At Peace (The 'Burg #2)(83)

“You think she don’t need fixin’, you’re wrong,” Cal told him.

“Patchwork, man, not major f**kin’ repairs. Been there too, the job doesn’t last long and it’s worth the effort.”

Cal looked at the yard and took another pull of his beer.

“We do our own thing,” Colt continued. “The day starts with Feb in my bed then we go our own way and, Cal, man, you wouldn’t believe how sweet it is knowin’ at the end of the day she’ll crawl right back into my bed.”

Cal was pleased Colt had that. Good man like him deserved it. Good woman like Feb deserved it too.

But after what went down with Bonnie, Cal quit thinkin’ about what he wanted, his mind focused entirely on the end game. Retire early, kick back, do his own thing in his own company. He’d take his fill of women along the way and after he got where he wanted to be but all he’d ever wanted growing up was a family and, what Bonnie did, he wasn’t going to go back there. He’d given too much the first around, he was empty.

There was no way he was telling Colt this so Cal stayed silent.

Colt didn’t take his hint.

“You fixed her garage door opener.”

“Yep.”

“It back on?”

It was none of his business but Cal repeated, “Yep.”

“Cut her loose, Cal.”

Cal looked at Colt and with the way he did most men would cringe.

Colt just held his gaze.

Cal stayed silent.

“You should cut her loose,” Colt reiterated quietly.

“Not your business, Colt.”

“It works out with Mike, it’ll be good for them both.”

Cal knew that, he knew Haines, not well, but he knew him. Haines was a good man. Haines would shovel her snow. His wife was that big of a bitch, Haines would appreciate what he had in Vi and he’d let her know it.

Cal looked away and stared at his yard.

“In a minute, we’ll sit and drink beer. Now I’m tellin’ you, you’re all kinds of crazy, havin’ her next door, into you and not makin’ some effort to see where it’d lead. You’d be good for her but, better, she’d be good for you. You don’t wanna make that effort, your call, but you should stop f**kin’ with her head and let her get on with her life and find someone who’s willin’ to put in the effort.”

When Colt stopped speaking, Cal continued contemplating his yard.

After awhile, he asked, “You done?”

“Yeah,” Colt answered.

Cal didn’t do anything, not even nod. He just looked at his yard and took another pull of his beer.

Colt did the same.

* * * * *

I walked up to Mike’s townhouse, a new build but not that new. The trees had filled in a bit, it’d been around a few years; with a discerning eye I decided maybe five, maybe a couple more.

It was a development, a few detached or duplex ones but mostly rows of townhouses, party walls. In Mike’s row, Mike was in the middle. There was a narrow two car garage at the front, most of the house on top of the garage but there were rooms to the side.

I knocked on the door and didn’t wait long for Mike to answer.

“Hey honey,” he said, stepping aside, letting me in.

“Hi,” I replied, walking by him.

He closed the door, I looked up at him at the same time his arm hooked me at the waist, pulling me to his body and his head came down.

He obviously saved the stealth kisses for the first date or maybe special occasions. He didn’t give me a stealth kiss, patiently building the heat. His mouth opened over mine, his tongue slid inside and, essentially, he threw a kiss Molotov cocktail and I ignited.

When he lifted his head, I’d plastered myself to his front and again had both my hands in his hair.

“Wow,” I breathed.

He smiled, I gave him more of my weight, that’s how much I liked his smile, and he took it, his smile getting wider.

Then I thought, I was such a freaking slut.

“Sorry about Wednesday,” he said.

“I was a cop’s wife for fifteen years, I know the drill,” I told him.

“Your man stand you up a lot?” Mike asked.

I shook my head. “No, but he liked his job, he only ever wanted to be a cop and it was important to him. Since it was important to him and he didn’t make too much of a habit of it, I didn’t throw a hissy fit when he had to work. You learn to deal and with two kids it wasn’t like there wasn’t always something to do.”

His arm got tight but he didn’t reply. Then he let me go but took my purse, threw it on a chair in the little foyer and led me to the left into a kitchen.

It wasn’t the greatest kitchen in the world. Mine wasn’t huge but it was long and had a lot of counter space. His was newer, better appliances, was in a u-shape, small and had shit counter space but whoever designed it did the best they could do with the space they had. There were tons of cupboards; a five burner stove set in the counter; wall oven built into a unit, a microwave over it, cupboard over and under the appliances; a huge double door fridge that would hold enough food for a battalion; and there was a small table sitting in the bay window facing the front of the house.

“You eat meat?” he asked.

“Yep.”

“Good.” He went to a bottle of wine on the counter. “You drink red?”