Page 2 of Landlord Daddy's Girl

“Sorry,” he chuckles. “It still feels weird to ask.”

I wave him off. “Dude, you’ve been here for three years. You need to get over that shit. Fixing shit around here is my job.”

“I know, but?—”

“It’s my job,” I repeat. “Don’t sweat it. It’ll be good as new when you get back.”

“Thanks, man.”

“Not a problem.”

In addition to the Mustang, my father left me his budding real estate empire. I took up residence in The Pacific Winds, abuilding of high-end condos with an unobstructed view of the ocean. My dad left me three more buildings that are nice, but they’re a little farther inland. I prefer waking up, rolling out of bed, and catching a few waves before I start my day. And my day is usually taken up by needy tenants who have one problem or another that needs to be addressed.

I don’t mind it, though. Not really. I enjoy working with my hands. But between my duties as a landlord and my gig as a guest bartender around town, I don’t have a lot of free time. That’s probably for the best. I tend to get into trouble when I have free time, so I do my best to stay busy. It’s one reason I started the project with the Mustang. It keeps me occupied.

“When are you leaving?” I ask.

“Tomorrow night. Got a flight out of Orange County at ten.”

“Sounds good.”

We chill and have a couple more beers, just shooting the shit. He may live in my building, but we’re both so busy, we don’t have a lot of time to hang out. Life just gets in the way sometimes. Being a grown-up with grown-up responsibilities really sucks.

“All right, well, I should probably get back and finish packing,” Derek says. “I can’t believe how much shit I’m taking with me.”

“Well, you are going to be there for a few months.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, I guess so. Anyway, thanks again for handling that for me.”

“Not a problem. I’ll keep an eye on things.”

“Thanks, brother.”

“You got it. And thanks for the beer.”

He gives me a wave and heads back to his place to pack. It occurs to me after he’s gone that I didn’t ask him what he’s going to do with his cat. But then, I assume he’s already got it covered. He probably would have asked me to take care of the little fleabag if he hadn’t already taken care of it.

I glance at my watch and see I’ve only got a few hours before my guest bartending shift down at Caputo’s tonight. Determined to make the most of my remaining time, I drain the last of the bottle in my hand, crank the music back up, and go back to working on my car.

2

SIERRA

“Icould really get used to living here,” I say. “What do you think, Monty? Would you like it if I lived here with you?”

The cat purrs and nuzzles my hand. My brother asked me to house-sit and take care of his cat while he’s abroad teaching, so for the last week, I’ve had my brother’s beachfront condo to myself. And it’s been sheer heaven. There is nothing like going to sleep and waking up to the sound and smell of the ocean. It’s nice soaking in a hot bubble bath and listening to the waves crashing against the shoreline outside. I don’t know how Derek managed to finagle his way into a place as sweet as this, but I’m a little jealous. More than a little jealous, actually.

Being here beats being in the dorm, which is noisy, always smells funny, and just pure chaos. Here, everything is quiet. Calm. I can actually get my studying done and just relax without somebody banging on my door, wanting to go out drinking or getting into some kind of trouble. Truth be told, I’m not much of a party girl. It’s just not my scene. I’m more of a bookworm and prefer quiet nights in than drunken nights out.

Monty mewls and gives me a gentle head-butt as he purrs loudly. “And of course, I love being here with you, fur-face. You’re the best part.”

The big, orange cat mewls again as if he understands and approves. It wouldn’t surprise me if the big cat actually did understand everything I was saying. Cats are smart creatures, anyway. But Monty is smarter than most. Eerily so.

“All right, I need a shower,” I tell him. “I’ll feed you when I get out.”

Peeling off my sweaty clothes after my run, I drop them into the hamper on the bedroom floor, step into the bathroom, and turn on the shower. If there’s one drawback to my brother’s condo, it’s that the water pressure in the shower is weak, and it doesn’t stay hot for long. But honestly, it’s a minor hiccup that doesn’t bother me all that much, given all the other perks. Once the water is warm enough, I jump into the shower.

Knowing I need to move quickly, I lather up my hair and body, taking as much time as I can to let the warmth of the water seep into my bones. Once I feel the temperature drop a couple of degrees, I finish up and turn the water off. I suppose fifteen minutes is probably long enough to shower, but I would kill for another ten minutes of warmth.

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