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.”

22 Daren

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.”

23 Kayla

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.