Page 14 of Miss Trust

Again with the clenched jaw. “Why do you always have to ask why?”

Because I continuously expected an ulterior motive. I was permanently leery of a “favor” and what it might cost me. Hadn’t I learned the hard way not to trust people?

“There’s no way I’m letting you walk to your car alone, especially with cash in your purse.”

It was almost gentlemanly. “Says the guy wearing three times that amount on his wrist. You’re more of a target than I am.”

“Try a hundred times that amount.”

I rolled my eyes at the fact he’d needed to point out the value of his watch. “Suit yourself, but if someone mugs you for your ridiculously overpriced watch, then you’re on your own.”

He grinned before falling into step with me. We were silent while walking down the sidewalk. There weren’t a lot of people out at this time of the morning. Finally, we were in the lot and in front of my beat-up, tan Corolla.

“This is your vehicle?”

“No. I thought I’d insert the key in the nearest piece-of-shit car and see what happened.”

His lips twitched. “Call me if you run into any problems with the move.”

“Will do. Where is your house, by the way?” Probably something I should know since I was moving in on Friday.

“I’ll text you the address, along with the gate code.”

Gate code. Right. Guess it went with the pricey watch. “Good night.”

“Good night, Tory.”

* * *

While Daisy looked after Penelope,I spent the next day organizing everything for the packers. Our clothes and necessities went into suitcases while my mismatched kitchen stuff would go into boxes. As for the furniture, it wasn’t much, but it was all I had. I decided to save and store it until I was able to afford better.

Looking around the one-bedroom apartment, I fought back tears. God, how stupid was it to be sad about leaving a run-down building in a terrible neighborhood. Yet it was the first place Penelope had called home, and there were so many memories in this tiny space. Like bringing her home from the hospital and all the late-night feedings. Christmas with a Charlie Brown tree and Dollar Store presents, but surrounded by the two people I loved in this world, both my daughter and my sister.

By the time the movers came on Friday, I’d given my goodbyes to the only real home I’d ever known, but Penelope showed anxiety about leaving.

“Will I see Daisy again?”

Daisy took her hand. “Of course you will. You can’t get rid of me.”

“Are you coming to see where we’ll live?” Penny asked.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Daisy said, leading her outside and then buckling her into her seat in the back of my car.

Standing by the driver side door, I hesitated. “You sure you have the time? You’ve already done so much.”

My friend shook her head. “Are you kidding me? Miss a chance to see some fancy house in Malibu? I’m way too curious not to tag along.”

She wasn’t the only one curious.

My knowledge of Malibu was limited to the row houses along the Pacific Coast Highway. But Chance’s house was up in the hills. Even before we entered the grounds, I could see it had a panoramic ocean view, with no hint of the highway and all the people. I pulled up to the gate and entered the code, with Daisy’s car behind me and the moving truck following her. The gate buzzed open without a problem.

We drove into the U-shaped, brick-paved driveway in front of a huge, modern home. Jesus. It looked like I was pulling into a hotel, not an actual house. I was literally a world away from my apartment in South LA.

I was anxious as I stepped out of the car, a ball of nerves who suspected this was too good to be true. Just as I was talking myself down from freaking out, Chance Maxwell strolled out as if he owned the place. Duh. Because he did. Ugh. Why did he have to be so much?

Daisy came up from her car parked behind us. She was smiling. “Wow, he’s gorgeous,” she whispered quietly, but not softly enough. Because as soon as Penelope got out of the back seat, she loudly asked, “Who’s gorgeous?”

Chance walked up just in time to hear the question.