Reaper's Fire - Joanna Wylde Page 0,16

another vacant unit around the back side of the building.

Lust.

Yup. I was woman enough to own it. Tinker Garrett, aged thirty-six, was in lust with Cooper Romero. The man was so damned easy on the eyes that it caused me physical pain. Okay, not pain. Warm tinglies. And he was exactly what I needed, too. According to the rental application that I’d belatedly asked him to fill out, he was two years older than me. Should’ve been perfect, right? Too bad he was into twenty-year-old nutjobs with small boobs and tight asses.

Speaking of Talia, I’d already heard far more than I wanted to from her since he’d moved in.

Specifically, I heard her screaming during sex. Screaming about how good he was, screaming how much she wanted him, screaming instructions with a sense of sexual entitlement I pretended to despise but secretly made me feel jealous.

Fucking bitch.

Gah. I forced myself away from the window, looking around the faded living room of my family home. I’d been born upstairs in the same bedroom I slept in now. Somehow, despite the fact that I had a college degree, thriving business, and one failed marriage behind me, I’d landed right where I started.

Of course, I loved the building in my own weird way. Grandpa had built it back in 1922, and he’d built it to last. Unfortunately, even good construction needs maintenance, and after Mom died eight months back, I’d realized that Dad could barely manage getting to the kitchen without getting lost. He’d obviously been letting things slide for several years now, but I’d been too busy living my life in Seattle to notice. The place was in worse shape than I’d ever seen it.

That’s why I couldn’t evict Cooper for having a girlfriend who wasn’t me. Well, that and the law and the general sense of decency and fair play my parents raised me with, but I swear—if it weren’t for all that, he’d be out on his ass. I took another deep swig of the wine, hoping Carrie didn’t fuck around on her way over.

Jerk.

Sexy, beautiful jerk . . .

Grabbing my glass of wine, I peered through the window so I could see him better.

“Tricia?” my dad called, his voice wavering. “Is that you in the living room? Did they deliver my package?”

“It’s me, Dad,” I replied, tearing my eyes away from Cooper. “And it’s Tinker, remember?”

I watched as my big, strong father—my childhood hero—stared at me, confusion written all over his face.

“I’m waiting for the parts,” he said slowly. “Want to rebuild the carburetor on Tricia’s T-bird, but I don’t have the parts I need. Did you take them?”

“Dad, Mom isn’t with us anymore,” I reminded him softly. “And you sold the T-bird years ago.”

He stared at me blankly.

“I guess I forgot,” he finally admitted. “Sometimes I do that . . .”

No shit.

“Don’t worry about it,” I said, walking over to give him a hug. “Hey, my friend Carrie is coming over in a little while. We’re going to have some girl time—just a heads-up, okay?”

He patted my back absently, then kissed the side of my head.

“That sounds nice. You kids have fun, but not too much TV, okay? Rots your brains.”

Smiling, I squeezed him tight, because despite his failing memory, he was still my daddy. Somewhere deep down inside, his love for me burned bright, even if he couldn’t quite express it the normal way any longer.

The lawn mower roared as Cooper pushed it across the yard, working his way carefully around Mom’s rosebushes. I caught another glimpse of him through the window and pulled away from Dad quickly—no way I wanted to be hugging my father while I perved on the guy outside.

Too creepy, even for a creeper like myself.

• • •

“Do you still have that open apartment?” Carrie asked half an hour later, leaning back to prop her feet up on the porch railing. I refilled my glass of wine, settling deeper into the same swing we’d played on during a thousand childhood sleepovers. It needed a coat of paint.

“Yeah, but I’ve got someone interested. Why do you ask?”

“Because I’m thinking of moving in,” she said seriously. I raised my brows.

“You own a house,” I reminded her gently.

“But I don’t have him,” she said, eyes darting toward Cooper, who was using the Weedwacker to edge the sidewalks. He caught me looking, giving a knowing quirk of his lips. An hour earlier this would’ve embarrassed the hell out of me, but Carrie and I’d nearly put the second