Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 132892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 664(@200wpm)___ 532(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 664(@200wpm)___ 532(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Carrie and I laughed as Cooper joined us.
“Don’t think we’ve met,” Darren said, scoping him out carefully. Cooper held out his hand and they shook. I got a when-alpha-males-meet vibe, and Carrie rolled her eyes.
“Cooper Romero. I’m Tinker’s new handyman.”
“Yeah, I heard about you. Why’d you move to Hallies Falls?”
“Darren, don’t be rude,” Carrie scolded, pulling away from him. Darren ignored her as Cooper gave an easy laugh, stepping back to lean against the counter, big arms crossed over his chest.
“I’m in the middle of a divorce. My ex is in Ellensburg with our boys. I was looking for somewhere close enough to visit, but far enough that I won’t run into her on a regular basis.”
“What do you do? Besides working for Tinker, I mean.”
“Darren!” Carrie said, swatting his arm.
“I’m protective of Tinker,” Darren replied lightly, but his eyes were serious. “I saw you with the Nighthawk Raiders MC the other day. You a member?”
“Nope,” Cooper said. “Just dating a girl connected to the club, that’s all. I like to ride my bike and mind my own business. And to answer your question, I’m a trucker. That’s my rig parked out back. I’m taking a bit of a break for now—just need to sort out the legal stuff first.”
Darren nodded, seeming satisfied but still not overly friendly.
“Sorry, Cooper—Darren needs to learn to pretend he’s civilized in front of company,” Carrie said, rolling her eyes. “Let’s take the food out to the picnic table.”
She picked up the little caddy that held paper plates, napkins, and some silverware, grabbing the salad in her other hand. Darren unplugged the small rice cooker on the counter and followed her out the door, leaving me alone with Cooper.
“I’m sorry about that,” I told him. “I’d love to say that it’s not typical, but Darren has always been super protective of Carrie and I, even when we were kids. He’s like my big brother.”
Cooper gave me a slow, beautiful smile and shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. Having people who give a shit is a good thing.”
I smiled back at him, wondering why the hell he couldn’t fall down at my feet and declare his undying love. Of course, then I’d have stepkids . . . I’d never considered stepchildren. A stab of pain shot through me, and I shoved down my thoughts before they started down the dark path.
“Anything else I can do to help?” he asked, stepping closer to me. I could smell him—fresh and clean and male. My nipples hardened, and I shot up a swift prayer of thanks up that the halter had a little padding built in for the sake of discretion. Obviously the designer wasn’t a fan of nipping out any more than I was. Cooper reached over and touched my cheek softly. My heart stuttered.
“You had an eyelash,” he said, holding up his finger. Then he stepped back and picked up the platter of chicken. “Should I take this outside?”
Deflating, I admitted for the first time to myself that Carrie might just be right—maybe I really did need to get laid. I’d thought he was flirting with me, which was stupid. The man has a girlfriend. Get your mind out of your panties.
“Great,” I told him, refusing to blush. “I’ll go find my dad. Oh, there’s drinks in the fridge and wine on the counter. Grab whatever you want.”
GAGE
I carried the platter out through the kitchen door and into the courtyard, wondering how a town beautiful enough to hold a place like this could have fallen into the hands of someone like Marsh Jackson. The summer had been hot and dry, but Tinker’s courtyard remained a lush oasis of green, even in the heat.
The building itself was arranged like a big C with the Garrett house attached to one end of it. In the center of the C was a courtyard with a cedar gazebo, which was where we were eating. It looked like something out of a movie about England—you know, the kind where there are bricks on the bottom and dark beams crossing white walls above? It stood two stories tall, and there were flowers and hanging baskets everywhere. Like something out of a storybook.
“Have a seat,” Carrie said, her cheeks flushed. Darren wrapped an arm around her, giving her a squeeze. They were a good-looking couple—reminded me of Bam Bam and Dancer back in Coeur d’Alene—with the air of people who’d been together for a long time. I wondered what that’d be like. I’d never been with the same woman longer than a year, and never particularly regretted it. Either I wasn’t the kind of man who needed an old lady or I’d never met the right one.
Across from Darren sat Tinker’s dad, Tom. He was a good guy, although it’d taken only a couple days to figure out he wasn’t firing on all cylinders. One of the tenants—Mary Webbly, who was probably about ten years older than Tom—had told me that he’d gone downhill in a big way since his wife had died earlier in the year. Up to that point, Tinker had lived in Seattle.