her brow, her eyes searching mine, looking for my reasoning. She won’t be able to find it, because I don’t even know what the hell I’m thinking. All I know is no one should spend Christmas alone, and she talks of being lonely, of not having friends, and hating who she is, and I don’t like that. The more I get to know her, the more I like who she is already.

  “I’m… I’m not great with kids,” she says, her voice quiet and apologetic. “You know that already.”

  “Demi will be fine.”

  “And Maddie?” She nibbles on the inside of her lip, and I want to reach up and stop her. “She’ll be okay with it?”

  “Hundred percent.” Now I got two things to break to her, but my sister is an understanding person. One of the good ones.

  She mulls it over, her teeth pulling at that lip, her corner freckle twitching relentlessly. “And you… You’re okay with me seeing your place?”

  Not really. “Yeah.” A rock sinks in my stomach. I just realized I have no idea where she’ll sleep. Demi will most likely room with Maddie in her cushy queen-size. I’ve got a full, and I know Candace won’t share and I’d never ask. I could crash on the couch; let her take my bed.

  “This is more for me than you,” I lie, trying to lighten the sudden buzz in the air that arrived the moment I blurted out the invite. “I can’t wrap for shit, and I’ve got no idea how to bake. And I know you’ve got a knack for that, too. I have dreams about that apple pie.”

  That gets a laugh out of her, and she finally stops attacking her lip. “Completely hopeless.” She shakes her head, but there is a light on in her dazzling brown eyes, and I have to blink myself out of the haze she covers me in.

  “Is that a yes?” I nudge. I equally hope it is and isn’t.

  “I guess,” she says on a sigh, like I’ve put her out, but with the smile on her face I know she’s far from put out.

  A few beats pass us by, and then she slides into the couch more fully, and her head hits my shoulder. The buzz in the room is back, but it’s got a completely different tune. Every thorn burrowed into my heart retracts as it pumps double time.

  “I want a cover for Gertrude,” I blurt.

  “Uh, what?” Her candied apple scent grows stronger.

  “For Christmas. I mean, if you’re bringing a gift…”

  She chuckles at the tease in my voice. “Have you been a good boy?”

  “No.”

  “Then you get nothing!” She lifts her head, and I immediately regret teasing her so quickly after she rested there. She gives my shoulder a good poke before pushing up from the couch. “Better get going. Got art class.”

  “Gonna sit through the penis?”

  “Like always.” She grins. “I’m a pro now.”

  “And that’s why you just lost all color in your face.”

  She makes a face at me, then gives me a wave. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” We’re working the bungee and mini golf together.

  “No requests for presents for you?” I prod, hoping she gives me some idea.

  “You just gave me what I wanted.” A sparkle rests in her eyes. “Now I don’t have to spend Christmas with a spider corpse.”

  I shake my head, but there’s a victorious shout deep inside of me. She’s replaced every bit of frustration, sorrow, and resentment taking up residence in me, and if she can do that in a single conversation, I can’t wait to see what happens when she’s in more of my life.

  Candace

  “In a quarter mile, take the next right on Haste Boulevard.”

  I check my mirrors, turning my blinker on to get into the right lane. The small town Indiana streets are bustling this Christmas Eve, most likely people getting to the various parties they’ve been invited to. The only parties I remember growing up were family ones. My parents aren’t into the fancy stuff, preferring holidays to be spent more intimately. And I didn’t mind one bit. Parties freak me out. They’re level green on my fear chart.

  A slow dip rumbles my empty stomach. What if this invitation was Pete’s way of getting me to tackle that fear? There could be a party at his apartment right now and I’ll be stepping smack into a trap! What a butt!

  I make the right turn and my GPS tells me my destination is up on the left. Relief washes over me when I pull in to a mostly empty parking lot. A laugh floats out of my lips. A party for me… I’m real silly sometimes.

  Gertrude sits under a covered spot, the number 11 nailed in the tiny beam that stretches across a row of reserved parking. It looks like a 2 was nailed there before the eleven, the paint underneath the missing number much cleaner.

  I park in an uncovered spot not far away. Most of the spots are surprisingly vacant. Maybe college kids went home for the holiday or are out at a party. Even under the reserved parking, Gertrude only has three neighbors in a row of twelve.

