Spitfire in Love

by Isabelle Ronin

  I could have called her to pick me up tonight, but I was too filthy after working at the site. I wanted to look good when I saw her.

  I reached for a towel, dried off, then tied it around my waist. The thought of shaving flitted in my mind for a second, but I dismissed it as I padded to the kitchen. Too tired, too exhausted for anything other than a beer and the couch. Maybe order some pizza, watch TV then crash.

  I frowned as I opened the fridge, scowling at the crap inside it. Caleb and Levi, one of the few guys on the team I actually liked and who stuck to Caleb like glue, always brought snacks over and stored them in there. I reached for a beer.

  Now why did I feel disappointed at the thought of not seeing her for one day?

  It had only been yesterday that I’d met her.

  I dismissed that thought too, popping open the can of beer as I strode to the living room.

  Ah. That’s what I’m talking about, I thought as I took my first sip.

  The aches and pains from working manual labor were welcome to me. They were a distraction from my dark thoughts.

  I was exhausted, but that was what I wanted. Needed, even. I had a lot of energy and putting that to use made me feel good. Useful. I should look into taking another project again. I could live very comfortably for a few years off what I had in my bank account. I didn’t need much, but that money wasn’t just for my living expenses. It was a ransom for myself. Pretty soon, Raven would show up, and the only way I could get her out of my life was either relocate again where she couldn’t find me or stay where I was and give her money. She was rich, having inherited her parents’ wealth when they passed away, but Raven was obsessed with money.

  I would give anything to make her stay away. She always brought trouble with her demands and needs and manipulation. She also reminded me too much of my childhood, of my guilt. And I didn’t want to go back to that dark place.

  Kara. I had no business mixing her life with mine, but I was…drawn to her. I should leave her alone. Soon, but not yet. Not yet.

  I sank into the couch, moaning in relief as I finally let my body relax. I lifted the beer to my mouth, eager to down it, when the doorbell rang.

  What the hell?

  I leaned my head against the couch, sighing at the irritating interruption. Pressing my fingers to my eyes, I willed it to go away.

  Who could it be?

  It was late. Unless it was Caleb returning to insist that I go with him to wherever the hell he and the guys were going this time.

  Pissed, I slammed my beer on the table, tightened the towel around my waist, and pulled open the door.

  She was standing there. Mad as hell.

  Well, well.

  I smiled. “I was just thinking about you,” I drawled.

  The fire in her eyes faded, glazing with desire as they slowly traveled from my face, lingered on my shoulders and stomach, froze on my towel for a beat, then snapped back to my eyes.

  She bit her lip.

  I grinned. “Had your fill yet?” I asked.

  She blinked at me slowly, her eyes still glassy. I don’t think she heard me.

  She was still wearing the same clothes from this morning—pants and the sweater the color of sunshine. Her face had been scrubbed of makeup.

  I could look at her all night.

  “Would you,” I said, staring at her mouth for as long as I liked before looking back up at her eyes, “like to come inside?”

  She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Enjoying the moment, I leaned against the doorjamb.

  “Kar, he’s asking you a question!”

  Surprised, my eyes shifted to look behind her.

  “Hey there! I’m Dylan.” He waved, smiling widely as if he’d been my long-lost best friend. “Her brother.”

  The smile on my face disappeared. So this was the asshole who hit my motorcycle and fucked off. I pushed away from the doorjamb and fixed my gaze on him.

  The memories of yesterday morning when I found my damaged motorcycle came crashing back. The scratches, the cracks, the pain of seeing something you’d been taking care of so painstakingly disregarded so blatantly by someone who didn’t even have the guts to own up to the crime.

  The lack of remorse on his face—as if he were entitled to everything—warranted a good punch in the mug. Maybe I’d knock out a few of his teeth. That would be punishment enough.

  And then I looked at her. And held off.

  It would scare her off if she saw how angry I was. I needed a moment to cool off. “Gimme a minute, will you?” I gritted out.

  I clenched my jaw, turned my back on them, but left the door open. Frustrated, I rubbed my hands over my face as I walked to my bedroom.

  “Hey! I’m talking to you. Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

  I heard her voice catching up to me. I slammed my bedroom door closed and dropped my towel.

  She barged in.

  “Holy fuck!” she screamed.

  Shit.

  I expected her to avert her eyes, like a normal person would do, but she was still staring.

  I reached for the towel for cover just as she slapped her hands to her face, spinning around so fast she almost lost her balance.

  She’d sure had an eyeful.

  I let out a frustrated sigh, hiked up my pants, zipped them closed. Staring at her back, I pulled a shirt out of my closet, put that on.

  “I need to talk to your brother,” I said between clenched teeth. “Alone.”

  Pissed, I walked past her. All I’d wanted was some damn peace and quiet tonight.

  “No, you’re not.”

  “Oh, yes, I am.”

  “Not alone, you’re not.”

  I stopped abruptly. She almost crashed into me, but her hands flattened on my back before her body did.

  I turned around, looked at her quietly, waiting for her to calm down. Her face was red, her eyes glittered—from anger or embarrassment, I wasn’t sure. Maybe both.

