by Joanna Wylde
Shooting a glance toward Talia, I caught her licking her lips, mesmerized by the violence. She loved this, having two men fight over her. Fed her ego, made her feel important. Christ, but I hated her.
The thought caught me off guard.
She’d pissed me off and disgusted me, but in that moment I realized it was true—I genuinely hated the bitch. Huh.
Mike lunged for my leg, catching me off-balance while I was distracted. Fucking moron, keep your mind in the game. He tackled me as I went down, the annoyance and frustration I’d felt blazing to new life. Fucker wanted a piece of me? I’d give him a goddamn piece.
He tried to pin me to the ground, but I broke free, thanking my high school wrestling coach for that little move. Guess muscle memory never dies. Then I kicked out, catching him and throwing him to the side as I jumped back to my feet. All bets were off now, and I kicked him again, this time in the ribs. I actually heard them breaking—Mikey-boy better hope he hadn’t punctured a lung. The kid moaned, rolling to the side.
“You out?” I snarled. He started to nod, then Talia shrieked at him.
“You ever wanna be in this club? Fight like a fuckin’ man!”
Jesus. Christ.
Bitch’d get him killed at this rate. Mike tried to push himself back up again, moving painfully slow. He was gonna force me to end it. Moron. I caught the front of his shirt, positioning him for one final punch to knock him out. Five seconds later he was on the ground, and this time he wasn’t moving.
Raising my head, I stared at Talia.
“You happy now?” I snarled. She giggled, nodding her head. “Then get over here.”
She scampered toward me as the men around us laughed, money changing hands. Nobody lifted a finger to help Mike. Guess he was just collateral damage, poor bastard. Grabbing Talia around her biceps, I dragged her toward the corner of the building, because she’d had her fun and now it was time to pay. We passed the corner and I marched her into the darkness.
“Cooper, you were so hot,” she said breathlessly. I slammed her against the wall. She dropped a hand down to my dick, massaging me through the denim of my jeans, and I realized I was hard. Adrenaline from the fight, combined with the lingering memory of Tinker’s soft smile.
I wrapped a hand around Talia’s throat, squeezing just hard enough to hurt her. She laughed, stroking me faster. Woman had no fear and no common sense. Bitch was getting off on it, I swear.
“Time for you to learn some fucking rules,” I snarled. “You like to play games, you need to find yourself a different man. I let you get away with it tonight. You pull that shit again, we’re done.”
Talia’s lips opened and she panted, eyelids drooping. I felt her fingers fumbling with my pants and then she was unzipping me, pulling my cock out into the hot night air. I tightened my grip around her throat again and she moaned, her hand pumping me hard and fast.
I closed my eyes and thought of Tinker. Fuck, what I’d give to have her up against a wall like this . . .
“I’ll make it up to you,” she whispered, her voice hoarse.
Groaning, I lifted one of her legs and wrapped it around my waist, grinding against her. The little skirt she wore rode up until the only thing between us was the fabric of her thong. Jesus. My cock was so hard I thought it might split—apparently the fact that I hated this cunt didn’t matter one bit, because my body wanted to fuck her. She choked and I realized I’d started squeezing harder.
Letting her throat go, I dug my fingers into her hair and jerked her head back.
“No more games.”
“No more games,” she whispered, eyes bright with excitement, and I knew she was lying. Bitch lived to play games.
“Then suck my cock.”
She dropped to her knees in an instant, wrapping both hands around my dick as she licked the tip. Talia had many, many faults, but her blow job skills weren’t in question, that was for damned sure. She played with me for several minutes, stoking the need that’d been burning through me all evening. First it was good. Then it wasn’t enough. Grabbing her hair, I pushed deeper into her mouth and she took it like a pro, opening wide and sucking me down. Her fingers moved to my balls, one hand toying with them while the second massaged directly behind, her firm pressure on the root of my cock almost more than I could bear.
Then she pushed forward, taking me deep into her throat.
Fucking hell.
