Page 5 of You're so Bad

I didn’t ask Burke to put that kind of trust in me, and part of me didn’t want him to. It’s a burden, someone else’s trust. Especially when you have to bust your ass to be worthy of it. At the same time, he’s giving me a chance to make something of myself. I can’t throw that away, even if sometimes, in the middle of the night, I wake up wanting to pack a bag and drive off to somewhere where no one is dumb enough to give me responsibilities.

“The psychic thing sounds like fun,” Delia said. “Maybe it could be a side hustle.”

“Look at you making jokes.” I grinned at her, pleased as punch. “I’m rubbing off on you.”

“Yeah, probably for the best if you take an uber away from here, so we can make sure that stops,” Burke said.

So that’s exactly what happened. They went on their merry way to the party, and I headed over here to talk to Shauna.

I found myself whistling in my uber, because Constance had just given me the best gift possible—an excuse to get into trouble and pretend I was only doing it as a favor. Maybe she’d known I’d react this way. She’s a wily one, my friend.

That’s what brought me to this moment: standing at Shauna’s door, reporting for fake boyfriend duty.

When the door swings open, I can feel a grin stretching my face. Shauna looks like she just crawled out of bed. She’s wearing boxers decorated with characters from a cartoon that got cancelled when we were kids and a T-shirt that very obviously doesn’t have a bra under it.

Hallelujah, the sight of her beaded nipples through her shirt is better than a shot of fine whiskey.

“Did you convince Nana to do this, Leonard?” she asks through her teeth.

Forcing my gaze away from those pretty points is hard enough that someone should give me a medal for it, but I meet her glare and grin. Lifting my hands up, palms out, I say, “Hell, no. If I’d come up with it, I would have given myself a cooler job.”

“This is a disaster,” she mutters.

“Probably,” I agree. Her pint-sized dog ambles up and settles at her feet, giving me the evil-eye. I’ve always had a thing for dogs. Never got another one after I lost my girl Gidget, but that doesn’t mean I don’t like them. Dogs don’t truck in bullshit. A dog likes you, you know it. A dog hates you, you know it. There’s something to be said for that.

Unfortunately, this particular dog hates me. Maybe he’s right to. If Shauna weren’t Constance’s granddaughter, and I didn’t like Constance more than I do the majority of people, then I already would have tried to fuck her.

“You gonna invite me in?”

She snorts and puts a hand on her hip. “No. We can talk out here on the porch.”

“You aren’t concerned about your neighbors overhearing?”

She glances pointedly at the empty porches around us. There’s something wrong about an empty porch in the thick of summer, like a hand that’s gone unshaken.

“You never know when people are listening,” I say. “Why, this one time—”

“I’m having a beer,” she blurts. “Do you want a beer?”

“I’ll never answer that question with a no,” I say, parking myself in one of the two rocking chairs on her porch. It’s pretty nice out here, and I can’t say I regret missing the wrap party for the movie. Not when the alternative is porch sitting with a beer and a sexy woman.

Sure, she has no more regard for me than her dog does, but it’s not off-putting. I’ve always had a thing for smart women who can see right through me.

Shauna disappears through the door, muttering to herself, and I swear to Christ that little dog growls at me when he catches me watching her ass disappear into the house.

“I come in peace,” I mutter, then get to rocking. He must decide it would be too much trouble to try to nab me in the balls, because he disappears into the house through the open door. A minute or so later, Shauna comes out solo with two cold ones and shuts the door behind her. She hands me one of the beers before sighing and settling into the other rocking chair.

“That sigh of defeat isn’t like you,” I comment after I take a swig of the beer.

She lets out a pfft of air that flutters her bangs. They’re dark at the root. “How the hell would you know? You know nothing about me. You’ve been to my house all of two times.”

“Three. I came by a couple of days ago to help Constance move her dresser when she got a bug up her ass about trying feng shui. You weren’t home, but Bertie came running out with your bra in his mouth, so it felt like you were spiritually present.”

Another pfft of air. “She’s taking this whole post breakup life reinvention thing too far.”

“You think?” I ask after taking a swig of beer. “Maybe you haven’t been taking it far enough.”

She glowers at me, and I can’t help but laugh. Based on her expression, it was definitely the wrong thing to say. “What? Constance likes to talk, so yeah, I’ve heard a thing or two about your ex. Seen some pictures too.” I cock my head. “You really wanted to marry that guy? He looks like someone who sells used cars. The really bad ones that wouldn’t get you two blocks.”

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