Page 26 of Until You

“Okay,” she says quietly.

“Just tell me one thing,” I say.

“What’s that?”

“Tell me it’s not about the money.”

She frowns and looks genuinely confused. “What money?”

“If you’ve been in Saddle Creek for more than an hour, it’s likely you’ve heard the Blankenship name tossed around. That and the West family. That’s both sides of my family. We pretty much own eighty percent of the county.”

She licks her lips. “So you’re rich? Is that what you’re telling me?”

It sounds so obnoxious when she says it like that. But when you grow up with money, you learn pretty quickly that people don’t always want to be with you because of your stellar personality.

Finally, she shakes her head. “I didn’t know about the money. I don’t care about the money. Do you want me to sign something that says as much?”

I shake my head.

“Then I guess we’re doing this.”

“Guess we are.”

Another beat. This one is different. Less combative. More like two people standing at the edge of something, looking down, trying to decide if they’re going to jump or walk away.

We jumped once before. I remember exactly how that went.

“Ground rules,” she says.

“Fine.”

“What happened between us—that night—it stays in the past. It doesn’t exist in this house.”

“Agreed.” The word comes out easier than it should.

“We’re housemates. That’s it. Polite, civilized, fully clothed housemates.”

“Fully clothed,” I repeat. “Noted.”

“And no one—no one—needs to know about our... prior acquaintance.”

Prior acquaintance. That’s one way to describe it. Another way would be the most unforgettable night of my life, but I keep that behind my teeth where it belongs.

“Fine by me,” I say.

She nods. Sticks out her hand. “Deal?”

I look at her hand. The short, dark-painted nails. The star tattoo on her wrist.

The last time she offered me her hand, we ended up on a dance floor that led to a truck that led to three months of her living rent-free in my head.

I take it. Her palm is warm and small and steady.

“Deal,” I say.

She shakes once. Firm. Professional.

Then she pulls her hand back, picks up her coffee, and stands.