I closed my eyes, wondering how a woman I hated this much could make me feel so good. I imagined Tinker on her knees like this, and my balls drew up tight, heavy with come. God, I could see it now. Bright red lipstick and those straight-cut bangs hanging over her big eyes. She’d stare up at me and I’d wind her hair around my hands and fuck her mouth forever, just because I could.
Talia moved faster now, and she sent a finger wandering back to my ass. It pushed against the opening then slid inside. Her mouth was hot and wet, her throat closed tight around me as she found the spot that made me gasp. I imagined Tinker again, licking her lips, and my balls exploded into Talia’s throat. Over and over again I pumped, shooting her full of my frustration and anger and come until she nearly choked on it.
Finally I let my hands drop and pulled my cock free. Talia stared up at me in coy triumph.
“You’ll always come back for that,” she said. I shook my head slowly.
“You’re good, Talia, but I’m not your bitch. You want a man you can give orders to, find someone else. I meant what I said—you’re mine, not the other way around. We clear?”
She shrugged, standing slowly. Then she leaned into me, dropping a hand down to squeeze my ass.
“Clear,” she said. “Now let’s go back inside. I want to see how bad Mike is hurt. You could’ve killed him, you know.”
I could kill you.
“He’ll be fine,” I snapped. “Hope you enjoyed your moment of glory.”
She reached down, cupping my softening cock. “Oh, I enjoyed it. You have no idea. Now buy me a drink—I need to rinse out my mouth.”
TINKER
The next couple weeks passed quickly enough. Work was crazy, because not only did I have my regular orders to fill, but I’d gotten a major order from a law firm looking to hire my future ex, Brandon. He was hot shit, of course. I knew this because he told me regularly, but also because people were always trying to lure him into private practice. He wouldn’t go—not with the King County Prosecuting Attorney’s office up for grabs—but none of that mattered to me. We might be getting a divorce, but I still had a business to run. That’s why my part-time shop assistant—Randi—and I were so busy that I closed the tea shop entirely so we could focus on production. This wasn’t a particularly big deal, seeing as we never sold anything anyway.
As for Cooper, there wasn’t much to tell. Eventually I decided that I’d imagined the tension between us. Not that I could complain about his work ethic—he kept himself busy enough, but whenever we ran into each other, he was only casually friendly. He’d give me a wave or we’d discuss work around the place, but his eyes were distant. Blank.
And of course, she was always around. Ugh. I don’t know who disgusted me more, myself or Talia. She might be the immature brat, but I was certainly feeling like one. Who gets jealous of some guy they’ve never even kissed, anyway?
Stalkers and crazy people.
We hadn’t entered full-on stalker territory just yet, but sometimes I felt like it was close. I caught myself watching him around the property, unconsciously tracking his schedule so that I could just happen to be around when he was. Pathetic. Lame. But, oh my God, the man was a work of art . . . And when he smiled, it felt like my heart might explode. Well, something definitely wanted to explode. Ha! On the bright side he was getting tons of work done and probably putting in more hours than was fair. For the first time since my mom died, I didn’t feel all stressed out about the apartments.
Cooper’s repairs weren’t the only changes in the building, either. That weekend a new family had moved into the last vacant unit,
and overnight the place had burst with energy because there were four kids.
Yeah, four. In a two-bedroom apartment.
That violated my policy on the number of people per bedroom, but I had a soft spot for the mother, Janelle. We’d gone to school together and she’d gotten pregnant about the same time as my friend Carrie. Her story hadn’t ended as well. The father took off right after the baby was born and Janelle’s parents kicked her out. She’d drifted from one dead-end job to the next until about ten years ago, when she married a man whose main purpose in life seemed to be drinking and knocking her around.
They’d had three more kids together before she’d gotten up the nerve to move out, and when she’d come to me asking about the empty place, there was no way in hell I’d have said no.
