Tinsel (Lark Cove #4)(34)

“This is cool.” She stopped in front of a piano. “Does it work?”

I shrugged. “Don’t know. It makes noise but I don’t know if it’s any good.”

She pulled out the bench, but when she saw the thick layer of dust on the seat, she pushed it back in. But the dust didn’t scare her away from the keys. She lifted up the cover, bent at the waist to set her hands in place and played the beginning of an unfamiliar tune.

“It just needs to be tuned.” She pulled her fingers away, then returned the cover before wiping her hands clean. “But it has a nice tone.”

“Good to know.” That piano hadn’t been a priority, but now that I knew it worked, I’d get someone in to fix it up. Maybe paired with a few other sales from my storage room, I’d have enough to get an offer in on my next property.

“You’re good.” I gestured to the piano.

“Not really. I haven’t played in ages.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I took lessons for years.”

“When was the last time you played?”

She thought about it for a moment. “My last lesson.”

That was the same thing she’d said about her foreign languages. Sofia had taken all of these lessons to learn incredible things, but I doubted it was because she’d wanted to.

“Rental properties, huh?” she asked, still maneuvering through the crowded room.

“Yep.” I leaned against the door.

“So you buy these gross places, fix them up and rent them out?”

“Pretty much. Eventually, I hope to have the capital to just buy them. Fixing them up is a bitch.” But for now, I did it all to save up for the next property since I couldn’t afford a construction crew.

“How long will you keep the rentals?”

I shrugged. “Depends on the market. As long as the rental income can pay for the mortgage, I’ll keep them. Let them appreciate. If we have a boom in the market, I might sell.”

“There’s a lot of opportunity in real estate. That’s smart.”

“Hope so.” I was counting on it to fund my future. I liked working at the bar, but I wasn’t going to do it past my thirties. In fifteen years, I wanted to have enough properties that managing them was my only job. “They’re going to fund my retirement. Free me up so I can quit bartending and maybe do some traveling.”

“I like it.” Sofia passed a stack of boxes, scanned the room once more, then walked to me at the door. She placed her hands on my waist, sliding them underneath the hem of my T-shirt. “Anything left to show me on the tour?”

“Nope. You’ve seen the whole place.” I ran my fingers over her hair then stole a soft kiss.

She leaned into my body, deepening the kiss. Her hands drifted down to my ass, squeezing hard. “Want to show me your bedroom again?”

I grinned against her lips. “After dinner.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Then we’d better go back to Logan and Thea’s.”

“Oh.” Her hands dropped away from my sweats. She backed away, her gaze falling to the floor. “O-okay. Right. I should get back. Get some sleep.”

I took her hand, pulling her back into my arms. “You’re sleeping here. I just thought you might want to stop by and pick up a change of clothes for tomorrow.”

“You’re not kicking me out?”

“Until you leave for New York, you’re in my bed. You good with that?”

She smiled. “Perfect.”




With Sofia staring out her window of my truck, I drove us through the quiet streets of Lark Cove. Most people were probably at home, enjoying the holiday. It had snowed this morning and the streets hadn’t been plowed. Ours was the only set of tire tracks in the fresh powder.

“I haven’t spent much time on this side of town.” Sofia scanned the homes as we passed them by.

“It’s where most people who are here year-round live.”

The highway divided Lark Cove in two. Most of the homes along the lake were larger and owned by people who came here for summer or winter vacations. But the locals and businesses were located on my side of town.

The seventies-and eighties-style ramblers and split-level homes were organized in square blocks. Homes were close enough that you could smell your neighbors’ barbeque from three houses down.

These were safe streets, where kids rode their bikes down the roads and played until sunset. The school was in the center of it all. The playground was open to the kids year-round. The basketball courts were available for us adults to use for our games.

In a way, this part of Lark Cove reminded me of my hometown on the reservation. I’d grown up on a street similar to the one where I lived now. My family hadn’t felt the poverty that so often plagued my people.

One day, I wanted to give back to that area and those not as fortunate. Maybe fix up a couple places on the reservation and rent them out to a couple families who’d fallen down on their luck.

If they’d let me.

It was one of the many reasons my father was so upset that I’d left the reservation. He’d expected me to follow in his footsteps, to take a job improving the lives of our tribal members. To help those Blackfeet people who needed it get back on their feet.