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“Mmm. Sounds interesting.”
“If you only knew.” He winked at her, then turned his attention back to the task at hand. Setting his jaw, he gave a final tug on the wrench and twisted on the faucet. For the first time in months water spewed out of the tap and didn’t spray at odd angles from the spigot.
“You’re a natural,” she said with a laugh.
“If you think this is good, just wait until you see me sink my teeth into a double valve, if there is such a thing.”
&nb
sp; At the sound of tires crunching on gravel, they both looked toward the street. Tiffany thought Stephen might have found a ride home, but her son wasn’t anywhere in sight. She began to worry a little more.
A Dodge pickup that had seen better days rolled into the drive, and the man behind the wheel, a lanky stranger, climbed down from the cab. Tall and slow-moving, he crossed the expanse of grass and approached them. “You in charge?” he asked J.D.
“Not usually.”
The man, his hair a dark shade of blond, nodded toward the Apartment for Rent sign in the front yard. “I’m lookin’ for a place to stay for a few months.”
“I’m Tiffany Santini, and this is my brother-in-law, J.D.” She offered her hand. “This is my place,” she said and noticed J.D.’s mouth tighten a bit.
“Luke Gates.”
He shook her hand, then offered his to J.D., who hadn’t smiled since the pickup had stopped in the drive. Obviously Jay had reservations about the stranger who looked like he was more comfortable in a saddle than in the bucket seat of a truck.
Tiffany sized him up. His clothes were clean but worn, pride kept his spine straight, and his eyes, she thought, had seen more than their share of pain. Crow’s-feet fanned from his eyes, and calluses on his hands suggested that he wasn’t afraid of hard work. “I’ve got two units available, one in the basement of the main house, the other over the old carriage house. I ask for first and last month’s rent, a security deposit, cleaning deposit and references.”
“I imagine you do.” His smile was slow, and his west Texas drawl nearly imperceptible. “Got both. Let’s see the one over the carriage house.”
“This way.”
J.D.’s limp had nearly disappeared as he followed them around the house, then went back to work cleaning a patch of asphalt on the far side of the garage. He’d already told Tiffany he thought it would be a good place to hang a basketball hoop for Stephen. “A boy needs something to do when he’s got time on his hands. He can shoot baskets, hit a tennis ball against a wall, or work out with a punching bag, but you need to give him something to do here, preferably something that he can do alone or with his friends, so that they’ll hang out at the house. Assuming that’s what you want.”
“I’d rather have them where I can see them than at someone else’s place.”
“Good point.”
They’d settled on the hoop.
Luke Gates nodded as he walked into the upper unit of the carriage house, though, Tiffany suspected, he’d decided to rent it before seeing the patina on the hardwood floors, the red brick of the fireplace or the single bedroom. She guessed he’d made up his mind before he’d even parked his truck.
Luke signed the papers in her kitchen, offered her a list of references and paid the rent and deposits with cash. Crisp one-hundred-dollar bills.
This wasn’t the first time she’d been given currency up front, since renters who hadn’t yet opened local bank accounts sometimes had enough cash on them, but it always made her a little wary. Never would she carry that amount of money in her purse, but Luke acted as if it was natural, and he intended to move in that very night.
“So where’re you from?” J.D. asked as they walked outside to the spot where Luke’s truck was parked.
“All over.”
“You must’ve started out somewhere.”
“Yep.”
“But not from around here,” J.D. prodded.
“Nope. Texas. A little town east of El Paso.” With an enigmatic smile, he climbed into his truck, ground the gears and backed out of the shady drive.
“I don’t trust him,” J.D. said once the truck had rounded the corner, leaving a trail of smelly blue exhaust in its wake. They stood on the porch together as the shadows of evening began to stretch across the parched grass.
“You don’t trust anyone,” she observed, but understood what J.D. was saying; Luke was the kind of man who made people edgy, not so much by what he said as by what he didn’t say—a man who didn’t give out much information but took in a whole lot.