  “You don’t see anything wrong with this scenario?” I asked.

  She placed her hands on her waist. “The only thing that’s wrong here is you trying to bully my brother. I’m not letting you or anyone do that to him again. You hear me?”

  My anger was fading. Why did she look so cute when she was telling me what to do?

  But when she defended the people she cared about and put herself before them to take the blows, she was irresistible.

  I softened. “You’re aware,” I started, wanting to erase the dark circles under her eyes, “that you’re only making it worse for him, right?”

  She blinked.

  “You should let him fight his own battles,” I continued. “You’re doing more harm than good. You’re enabling him.”

  She looked stricken.

  I waited.

  She wet her lips. “All right,” she said, defeated. “Did you talk to my dad or something?”

  “What?”

  “Just be careful. He had…issues when he was a kid. Don’t be too rough, all right?”

  She looked as exhausted as I felt. I wanted to pull her on the bed and lie down with her. Just to sleep, I realized. Just so she could rest.

  That was something new. I’d never brought a girl to bed just to sleep before.

  I wanted to take care of her.

  I scowled. Where the hell did that come from?

  “Did you hear what I said?” she demanded.

  “What?”

  “Never mind. Where should I stay?”

  “Kitchen. Off the living room, to your left.”

  “Fine.”

  She marched past me. I followed her to the living room.

  “Kar! Where are you going?” Dylan asked.

  “I’m going over there.” She pointed to the den, walking briskly in the wrong
direction for the kitchen, where I told her to wait. “And you’re staying over there.”

  “But…”

  His words cut off as I stood in front of him. He was young, probably in high school. But old enough to have a sense of responsibility. And she wanted me to put on the kid gloves just because he had issues?

  How many times had he used that one to skid over his own responsibilities and pass them on to her? No matter how strong and aggressive she was, she had a soft heart for people she cared about. I bet she felt guilty for the past, and he knew how to wield that against her. It was a kind of power he had over her.

  I knew because I was, in some way, like him when I was a kid. I attacked and swung with my fists. He, on the other hand, used them to cover up blows thrown his way and huddled in the corner like a scared mouse.

  Different issues, different ways of dealing with our problems, but the core was the same.

  Selfish. Needy. Entitled. Like I was. Even now I knew there was still a lot of those things left in me.

  “I’m Dylan. Hi.”

  I just looked at him, saying nothing.

  He didn’t look like his sister. His hair was blond, his face round and had the chubby look of a well-fed pet.

  “Right. I said that before. We’re fixing your motorcycle, so we’re cool, right? We’ll make it better than it was before. You’re going to love it!”

  No apology whatsoever. No remorse on his face. In fact, he looked like I should be thanking him.

  I still had that selfish, angry kid inside me trying to take over, but I was stronger than he was now. But sometimes, I let him take the reins.

  “Listen here, you little shit.”

  He recoiled from me.

  “You’re the one who hit my motorcycle, then fucked right off.” I watched him swallow and back up a step. “Aren’t you?”

  “B-but we’re going to fix it, and it’s going to be better than it was before. I’m a good mechanic, and Vlad is the best on motorcycles. He’ll be working on yours. You’ll be happy that this happened. You’ll see!”

  “Happy?” My jaw ticked.

  One clean punch right in his pug face. That was all I needed. Just one. Lucky for him, he was her brother. She would probably murder me if I harmed a hair on his head.

  “My sister said your name is Cameron. I’ve heard about you. I mean I’ve seen you play. You’re savage on the basketball court. I mean, wow. You’re a monster. Maybe we can play sometime after your bike’s fixed. I can even fix your other cars for you. Or your friends’. I have a weakness for classic trucks. Just let me know. You want my number? I can—”

  He must have seen my thoughts on my face because he stopped talking and started backing away from me.

  “Listen, man, I didn’t mean to hit your bike. I was trying to run away from Big Tony. The guy’s massive. Bigger than you are. And I mean you’re already huge, you know? Just look at those guns. But Big Tony, I don’t have a chance of survival with him.”

  “And you think you have one with me?”

  “I mean you’re friends with my sister, right? Aren’t friends supposed to take care of each other? We’re practically family, right?”

  Was he being sarcastic? Or was he really this gullible?

  “You see, I had this bet with Big Tony, but I thought we were joking around, you know? Turns out, he was serious. So he didn’t pay his car bill when I came to collect yesterday morning. But my dad said he paid by phone that afternoon, so we’re all square, you know?”

  He moved his shoulders. He was just getting warmed up.

  “Anyway, he chased me out, would’ve probably beaten me up when I insisted on him paying. But I got away, you know? It was just that…I panicked, man. Panic mode activated. I backed away and hit your bike, but I wasn’t sure if it was damaged or anything because I put it right back up and it stood pretty good, man.”

  I clenched my teeth. The reminder of what he did to my motorcycle and his nonstop yapping grated in my ears like nails scraping on a chalkboard.

  “So I told Kar, and she said she was going to see if your bike was really damaged, because I didn’t even hit it that hard, man. She said she made a deal with you and that—”

  “Quiet.”

