“Well I’m not doing it,” Kayla says, pulling her eyes off mine and crossing her arms in true tantrum fashion.

God. She couldn’t look snobbier if she tried.

“If my father had something to say to me,” she says, “he could have said it when he was alive and not written it down in some faraway note.”

I look at my phone. “Yeah, and I have to be at work in an hour.”

“I understand.” Eddie nods. “Mr. Turner’s will is definitely… unorthodox.” He shakes his head with a sigh. “Well then, I guess all you need to do is sign this document that says I presented the will to you both, and we can all be on our way.”

I sit up. “What about my baseball cards?”

Kayla rolls her eyes.

Eddie skims the pages again. “I’m afraid there’s nothing in here about baseball cards.”

“Nothing?” I squawk. “No cards? No green box?”

“Wow.” Kayla stares at me. “I’ve never heard a grown man whine so much about a collection of cards before.”

“It’s not about the cards,” I snap, shooting her a dark look. She couldn’t possibly understand how much getting that box back would mean to me. I turn to Eddie. “There must be some mistake. Turner promised I’d get them back.”

He tucks the handkerchief away. “I’m sorry, Daren. There’s no mention of any cards in the will. At least not that I remember…”

As Eddie fidgets through the papers again I curse under my breath.

“Don’t act so surprised,” Kayla says. “My father never cared about anyone but himself.”

I halt my inner turmoil and scowl at her. “Your father was a good guy. One of the best,” I bite out. “So ease up.”

She ignores me and stands up. “Where do I sign so I can be on my way?”

I make a sound of disgust. “You’re sure in a hurry to leave daddy dearest in the dust.”

“And you’re sure in a hurry to snatch up his baseball memorabilia,” she barks back.

“They were my cards,” I say. “Cards that your father stole from me when I was a kid, by the way, but you don’t see me spitting on his grave.”

Her expression grows cold. “The man barely acknowledged me when he was alive and now he’s handing out his house and furniture to random people, while his daughter gets sent on a letter hunt. So yeah.” She straightens her shoulders. “I want to get out of here and never think about James Turner again.”

Pain flashes in her eyes, brief but palpable, and I pull back. This seems heavier than your average run-of-the-mill daddy issues. She’s obviously filled with anger. But more than that, Kayla looks almost… heartbroken.

After searching his mess for a few minutes, Eddie hands us two pens then points to a few lines on his paperwork where we need to sign. I stand up and scratch out my signature, disappointment rolling over me.

It’s funny. I hadn’t thought about that box of cards for years, but yesterday when the idea that I might get it back entered my mind, something inside me burst with hope. And not because selling those baseball cards could buy me a better life, but because inside that box are memories. Good ones. And I could use a few good memories.

Once we’re done signing, Eddie stacks his paperwork and sighs. “Well, I thank you both for your time. Sorry things didn’t work out the way you were hoping.”

Kayla lifts her chin, clearly pissed her father didn’t leave her a giant pile of cash. Serves her right, though. The girl didn’t even visit when he was dying. She was too busy living it up with her gold-digging mom in Chicago.

I’ve heard the stories. I know all about how her mom, Gia, was a bombshell who wanted to be single so she divorced James Turner and took all his money. If the rumors are true, Turner shelled out a good chunk of his net worth to Gia in the form of alimony payments and even more to Kayla in a giant trust fund he set up for her. He showered his ex-wife and daughter with money, yet neither of them spent a penny to come visit him on his deathbed.

I don’t blame him one bit for cutting Kayla out of his will.

As we leave, Eddie smiles at Kayla. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Ms. Turner.” He nods at me. “And good to see you again, Daren.”

I smile tightly. “Always a blast, Eddie.”

Not.

His expression sobers. “You and I really need to get together soon to discuss your father—”

“I know.” I shift uncomfortably. Kayla glances at me and I look away and say to Eddie, “We will.”

He nods, but doesn’t look convinced. I’ve been brushing him off for the past eight months so his skepticism is understandable.

I open the door for Kayla and wait. She eyes me cautiously like I’m a vampire inviting her into my den of bloodlust and savagery instead of a nice guy holding a door open for her. She may not be my favorite person in the room, but I still have manners. I lift a brow and gesture for her to go first.

She hesitantly moves past me, careful not to touch me or my fangs, and murmurs, “Thank you.”

I follow her outside where we make eye contact for a quick moment. A part of me wishes I knew her better or liked her more than I do. Turner being gone makes me feel like I’ve lost a father, and it wouldn’t suck to have someone to share that loss with. But it doesn’t seem like Kayla wants to share anything with anyone. She scans my face again, all torn blue eyes and quivering lips, and my defenses drop to the ground for a split second. But just as quickly she turns and heads down the sidewalk, tapping away in her high heels. No good-bye. No nice seeing you. No pleasantries whatsoever.

I guess I didn’t say farewell either, but still. She doesn’t have to be such a brat.

As she passes the storefront for the Laundromat, a woman with her arms full of clothes and a baby approaches. Kayla smiles and opens the Laundromat door for them, bending to retrieve a fallen shirt that slips from the woman’s large pile then cooing at the chubby baby in the woman’s arms when he starts to cry until his tears dry right up.

Okay, so maybe that wasn’t bratty. But that doesn’t mean I have to like her.

Her blonde hair hangs to the center of her back and swishes against her blue top, the golden strands glinting in the sun as she moves along. She has a graceful walk, each step light and flowing in perfect harmony with the swing of her hips. She’s curvy in all the right places and perfectly proportioned, and as she turns her face to the side, looking up and down the street, I trail my eyes down her profile. Long eyelashes, flushed cheeks, and full pink lips stand out against her pale skin like the cherry on top of a delicious dessert.

I let out a low whistle. Like it or not, Kayla Turner is the hottest almost-brat I’ve ever seen.

I’ve only been car-less for a matter of hours and I’m already going crazy. Copper Springs isn’t like the big cities with their subways and taxis. The bus stop at the edge of town is the only public transit service here—unless you count Golf Cart Gus, who’s really just a retired mechanic that sometimes gives people rides in a golf cart he won two decades ago on The Price Is Right—so after walking from Eddie’s office to my job at the cell phone store and then to the hospital to make another payment, I’m exhausted.

I miss Monique.

Pulling out what’s left of my cash, I count the bills and grimace. Minus the thirty dollars I just put toward Connor Allen’s medical bills, I’m now down to twelve dollars. Every credit card I ever had access to is now either maxed out or closed and I don’t get paid again until next week.

I know my boss at Willow Inn, Ellen, would front me the money if I asked. But I also know that if I ask her for a favor, she’ll try to jump into my life and save me, which is more than I can handle right now. Twelve dollars will just have to last until next Friday. And then the money shit cycle will start all over again.

Last year, two horrible car accidents occurred in my life, and only a few months apart. The first accident severely injured a decent man named Connor Allen, leaving behind a hefty hospital bill. The second took the life of my high school girlfriend, Charity, and I was so beside myself with guilt that I didn’t care to be alive anymore.