by Joanna Wylde
“We’re both gonna win,” I replied, then I leaned over and kissed her. Fuck, she tasted even better this morning, which was saying something.
I could get used to this.
TINKER
“You got laid,” Carrie accused when she walked into the shop at lunchtime. Randi gasped, then started giggling. I’d gotten another big order, so I’d asked her to come in for a while to help out. Mrs. Webbly had promised to check in on Dad, and while I wasn’t totally comfortable with the situation, it was the best I could figure out for now.
I decided to ignore them, focusing on sprinkling salt across the tops of the caramels before the chocolate set up.
“You can pretend you don’t hear me, but you do,” Carrie continued. “Tinker Garrett’s dry spell is officially over!”
Randi giggled harder, then mumbled something about the bathroom as she ducked out of the room. She burst out laughing for real in the distance, the little traitor.
“Jesus, now it’ll be all over town,” I said, glaring at my best friend.
“It’s all over town already,” she said, shrugging. “What, you think you have a private life? Nobody has a private life in Hallies Falls, Tinker. Get used to it. The minute Joel Riley called in a welfare check to make sure you weren’t being murdered by some big, scary biker I got three text messages and a photo of his motorcycle parked outside your place.”
“I should’ve guessed that, but sometimes I like to pretend that I have an independent, adult existence.”
Carrie rolled her eyes. “You love us and you know it. Now, tell me everything. Was he good in the sack? Have you told him to fuck off for lying to you? I’m really torn here . . . On the one hand I hate him with the fiery passion of a thousand suns for what he did, but on the other you got laid. Tough call.”
“Welcome to my world,” I muttered, taking a quick glance to be sure Randi was still gone. “So here’s the scoop. He showed up last night and we had sex and it was incredible. I’m still not quite sure how that happened.”
“Do you regret it?”
“Yes and no,” I admitted. “I mean, yes, in that I’m sure it was a mistake and he’s a horrible person. But it felt really good. He was good. As in, the guy has crazy skills when it comes to getting a woman off. Way better than Brandon ever was.”
“Better than Jamie?” she asked, leaning forward and licking her lips.
“You’re a pervert,” I said.
“And? Answer the question.”
“Yes, he was better than Jamie. Best I’ve ever had, actually. Are you happy?”
“Uh-huh,” she said, smiling dreamily. “I’m assuming you threw his ass out and then evicted him, right? Doesn’t matter how good he is in bed, the man’s a liar and a criminal.”
“Do you mind if I run home for lunch?” Randi asked, walking back into the kitchen. She was looking down at her phone, frowning.
“Yeah, everything okay?”
“Um, yes,” she muttered. “Actually, no. That big wildfire to the west has been growing and they’ve put Chelan on evacuation alert. My grandparents have a place in the hills, and the fire’s gotten close enough that Mom’s driving over and helping them pack some stuff up, bring them back home. She wants me to check on the kids.”
“Do you want the rest of the day off?” I asked, and she winced.
“I need the money,” she admitted. “We got a little behind on rent, and . . . Well, you know how it goes.”
Yeah, I did. Her mom had probably lost a bundle at the casino again. Useless bitch.
“You can have the afternoon off, paid,” I said, knowing it was stupid because it wasn’t like a few hours of vacation pay would make a difference in that situation. She’d been a hard worker, though, and really flexible when I needed her. That deserved some kind of reward. And the fire situation was definitely serious—the smoke choking the air was getting worse every day.
“Really?” she asked, eyes widening. “Thanks, Tinker. I really appreciate it.”
“No problem,” I replied, watching as she grabbed her purse and bolted for the door, texting frantically.
“That was nice,” Carrie commented.
“I’m a nice person.”
“Really? Cause I heard you’re a dirty . . .”
“You need to get a life.”
“I know,” she said, sighing. “It’s kind of pathetic. How did I get so old?”
“I hear nothing ages a woman like being evil.” Finishing the salt, I brushed off my hands and nodded toward the main room. “You ready to eat?”