  He shut his trap.

  “It’s bad enough that you hit my motorcycle. You didn’t even have the decency to own up to it. And you don’t even feel any remorse. But dragging your sister to clean up your own mess?” I curled my lip in distaste.

  He pulled the collar of his shirt down. “S-she doesn’t always do that for me—” He stopped, looking at me cautiously. “Yes,” he said almost inaudibly. “Yes, she does.”

  “You drag her down quite a bit, don’t you?”

  He shook his head in denial. “It’s just a motorcycle!”

  Just a motorcycle? Easy for him to say when it wasn’t his property that was trashed. It wasn’t just a motorcycle to me. It had sentimental value.

  The fact that he was playing it lightly, and the lack of accountability, as if damaging my motorcycle were as insignificant as spilling a drink, pissed me off as much as that he’d done a number on it.

  “You think because you had it rough when you were a kid you get a pass for fucking up someone else’s life? You think you’re the only one?”

  I couldn’t count how many times I had to defend myself as a kid. Every day, I let anger take the driver’s side because it was easier. The world would see how miserable I was and maybe, just maybe, give me a break.

  But it didn’t work that way, did it?

  The world never let up. You just learned how to fight back.

  If she loved this kid, and I knew she did, she’d have to toughen him up.

  “I just…I know I’m no good,” he started, his voice thick.

  I paused. Suddenly, he looked very young, just a kid trying to fit in and figure out the world—a vicious world that could crush him.

  A picture of a boy in dirty clothes and vulnerable face flashed in my mind. Fire. Screams. A boy frozen in fear. My head started to pound.

  I can’t get involved again. I tried to help someone before and… I’ll just destroy this kid’s life. Like I did before.

  I was about to tell him to go home when he continued.

  “It’s hard when I can’t even invite my friends over because our house is so small. I can’t even ask a girl out because I’m a loser,” he said. “I love working at the garage, but it seems there’s no point to it. My dad works like a horse and we’re barely paying the bills because of my uncle. We don’t really have a choice, you know? So my dad’s always broke and my sister’s working herself to the bone trying to support us…and I’m…I’m just a loser.”

  I closed my eyes and lowered my head. The helplessness in his eyes spoke to me. Bothered me.

  I made a fist and bit my knuckle, hoping for some inspiration. “Look, man. You did a wrong thing but you’re not a loser.”

  Rick should be here, talking to him. Not me. I had my own issues. What the hell do I tell him when I didn’t even have my own crap together? And what if I just made it worse? Like I always did.

  “Thanks. It would be nice…” he said hesitantly. “To have you as a friend.”

  I let out a sigh. Damn kid was going to make me cry.

  I frowned, trying to remember what Rick said or did to calm me down back then. Nothing came to mind but the feeling of someone who finally cared.

  “I’ve been in your shoes before. You have to try. Just…try. Because from where I’m standing, you’re not even doing that. Damn it, where the hell is my beer?”

  I grabbed my beer from the table and finished it off. When I saw Dylan still looking at me, I decided I needed another one. I went to the kitchen and opened the fridge. I popped open a beer and glugged. I could feel his presence behind me, waiting.

  “Want a beer
?” I asked.

  This time, his face broke into a smile. “I wish,” he answered. “I’m not eighteen yet.”

  Well, damn. I opened the fridge again, looked through the debris.

  “Ah.” I grabbed an item, pierced it with a straw, and handed it to him. “Juice box?”

  This was probably Levi’s.

  “Nah, man. Give me a pop or something. I’m not a kid.”

  “What’s wrong with a juice box?” I took a sip.

  “I like pop.”

  “Yeah, but pop doesn’t give you these.” I lifted my shirt and showed him my six-pack.

  He broke into laughter. “Oooh!” The pure happiness on his face was innocent. “Yeah,” he said. “I like a juice box. What flavor is it?”

  “I don’t know, man. It’s got vitamin C. Just take it.”

  He sipped and was quiet for a few moments. I considered it a miracle.

  “I’m sorry about your motorcycle.”

  I nodded to him in acknowledgment.

  “We’re cool, right?”

  I thought about it. I was still pissed, but going after him felt cruel. Like kicking a puppy. Besides, I liked his sister. A whole damn lot.

  “Yeah,” I answered, walking back to the living room. “We’re cool.”

  “Can I hang out with you?”

  I was saved from answering when we heard heavy footsteps coming.

  “Hey!” She was frowning as she stepped in the living room. “Are you guys done? Is that beer? You gave him beer?”

  She glared at the beer I was holding.

  “Calm down, Kar.” He waved his hand. “It’s not beer.”

  “What is it?”

  She squinted as he shook it in front of her. “Just a juice box.”

  “I have to talk to your sister,” I told him, but I was looking at her. “Alone.”

  “Kar?” There was worry in his voice.

  She narrowed her eyes at me. Distrustful.

  I gave her a small smile, challenging her.

  You can’t handle being alone with me, can you?

  Her smile was sharp.

  Oh, yes, I can. I can crush you if I want to.

  “Go ahead. I’ll see you at home.”