Page 28 of Daddy By Design

She shrugged and gave me a secret smile. “I know things.”

That was a fact. Deb Gordon was one of the few people who had stayed on after Warner had bought the building. He’d dismissed most of the old employees—all except for Deb. She knew everything about this city and the surrounding towns of Crescent Cove and Turnbull.

She patted my hand. “I expect updates from you on that house. I love all those ghost hunting shows. I gotta get back to the desk. Davis will be working on your kitchen tomorrow. He’s finishing up patching Amberly’s place today.”

“Okay. How long do I have to find a home for Gizmo?”

“A week.”

I winced. “Okay.”

“Just keep him away from the faucets.”

My cheeks reddened. “Got it.”

“Take a shower, sweetie. You’re a wreck.”

“Thanks, Deb,” I said wryly.

“Call ‘em like I see ‘em.” She winked and gathered her tablet and mug of coffee. “Have a good night.”

I was too tired for the stairs, so I headed for the elevators on the right side of the lobby. I lived on the second floor which had six one-bedroom apartments, three on either side. It was quiet since most of my neighbors were still at work.

I unlocked my door and slipped inside. Gizmo met me at the door, winding around my ankles. “Hey, buddy.” I bent to scoop him up and his purr made my chest ache as I cuddled him close. He bumped my chin with the top of his head, nuzzling me before his little sandpaper tongue rasped over my neck.

How on earth could I give him up?

I had to figure out something.

EIGHT

I parked my truck near the gazebo in the heart of Main Street in Crescent Cove. When I shut the door, I winced at the LITTLE DICK screaming from the silver paint. Already, paint chips were flaking off around the gouges.

Damn woman.

I should have called the cops on her superior ass. That was going to be annoying as hell to fix. I swiped at the scratches to see how surface they were. Unless I buffed it out myself.

Nope. My grinder was packed away in a storage pod with the rest of my gear. I’d almost sold it all, but tools for metal sculpting weren’t exactly a Craig’s List kind of offering. Maybe I could use some of it on the rehab of my house. But the idea of opening that locker made my eyeballs pulse.

I spotted the sign for Kramer & Burns Custom a few doors down from Brewed Awakening. I was pretty sure it was the same logo from the card Dahlia had given me. Their bay door was open, and I was tempted to go in and check them out, but I resisted the urge. I was just delaying the inevitable.

I shoved my keys into my jeans pocket. They were still stiff and new. I’d had to buy new clothes since all mine had random holes in them from my welding tools. Even the burn holes were too much for me to look at these days.

I scrubbed my hand over my face, then I pinched the bridge of my nose. The ever-present ache behind my eyes was returning. At least this time there was no optical-related light show to go with it. I stepped up on the sidewalk and lifted my face to the breeze off of Crescent Lake. The sky was churning as the water lapped at the pier that led out to a sightseeing spot.

A storm was definitely brewing.

The once blue sky was now a gunmetal gray and the sun struggled behind the heavy clouds. I appreciated the cooler temperatures at the very least. Today had been hot and sweaty work. I glanced at the diner. It would be easier to eat there and hope no one paid attention to me, but that was just me wanting to avoid the current task on my slate.

“Just suck it up,” I muttered to myself and stepped off the sidewalk and loped across the road to the café. The Haunt, Macy’s restaurant, was right next door. She could be in either location.

Or hell, she could be home with her family.

But I could almost feel her here. The café had her stamp on it just as much as the horror-themed restaurant I’d seen in photos. The front window of the café had a skeleton in a beach chair with a treasure chest full of spooky merchandise. Some with her logo and others with her favorite movies. A crochet bat sat on the skeleton’s shoulder with another yarn crow perched on the arm of the chair with its wings outstretched as if it was mid-takeoff.

I grinned at the mix of ridiculousness that was so much a part of my sister.

At least the part of my sister I remembered.

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