Carrie held up the bag holding our customary sandwiches.
“Always. You know how much I love food.”
We sat down at one of the tables, surrounded by my mother’s things. Sooner or later I’d have to pack everything up, figure out what to do with it. Maybe I could auction it off and use the money to help pay for my new kitchen.
Assuming I wanted a new kitchen. Was I really planning to stay in Hallies Falls? Some days more than others, but Dad definitely didn’t want to leave. Ugh.
“So you didn’t answer my question,” Carrie said, popping the top open on a Diet Coke. “Did you kick his ass out the door? The correct answer here is ‘yes,’ just in case you had any questions. I don’t care how good he is in the sack, the man is scum.”
“No, Brandon’s scum,” I said, surprising myself. “I’m not saying Gage is a Boy Scout, but Brandon’s a thousand times worse.”
Carrie stared at me, and for once she didn’t have anything to say.
Of course, being Carrie, she recovered fast.
“I don’t disagree . . .” she said. “Obviously Brandon is a piece of shit, no question. But that doesn’t mean Gage is a good idea. You can’t trust the guy, Tinker. He lied to you. He lied to everyone. Getting involved with him is a really bad idea.”
I opened my mouth to argue, then closed it because she was right. Getting involved with Gage was a really bad idea, and I still wanted to do it. Desperately. My phone rang, “The Imperial March” from Star Wars blaring out. What the hell? Glancing down, I saw Brandon’s name on the caller ID.
“Did you change Brandon’s ringtone to Darth Vader?” I asked Carrie, who was suddenly very interested in rearranging the lettuce on her sandwich.
“Don’t answer it,” she said, dodging the question. “If he wants to talk to you, he can have his lawyer call your lawyer. That’s how civilized people handle shit like this.”
I hit the ignore button and leaned back in my chair, staring her down.
“You do realize you’re not my mother, right?” I asked. “You aren’t actually in charge of my life.”
She shrugged, winking at me. My phone chimed as Brandon left a voice mail, then a text came through.
BRANDON: Call me.
Ha. Unlikely.
“I’m going out with Gage tonight,” I continued, ignoring the text. “And don’t worry—I’m not an idiot. I know he’s a liar, but so what? I had fun last night and I want to have some more fun. I don’t have to be friends with him to get laid.”
“Fuckbuddies don’t go on dates,” she countered. “If you want a booty call, great. But why complicate it with dinner?”
My phone rang again, the ominous music ringing out through the tea shop again.
“I’m going to answer,” I said, frowning. “Maybe it’s an emergency. Asshole. I hate him, but we do still own a house together.”
Reaching for the phone, I swiped my finger across the screen.
“Yes?”
“Tinker, it’s good to hear your voice,” Brandon said, using what I liked to think of as his “indulgent father” voice. What a fucking tool. “I need to talk to you about your tenant.”
Seriously?
“Which tenant would that be?” I asked, although I had a pretty good idea already.
“The biker,” he said. “A large group of them got arrested in Ellensburg this weekend. I did some research and learned more about this guy. He was lying about his name, and
he’s a member of a gang called the Reapers.”
Holy crap. Was Brandon spying on me?
“This isn’t news to me. What’s your point?”
“Tinker, you don’t need to take that tone with me. In fact—”
“Say what you have to say or shut up,” I said flatly. Carrie gave me a thumbs-up across the table. Brandon didn’t respond for a second, and I knew I’d caught him off guard.
“You’ve changed, Tinker.”
“I’m not interested in your opinion. Hanging up now.”
“He’s a criminal,” Brandon said quickly. “They all are. You don’t understand what these men really are capable of. I’ll need to handle the eviction for you. They’re very savvy—smarter than you’d think. He’ll use the law against you if he can.”
“Not interested. Have your lawyer call mine about the divorce.”
Turning the phone off, I set it down to find Carrie watching me, respect written all over her face.
“I’ve never heard you talk to him like that,” she said, and I shrugged.
“You don’t know everything about me,” I countered.
