Set the Night on Fire

by Laura Trentham

  “How about I teach you how to change a tire? Then you’ll know how.”

  She searched his face but only detected sincerity. “Are you serious?”

  “I’m always serious. Where’s the jack?”

  She thumbed behind her to where she’d left it in the mud. It took him less than ten seconds to have the car levered up. Then he removed the jack and handed it to her. “Now you try.”

  Now that she knew exactly where to position the jack, she had no problem levering the car up in preparation to remove her flat. He was suspiciously patient with her as he walked her through how to remove the lug nuts and replace the tire. With his guidance she finished tightening the bolts of the donut she’d installed in less than fifteen minutes.

  He picked up her flat tire. “I’ll take this back to the shop and patch it, if I can.”

  “Okay.” She wiped her palms over the front of her pants. “I guess I’ll head home.”

  “You mind if I follow you? I wanted to discuss your idea. The boys and Willa thought it was great.”

  “Only if you don’t mind hanging out while I clean up.”

  Another of his body-encompassing glances preceded the quirk of his lips. “You did get a mite dirty.”

  She returned the favor and checked him out from head to boots. Not a speck of mud was visible. It wasn’t fair. “Come on then. I might have a couple of beers hanging out in the fridge.”

  She led the procession, glancing in her rearview mirror so often it was a safety hazard. When she pulled into her driveway, he parked at the curb in front of her house.

  He hopped out and approached the house through the front yard. They met at a magnolia tree. He touched one of the glossy leaves. The one in his front yard dwarfed this one.

  “You like magnolias?” she asked.

  “What’s not to like? They endure both summer and winter with grace, and their flowers are incomparable. The one between the house and the garage was my favorite spot as a kid.”

  A bud was beginning to unfurl, and she leaned in for a sniff. “They do smell amazing.”

  “Yep, amazing.” The rough intimacy in his voice had her gaze shooting to his. The inference in his voice was unmistakable. A blush raced up her neck, and her stomach played hopscotch.

  She turned and headed for the front door and hoped her internal awkwardness didn’t project in her walk. Mack had a way of stripping away all her protective affectations.

  She unlaced and kicked her shoes off on the porch and led the way straight to the kitchen. She didn’t know if he needed a drink, but she sure did. She also needed some space. Grabbing two beers, she held them up with a questioning raise of her eyebrows.

  He nodded and leaned a hip against the counter, crossing one booted foot over the other.

  Megan rounded the corner in pajama shorts and a tank top, her hair damp and her cheeks reddened. “Evening, Ella. And, hello there, big guy.”

  Ella couldn’t decide if Megan’s tone was friendly or flirty. Did it matter? The reality was that Ella didn’t own Mack. She killed half her beer in one go.

  “Any beers left?” Megan turned toward the fridge, her hair fanning out like a bird shaking its tail feathers.

  “A couple.”

  Megan uncapped one and scrunched her nose toward Ella. “Eww. You’re gross. Why don’t you hop in the shower? I think I left enough hot water. I’ll keep Mack company.”

  Mack nudged his chin toward the door. “That mud’s going to start to itch like the devil soon. You go on. I can wait.”

  The mud on top of the mosquito bites was already uncomfortable. She retreated, but not before giving Megan a keep-your-hands-to-yourself look. When she glanced back before turning down the hall, Megan was leaning back on her elbows and laughing at something Mack had said.

  Megan might turn out to be a friend, but she would always bear the label of the friend who’d slept with her husband. It made for an uncomfortable dynamic. But if Mack wanted Megan and not her, then she would just … curl up on her bed and cry. Instead of marching back to call dibs, she forced herself on to her room.

  * * *

  Mack propped his hip against the counter and masked his side-eye glance toward Megan by taking a sip from his bottle. He didn’t know Megan well and what he did know about her didn’t inspire trust. Ella had been hurt and talked tough, but her actions revealed a soft heart. Between Marigold and Megan, Ella wanted to help those in need who crossed her path. A woman like Megan might take advantage.