Now I came home every day to find children running wild around our little courtyard, and while it was noisy it was also fantastic. Sure, I got the occasional twinge, the memory of little Tricia bittersweet and full of pain. But when they started building a fort using pallets and scraps from one of my dad’s old projects, I didn’t have the heart to tell them no.
There was only one downside . . . Janelle’s first child, Sadie, was all grown up, and she was part of Talia’s little posse. Now the bitch had two reasons to come hang out around my building, and I didn’t like that one little bit.
Still, I felt optimistic that Thursday night. I’d made all the special-order caramels and had dipped about half of them. If I finished the rest by tomorrow, I’d be able to take my first weekend totally off in forever. Carrie and I had already booked ourselves into the day spa for manis, pedis, and drinkies.
That’s why—despite my inner creeper when it came to Cooper—I was feeling all pleased with myself. Dad was already in bed, and I’d settled onto the porch swing with a book, enjoying the fading light and night air. These days it was too hot to spend much time outside, but the evenings were perfect. Living in the northwest, I had only a month or two each year where it was actually warm enough to sit outside in the dark. I liked to take advantage of them.
The book was good, and I was sucked in deep enough that I didn’t even notice when someone started up the porch steps.
“Tinker, you got a minute?” he asked, startling an unattractive squawk out of me. Cooper laughed, and I glared up at him.
“Think you’re pretty sneaky, don’t you?”
He shrugged, the smile on his face crinkling the edges of his eyes in an impossibly sexy way. Sheesh. Did he do anything that wasn’t hot? (Okay, I’d watched him kiss Talia the other night and threw up a little in the back of my mouth, so I guess there was that.)
“Sure, it’s all my fault,” he replied. “I wrote the book, snuck it into your house, and then waited for my moment to scare you.”
“You’re not helping,” I said, trying to stare down my nose at him. Seeing as he was taller than me and also standing up, this was less than effective. “So what’s up?”
“I wanted to go over a couple things with you about the building,” he said, holding up a little notebook. “Mind if I sit down?”
Sit down? Next to me? Yes, please.
Scooting over, I made room for him, reminding myself that it wasn’t stalkerish if he was the one who’d asked to sit there in the first place. Cooper settled on the swing, which was just a little tight for someone his size. That meant his leg was pressing against mine and our shoulders touched. Then his special scent washed over me and I had to hold back a shiver.
“So I noticed some of the upper-floor apartments have water stains on their ceilings,” he said. “I talked to the tenants, and apparently the roof started leaking last winter. They talked to your dad about it, but . . . Well, it didn’t get fixed. I guess your mom gave them a cut in their rent in exchange for putting up with it, and told them the roof would get repaired this summer.”
I frowned.
“I didn’t see anything about that in her files,” I said, feeling my stomach sink. How many more little surprises did she leave behind? “But we were just in survival mode after she passed.”
“That’s what I figured,” he said, twisting to look at me. Our shoulders bumped and he frowned. “This is awkward—do you mind if I put my arm behind you?”
“Um, sure.”
He raised it to the back of the swing and for one glorious instant I thought he might actually touch me. Instead he let it rest on the back side of the swing seat. Pisser. I wanted to lean into his body as he held me close. Then he’d pull me in and kiss me and . . . What? Sweep me off into the sunset on his magical winged lion while singing songs about my beauty? That was about as likely as him making a move on me right now.
Stupid reality, fucking up all my fantasies.
“So how bad is it?” I asked, mentally tallying my bank balance. I had some savings, but not a lot. There’d be more once the divorce was final, but despite all my lawyer’s calls to Brandon’s lawyer, we still hadn’t made any progress. The big holdup right now was whether or not to sell the house. He was being a jerk about it because I didn’t have enough cash to buy him out. But we’d put in a commercial kitchen in the basement and I’d need it if I moved back to Seattle . . . Brandon kept saying I should sell the apartment building to pay him off—I couldn’t begin to wrap my head around the idea. Not only that, it seemed like there was less money in our investments than I remembered. It didn’t add up, and we’d been arguing about it for months.
