I heard a sharp intake of breath behind me.
Silence.
“Who are you?” he repeated. There was still suspicion in his tone, but this time, there was also…curiosity. And that curiosity killed the cat.
Slowly, painfully, I turned around. And I realized…I was the cat.
I knew he could see me. Where I had been grateful for the porch light earlier, now I hated it. It illuminated my face in all its glory for him.
He, however, was surrounded in darkness. I couldn’t see his face, but I could make out his shape. He was tall, his shoulders wide and muscular.
There was something awfully familiar in the way he leaned against the truck. As if I had met him before. His posture told me he was unbothered, like he had made himself comfortable watching a show. Suddenly, I had the urgent need for him to reveal his face in the light. At the same time, I dreaded it.
Do I know him?
He straightened and stepped forward. I backed away until I bumped against the fence behind me. I was gripped by the moment. I wanted to look away, but I was transfixed.
“What are you doing here?” he asked. This time, his voice was like velvet. Teasing.
An uneasy feeling took over me. I’d heard his voice before.
“Tell me,” he said.
Tell me.
Why was that so familiar?
And then…he stepped into the light.
All the blood drained from my face. A horrified, strangled noise came out of my throat.
Not him! You gotta be shitting me.
Someone told me I wasn’t supposed to get punished for my sins until I die. I’m not dead yet! Then why, oh why?
His smile was infuriatingly cocky. His eyes locked onto mine as he kept coming toward me.
“Stay where you are!” I yelled.
He didn’t even pause. Not one bit. Instead, the smile on his beautiful mouth widened, showing his white teeth.
“Stop!” I warned again.
He did. But I had a feeling he didn’t stop on my account. Inches from me. The smile on his face disappeared.
A lock of his coal-black hair fell silkily on the side of his face. My eyes followed its movement until it settled on his cheek. I couldn’t help as my gaze traveled from his cheek to his mouth, and I just…stared.
In the dark, under the soft glow of the porch light, his face was sinfully beautiful.
And then that smile appeared again. It was a knowing smile. An unapologetic, cocky smile.
My eyes shot up to his.
Boom.
I felt it. I felt it.
“I didn’t expect to see you so soon,” he whispered in the same seductive voice. “Miss me already?”
I heard his words, but the signal connecting my ears to my brain was on airplane mode. My eyes and nose, on the other hand, had full bars of signal. LTE.
He must have been out for a run before he caught me trying to climb his fence. He was wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt, despite the cold, that molded to the contours of his body wonderfully. Mouthwateringly.
He smelled of male sweat and soap. An intoxicating combination.
He reached out, gently pushing my hair over my shoulder, but not before the tip of his finger grazed the sensitive skin on my neck.
I shivered. I felt a shock travel from where he touched me reverberate everywhere in my body.
And why are my lips tingling?
“Cold?” he asked.
I shook my head vehemently, and that same lock of hair slid over my shoulder again.
“Kara.”
It was almost…erotic. The way he said my name. The way his mouth formed the syllables.
“It suits you,” he murmured, twirling the ends of my hair around his finger. “I forgot to tell you mine.”
I already know it. Cam.
“Cameron,” he said when I didn’t answer.
Cameron.
My mouth seemed to be under construction again.
This was like our first meeting. This had never happened with anyone else. What was it about him?
It was the beautiful masculine face, I admitted grudgingly. There! I admitted it. I was attracted to the face and that was totally fine. I wasn’t going to do anything about it. It didn’t mean I liked him. It didn’t mean anything at all except that I was a healthy human being with an eye for beauty.
In defense, I put on my poker face. An emotionless face. If I couldn’t speak, fine, but he was not getting any reaction from me.
As if he heard my thoughts, a playful glint appeared in his eyes, and he asked, “How’s your stomach?”
It felt like a splash of cold water. I had this sudden urge to cover my face, run, or disperse my molecules into thin air. I glared at him instead.
Who the hell does he think he is to remind me of that mortifying experience?
I’m going to take you down! I vowed angrily, but then he said, “I know why you’re here.”
That stopped me cold. Shit. I had forgotten why I was here.
“I saw what happened this morning,” he continued.
No!
I closed my eyes in defeat. Most people wouldn’t have kept pressing, but he was persistent.
He must have seen everything. Somehow, this guy saw Dylan.
As soon as I got home, I was going to fry my little shit of a brother in a tub of boiling canola oil. But right now, I had more pressing matters on my hands.
Daydreaming is over, sister!
I had no right to be taking out my anger on him—he should be the one angry, he was the victim after all, but I couldn’t help it. The thought of dealing with the consequences of my brother’s actions again and the helplessness and panic gripping my throat drove me over the edge. I opened my eyes and flattened my palms on his chest to push him away. He didn’t even budge.
“Move!” I said in the sternest voice I could muster. My voice sounded rusty. Maybe that was why he looked amused—and, okay, sexy as hell—as if he was enjoying the show.
How could he not be angry about his motorcycle right now? Or the fact that he caught me about to sneak inside his yard?
