Bad Things (Tristan & Danika #1) (4 page)

He swatted my hand away.
 
“I said one minute, Danika.”

I glared at him for at least a solid minute.
 

He only smiled.
 
He offered the plate to Bev first.
 
She took one, thanking him.
 

I folded my arms over my chest, and just looked at him.
 
I was trying hard to talk myself into refusing to eat a cookie, just to spite him, the bossy son of a bitch.
 

He flashed a dimple at me, his golden eyes filled with mirth, and had the utter nerve to grab one with his own hand and hold it up to my lips.

I took a bite, the smell and his charm irresistible to me.
 
I closed my eyes, groaning as I chewed.
 

I heard Bev making a similar noise.
 
The man was
not
all talk.
 
His cookies were as good as he claimed.
 
It was just the perfect flavor combination of salty and sweet, and the texture was perfect, not too gooey, but melt in your mouth soft.
 
I barely had to chew.
 

Finally, after taking my time with the first bite, I opened my eyes to look at him.
 
He was still smiling at me, his hand still holding the cookie to my mouth for another bite, but there was heat in his eyes now.
 

I grabbed the cookie out of his hand, taking another bite.
 
He nabbed one for himself, taking a huge bite.
 
I watched him chew, transfixed by the hard line of his jaw as it worked.
 
Finally, I made myself look away, finishing my cookie with slow, savoring bites.
 

The boys rushed the kitchen right as I was finishing, and Tristan handed them cookies and paper towels, introducing himself.
 

He was at ease with the kids, and they seemed to take to him instantly, just like everyone else had.
 
The man was like a charm grenade.
 

I gathered the dogs’ leashes from the laundry room, slipping into flip-flops and heading to the front door.
 

Dot saw the leashes first, and rushed to the door, tail wagging.
 
Bev had a huge backyard, but the dogs still loved their walks.
 

I got them all ready, intending to leave whether Tristan joined me or not.
 
I didn’t need help, and I didn’t quite understand his need to keep me company for my chores.
 

He caught up to me as I was slipping out the door, holding it open for me.
 
He held a hand out to me as we got outside, and I handed him Coffeecup and Pupcake’s leashes.
 

We were just moving onto the sidewalk when he asked, “So tell me about your issues with Coffeecup.”
 

I sighed.
 
“Why?”

“Why?”
 

“Why on earth do you care about my dog issues?”
 

“Because I’m curious, and I think it’s adorable that you have ‘dog issues’.”

That drew a small smile, and an answer, out of me.
 
“He’s rambunctious.
 
He’s made it his mission in life to try to rush out the front door every time I have to open it for any reason.
 
He’s gotten loose in the neighborhood three times this week.”

He shrugged.
 
“It’s a quiet neighborhood.
 
It’s not like there are cars speeding around here.
 
It’s gated.
 
What’s the big deal?”

I grimaced.
 
“It’s a big deal because of the chicken lady.”

That surprised a laugh out of him.
 
“The chicken lady?”

I laughed too, knowing how ridiculous it sounded
—
how ridiculous it
was
.
 
“Yes.
 
The
crazy
chicken lady.”
 

He had to stop walking, he was laughing so hard.
 
“Okay.
 
You have to tell me this story.
 
What exactly is a crazy chicken lady?”

I shook my head, but I told him.
 
“Well, there’s a community stable in the center of the neighborhood.
 
Residents can rent out stalls.
 
Most of the stalls are used for horses, but this one lady uses them for her prize chickens.”

He arched a brow.
 
He had a way about him that was so hard for me to resist
, especially
the way he gave me every ounce of his attention with single-minded focus.
 
I drank up that attention as though I’d been starving for it.
 

I really needed to get out more.
 

“Prize chickens?” he asked.

“Yes.
 
She has prize chickens.
 
She lives right by the stables, and as far as I can tell, spends most of the damn day there.
 
She lets them roam the stables while she’s there, so they’re loose a lot of the time….completely unprotected.”

He started laughing again.
 
“Oh no,” he said, seeing where the story was headed.

I nodded.
 
“Oh, yes.
 
I’ve timed it.
 
Coffeecup can get to the stables in under two minutes, and nab a chicken just seconds after that.
 
He’s taken out three of her chickens just this week alone.”

“Taken out?”

I nodded.
 
“He eats them.
 
He has their necks snapped before I can catch up to him, and I’m a fast runner.”
 

“That’s messed up.”

“Yes,
I know.
 
This is why Coffeecup and I have issues.
 
Crazy chicken lady goes ballistic on me when she loses a chicken.
 
Bev has to pay her fifty dollars every time it happens, but that’s no consolation to crazy chicken lady, since the damn chickens are her life.”
 

We started walking again, but we were both smiling..
 

“Well, if he gets loose while I’m around, I’ll catch him before he can murder any chickens.
 
I promise.”

“He’s really fast,” I warned, not believing for a second that he could catch the crazy dog if it got loose.

“So am I.”

I just shook my head, laughing.

CHAPTER THREE

We got through my chores in record time.
 
Tristan even folded laundry with me.
 
I thought he was bizarre…and really kind of
 
sweet.
 

Within short hours of meeting the strange man, I found myself rifling through my closet, looking for Vegas club gear.
 
The dirty Vegas club scene was
so
not me, but I still found myself excited about going out.
 