“Yes, I do.”
“Last time we were in Seattle, I threatened Brandon with a knife and told him to get the fuck out of my kitchen.”
Carrie sat back in her chair so hard it nearly tipped over. Then a slow smile crossed her face. “Okay, you’re right. Obviously, I don’t know everything.”
“Someone mark the date and time,” I announced. “Carrie Constantini just admitted she doesn’t know everything.”
“Fuck you,” she said happily. “Damn, Tinker. I’m really impressed. You owned his ass.”
“Not yet, but I will,” I said. “Once my lawyer gets done with him. And I’m going out on a date tonight with Gage because I want to. I’m not stupid, I haven’t forgiven him, and I won’t forget what he did. But I think it’ll be fun and I deserve a little fun. Oh, and for the record? Joel is a giant pussy. Last night he totally abandoned me to my fate. Ran out of there like a scared little girl when Gage showed up, although I have to give him a little credit for calling in a welfare check with the cops. Although the rumors it caused will just complicate things more.”
“Probably,” she said gravely, still smirking. “I’m glad you had fun. Just take care of your heart, okay? It took everything I had not to hunt Brandon down and shank him after we lost Tricia. I’m not sure I’d be able to hold back twice.”
“No worries. This isn’t anything real, believe me. But it’s been a crappy year, so why shouldn’t I have fun?”
“When you put it like that, I can’t think of a damned reason,” she admitted. “Go, Tinker!”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Without Randi I wasn’t nearly as productive as I needed to be. Fortunately I had a bit of an out—my dad had an appointment later in the week in Seattle, so I’d be driving him over on Thursday. That’d let me take care of the deliveries on my own.
By five fifteen, I’d finished shutting everything down at the shop, wanting to get home in time to primp a bit before my date started. I was just climbing into the convertible I really needed to sell at some point when I realized that I didn’t have anyone to stay with Dad for the night. I’d been planning on asking Randi, and had forgotten about it when she left. Crap.
I couldn’t go out on a date—I had to stay home and babysit my father.
“This sucks,” I muttered as I pulled up to the house, because it did. I might not be under any illusions that Gage was the man of my dreams but that didn’t matter. The idea of a no-strings fling had been growing on me all day, and I’d actually been excited to see him again (what can I say—sometimes hormones conquer common sense). Walking into the house, I was so busy feeling sorry for myself that I didn’t notice Dad and Mrs. Webbly in the dining room at first. She was laughing and they had music playing. Country, of course. They also had what looked to be a fairly intense round of poker going, based on the carefully arranged piles of chips on the table.
Place looked like a casino.
“You have a good day?” I asked Dad, kissing the top of his head.
“Mary and I had a great time together,” he told me. “It’s been nice.”
“Glad to hear it,” I said, glancing toward Mrs. Webbly, who offered me a sweet smile.
“We’ve had a lovely day,” she agreed. “We used to play cards like this a lot, actually. While you were living in Seattle. When your mom passed, we just sort of . . . stopped. Felt good to play again.”
“We talked about her a lot,” Dad said, smiling fondly. “She always used to cheat.”
Mrs. Webbly laughed. “Lord, didn’t she? She knew we were on to her, too. She had to know.”
“Oh, she knew,” he agreed. “Plausible deniability. So long as nobody called her on it, we could all keep having our fun.”
They both started laughing again, and I thought about all the hundreds of times we’d sat around this exact table playing cards while I was growing up. The memories were bittersweet, but for the first time they didn’t hurt. I missed my mom and I always would, but maybe I was starting to heal.
I hoped so.
“I’ll be right back,” I told them, heading toward the kitchen. Along the way I pulled out my phone, sending Gage a quick text.
ME: I can’t go out tonight. I know it sounds stupid, but I forgot that I needed someone to watch over my dad.
He responded immediately.
GAGE: Mary Webbly will stay with him. We already talked. She likes the idea of you getting out
Um . . . That was a little presumptuous. I couldn’t decide how I felt about his making arrangements like that. It’d been thoughtful, but pushy, too.
