for the city that never sleeps, but it was home and comfortable.
I shifted my coffee into the other hand, pulling out my bagel with shmear from the bag, and taking a giant bite, my mind shifting from my surroundings to the job at hand.
I’d made good progress the previous day and had left before Tig had gotten in, showering then meeting Delia at the plumbing store to pick out fixtures.
She did not choose a chandelier for the bathroom, which I had to admit was semi-disappointing, but we’d gotten a new faucet, decided on the most comfortable toilet for various user heights—I’d tested it for the short leg crew and given it a passing score—then had proceeded to choose the remaining bathroom gear that one needed. Soap and paper towel dispensers, toilet paper cabinet, trash can. Finally, she’d selected a new vanity since the one I’d pulled out had water damage.
While we were doing the quote-unquote female job, the contractor I worked with for small jobs had come in and repaired the rotting boards. Then I’d met the inspector, who’d signed off on my rough plumbing and the repairs. This morning I’d address some issues at the main line coming into the building while the sheetrock crew patched my holes inside.
Then would come the finish work.
Two more days and I figured I’d be done.
And being finished would be a relief. I’d get a good paycheck. I wouldn’t have to see Garret and his abs.
Okay, so maybe that shouldn’t be item two on my list, but I was looking forward to moving on with my life, with putting all the stirred-up emotions of the last week behind me.
Of course, I also needed to address the envelope I’d taken out of my toolbox and shoved into a drawer at my apartment.
The one listing me as an heir to a multi-billion-dollar estate upon my grandmother’s passing. Part of me expected the old bird to kick it and then have the police show up at my place accusing me of a murder-for-hire scheme where I was some scumbag manipulating an elderly relative to become the sole beneficiary of her hard-earned funds.
One, I’d been watching too much Netflix.
Two, she definitely hadn’t worked hard for her money.
I’d done some research when I was in high school, an assignment that asked us to put together our family tree, and I’d learned that the wealth had been inherited from her wealthy parents and through their wealthy parents before that and their wealthy parents before them and . . . well, the point was, my grandmother wasn’t living the American Dream, hadn’t transcended society to suddenly find herself on top.
She’d had every privilege.
Then had married into an equally wealthy family.
Which brought me to point three.
I didn’t want her money.
I didn’t have any moral qualms about accepting the trust money my parents had left behind for me. They’d loved and cared for me, had wanted to give me something that would keep me safe and help me in life.
That envelope had been welcome.
Even if it had come a bit too late in many ways.
But it had given me a boost, it had helped me get established and . . . I didn’t need anything else. Least of which was creating attachments between a person who hadn’t wanted me when I’d needed them the most and who must clearly have some sort of ulterior motive at popping back into my life now.
Sighing, I shoved the rest of the bagel into my mouth and unlocked the door to the tattoo parlor, closing and securing it behind me as I made my way to the back.
I had plenty of time to puzzle out my plan for how to deal with my grandmother as I worked, so I may as well make the most of my morning and get down to it.
What I didn’t anticipate was Garret being in the back room.
Ten
Garret
“Now, I know you have hot water.”
Sharp words and heat down my spine.
The tropical scent would hit my nose any second, and the Charlie trifecta would be complete.
Turning, I grinned when I saw she’d braided her hair into two pigtails that swung slightly as she stomped toward me.
“What?” I asked. “Am I intruding on the sanctity of your pipes on this glorious early morning?”
Her blue eyes narrowed. “Yes.”
I laughed. “Don’t worry. I’ll be gone in a few minutes,” I said, turning back to the drawer I’d been rifling through. I needed some more transfer paper and—
Ah. Got it.
She huffed.
“Finish your coffee.”
“On what planet do