Tristan was just…fun, and I was excited for fun.
 
The candid conversation that had set us up as friends right off the bat eased any reservations I might have had about hanging out with someone like him.

I didn’t have a lot of friends my own age.
 
I’d adopted most of Bev’s circle of friends as my own, and besides myself, the youngest of them was thirty-two.
 
I felt comfortable with older people.
 
I attributed that to Bev.
 
Being around her had just always been so good for me; so safe.
 
She was mature, and she knew how to be healthy.
 
She was stable, and I
needed
stability.
 
I clung to it.
 
And people my age living in sin city rarely belonged in the same sentence with stability.
 
I knew that Tristan was no exception, he likely didn’t belong in the same
book
with stability, but still, he was hard to resist.

I was staring at my closet full of clothes for a good five minutes when Bev found me.
 
It was a well-stocked closet, thanks to Bev’s frequent hand-me downs.
 
Thank God we wore the same size, and I couldn’t complain, but I just wasn’t sure
how
to dress.
 
The Vegas nightlife was pretty diverse; I could get away with wearing jeans, or go fully decked out, but I just couldn’t decide what I
wanted
to do.
 
I didn’t want to look like a slob, but I really didn’t want to look like I was trying too hard.

Bev gave a brief knock on my door before she came in
—
her usual routine.
 
She had a black silk halter dress draped over her arm.
 
I recognized it as one she’d worn several times before.
 
It was one of her favorites.
 
It bloused out, and banded at the hips.
 
I’d tried it on for fun once, and I knew it was flattering, in fact, it was gorgeous, but maybe too dressy for a club night out with a guy I barely knew.
 

Still, I coveted that dress.

I bit my lip, and she gave me a ‘look’.

“If you wear this, I’ll give you a free pass at anything you want in my closet at a future date of your choosing,” she told me.
   

Just like that, she had me.
 
Her closet was mind-boggling, and way above my pay scale.
 

“Thank you,” I told her.
 

She smiled and winked at me, clearly pleased with my agreement.
 

I showered and did my hair and makeup first, letting the steam from the shower smooth out any small wrinkles in the dress.
 
The top was pure silk, held at the neck with Swarovski crystals.
 
The fitted skirt was a silky looking material, but it had elastic, so it had stretch, and I could still dance in it, which was a must.
 
I didn’t love to go clubbing, but I did love to dance.
 

I eyed the way out of my price range dress as I blew out my hair, letting it fall straight
—a black waterfall down my back.
 
Black was always a good bet for me.
 
It brought out my ivory skin and pale gray
eyes.
 
My mother was half-Russian, half-Japanese, and I supposed my features were a mix of both.
 
That was only a guessing game, though, really, since I’d never known what the other side of that equation consisted of.

I lined my eyes carefully in black, and smudged a smoky dark gray shadow onto my eyelids.
 
I was liberal with the mascara, and used a dark maroon lip stain, but that was all.
 
My skin tone didn’t need, and couldn’t handle foundation.
 

I was still wearing just a towel when Bev breezed into the bathroom with me.
 
She and I hadn’t had privacy boundaries for years, and I only smiled at her as she barged in on me after a cursory knock.
 

I started shaking my head as soon as I saw the jewelry box in her hand.
 
She didn’t own any cheap, costume jewelry, and I would be terrified if I borrowed something expensive and then lost it.
 
The sad fact was I could never afford to replace even her cheapest piece of bling.
 

She completely disregarded the headshake, opening the box to show me a pair of earrings.
 
They were huge, pear shaped, diamond studs, two carats at least.
 
“They latch on tight, Danika.
 
There’s no way you’d lose one, and that dress begs for diamonds.”

“I can’t, Bev.
 
I just can’t.
 
And I think I might already be overdressed.
 
Tristan is probably just going to wear a T-shirt and jeans, anyway.”

“You’re wrong there.
 
I saw him.
 
He’s already ready, and he’s looking sharp.”

I smirked.
 
I loved it when she went all old school on me.
 
“Sharp?
 
Like a pencil?”

“Sharp, like dressed up, you smart ass.”

“What’s he wearing?”

“Black slacks and a blazer over a black T-shirt.”

“Sounds a little Vegas douchy.
 
The T-shirt with a suit, I mean.
 
And isn’t it a little hot for that?”

She shrugged.
 
“Wait until you see him.
 
Call it whatever you want, but he looks edible.”

I laughed.
 
“I can’t believe you’re encouraging me to go out with him.
 
Lucy will have a field day, harassing you about it.
 
Hell, she’ll harass us both.”

Bev pursed her lips, and I grinned, knowing that she was going to go into Lucy mode.
 
She did a spot-on impression of our psychiatrist friend, Lucy.

“Jumping from one relationship and straight into another is a symptom of your love addiction, Danika,” she said, her voice pitched low.

I sighed.
 
“He really is just a friend, no funny business at all, but I doubt she’d believe that if she got a look at him.”

Bev nodded.
 
“I believe you, but I have a feeling she’ll have something to say about it.”

I started getting dressed, completely unfazed by Bev’s presence.
 

I heard a big sigh behind me as I was slipping the dress over my head.
 

“I’d give anything to have tits like that again.
 
I had to tape mine up to wear that dress, I shit you not.”