Mr. Perfect (Sinister in Savannah #2) - Aimee Nicole Walker Page 0,20

peaches wafted in the air.

Meow.

Felix set the carton of ice cream on the counter and looked down as his cat, Pulitzer, who rounded the corner and strolled into the kitchen. He wore a pissy expression on his face that made Felix smile. He bent over and scooped up his furry beast. “You could’ve come out. The fellas would’ve liked to meet you.”

Meow.

Pulitzer sounded indignant as he stared at his human servant through narrowed green eyes. Felix scratched behind the tabby cat’s ear until the beast began to purr and rub his head against Felix’s chin.

“You’re not so tough.” Felix leaned forward and kissed the top of Pulitzer’s head, recalling the nostalgic feelings Jude stirred inside him at the grocery store.

Maybe the cat wasn’t the only one whose hiss was worse than his bite.

The rumbling tow truck backed into his driveway at an ungodly hour the next morning. Felix figured the timing was purposely done to annoy him, but he’d been up for hours. By the time the driver rang his doorbell, Felix had already seen to Pulitzer’s needs, run four miles on the treadmill, showered, and made breakfast. The joke was on them, or so Felix thought, until he opened the front door and saw the trash littered all over his front lawn. Someone appeared to have upended a garbage bag, or two, in the grass.

“Looks like you pissed someone off,” the driver said dryly. The name stitched onto his shirt identified him as Skeet. Was that his real name or a nickname? Short for Skeeter, perhaps?

Gee, I wonder who I pissed off?

Felix refrained from rolling his eyes and shrugged instead. “Sure seems that way, but I’m used to it by now. People don’t like it when you expose their criminal behavior. Dumping trash in my yard is kind of immature, don’t you think?” Todd would have to try a lot harder to rattle Felix.

The tow truck driver turned his head and spat a dark brown glob over the side of Felix’s porch. “They’re just making a point, I reckon.”

Felix heard another vehicle approach and glanced up to see the burgundy Lincoln SUV coming down the road. He had been prepared to fight the dealership over his request but wasn’t upset he got to reserve the energy for his meeting with Jude later. “I suppose you need the keys to the Fusion.”

“There’s less likelihood of damage if I shift the car into neutral rather than just drag it onto my rollback with the winch,” the man replied dryly.

“That’s the avenue I want to take, then.”

Felix’s fixation with never being poor again was eclipsed only by his obsession for caring for the things he’d accumulated. He’d never had a fucking thing that was just his growing up. All his clothes and shoes had belonged to someone else first. When Felix was able to buy anything for himself, he went overboard trying to keep it in pristine condition. It was one of the reasons why he refused to let the situation with the Fusion go. The service department manager telling him he had failed to care for something he treasured so much was a kick to the ribs after he was already down.

“I’ll be right out. Let me just grab them for you.”

Before Felix could close the door, the person driving the Lincoln stepped out of the SUV. Fucking Todd Dartmouth.

“So, this is your place, huh?” Todd looked around, as if the fucker hadn’t already been there to dump trash in his yard.

Felix knew his simple ranch house wouldn’t look like much to most, but it was everything to him. He’d purposely looked for a house on the outskirts of Savannah, so he could get more property and privacy for his money. As much as he loved the convenience of living smack dab in the heart of the city, he’d have gotten half the house and a tenth of the yard. He equated it to a buy-one-get-one sale at the grocery store. Who didn’t want twice the merchandise for the same amount?

When Felix saw the listing for this single-story brick home on two acres in the Wilshire Estates, he knew it was his forever home. The property had been overgrown from neglect, but all Felix saw was potential. He fell in love with the wooded lot and the large detached barn in the rear of the property. For a kid who grew up in a trailer park with homes practically stacked on top of one another, the place was a palace. He