Page 37 of Property of Player

“He was killed?” Taylor frowns.

“Somebody beat him to death the night after my father closed on this place.”

“The guy from the billboards, right?”

“Yep. Need a house, Call Jimmy Jacks. That’s the guy.”

“How horrible.”

We sit and drink the bottle dry, then I stand. “Well, I promised to show Taylor my place, so I guess we’ll be going.”

“Yeah, the new condo. I need to come see it sometime.”

“We’ll make a plan. I’ll call you tomorrow, Pops.”

“Okay, son. Ride safe.” He stands and kisses Taylor’s cheek. “Give your mother my best.”

“I will. Goodnight.”

I lace my fingers with hers and walk her out to the bike.

“You think he’ll be happy out here all alone?” she asks.

I shrug. “I hope it’s the solace he needs. Come on.”

We climb on my bike, and I ride us back to Dewey Beach. When I roll past The Rusty Pelican, it's almost ten p.m.

Finding my assigned spot in the parking under the units, I shut the bike down and we climb off. I tuck our helmets into the saddlebag, then lead her up the stairs and unlock the door to my unit.

“It’s not big. Just one bedroom, but it’s got a nice view of the bay.”

The kitchen is on the right with a bar overlooking the living and dining combination and a balcony beyond facing the water. A bathroom and bedroom are down a hallway to the right. The bedroom also faces the water with another set of sliders.

I give her the tour, and we end in the living room.

She glances at my meager possessions. “Four boxes… That’s all you brought?”

I shrug. “I don’t need much. The place was furnished, even the silverware and dishes are included.”

“That makes it easy, I suppose.”

“Yeah.”

She wanders to the sliders, and I open it for her.

Stepping outside, we can smell the salty air. There are some people talking on a boat parked at one of the piers. Their soft laughter carries to us. The red and green lights of another small craft returning to the marina shimmer across the still water.

“It’s pretty,” she remarks.

“I thought so.”

“Think you’ll be happy here?” she asks, catching and holding my gaze.

I brush a lock of hair from her brow, then trace my fingertips along the shape of her face.

Her eyes slide closed, and I dip my head and capture her mouth.

She softens and relaxes against me.