  “What brings you over the river?” Megan asked.

  “Ella had a flat. I helped her change it.” He scraped at the label for something to look at instead of Megan.

  “I’d love to learn some basic car maintenance. Do you run a class at the garage?”

  He choked on the swallow of beer and stepped to the sink in case she rushed to perform the Heimlich. “Garage keeps me busy. No time for lessons.”

  “You should look into it. Women are more independent these days and should know how to take care of basic car repairs.” She crossed her arms over her chest, her gaze cutting. “What’s the deal with you and Ella?”

  “We work together.” As if it was that simple.

  “I want to make sure you aren’t taking advantage of my friend.”

  Nonplussed, he opened his mouth but closed it when nothing sensible presented itself.

  Megan filled the gap, her voice dropping to threatening levels. “Ella is a good person, and a better friend than I deserve. I don’t know all the reasons, but being part of your garage is important to her, and if you try to screw her over, you’ll have me to deal with.”

  Megan propped her hands on her hips, took a step closer, and tilted her head back to glare at him. One of his hands instinctively dropped to protect his crotch. The woman looked ready to de-nut him.

  “Look, you’ve got the wrong idea here,” he said.

  “Do I? You’re not trying to use your masculine wiles to manipulate her into giving up or selling out?”

  Masculine wiles? He wasn’t sure what they consisted of but was positive he didn’t keep any tucked away. Still, her accusation poked a sensitive area. His undeniable attraction toward Ella had nothing to do with the garage, yet he still wanted her share back in his hands. His dilemma was he wanted her in his hands too. Could the two warring wants stay separate?

  “I’m not even sure it’s possible to manipulate Ella. She’s her own woman and makes her own decisions.”

  “Yeah, but—” She bit off her words and shuffled backward.

  Now Mack was the one advancing on Megan. “But what?”

  “Nothing.” Megan wagged her finger in Mack’s face. “Just know that I’m watching you and if you hurt her, I know people.”

  While her insinuation was clear, Mack wasn’t intimidated as much as impressed by Megan’s protectiveness. And uncomfortable at the rocks she’d turned over, revealing the dark underside of his situation. “Ella is taking forever, isn’t she? I need to conclude our business. I have things back at the garage to take care of.”

  He walked away but didn’t miss her mumbled, “Business, my butt,” along with a harrumphing laugh.

  Now he was in a quandary. Did he check the rooms along the hall until he stumbled on Ella’s? If there was a protocol in this situation, he’d never learned it. Only one door was closed. Logic had him knocking.

  “Come in.” Her voice called from deep within the room.

  He slipped in and shut the door behind him. A canopied king-sized bed straight from a fairytale stood against the far wall, looking small in the enormous room. A sitting area with a loveseat and chaise was situated in front of floor-to-ceiling bay windows in the corner.

  Ella was accustomed to an upscale lifestyle. Her bedroom drove home the fact they lived vastly different lives. Yet, he couldn’t imagine rattling around in such a huge space alone. It would be depressing.

  Ella emerged on a puff of steam from a bathroom that appeared to be as big as his bedroom. Wearing a wh
ite terrycloth robe sashed around her waist, she toweled her hair dry.

  “Oh. I thought you were Megan.” She stutter-stepped to a stop.

  “Sorry. I needed to escape.”

  A grimness drew her mouth into a frown. “What’d she do?”

  As if he planned to mention masculine wiles and manipulation. “Nothing.”

  She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and maintained eye contact as if contemplating more questions. Finally, she gestured to the sitting area by the windows. “I need to dry my hair or it’ll go crazy. Make yourself comfortable.”

  He didn’t move. Couldn’t move.

  She positioned herself in front of the mirror. Dryer noise drowned out any need to make conversation. His gaze met hers in her reflection. He tried to impart everything he wanted to say through that connection. An apology for certain. Also a need. Maybe it was his imagination, but the awkwardness and misunderstanding between them eased the longer they stared at each other.