Is there something wrong with his brain?
“I said move.”
He moved closer.
I inhaled sharply. He was so close. He sucked on his bottom lip, trapping it between his teeth.
What is it like to kiss him?
As soon as the thought crossed my mind, I killed it mercilessly. Squished the thought like a bug.
No way I was going to kiss this guy! Not his type. Not ever.
What was he doing to me? I was just angry a moment ago, and now I was thinking of kissing him. His proximity was driving me insane, and I wanted to step away, but if I did, that would mean he won. “Get your face away from my sight right now or I’ll—”
“Stare at it some more?” he provided. “I think we both established how much you like my face.”
Unbelievable!
“We didn’t establish shit,” I snorted. “But you know what? I do like it.”
His eyes glittered with satisfaction.
His smile looked smug until I said, “I’d like to smash it against a rocky surface.”
He lost the smile. And since I counted that as a win, I figured it was okay to step away, which I did.
As soon as my nose was far enough not to smell his scent, my brain cells started activating again. “Look, I’m here to negotiate with you,” I said.
He looked at me but didn’t say anything. And I realized as long as I was gazing at his vivid blue eyes or his sexy mouth, I couldn’t think straight, so I looked at his chest. But that was distracting too, so I looked down at his pants. But the—
“Negotiate what?”
I jumped at his voice. Blushing, I looked at his ear—what peeked
through his hair anyway. “You know,” I croaked. I cleared my throat. “About your motorcycle.”
When he didn’t reply, I looked up. The playful glint in his eyes was gone and had turned into danger.
I swallowed.
I raised my hands in surrender, backing away from him. Away from his murderous glare. But he kept walking toward me, stalking me, looking like a pissed off archangel.
“Why don’t you start from the beginning?” he whispered. His voice was as soft as a feather, as sharp as a knife.
“B-beginning?” I parroted stupidly. I looked past him, gauging how fast I could get away and to my car.
“Don’t even try it,” he warned.
Nothing pisses me off more than someone telling me I can’t do something. We looked at each other for a heartbeat. Waiting. Waiting. And then I sprang for the car.
His hand shot out, gripping my arm. His hold didn’t hurt at all, but it was firm. The look he shot me told me this wasn’t going to be as easy as I’d hoped it would be.
“You’re unbelievable,” he said.
I sighed in defeat. “I won’t try to escape again, so can you let me go?”
I relaxed my arm and his grip loosened. I shook him off. He let go, but his stance clearly stated that he was just going to catch me again if I tried to run.
I raked my hands in my hair, gathering my thoughts before I spoke again.
“I’m sorry,” I said quietly. Sincerely. Because the truth was he was the one wronged. He hadn’t asked for any of this, and even though I wasn’t exactly Miss Do-It-Right, I’d try to do my best to make up for it.
“I’m really sorry,” I repeated. “My brother didn’t mean to hit your motorcycle this morning.”
He closed his eyes, looking like he was praying for patience. I could see the muscle in his jaw ticking. “Your. Brother. Hit. My. Motorcycle.”
“Well, yeah. You saw what happened this morning, right? That was my brother.” I waited a beat. When he didn’t reply, I continued. “I have a deal for you. A deal only an idiot can refuse. Want to hear it?”
He opened his eyes. He was mad. He didn’t speak, just narrowed his eyes at me.
“Do you have security cameras here?” I prodded. “Did you call your insurance yet?”
Again, he didn’t answer.
“Listen. I’m taking responsibility. I’ll pay for your repairs. In fact, we’ll do them.”
He crossed his arms. I really should shut up, but his silence only made me want to confess my sins more.
“We own an auto repair shop. I hope you haven’t phoned your insurance yet, but if you have, you can probably phone them and cancel the claim. Tell them you settled. If you report it, my brother’s insurance will demand his firstborn child in payment.”
We looked at each other. I watched as the anger in his eyes faded eventually. I could tell he was thinking.
“What’s in it for me?”
I had wanted him to respond, but now that he had, I realized I preferred his nonverbal cues. He looked like a cunning fox.
“What do you mean? We’re doing your repairs for free. You won’t have to pay your deductible.”
Now he looked bored. “The deductible’s not a problem.”
I bet. “Well…we’ll add in an extra service.”
He grinned.
I would have smacked his face, but I was trying to get him to show me some mercy, not execute me. It had nothing to do with the way my heart skipped a beat at the sight of that grin. Or what I thought he was thinking by extra service. Nothing at all.
Also, it had nothing to do with the way he looked at me. No one had looked at me like that before.
Like he wanted me.
You’re fucking crazy. He has a girlfriend. He’s a cheater!
I rolled my eyes at the voice in my head.
Yeah, duh. I know. It’s not a sin to find something beautiful. Even flies like poop. Nothing’s going to happen here. Not ever, so zip it!
“We’ll throw in some add-ons,” I continued. “If you like. Some accessories. At a reasonable price. Or we can give you free basic maintenance checks for three months. Pick one.”