  My trunk pops, and I climb out, fixing my coat. I grabbed just a couple of things—baking supplies, a sleeping bag, my trusty pillow, and a present for each of them. I did do some Christmas Eve boxes, too, but I was able to put them in my duffle. I was tempted to buy gifts upon gifts, but I know it’s important to Pete that he’s the one to provide Christmas for his sister, and I don’t want to overstep.

  I still feel awkward intruding on such a family holiday. Did he extend the invite just to be polite and I went ahead and took it seriously? He genuinely looked excited at the idea of me joining in, but heck, maybe I read that all wrong.

  My heart thunders as I gather all my stuff. I stick my pillow under one armpit and my sleeping bag under the other. I pull my overnight bag out and toss the strap over my shoulder, chucking the weight back until it hits my butt. I have a reusable grocery bag with all the baking ingredients that I set on my other shoulder, and I sigh, eyeing the three presents I have no idea how to get inside.

  Yeah… maybe I have more than I thought.

  I adjust the weight on my shoulders and dive in. I stack the wrapped gifts one on top of the other and use my chin to hold them in place. My teeth find the inside of my bottom lip as I reach for the trunk button.

  I imagine I look very much like a one-man band hobbling my way across the parking lot and up the two flights of stairs to get to apartment 211. My bags crash against the railing with each step upward, my sleeping bag sliding down my side and sticking between my hip and my forearm. I’m completely out of breath when I stand in front of his door.

  I have no free hand. I stare at the peeling green paint covering the wood, a festive wreath set on a nail just above the peephole. It looks homemade—tiny pieces of fabric covering the wire frame. On closer inspection, the red and green fabric is peppered with black Star Wars print. A silent chuckle slips through my wheezing breath.

  I take a step back, eyeing the doorbell. I fling my leg up, trying to catch the button with my boot. It takes me four tries before I finally hear the bell ring out.

  “Come on in!” I hear Maddie from the other side. My sleeping bag slips farther down my side, now on my upper thigh. I hunch over, trying to keep it from hitting the ground.

  “Uh…” I choke out. “Little help?” Unless she wants me to kick down the door, I’m going to need a free hand.

  The presents start to tip, and I press them tighter under my chin. I can’t drop these. Demi’s is super fragile, and I don’t think Maddie wants a busted GoPro camera. Pete’s can fly down the stairs, get run over, and be fine.

  A few seconds-that-take-hours later, the click of the door echoes down the open apartment alcove, and Maddie swings the door open with such gusto the wreath nearly rocks off the nail.

  “Hey… Oh!” she says, her face flush, the smell of honey ham permeating the air around her frazzled hair. She quickly rushes for the gifts. If my arm could breathe, it just let out the biggest sig
h of relief.

  “Thanks,” I say through a laugh.

  “Next time text.” She waves me inside, and I squeeze through the door, letting my sleeping bag fall to the worn carpet. “I’m a pro at emptying trunks in one trip.”

  If I had her number, I probably would have. Or not. I don’t know her that well.

  She sets the presents under the purple tree. Oh good, he did decorate it more. A popcorn string starts from the top and ends just before it hits the bottom. A couple of ornaments hang in random places, with no rhyme or reason. It looks like they tried to do tinsel, but gave up with meticulous placement and ended up chucking the rest in massive, random chunks.

  And someone went candy cane crazy. Almost every branch hosts one, and there are so many that the bottom of the tree looks like it has a candy cane fringe skirt on. A single strand of colored lights is completely burned out, so only the top half of the tree is lit.

  I know it should bug me—the haphazard decorations and the imperfections, but a smile curls on my lips as I take it in. There is more love put into this tree than I’ve seen in any I grew up with.

  “Pete should be back any minute.” Maddie pulls my attention away from the crooked star on the top branch. “Let me take you to his room.”

  I jerk back. “Where?”

  She laughs. “Don’t worry. He cleaned it.” Without further explanation, she scoops up my sleeping bag and eases my overnight duffel off my shoulder. She leads me past a small kitchen, an open closet in the hallway that is home to their washer and dryer, a bathroom, and then turns left into an open bedroom door.

  Pete’s bed is pushed against the far wall and takes up about three-fourths of the floor space, and it’s only a full. I don’t see a dresser, but I eye the closet door. There couldn’t be enough room for a dresser in there, could there? Is that something people do when they don’t have much room to work with?