I couldn’t decide if there was something fishy about the whole thing or if he was just stalling.
“Well, you’ll need a whole new roof in the next few years, there’s no help for that,” Cooper said, holding out a notebook covered in diagrams and cramped writing, all of which meant nothing to me. “But I can do some basic repairs that should hold for another winter or two. I have the time and I know how to do it, but it’s still going to cost. I’ve run some numbers, and I think we’re looking at close to five grand for materials and equipment rental.”
I met his gaze, swallowing. It was a lot of money, but we had it in the rental account. Good thing I’d filled that last empty unit, though, because we were barely cash-flowing as it was. I looked back up to find him studying me, our faces so close that I could feel the heat of his breath.
“I can swing that much,” I said quietly. “How long do you think it’ll take?”
He tilted his head, and I realized he was watching my lips. It felt like there wasn’t quite enough air around us. Everything was hot, and I couldn’t decide if it was the heat of his body or mine making me so uncomfortable. Licking my lips, I leaned toward him unconsciously.
Cooper swallowed.
“I think about three or four weeks, depending on what else comes up. If you want, I’ll start work this weekend.”
“Don’t you have plans?” I asked, my voice a whisper. He shook his head slowly.
“Nothing,” he said, his voice rough. He swallowed and I saw his eyes drift down toward my chest. I’d dressed for the heat in a light tank, the same one I usually wore to bed. It had a little shelf bra built in but it definitely hadn’t been designed for maximum coverage. Normally I wouldn’t even wear it outside the house. It’d only been the porch, though, and darkness was already falling.
Now my nipples poked through and his breath caught.
“Tinker—”
“Cooper—”
I laughed nervously, then raised my arms, crossing them over my chest. He shook his head, as if trying to wake up.
“I’ll charge the materials to your account at the hardware store, if that’s all right.”
“Of course.”
“Tinker, right now things are complicated. Talia—”
Flushing, I pulled away from him, because I didn’t need to hear the speech. I’d been repeating it in my head ever since I’d learned they were dating.
“No worries,” I said, standing up abruptly. “I need to get inside, check on Dad. Keep me posted on the roof and all that.”
Then I scuttled inside
the house like a big, fat coward, because the last person on earth I wanted to talk about was stupid Talia.
As for Cooper, I don’t know what he did.
Probably went off to boink his girlfriend because she was so much better than me.
Stupid jerkwad.
CHAPTER SIX
TINKER
Cooper spent the weekend working on the roof.
Without a shirt.
By Sunday afternoon I’d decided this constituted cruel and unusual punishment, but that didn’t stop me from hanging out in the yard and watering the flower baskets so I could watch him. It’d been a real challenge keeping them alive this year—we’d had the driest summer in memory, with more wildfires sparking in the national forests every day. Fortunately, none of them had come close to human habitation. Yet.
I was almost finished when Cooper climbed down off the roof, put away his tools, and disappeared inside, presumably to shower off the sweat. (Just the thought weakened my knees.) It was a good thing, too. Watching him was very nice, but it probably wasn’t particularly healthy, and I definitely didn’t want to talk to him any more than I had to. Not when every conversation ended with me tied up in knots from sexual tension while he moseyed off to his girlfriend.
By the time he came back out, I’d settled onto the porch with the glass of wine I traditionally awarded myself every Sunday afternoon, determined not to notice if he happened to reappear. Then he was in front of me and I forgot all about my vow not to notice, because seriously . . . his hair was all wet and hanging around his face as he walked up the porch steps. Yum.
“Hey,” he said. “How’s it going?”
“Fine,” I replied, smiling without quite meeting his gaze—this was part of my new plan for dealing with Cooper whenever he got too close. If I looked at his eyes, I might fall right into them and say something stupid, but if I focused on his shoulder I could pretend I was talking to Brandon. This worked, because talking to Brandon was the least sexy activity on earth (outside of actually having sex with Brandon, of course).