Suddenly, I wanted to get away from him. Fast. I pulled out my wallet from my jacket pocket, fished out our business card, and shoved it and the flyers in his hand.
“Here. All our information is there. Come tomorrow morning. I usually open the shop, so I’ll be there.” I was rambling. “And you…you have my number.”
I flushed at the reminder of how he got it. I started walking down his driveway back to my car. “Which I totally didn’t want to give to you, for your information!” I called out to him. “You caught me in a…private moment and I was totally vulnerable. If you have any objections, tell me now or else I’ll take this as a yes.” I got in my car, started it, reversed. I looked over and saw him still standing there with a mysterious smile.
My heart was knocking so hard in my chest it started to hurt. When I stepped on the gas, I let myself breathe.
“Good job, good job. You did a great job,” I muttered to myself. “He totally agreed.”
I glanced at my rearview mirror. And found him standing in the same spot, watching my car, before I turned the corner and he disappeared from my sight.
Chapter 7
Cameron
“Don’t think the shop’s open yet,” Caleb said, slamming the tailgate closed after we’d muscled my motorcycle out from the bed of his truck to the ground.
I shrugged.
“You sure about this?” he asked dubiously, surveying the surroundings. He knew how scrupulous I was when it came to my motorcycle.
“Yeah,” I answered, turning around to look at the area with him.
The shop was an old, gray, rectangular box built in the middle of a dirt lot. There was a big sign on the roof with the words HAWTHORNE AUTO REPAIR SHOP, with their phone number in smaller block font on the lower right. The paint on the W was peeling. The roof still held but looked ready to be replaced.
Cars were parked neatly in two rows on the front left side of the building, and on the right side was a dirt road leading to the back of the lot.
“All right then. Let’s go get me some coffee,” he announced.
“Get a job so you can afford it.”
“You could’ve driven the company truck, but I have a heart of gold and still drove you here, didn’t I? So pay up, cheapo.”
“I bought last time. It’s your turn, asshole.”
“No, it’s not, dumbass.”
“Sure it is,” I said easily.
“Basketball practice on Monday. Loser buys.”
“You got it.”
His phone chirped.
“It’s Rick,” he said after reading the text message.
“Better get your ass to the site, then. I’ll get a cab as soon as I’m done here and meet you there.”
He leaned against the side of the truck, tucked his phone in his jacket pocket, crossed his arms, and yawned.
“Rick’s used to me being late,” he said. “But, man, the guy’s a tyrant. Remind me again why we haven’t quit.”
Because he saved both our lives, I thought. I knew Caleb was thinking the same thing.
The night I flew to Esther Falls City in Manitoba, the night when my dad picked me up from the airport, was the same night I met Rick for the first time.
I’d lived there before, until I was eight years old, and then my parents divorced and Raven had moved us to Toronto. Then one day, she sent me to Esther Falls for good. I hated it. I found out later that the court gave my dad full custody of me. He didn’t want me, but it was a way to hurt her. Even when I lived in his house, I rarely saw him. We never spent time together.
I was the new kid in town. A teenager who hated everything and everyone. An angry kid looking for trouble
wherever he could find it. And when I didn’t find it, I created it.
Instead of having dinner with my dad, I escaped into town and looked for trouble. Trouble came in the form of a newly constructed building. It was ten stories high and so pristine that the windows gleamed.
I broke in and found it empty. Some of the walls still needed paint. I found unopened cans of paint, brushes, and tools. I opened the cans, abandoned the brushes, and threw the liquid on walls and ceilings instead. I picked up tools and used them to break thousands of dollars’ worth of windows and doors.
That was when Rick found me. He was the contractor, and he came to check the building that night. He was so angry I thought he was going to kill me. But I was confident that I could beat him up if he tried to hurt me.
I ran away, but he caught me easily, shocking me with his strength. He told me I could pay for the damages by working for him for free. I told him to fuck off. He said he’d call the police on me if I didn’t. The next day was the first day I started working for Rick.
I didn’t know what compelled him not to report me to the police. Didn’t know what made him take me under his wing, train and teach me the ins and outs of the business. But he changed my life.
When he thought I was ready, he introduced me to one of his big-shot clients who bought a cabin and wanted it renovated. That became my first freelance gig and earned me a big, fat check. Word spread around, and I got so many projects that I had to quit school for three years and keep working, building my rep. Now I had more than enough saved up to choose which projects I wanted to work on or if I wanted to take a break from my own projects—like I was doing now—and help out Rick now and then. As much as he wanted me to be on my own, I knew he missed me and it made him happy when I worked with him.
I’d paid for those damages with my labor a long time ago, and now he was the one paying me. I’d have worked for him for free if he’d let me.
Caleb and I first met at one of Rick’s reno projects. We were troubled teens, angry at the world and blaming ourselves and everyone else around us for the mess that was our lives. We were uncontrollable, didn’t give a damn about anything, and on our way to throwing our future to whatever trouble we could find.
Spitfire in Love Page 5
