Perfect Kind Of Trouble

31 Kayla

When Daren said he worked at an inn, I pictured something like the Quickie Stop. Something with doors on the outside, peeling wallpaper, and chipping paint.

But the Willow Inn is cute, and even kind of quaint. It sort of reminds me of every inn I’ve ever read about in a book or seen on TV. It has a very “Sweet Home Alabama” feel to it and there are dozens of purple flowers in the field out back.

Ellen seems nice. She looks nothing at all like what I pictured Daren’s boss to be. She’s sexy and confident, and she smiles at me like she actually cares. And not once has she looked me up and down, sizing me up like most women do upon meeting me. That alone makes me want to hug her.

She hands us our room key and Daren leads the way. I trail a few steps behind him, my eyes fixed on his broad back. It’s weird to be anywhere other than at his side. It’s weird to be free of the handcuffs. Nothing about the tension between us feels liberating at all.

By the time we reach the top of the staircase and get into room number seven, I’m exhausted and eager for a shower—one without a guy attached to my wrist.

Thinking about last night makes my heart ache and my throat close in. I swallow and blink and wring my hands, not sure what to do with myself. I’ve never felt so torn up by a guy before.

Daren flicks on the light switch. The room is really cute, with pale green walls and honey maple furniture. A king-size bed sits against the far wall, flanked by two nightstands. A chaise lounge is positioned under the large bedroom window and off to the side is a bathroom with vintage faucets, a walk-in shower, and a claw-foot bathtub.

“You can take a shower first,” he says, not looking at me.

I shift my weight. “That’s okay. You can go—”

“No, really. You go first,” he says firmly.

I silently roll my suitcase into the bathroom, closing the door behind me. The moment it latches shut, I let out a long breath and lean against the door. Daren shouldn’t matter so much to me. He shouldn’t. But here I am in this sweet little bathroom wishing I could go back in time and undo all the damage of the day.

I quickly shower, rinsing the dust off my body and washing my hair methodically. Suds run over my wrist, where there’s a small bruise from Daren and me yanking on each other these last few days. He probably has a small bruise too.

I run my thumb over the bruise and my heart twists. Being handcuffed to him was annoying and difficult, but it was also kind of fun. And it meant I was never alone. I don’t think I realized how lonely my life had been until I had Daren chained to my side every day. Being locked together wasn’t convenient, by any means, but having someone just be there was… well, nice. It was more than nice. It felt like I was home.

And now I’m lost.

I turn off the shower and towel myself dry before changing into a clean pair of pajamas. I stare into the mirror. My hair is wet and stringy, sticking to my head in a tousled way. My blue eyes are framed by blonde eyelashes, making them look small and plain without any makeup on. I look as average as possible—and this is the best I’ve looked the entire time Daren and I have been looking for the inheritance.

I’ve been a mess around him. Dirty. Wet. Haggard. And he’s been a disaster around me. But as I think back over the last three days, I can’t recall a single time when he assessed me. I saw attraction in his eyes, but for the most part, he looked at me like I was a person and not just female. I can’t remember a guy ever doing that before.

Gathering my things, I exit the bathroom and step into our room. Daren is sitting on the chaise lounge with the phone to his ear. Our eyes meet and longing flashes in his gaze—not just sexual longing, but emotional want. As if we’ve found something in each other we didn’t know we needed. Compassion. Friendship.

Acceptance.

And now, without the handcuffs to physically bind us together, we’re afraid we’ll lose everything we just found.

Whoever he’s speaking with on the phone must say something because he drops his eyes and says, “Yes. I’m glad to hear that.”

I step over to the bed and crawl under the soft covers on the left side.

“Yeah, well it was the right thing to do, Eddie,” he says. “Let’s not give him more credit than he deserves… Okay, yeah. We will. Later.” He hangs up and glances at me.

“Was that about your dad?” I ask, pulling the sheets up to my chest.

He nods but doesn’t look at me. “He pleaded guilty.”

I nod as well. “That’s good.”

Daren clears his throat. “I’m going to take a shower.”

He enters the bathroom and a few seconds later I hear the water turn on. I turn off the lamp on the nightstand beside me, and the room goes dark except for the single lamp on Daren’s side of the bed.

I rub my wrist and look at the small bruise. It’s barely there and barely hurts but it’s a little reminder of my attachment to him.

I frown at the ceiling, thinking about how we decided not to look for the inheritance anymore. My heart falls a little bit as I lie in the bed. I could really use that money to go back to nursing school. It’s always been my dream, and with my current circumstances it’s simply impossible.

My palms start sweating and my heart starts to race as I think about how I have nothing. No plan. No money. No home. And no Daren.

God, I miss him. He’s only a few yards away from me, but I miss him.

There’s something about Daren—something vulnerable and honest that I connect with easily. Something I’ve never found in anyone else and can’t quite imagine living without. And when we leave this place and go our separate ways I’ll have to do just that.

My heart clenches, and tears threaten once again.

I’ve never known love before, at least not with a man who wasn’t my father, but this deep sadness in my chest is most definitely heartbreak. And heartbreak is an effect of only one thing: love.

Is this what love is? This painful, unhinged thing? This polarizing madness that swings from joyous to suffering in the blink of an eye? And if so, why do we let it consume us the way it does? Why do we so willingly surrender to its violent currents and unpredictable winds?

Daren exits the bathroom, now finished with his shower, and his eyes lock on mine. A handful of heartbeats pass as we gaze across the room in a silent exchange of hope and loss, and I suddenly know the answer.

This is why we give into the storm of love. This something that is neither word nor feeling, found in quiet gazes and cookies in the dark. Hidden in cotton candy secrets and gentle shower soapsuds. It creeps up on you and slips inside, and before you know it, love owns you completely. But when it leaves, it rakes your insides, ripping at your soul until you’re shredded and undone. Then, and only then, do you realize you were in love.

Daren’s brown eyes snap away from mine and all the pieces of my heart that have been drifting into Daren’s hands these last few days start to break into even smaller pieces, crumbling in his grasp, and I’ll never get them back. Because this is love, and all those pieces of my heart I handed over as my down payment on us are no longer my own, but Daren’s forever. And right now they’re bleeding like crazy.

I roll onto my side so my back is to him as a tear rolls from the corner of my eye. It’s the first time I’ve been in a nice bed in months and I already know I won’t be able to sleep.