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He looked at her as he started the engine. “No. Does it look like a woman lives in that house?”

“I guess not,” she said.

She wouldn’t really know. That was the kind of thing people knew maybe when they had functional families in their background. Somebody who could picture what a normal family home looked like. That certainly wasn’t her.

“Does your family know... that you’re bringing a...?” She could hardly call herself a guest.

Nor could she bring herself to saygarbage raccoonout loud.

“Yeah. I texted them and let them know I was bringing over a new employee.”

“I didn’t say that I was going to take the job.”

“Why wouldn’t you?”

Everything in her rebelled against that. Everything in her wanted to have a fight.

How dare he? How dare he act like he knew what was good for her. What was best.

But the problem was, he had a point. She was all about survival. She was all about doing the practical thing.

“How much would you pay me an hour?”

He named a figure that made her eyebrows shoot up. It was like a dollar more than minimum wage.

“Really?”

“If you do good work, yes. I don’t see why not. Seems like you’re pretty handy, and I could use the help.”

“I...”

“So, what’s the holdup?”

“I want to know what the catch is.”

“There’s no catch. This is a big ranch, we employ a lot of people. We have work, you need work.”

“Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to get a job?”

“You have a criminal record, don’t you?”

“I...”

“Bix,” he said. “I’m going to do a background check on you when you give me your name so that I can put you on payroll. You might as well just tell me.”

Well, fine. She knew when she was beaten. Pretending otherwise was an embarrassment she couldn’t bear.

“Yes,” she said. “Okay? I have a criminal record. And you... Can you imagine going into a job interview looking like I do most days? Nobody’s going to hire me. I look... I look like what I am. A street ratwith too many misdemeanors under her belt to be a good bet.”

She didn’t know why she felt embarrassed or angry to say that to him. She wasn’t ashamed of herself. Not in general. She’d been given a bad hand. She played those cards pretty admirably, she thought.

“Well, I don’t hire that way.”

“Why?” she asked, feeling the need to push him away. “You’re just... you’re just so nice?”

“No. I’m not nice. Don’t go assuming the best about me.”

“Wow. I thought cops were supposed to know how to read a room. You think that I’m assuming the best of you? I’m trying to figure out what the hell is happening. I don’t actually think you’re nice. Because I don’t think anyone is nice. Not in a way that isn’t entirely self-serving. And don’t be offended by that, that’s what I think about everybody.”