Together, we headed to her house, both of us in our own vehicles.
When I pulled up, the smile that lit my face was comical.
“What?” she asked as she got out of her car.
“Did you ever tell him that I mowed his lawn?” I chuckled. “I had all my guys put out yard signs this week. Look.”
She looked over at the new signs that the yard owners had agreed to display in their yard, then looked back at me.
“I can almost guarantee, with a hundred-percent certainty, that he doesn’t know that you mow this, or he’d refuse to be displaying it in his yard,” she teased. “And no, I didn’t tell him.”
I had a feeling of the same.
“Whatever,” I said. “Do you have to go through the front to get to your place?”
“No,” she pointed to a small side entrance that was paved around the side of the house. “I live in what is called the mother-in-law quarters. It’s off the backyard. Has its own entrance, and even its own privacy fence.”
“When I’d met Teller Kincaid, my ex, I’d done it by renting out his place. Eventually, we’d realized that there was something there that we’d like to explore, and had pursued that mutual attraction. Obviously, I should’ve stayed on my side of the fence.” I put in the access code to get into the backyard. “Had I, I wouldn’t find living in my own home awkward as fuck. Thankfully, I’d only been out of the mother-in-law quarters for a little over three months. Also, thankfully, the previous tenants—the woman had been in the military—had had to leave unexpectedly due to being deployed. Which coincided nicely with the breakup.”
“How long were you with Teller before you broke it off?” I asked.
“A little over five months. I lived on the property for three months before that,” she answered. “I should’ve seen the writing on the wall, to be honest. He was always very nice and sweet, but his job bothered me. And I didn’t like the fact that he was also in such a bad mood from it. I realize that being a cop is hard, but you should really leave that shit at the door. Not bring it inside with you to taint another person.”
I grunted at that.
I could name quite a few days that I’d brought my bad attitude home to Lindy.
“Maybe if you’re with the right person, them having an attitude isn’t something that’s a bad thing,” I interjected as I caught the fence before it slammed into her backside from her sudden halt. “What…”
I looked up to find Teller standing there, a bag of trash in one hand, and what looked like a gun in the other. The flash of silver as he moved that gun to a different position down by his legs confirmed my thoughts.
I immediately maneuvered myself so that I was standing in front of Iris, protecting her with my body.
“You always walk around with a gun out?” I asked, extremely pissed off despite the fact that it wasn’t ever pointed in our direction.
Teller shoved the gun back in the waistband of his shorts and said, “When I hear people coming into my gate when I’m out here, yes.”
“You have a tenant. It’s going to be normal for someone to come back here,” I pointed out.
Teller tossed the full bag into the trash can and said, “Shit’s been bad lately. I’m not taking any chances.”
I had a feeling I should ask him about what was ‘going bad’ that he was talking about.
“Iris,” I said softly, pulling on her hand to get her to step out from behind me. “Go inside for a bit.”
Iris, sensing something brewing, walked away without another word.
The trust that took made my heart constrict happily in my chest.
Only when she was inside, with the lights on, did I turn back to Teller.
He was watching the windows of the guesthouse with anger in his eyes.
“What is it?” I asked carefully.
“Bad shit happening at work,” he answered, his eyes going to the gate that he double-checked to make sure had latched. “Just… be best if she not stay here for a while.”
I tilted my head to look at him. “What kind of shit?”
“The kind of shit that follows me home,” he answered. “The kind of shit that has me bringing a gun to throw the trash out in my own backyard.”
With that, he departed, and I was left wondering if my contacts would be able to get me more information on what ‘shit’ followed him home. And whether or not I should be staying here.
One thing I knew for sure, Iris wouldn’t ever be staying here alone again.
I pulled out my phone and made a phone call. “Easton,” I said the moment he answered. “You still have any contacts with Gun Barrel Police Department?”
Gun Barrel PD was where Teller Kincaid was police chief.
If anyone could find me any information, it would be Easton, the ex-FBI agent gone rogue.
“Yes,” he answered. “Why?”
I explained the situation. “I just have a bad feeling.”
“If you have a bad feeling, then you need to get her out,” he said without hesitation.
“I will,” I hesitated. “But I’m going to have to have solid proof as to why she has to move in with me.”
“I’ll get it to you,” he answered. “It’ll take me two days or so, though. I’m out of town, remember?”
He wasn’t out of town. He was stalking someone.
Someone that he wanted me to not ask many questions about.
“Whatever,” I grumbled. “Just get it to me as soon as you can.”
I went back inside after hanging up, finding the front room empty.
When I followed the sound of hushed voices it was to see Iris sitting on her bed, talking to a black cat that sat on her nightstand staring at her.
“Cat got a name?” I wondered.
She snorted. “Cat. No, really it’s Polka, Polka Cat.”
God, I adored her.
“Very fitting,” I found myself saying. “You okay?”
She rolled her eyes. “That’s the most normal encounter that Teller and I have had since I broke it off with him. Yes, I’m okay. More than okay.”
I studied her face, making sure that she was really okay, and then nodded once. “When you left, I had a talk with him.”
Her eyes widened comically.
“You did?” she asked.
I nodded. “I didn’t like the way that he was treating you. More so, I didn’t like that I didn’t like it. So I fixed it… but only for selfish purposes.”
She snorted. “There’s something wrong with him. He’s not the same man that I started dating last year.”
Not wanting to talk about, or even think about, her being with someone else, I started to look around her living space.
“This is nice,” I found myself saying. “I wouldn’t have expected such a nice place.”
She chose to let the topic drop, knowing when not to push, and looked around at her place as well.
“Teller fixed it up for his mother, who died shortly after he finished it. Everything is handicap friendly, and the shower is to die for,” she admitted, lifting a hand to point at the window behind me. “Would you mind grabbing those curtains?”
I turned to see which ones she was talking about, then walked toward the window.