The Schemer (Harbor City 3)

He took a step closer, near enough that he could smell the vanilla of her perfume and see the light-brown freckles he’d never noticed before on her exposed shoulder. “Because you missed me.”

Her gaze never wavered from his; she wasn’t ever the kind to give an inch. “You sure think a lot of yourself.”

“And I know you’ve been thinking a lot about me.” Otherwise she never would have thrown in that text last night about what she was wearing. She may not want to want him any more than he wanted to want her, but the reality was that his upstairs neighbor had the hots for him and he had it bad for her. What harm was there in a little meaningless flirting? It wasn’t like it would ever go anywhere beyond wrinkled sheets and sweaty satisfaction.

Just when he thought she wasn’t going to play along, she gave him a smirk before saying, “Heads.”

Using the tip of his thumb, he flipped the quarter into the air. It went end over end several times before he caught it and slapped it down on the top of his hand. Tails.

“Well,” he said, putting the quarter away in its special pocket. “It had to go your way one of these times.”

She snorted and led the way down the stairs to the garage. He didn’t mind—the view was amazing.

“If I weren’t holding a pie, I’d beg for a ride on your Harley.” She grinned as they passed the covered beast.

He was going to need to enroll in classes or something soon. As mad as she was that he’d kept from her the fact that he owned the building, he could only imagine the size of the doghouse buying a bike you couldn’t even ride would cost him. He wasn’t even 100 percent sure he knew how to start the damn thing.

The Lakeland Community Center didn’t have a lake nearby, but it sat up on a hill and had an amazing view of the harbor. When the wind hadn’t whipped off all the leaves from the trees lining the walk up to the front doors, it had to be a great place to sit at the outdoor tables dotting the lawn and play chess, have a coffee, or talk about the good old days when the dinosaurs roamed the earth and milk was fifty cents a gallon. He was kinda looking forward to doing the same when he hit his seventies.

Everly led the way inside through the double doors, past the attendant manning a desk by the door who knew her name, and into a room full of comfortable chairs and a wall of windows looking out at a massive garden that had to be pretty impressive in the spring. Most of the people in the room were either residents at the facility or about to be—except for one couple nearby in an overstuffed floral love seat.

“You know Hudson and Felicia,” Everly said as she led him over toward the other couple.

That was putting it mildly. They each were a younger sibling of two of his closest friends and had fallen for each other. “Only for most of my life.”

“Great,” she said, her voice strained, and handed him the pie. “They’ll get you squared away with bingo and introduce you to Mary, who’ll get the pie ready for the refreshment break.”

He didn’t like the slight droop to her shoulders or the way she’d pressed her lips together. This wasn’t the ball-busting woman who gave him grief on an almost daily basis. This was someone about to knowingly go ballroom dancing in a minefield. His hand was intertwined in hers, turning her toward him before he even realized it.

“Are you okay?” he asked, searching her guarded eyes for any clue of what he could or should do next.

Her step faltered, but she recovered and slipped free of his hold. “Of course. I’m just going to visit my grandma before the bingo starts. I’ll see you inside. Save a spot for me.”

And then she was gone down a hall painted a cheery yellow. The temptation to follow was a burn in his gut. But what could he do? Nothing. Her grandma had dementia. He didn’t have the cure. He wasn’t her boyfriend. They were…neighbors, with any luck soon-to-be fuck buddies. There was no strategic reason for him to go with her. Then again, there wasn’t any reason for being here with her at bingo period.

So why are you here, numbnuts?

Because… Fuck. He didn’t even know anymore. “Hey, wait up.”

She turned around, obviously as confused as he was about why he’d called out. “Yeah?”

“Can I meet her?”

Her eyes rounded. “Nunni?”

“Yeah.” In any other situation, this would totally be a move to gain her trust and confidence in order to have forward momentum on a scheme. But that wasn’t the case here—and that was even weirder than his wanting to go along to bingo.

Her shoulders seemed to relax a few inches, and one side of her mouth curled up in an almost smile. “Okay, but don’t freak out if she thinks I’m my mom.”

“Is that pretty common?”

The line of her jaw tightened. “Often enough that I usually get warned at least three times each visit that she doesn’t trust that man my mom was dating. Nunni wasn’t wrong on that score.”

He nodded and, after telling Hudson and Felicia that they’d catch up with them before bingo, they walked together down the hall past the doors with nameplates on the wall beside each one until they finally stopped at one marked Patrice Ribinski.

After exhaling a deep breath, Everly turned up the wattage on her smile to blinding and opened the door. “Hey, Nunni, how are you tonight?”

An old woman sat in the recliner in front of a TV playing a game show from three decades ago, judging by the clothes. Her hair was snow-white and cut into tight curls that framed her face. With her tiny frame and unassuming posture, she couldn’t have been more of Everly’s opposite right up until she turned to look at them. There was no mistaking those no-nonsense eyes.