I was still eating off a TV tray in front of my seventy-inch television in my living room three months later. My house echoed it was so damn empty, but that was a problem for future Tish.
Right now, I was going to enjoy the view and my coffee. I climbed up on my picnic table and sat on the uneven slats of the top. It was rickety as hell and probably wouldn’t last the winter. Because dear God, this town was no joke when it came to winter.
The blazing summer had been full to the brim with work and somehow October had snuck in with its cool mornings made for warm coffee, and silence save for some badass birds. Just how I liked it.
I’d impulsively bought this property on the lake thanks to a little bit of right-time-right-place. Mr. and Mrs. Slide had been tired of the snow and bitter cold of Upstate New York and looking to sell the house to someone who would appreciate it. I’d lucked into the whole damn thing because I’d fabricated a hard to get part for Gary Slide’s pristine all-glass hatch Pinto.
A Pinto, for fuck’s sake. No one made parts for that damn car anymore, but the guy loved it—maybe even more than his wife. I was pretty sure she knew it too.
I’d volunteered to make the crazy part after he and Dare had tried to find it from one of the parts dealers we worked with. The look on the old guy’s face had broken me. Actual tears because they couldn’t find the rare hydraulic kit for his baby.
I’d made an exception and let him bump the line, then spent seven hours creating a new kit and actually improving the seal on the weirdly shaped glass hatch that made up the trunk. It ended up being a fun project, probably one of the best decisions I’d ever made.
Because Gary couldn’t stand to be away from his baby, he sat with me as I worked on it. Once my annoyance cleared about being watched, I’d settled in and been treated to his life story.
It should have been boring, but Gary was a born storyteller and entertained me well into the night. Over a pair of hoagies from Jersey Angel’s, he told me about wanting to sell his property.
After the way he’d described it, I’d ended up offering him a cash settlement for the damn thing. And now here I was, with a view that most people would kill for.
Arthur Maitland had raged at the bank as I was signing my papers. Evidently, I’d ruined his plans for another set of condos on the lake courtesy of Maitland Enterprises.
My gaze skimmed over the water to the east side where condos had been in progress for the last six months. I was pretty sure Maitland was still having a kitten about me buying up this piece of land.
I couldn’t say I minded. The man was a dick.
A little meow was my only warning before a ball of fluff leaped onto the table beside me. I gave my cat a quick scratch under the chin before Dusty sprawled onto his back to play with the fringe on my jacket.
I waggled the fringe above his head and laughed at his crazy eyes and Wolverine-esque nails trying to catch them. The wind kicked up, reminding me I really did need to get a proper winter coat before the first snowfall.
“Keep Ya Head Up” blared out of my jacket pocket, startling Dusty. He flew off the table and headed for the garage for safety.
I laughed and pulled out my phone. Only one person had that ringtone. My older brother loved 2Pac.
“What do you want?”
“I can’t call my baby sister?”
I spun on the picnic table and stretched out my legs, praying I wouldn’t end up with a splinter in my ass. “Nope. You text, not call. Why you’re usually my favorite brother.”
Ezra Burns was the eldest of the Burns pack of wild dogs—my dad’s name for us, not mine. But truly, he wasn’t far off. Especially when we all got together, which had been harder and harder to do over the years. All of us had scattered to the four corners of the country.
“Glad I still have favorite status.”
His whisky-dark voice rolled through me. A pang hit my chest like a kickback from a wrench. My brother really didn’t call unless something was going on. “Depends on how this conversation goes, Ez.”
“Guess I can’t check in either.”
I crossed my legs at the ankle. “Is that what you’re doing?”
“You know me too well, Ging.”
I winced. “Really?”
“You’re the only redhead in the bunch.”
“Because I’m the special one.” The usual back and forth seemed a little forced and nerves skated up my neck, leaving bunched muscles in its wake.
“Yeah, we’ll go with special.”