  Watching the intimate, domestic activity was like a slowly tightening clamp around his heart. Her robe loosened with the rise and fall of her arms and split the fabric apart. She was naked from the waist up underneath. The clamp moved south and his jeans grew tight and uncomfortable. He pulled in a ragged breath.

  The dryer shut off and left a heavy silence. Still, she didn’t break eye contact in the mirror. As if she’d cast a spell on him, he was drawn closer. Her hands came to the counter as if her balance was iffy.

  He stopped behind her, his bulk framing her in the reflection. “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?” A tremble hid poorly in the bravado behind her words.

  “For not making it one hundred percent clear that I think you’re amazing.”

  “You mean, you think my body is amazing.” A slight lilt to her words landed between a statement and a question and betrayed her own uncertainty with whatever had exploded between them.

  “Your body is my dream come true, but that’s not what I mean. I mean, you’re amazing.” He wasn’t sure he could adequately summarize what he meant without sounding like he’d lost his mind.

  But, it seemed he didn’t need to. She swallowed and her mouth opened, then closed, her chin wobbling. She spun around and looked straight into his eyes. Nothing, not even a reflection, remained between them.

  “I’m bossy,” she said.

  “So am I.”

  “I have a temper that gets the best of me sometimes.”

  “Me too.”

  “I’m opinionated.”

  “Ditto.”

  “I lived too long in a relationship where I was made to feel inferior. I won’t do it again.”

  Fury like he’d never known streaked through his body. He fisted his hands and shoved them—and his rage—into his pockets. She didn’t need him to play a white knight. She’d already saved herself. Like the magnolia tree outside her window, Ella possessed a delicate beauty but would weather all of life’s seasons with grace because of her indomitable strength of spirit.

  Trevor was her past. Mack was more concerned about the here and now. The future was too disorienting to think about. He reached for the tie on her robe and tugged her closer. “I’m nothing like your ex.”

  “I know.”

  “Why did you run out on me last night? Did I scare you?”

  “I scared me.”

  “How?”

  “When you … spanked me.” She whispered the last two words.

  A kink twisted his throat like a water hose in summer. He had no idea what kind of abuse she’d suffered under her ex-husband. Was it physical or emotional or both? At any rate, his actions had spooked her. She needed to be handled gently.

  “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” He stuffed his hands back in his pockets, not confident in his ability to keep that promise.

  “The problem isn’t that you spanked me. The problem is that it felt good and I sort of enjoyed it.”

  “Okay.” He drew the word out, confused once more. “How is something that feels good a problem?”

  “Because I liked it and that’s not”—she waved her hand around as if grasping for words—“healthy, right?”

  “What do you mean? I didn’t actually hurt you, did I?”

  “No.” Her gaze dropped before rising to meet his once more. “But you could.”

  Finally, he caught a glimmer of understanding. The question that had haunted him finally escaped. “Did Trevor hit you?”

  “Once. Only once.” She turned away and meandered to the windows. “He was drunk and beyond using insults to put me in my place.”

  “What did you do?”

  “It was the most humiliating moment of my life. Mostly, because my first instinct was to apologize for setting him off like that. How messed up is that?”

  “He’s the one messed up, not you.” His palms itched to touch her, but he didn’t, sensing she needed to excise the poison.

  “He made me feel like I had a problem, not him.” She chafed her arms even though the room was comfortable. “Do you know how I met him?”

  “I don’t.” He would guard all her secrets, but he wouldn’t demand them.

  “A high school beauty pageant. He was one of the judges.”

  “You were in high school? What a creep.” He couldn’t keep the shock from his voice.

  “Not how I saw it at the time. He was mature and sophisticated and my ticket out of Dry Gulch. He was my savior, and I loved him. I wasn’t a gold digger.”

  The declaration was hard to hear, but she’d been no more than eighteen. “You were too young.”

  She glanced at him. “Of course I was, but that’s how he likes his women. Once I hit twenty-three, I was too old, never mind the birthdays he continues to rack up.”

  “Too old or too bold?” Mack asked with a sudden clarity into Trevor’s mind now that the mysteries of Ella were unfolding.

