Chapter 3 Peppermint Stick #2
“Your brother must spend a lot of money,” I say, shaking my head.
“No, he’s nice. I’m not. I would pay you $500 a night.”
“Thank God, you are not your brother.”
She doesn’t say anything, but turns and walks into the living room, settling onto the couch like she owns it. I tell myself to leave her alone, but of course, I follow anyway.
“What does your brother do?” I ask, sitting down on the loveseat across from her.
“He’s an investor. Owns a bunch of properties.” Her eyes stay glued to her phone, jaw tight. Whatever she’s looking at is clearly annoying her more than my questions.
I hesitate, then push anyway. “What about you?”
“I work for him,” she says after a beat. “I’m a contractor. Mostly build or remodel the places he buys.” Finally, she looks up, directly at me. “What about you?”
“I’m a freelance artist.”
Her head tilts slightly. “You draw?”
“Paint, mostly,” I admit, suddenly self-conscious under her gaze. “Some digital work too. I’ve done murals, portraits, commissions, basically anything that keeps the lights on.”
Her lips twitch into the faintest smile. “So you hit people with candy canes and make art. You’re full of surprises.”
I let out a soft laugh. “And again, I’m sorry about that.”
She ignores my apology. “Why aren’t you celebrating with your family?”
“I love Christmas,” I say, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “They don’t. And when free money lands in your inbox, you don’t exactly say no. Please. This place is ‘Christmas Fresh Prince of Bel-Air’ type of vibe.”
She raises her eyebrows and pulls out her phone.
I watch her type for a second. Maybe she is giving her brother live updates about me.
Should I make her something? I do not know what to do in situations like this since I have never done a house-sitting job where the actual people living there were still here.
For safety reasons, I keep that candy cane right beside me.
“So I am guessing you are not into the Christmas thing,” I say.
She sighs, puts her phone back in her pocket, then looks at me. “How can I pay you to leave?”
“I am not leaving,” I say, crossing my arms. “I was paid to be here.”
“Well, this is where I live. So I am not leaving.”
“You have got money,” I fire back. “Go to a hotel. I am contracted to be here.”
“I can pay you double to get you out of here. Triple even.”
My mouth nearly hits the floor. That would be fifteen thousand dollars just to leave. I would be dumb not to take it. Then again, I doubt she would actually pay it. I need to make sure before saying yes.
“Okay. I will take the seven thousand five hundred upfront. You can pay me the rest when I leave tomorrow.”
“No. You have to leave today.”
“You said leave. You did not say when. Plus, I do not feel like driving around with a messed up bumper trying to find a hotel during the holidays. It is crazy business this time of year.”
“Or I could kick you out for trespassing.”
“How? When I have proof I am supposed to be here, unlike you. Why are you not celebrating somewhere else? Did your plans fall through?”
I must have hit a soft spot because she looks like she wants to cut my head off.
“Alright. Ten thousand. Five thousand now. Five when I happily kick you out tomorrow,” she smirks.
Goddamn that smirk. Showcasing all her dimples.
“Deal,” I say, fighting my grin.
We exchange information. Seconds later, I get the notification.
Heaven Oakley sent you 5,000.
“Thank you for doing business with me.”
She rolls her eyes and stands from the couch to head upstairs. Even though I will not bother her, I would not mind her bothering me. That short conversation alone got my panties wet as hell.
I cannot help myself. I ask the question anyway.
“Why do you want me to leave so bad? I am not trying to mess up my blessings.”
“Your presence is a lot.” She stops at the bottom step and turns slightly toward me.
“My presence?” I raise my eyebrow. “What about my presence bothers you, Heaven?”
She steps down the last stair and comes closer. The air shifts. Her scent, oak and cinnamon, wraps around me.
“I am not in a jolly mood.” She smirks. “Not everyone wants to be around or look like Christmas threw up on their hair.”
I turn my head to the mirror hanging beside the fireplace. My reflection stares back. Freshly silk-pressed hair dyed in fiery reds with copper highlights against my brown skin. I could not choose between copper or red, so I chose both.
“Oh, now we are talking about looks, Nia Long, huh?”
“Are you flirting with me, Ms. Snow?”
“No. I am defending my hair choices. At least I am original while you are cosplaying as the Grinch.” I tilt my head like I am confused.
“Goodbye, Sutton.” She turns quickly and walks upstairs with her phone in her hand. Whatever, or whoever, has her attention is not me, even though her gaze lingers on me a second longer than necessary before she looks back at her screen.
I walk back to my room for the next two nights. Maybe I can still enjoy these two days without being a bother.
Maybe my holiday plans are still alive.
But the real question is why is she alone for the holidays?