  His nightstand has a single lamp and charging cord, and the top drawer has a tiny slip of paper or something poking from the top, almost like he swiped everything from the top into the drawer and shoved it shut.

  And the smell… If the honey ham scent wasn’t so strong, I think I would’ve been knocked over by the wave of apple cinnamon Febreze. I know the scent well—it’s one of my favorite Christmas air fresheners.

  He used it very generously.

  I stifle a grin at how much effort he put into impressing me with his living space while Maddie sets my bag down next to Pete’s nearly empty laundry basket in the corner. “Geez, Pete… spray enough air freshener in here?”

  I let my laughter out. At least I’m not the only one thinking it. I toss my pillow, letting it flump on top of my stuff. I’m not exactly sure where I’ll be sleeping, so I won’t set up just yet. There’s no way I’ll be sleeping in here, right? With him? My stomach knots into a ball, and I try to untangle it with a hard swallow.

  “Um… I brought some things for cookies.” I pat my grocery bag like an idiot. Like she doesn’t know I have food in there.

  “Sweet.” She moves toward the door, but the hallway is so narrow that I end up leading her to the kitchen.

  Maddie takes my bag of groceries and starts putting them away, navigating the small space like a professional cook. She knocks drawers and cupboards shut with her hip, spinning in a kick to the fridge, all while bopping to a song she must have in her head. She’s oddly athletic for such a small frame. Her Buddy the Elf shirt pops up enough to showcase a set of abs that I could only pay a trainer for.

  Her mood is light and easy, not unlike when she came to help out with Mona Lisa. I wonder if this is just who she is, and that is pretty freaking awesome if that’s true. No wonder Pete gets along with her.

  “You don’t mind that I’m here, right?” My eyes go to the counter and I run my hand across the smooth top. It’s not granite or quartz, but it’s still sturdy. Homey.

  “Gosh, no,” she says with a wave. “Pete’s gonna be so much easier to handle with you around.”

  I’m not sure what she means by that, but it makes me laugh. “I just don’t want to intrude on family time.”

  “Friends are family, too.” She opens the oven door, and a loud screech bounces off the wall. I wince, but she doesn’t seem to notice. “Ooh, I think it’s done.”

  “It smells really yummy.”

  “It’s my first attempt, so let’s hope I didn’t botch it.” She grabs a couple of oven mitts, and I stand awkwardly in the doorway. It’s not like I can help much—there is barely enough space in here with us tandem, so I can’t imagine helping side-by-side. So I wring my hands together and peer at the front door. Gertrude was parked out front, so I wonder if Pete took Maddie’s car to get Demi.

  That’s nice and responsible. Safer. Sexy.

  Oh! That was a surprise description that just sneaked its way into my thoughts.

  I shake my head and focus back on Maddie. “Can I help with anything?” I ask, but it’s more just out of politeness protocol.

  “I think I got it,” she says through a strained voice, bent down into the oven. A grunt drops from her lips as she hoists a huge ham up on top of the stove. She lets out a hefty breath and kicks the oven door shut.

  “Hmm…” She tilts her head. “Is it supposed to look like that?”

  I peer around her, and my eyes widen. The slices splay out like a flower blossoming, the ends crisp and black.

  “Did you not wrap it?”

  “Wrap it in what?” She picks up the instructions on the counter and reads over them with a furrowed brow.

  “Aluminum foil.” I hold back a grin and ease toward the stove. I mean, it looks good… just more like bacon than ham. “You’re supposed to wrap it in aluminum foil while it cooks.”

  “Well, that would’ve been good to know.” She chucks the instructions down. “Think it’ll be edible?”

  “Oh yeah. Just a little crispy.”

  “Great.”

  We share a laugh, and she leans against the counter and stretches to turn the oven off. “Guess getting that job flipping burgers isn’t for me.”

  “Are you looking for work?” I was under the impression she was focusing on her boarding. At least, that’s what I gathered from seeing her at Troublemakers so often.

  “More work.” She sighs and crosses her arms. Her left hand still has an oven mitt covering it. “After the holidays, the theater gets really slow, so my hours will be cut.”

  “I didn’t know you worked at the theater.”

  “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?”

&nbs
p; 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 the worst with 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.