ME: Okay . . . Next time check with me first, okay?
GAGE: Sure. Glad to hear you’re planning a next time.
Ah shit.
“No need for language like that,” Mrs. Webbly said, coming up behind me.
“Sorry, didn’t realize I said that out loud,” I told her, feeling as sheepish as if my own grandmother had caught me out. She grinned at me, then held up a glass tumbler, giving it a little shake. Ice cubes rattled inside.
“Need more whiskey,” she said. “Your dad had some, too, but not much. He’ll fall asleep early, then I’ll go home. Unless he’s been wandering during the night?”
“No, he hasn’t,” I said. “Once he’s out for the evening, he’s out.”
“Some things never change,” she said, nodding sagely. “Your mother used to complain about that—how he’d snore like a train and sleep so soundly she couldn’t wake him up no matter how bad it got.”
“Thanks for helping us,” I said, feeling suddenly awkward. “I know this isn’t your responsibility.”
“Bullshit. I’ve lived here since before you were born. If that doesn’t make me family, I don’t know what does. I care enough that I want to keep an eye on him for my own peace of mind. When do you see that specialist again?”
“Thursday.”
“Good. Be sure and tell the doctor that while he’s had trouble keeping up with the building for the last couple years, this mental stuff didn’t really start until Tricia died. It was sudden.”
I cocked my head at her, surprised. “I’d assumed I hadn’t noticed because I was so caught up with my life in Seattle.”
Mrs. Webbly shook her head.
“If that’s the case, I never saw it,” she said firmly.
Huh.
“Okay, I’ll make sure I mention it.”
“And have fun with your young man,” she added. “I like him. I know he wasn’t straight up with us at the start, but he had good reasons. I’ve lived in Hallies Falls my entire life—nearly seventy years. I’ve seen the Nighthawks rise and then I saw them change. Might not agree with his methods, but it’s good that he came here, Tinker. I’m certain of that.”
Okay . . .
“I’m going upstairs now,” I said firmly, deciding this was enough. At this rate she’d start giving me sex
tips next.
“Just be safe,” she replied. “You be sure to use—”
“No. Just . . . No.”
Her laughter rang out as I ran for the door.
Sometimes retreat is the only option.
• • •
I’ve never been a motorcycle kind of girl, but the sight of Gage pulling up to the curb on his Harley . . . well, let’s just say we hadn’t even officially started the date and my panties already needed a change. This was dangerous, I realized. He was dangerous, and not just because he was part of a motorcycle club. I’d been lusting after him from the minute I first saw him. In some ways, it was the first real thing I’d felt since I’d lost my mom. The first positive thing, at least.
But where could it possibly go?
All I really knew about this guy were the lies he’d told me.
Remember, this is about having fun. You don’t need to marry the man. Just the thought soothed me as I watched Gage walk to the porch. Offering Dad and Mrs. Webbly a shaky smile, I stepped outside, feeling like a girl going to a high school dance. How long had it been since I’d had a date?
Since before I’d married Brandon.
“Hey,” I called to Gage, waving a hand limply, deciding I didn’t care for dating. I’d had sex with this man less than twelve hours ago, yet here we were. Awkward. Pretending to go through some ancient courting ritual when we’d already slept with each other seemed a bit silly.
You just want to get laid again.
(Yeah. I really did.)
I stepped down the stairs, meeting Gage at the bottom. He hooked a hand around the back of my neck, pulling me in for a fast, hot kiss that stopped all those pesky thoughts. Pure heat replaced them, and I leaned into his body, taking in his scent with a relief so intense it’s hard to explain. Standing near him felt right. Safe.
You’re infatuated, moron, my common sense pointed out. Your brain isn’t working right.
I told my common sense to fuck off, then wrapped my arms around his neck, deepening the kiss.
“Get a room!” Mrs. Webbly shouted, and I jerked away guiltily. My elderly tenant and father were standing on the porch, watching us with smirks on their faces. Gage laughed, but I groaned.