I Knew You Were Trouble - Cassie Mae Page 0,1

don’t want that!” she sobs, and I make an “oops” face and quickly put it back. Did I mention I’m not the best with kids? Funny, considering I work in a kid-populated job.

A small bump hits my hip, and the tower of a guy I work with named Pete shuffles his way into my space. I give him a look, but he just smirks at me and nods at the girl.

“How many tickets you got?”

“Ten,” I tell him, unable to mask my annoyance at his interruption, and he tsks.

“I was talking to her, Candace.” He pretends to whisper to the girl. “I think she needs a little break, huh?”

The girl sniffs and nods, wild strands poking out from her braid. She’s obviously had a very fun, very long day.

I don’t blame her either. We’ve just ticked over into Christmas season, with the entire place decked out in lights, fake snow, candy canes, and there’s a Santa around here somewhere. Poor Josh got roped into being the guy in red this year. Every time I see him prancing around in the costume, I give him a fist bump in solidarity.

He’s currently dancing by the Skeeball, right next to my future husband.

“So…” Pete leans back and puts a hand to his chin. I lean back as well, crossing my arms and giving him a smug look. If he thinks he can do this without making the girl cry, she’s all his. “No to the slap bracelet and no whistles either… Maybe Mom will let you have one of these.”

He pulls out an army guy with a parachute attached to him. The girl narrows her eyes. “That’s… that’s fifteen tickets.”

“It’ll be our secret,” he says, clearly not being secretive at all. I bite down on my tongue, waiting to lecture him until little ears aren’t present. We’re told not to give stuff away, no matter how cute the kid is.

The girl slowly shakes her head. “That’s stealing.” Then she jams her finger so hard into the glass it thumps over the sound of all the arcade games. “I want the fuzzy ball. A pink one. For ten tickets.”

I hip check Pete out of the way and gladly hand the thing over, much to my and her mother’s delight. They pack up and leave, the girl shaking her head disapprovingly at Pete over her shoulder.

“Nice try.” I yank the army guy from his hand and toss it back in the bin to join the others. Pete lifts a shoulder, pushing up the sleeves on the black shirt he wears under the bright red polo we have to wear for the Game Zone. Each zone has a different colored shirt, but the Troublemakers logo is splayed across our chests in bright white. Pete has to wear the undershirt while he’s clocked in because of the tattoos covering his left arm, but he doesn’t care about getting in trouble by exposing them. I, however, like to follow the rules, so I tug on his left sleeve until it slides into place. If we were closer, I might tuck his shirt in for him, too.

He pushes his lips together, but I still see that smirk of his. “You were that girl when you were young, weren’t you?” He nods toward the exit.

“Meaning?”

“Stickler for the rules.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Doesn’t seem like much fun.”

“My life is full of fun.” Well, I suppose it depends on the definition, but to me, I’m perfectly happy with schedules and being cautious and expressing myself in healthy ways. Like art and… oh gosh, I can’t even think of anything else.

Pete lets out his signature laugh, which is a mix between a newborn baby and a hyena—starts off cute, ends up being way too loud.

I tilt my head. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“People don’t laugh at nothing, Pete.”

“Okay, it was just your face.”

My mouth pops open. “What about it?” I say a little too loudly that I catch the attention of some guests as they make their way to the Wheel of Fortune game.

“Looked like you were thinking too hard about what was fun about your life.”

“Was not.”

“Okay.”

I let out a sigh, grateful that my next shift with him isn’t for another two days. Every day of Pete would be exhausting. He’s constantly challenging my patience, never wearing the required hat, and his shirt is always coming untucked. I know way more about his tattoos than someone who works with him should, especially since I’m not supposed to even see them.

My eyes swivel around the arcade again, searching