Damn.

Peaches.

• • •

I spent the morning working on the roof, keeping an eye out for Tinker. We needed to talk. I could’ve gone down to her shop, of course, but that felt too much like an ambush—no point in making things worse.

A gray Suburban pulled up around two in the afternoon, and I watched from above as she jumped out and went into the house. Where was the Mustang? Climbing down, I brushed off my brown Carhartts and walked over to the door, ringing the bell. Her dad answered.

“Is Tinker around?” I asked.

“Yes, but she’s busy,” he said. His eyes were alert today, not confused. “Guess we’re going to Seattle for a couple days. She says she needs to use the fancy kitchen there, but I don’t like it.”

He leaned toward me, his voice low. “I think she’s really going so she can see her husband. I just hope she’s not planning on getting back together with the asshole. Never liked him.”

Fair enough. I didn’t like the fucker much, either.

“Look, I really need to talk to her,” I said. “It’s important. About the building. It’ll only take a few minutes—think you can let me in?”

He studied me, then nodded his head. “See if you can talk her out of it.”

Stepping back, he made room for me to follow him into the living room, then disappeared into the back of the house to find his daughter. I studied the place while I waited. It was pretty, in an old-fashioned kind of way. Lots of dark trim and furniture with wooden legs. Lamps with beaded shades. Polished hardwood floors. Made me think of the tea shop, like something out of a different time.

Tinker was like that in a way, too, with her retro hair and pinup girl outfits.

“Dad says there’s something wrong?” Tinker asked, her voice abrupt. I looked up to find her standing in the archway between the living and dining rooms, arms crossed over her chest. Her face was tight with strain. You really fucked it up this time, asshole.

“We need to talk about what happened last night,” I told her. Tinker shook her head, offering me a fake-as-hell smile.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” she said. “So far as I’m concerned it didn’t happen. End of story. If you have any issues regarding the building, text me.”

“Your dad says you’re headed out of town,” I countered, walking toward her. She took a step back. Shouldn’t back away from a predator, babe.

“I’ve got an extra large order to fill,” she said quickly. “I need to use the equipment in my commercial kitchen and the tea shop can’t hold it, that’s all. No big deal.”

I moved closer, herding her toward the wall. “Your dad’s worried that you’re going back to your ex. He got anything to be worried about?”

Something flashed in her eyes, and she straightened.

“That’s none of your damned business,” she said, her voice stronger. I liked that, although I didn’t like the way she was dodging my question. I’d never been a man to put up with bullshit and this was a load if I’d ever heard it.

Frustrating as hell.

That’s probably why I leaned forward, scenting her hair. Peaches, all right. Predictably, my dick hardened, and I wondered if I’d ever be able to walk through a produce section again without getting horny.

It’d be funny if it weren’t so fucked up.

“Will you be seeing your ex?”

“Well, he lives in the same house, so it seems likely,” she said sharply. “Not that it’s any of your business. You work for me, Mr. Romero, and I think we should go ahead and keep that association professional. If you need something, you can text me or Darren. Other than that, there’s no reason that you and I should be talking to each other.”

There was something ugly in her eyes as she spoke, a hint of fear or disgust. Like I was beneath her. Fuck that. Taking the last step, I pushed my body into hers, cock stiffening as her sweet smell surrounded me. Her hands came up, pushing against my chest, and I caught them, pinning them to the wall on either side of her head.

“You sure you want to take that tone with me?” I asked. Tinker’s lips parted, and I remembered her taste. Sweet. Juicy. Perfect. She swallowed and her eyes softened. For an instant I thought I had her. Then her chin jutted out.

“I’ve been bullied enough today. I’m over it. If you don’t let me go and walk out of here right now, I’ll kick you out on your ass. You can kiss your apartment good-bye, too.”

I smiled, because if she wanted to go there, I’d play along.

“That’s illegal, sweetheart,” I said. “Don’t you know your landlord-tenant law? I have a lease. You can’t kick me out without a court order. You really sure you want to explain to a judge about our little arrangement? I wonder what the IRS would think of it . . .”

“Excuse me?” she asked. “You’re out of line, asshole, and this isn’t about judges and the IRS. You kissed me last night. While you were dating another woman. That’s a dick move.”

“You kissed me back,” I reminded her. “And the situation with Talia is complicated, but believe me—she’s got no fuckin’ room to complain. None of that changes the fact that I’m a legal tenant in your building, yet instead of collecting rent, you’re having me work under the table. You’re not paying any FICA on me, are you? You really want to play the eviction card?”

“Get out,” she hissed, and I laughed.

“Not until we talk this through.”

She twisted, and I felt her knee jerk upward. I blocked it easily—Tinker might be a hell of a chef, but she wasn’t a street fighter. She growled, twisting again, trying to buck me off. Seeing as I held her hands pinned, all it accomplished was bringing her hips into contact with mine.

I breathed deep, trying to hold on to my control as my cock dug into her stomach.

Jesus.

This woman was gonna fuckin’ kill me, so why did I want to kiss her so goddamn bad? Kiss her and lay her out across that old-fashioned dining room table, maybe test it to see whether that traditional craftsmanship could stand up to a good bangi—

“Get the fuck out of here!” she said, her voice rising. Great. Now she was panicking, which I’d love to say was a turnoff but it really, really wasn’t. It made me feel powerful, and yeah, I know that’s fucked up.