“We have to call it off. All of it.”
“It’s far too late for that,” his father said calmly. “These people are not the type to take disappointment lightly. You need to get it back.”
“How the fuck am I going to do that? You know what I’m up against.”
Another pause. “That, my son, is your problem to solve. But you will solve it. Otherwise you will suffer the consequences. If not from them, then from me. It’s my reputation at stake, after all. Fix this.”
His father ended the call and Garrett stood in his basement, wondering what the hell he was supposed to do now.
* * *
Sinead walked through the gate toward the courtyard at Shady Oaks. She glanced at the empty pool, but she wouldn’t let herself think about it. Think about how she saw it only last night.
Last night was gone. From this moment forward she lived in today’s world.
She’d been suspended. Of course. She’d allowed a personal relationship to compromise her professional judgment. Although technically the personal relationship came after he conned her into believing he belonged in the house.
That was what she struggled with the most. She got the play. Hot guy, sweet accent, flirty funny manner. Certainly not a threat. Not a burglar. Work the naïve female cop and get her to call the security company rather than take him to the police station.
Logically Sinead understood what he had done. What she couldn’t understand was why he’d asked for her number. Why he’d dated her. She would have left that night without looking back. There was no reason to play the long con with her. It gained him nothing, unless he thought there would be a problem with the alarm company again.
Of course it occurred to her only now, that he never had re-engaged it. Anytime they came home after a date they’d usually been desperate to get their clothes off. Sinead had never registered that he hadn’t stopped and taken the time to key the security code. Nope, he would just unlock the door and the only thing on her mind would be how he was going to make her feel.
Stupid. Oblivious. Addicted.
Played.
Each step up to the second floor felt weighted. Like she’d gained a hundred pounds and aged a hundred years. She felt sucked dry even though she hadn’t once shed a tear.
She hadn’t cried a lot when her mom died either. She’d thought it would make her dad less sad if she didn’t. That hadn’t worked.
When she opened the door he was sitting in his usual spot. This time there was a baseball game on the TV.
She’d watched baseball with David. He’d purposefully picked seats away from everyone so he could kiss her.
Why had he done that?
“You look like shit.”
She turned toward him and wondered if there had ever been a time, before her mom died, that her father had hugged her close. Kissed her boo-boos. Made a bad dream go away. Checked under her bed for monsters.
He must have. What father wouldn’t do that for his little girl?
“Did you ever love me?” she asked him.
“What?”
“When I was a little girl, did you love me?”
“What the fuck…”
“Just. Answer. The. Question.”
He scowled at her. “Yes, I loved you. Love you now. I’m your father, for pete’s sake.”
Sinead nodded. “Then you need to understand me right now. If you ever loved me, if you ever cared if something bad happened to me, then I need you to be my dad right now.”
He stood and Sinead was reminded of her father’s size. Bill O’Hara was a big man. Older but still thick through the chest, big beefy arms. It was how he got people to give him money.
Bill O’Hara was the very definition of … or else.
“The Dress Guy hurt you?” he growled.
“Yeah, he hurt me.”
“You need me to take care of him?”
She smiled, something she didn’t think she would ever do again. But her dad was standing in front of her, asking her if she wanted him to go beat up David Whitmore. Then she had the bizarre thought that it would please David to know her father was sticking up for her.
“No. You were right. Something that looks too good to be true… is.”
“Fucking asshole. Seriously, tell me where he is and we’ll have words.”
“He’s gone. He’s in the wind.”
Her father nodded.
“I’m suspended,” she said. “Probably going to get fired.”
“He played you?” her father asked, clearly surprised.
She shook her head. “No. He played me.”
“What are you going to do about it?”
Do? There was nothing to do. This whole time she knew the pain was coming. But she thought it would be a poignant pain. A heart-aching pain. Something that would eventually melt into fond memories and the nostalgia of a good time in her life.