  She turned to face him. “What do you mean?”

  “You’re beautiful. His preferences had nothing to do with your physical age. My guess is around that time, you became less malleable. We’ve established that you’re bossy and stubborn and smart with a mind of your own. That’s not how he likes his women.”

  Her eyes widened and she chuffed out a breath, the glimmer of a smile at her lips. “You’re right. Oh my God, it had nothing to do with the way I looked.”

  “You were—and still are—too much woman for him to handle.”

  “What about you?”

  “What about me?”

  “Am I too much woman for you to handle?”

  The sudden pivot made him feel like he was on a roller coaster in the dark. “I wouldn’t be here right now if I thought that.”

  The sunset cast a multitude of colors across the darkening sky. A line of trees stood sentinel. Beyond them, the river flowed as it had for hundreds of years, linking this place to the garage. They weren’t so far apart, were they?

  “Why don’t we pick up where we left off last night?” Mack grabbed the ties of her robe and backed up to the loveseat, sitting in the middle of the long cushion and guiding her into a straddle on his lap.

  “Let me lower the shades.” Her voice was shaky with what he hoped was excitement and not fear.

  He tightened his grip on her thighs, holding her in place. “Nope. I want to be able to see you. That okay?”

  “I guess so.” Her nerves were apparent in the way she fiddled with the collar of her robe.

  He couldn’t do anything about the shadows of the night that skulked closer every minute, but he would do his best to banish the shadows of the past in her eyes. He wrapped a hand around her nape and pulled her lips within inches of his, but didn’t initiate a kiss. She needed to take the lead.

  A slight smile flashed before she closed the distance and kissed him. Any hint of timidness vanished. Her natural sensuality drove the kiss into new territory. Her tongue and lips explored and dominated his senses.

  He had always been the aggressor in his relations
hips. Maybe it was his personality or size or profession, but women seemed to expect him to drive in all aspects of his relationships. Giving over to Ella’s desires was a new experience. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pressed her breasts against his chest, and settled fully onto his erection.

  He slipped a hand between them and untied her terrycloth robe. She sat back on his lap. A stripe of skin was visible from her neck to the black waistband of her underwear. He clenched his hands and waited to see if she was going to reveal herself or hide. Did she trust him?

  Chapter Thirteen

  Ella swallowed and grabbed hold of the lapels of her robe, waffling in the importance of the decision she faced. She could cover herself and end this recklessness. Or she could take a chance for the first time in years. Did she trust herself?

  For as much grief as Mack had given her for buying a stake in his garage, he’d given her something else as well. A confidence she’d misplaced somewhere along the way. He had let her choose the new software and handle the website updates and seemed to think she was more than capable of planning the classic car show and fundraiser.

  She peeled the robe apart and let it slip to her elbows. He stared at her breasts, and under his gaze, they grew heavy and sensitive. She fought the urge to cover herself under the intensity. She could either own the moment or be crushed by it.

  She’d accepted challenges all her life, and this one was more important to conquer than any. She shook her hair over her shoulders and covered his fisted hands with her own.

  “Will you say something?” Her too-high voice didn’t contain any of the sultriness she attempted to inject.

  “I’m speechless.” In contrast, Mack’s voice was deeper and rougher than usual.

  He brought his hands to her waist, gently tracing the long scar from the dog bite. Slowly, he inched his fingers up her sensitive skin and encircled her rib cage. His thumbs brushed the underside of her breasts. Tingles zipped through her body, tightening her nipples until they were almost painful.

  “You’re amazing.” The harshness of his tone offset the sentiment, yet his lack of discipline was a turn-on.

  She reached for him, but her arms were caught in the robe as surely as if she was tied. He took advantage, tilting her forward. Even though she was experienced enough to know where his mouth was headed, the first contact between his lips and her nipple wrung a moan from her. She didn’t have time to be embarrassed when his tongue did something equally as knee weakening. He alternately flicked the nub and sucked it deep. While he worked back and forth, his beard rasped against her skin, piling pleasure upon pleasure.