Page 19 of Hard Luck (Blackstone House)

Cole leaned to look through the window. “She’s a beaut. Not the kind of car I imagined you driving.”

“I guess you could call her an inheritance.”

He straightened. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

I nearly said “I’m sorry for yours,” but I remembered at the last moment that I wasn’t supposed to know about his connection to Uncle Mike.

“It was a long time ago.”

“Time heals, but it doesn’t erase.” He closed his eyes for a second and took a breath, and I knew it wasn’t only my life that had been touched by sorrow. “If I offered to buy you lunch, would that be weird?”

“Probably. I actually need to go pick up treats for my friend’s dog.”

“Swear I’m not trying to stalk you, but I came here for cat food. Took an early lunch break.”

“You have a cat?”

“You inherited the car; I inherited a Siamese named Tinkerbell.”

Now I could say it. “I’m sorry for your loss too. A relative?”

“My uncle. We weren’t close, but…” He trailed off. “My car’s right here. Want me to drop you at the door?”

I could easily walk the two hundred yards, but I wasn’t going to act like a bitch to Cole, not when he was being genuinely nice and not when he’d be moving his car to the store’s parking lot anyway.

“Sure.”

His car was a Prius, not a new one, and the inside smelled of Lysol. He caught me wrinkling my nose and grimaced.

“Tinkerbell was sick a couple of weeks ago. She clawed her way out of the carrier on the way to the vet and puked on the seat. The back seat, not the one you’re sitting on.”

“She’s okay now?”

He nodded. “The veterinarian thought she ate something bad. She doesn’t go beyond the yard, and I checked the house… I don’t know. The paint in the hallway seems to be degrading.”

“Degrading?”

“It went sticky for a day or so. Maybe she brushed against it and then licked her fur.”

“Really? When was this?”

“Right after we—” He blew out a breath. “Forget it. You obviously had your reasons for splitting, and I’m not going to pry. I’m just glad you’re okay.” Another glance at my leg. “Mostly okay.”

Fuck, Valeria didn’t check the paint dried before she left?

“The morning after always sucks. Awkward conversations over breakfast, guys wanting more than I can give and getting pushy. It’s easier to slip away. Sorry.”

Sorry.The word felt foreign on my tongue. I rarely apologised for anything, mainly because I didn’t give a fuck what most people thought of me.

“I guess I can understand that. Emotional entanglement is the last thing I want either, especially when I won’t be staying in Las Vegas for much longer.”

“You won’t? The house is a rental? You should speak to your landlord about the paint.”

Cole turned into the parking lot and headed for the front. “I own the house at the moment, but as soon as I resolve the difficulties with my uncle’s estate, I’m going home.”

“Where’s home?”

I already knew the answer, but if he told me himself, I wouldn’t have to pretend I didn’t.

---