Hiss and Make Up

by Leigh Landry

  “That’s a big if”

  He placed his laptop on the back seat, and they both got inside the car. He turned the key, but nothing happened. After turning it a second time, he said, “I don’t think we’re going anywhere any time soon.”

  “Why not? What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know. It won’t start.”

  “Did you run out of gas?”

  Marc exhaled loudly. “Are you serious? What am I, sixteen? Of course, I didn’t run out of gas.”

  “It happens.”

  “To you.”

  “To a lot of people.”

  “I filled up yesterday. You want to see my receipt?”

  “You have the receipt?”

  “Yeah. It’s in my wallet.” He exhaled again. “I’m not out of gas.”

  “Did you leave the lights on? Maybe the battery’s dead.”

  His face tightened, as he exited the car without saying another word. After slamming the door shut with her in the car, Marc lifted the hood to examine the car’s guts. Sierra slipped out on her side and immediately realized the problem. She’d seen it on the way in, but she’d been too caught up with their conversation.

  “I think your fuel line is leaking.”

  “Why would you think that?” His voice was muffled behind the raised hood. “Do you even know where to find the fuel line?”

  “No.”

  “Then please, pretty please, get back in the car, so I can focus.”

  “Okay, but when you finally get your head out of your butt and take a look at this big puddle of gas at my feet, I’m going to expect an apology.”

  “What puddle?”

  He dropped the hood and walked around to her side. “Crap.”

  “I thought someone had spilled beer, and I figured the gas smell came from the nasty van next to us. But now the van’s gone and there’s this puddle, so I’m thinking fuel line.”

  He squatted beside the puddle and frowned. “I think you might be right.”

  “I like those words,” she said. “Could you say them again?”

  Could you whisper them close against my ear?

  Nope. Nope, definitely not.

  He gestured at the ground. “We’re stuck in a stadium parking lot, and you’re happy because I said you were right?”

  “That and we’re not completely stuck. Call Denise.”

  Marc shook his head. He looked down at the time on his phone. “She’s downtown at ArtWalk.”

  “That’s not far. She can be here in no time.”

  “Do you have any idea how long it would take to walk those kids who-knows-how-many-blocks and get them into the van?”

  “Didn’t you say she’s married? Can’t her husband swing over and get us while she and the kids stay downtown?”

  Marc shook his head. “He’s offshore. Any other suggestions?”

  She had only one. Sierra fished her cell phone out of her pocket and called the one friend she had.

  Marc sat on the hood of his useless car watching the last of the fans file out of the parking lot exits. It was warm, which never felt quite right during football season, and he was starting to sweat. But none of that mattered, because he wasn’t out there alone.

  Sierra sat next to him, almost shoulder to shoulder, her hand only inches away from his on the hood. He smiled at her dirty, stubby fingernails, hoarding a blend of dirt, critter leavings, atomic chili, and nacho cheese. She caught him staring at her hand and started picking at the gunk under her index fingernail. Marc somehow resisted the overwhelming urge to grab her hand to keep it closer to him.

  “How long have you had that?” He pointed at the bright designs on her arm, his finger dangerously close to touching her bare skin.

  “A few years. You have any?”

  “Me?” He laughed. “No.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “It’s not a ridiculous question.”

  “I know. It’s just…not me.”

  She relaxed and smirked. “I guess not.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” he said, faking offense.

  She chewed on the inside of her cheek and thought for a few seconds. When she had her answer, she turned and tilted her head at him. “Are you afraid of what people will say or if it will hurt or if you’ll change your mind?”

  “Why do I have to be afraid of anything? Maybe it’s just not my thing?”

  She raised an eyebrow and waited.

  “Fine,” he said. “All of those.”

  A hint of a smile crept up at the corner of her mouth. She was laughing at him—only a little, but still—and he didn’t even care. That partial smile made him happier than anything he could remember in a long time. Comfortable. Like she’d never left. Like they were still sitting on that porch swing instead of on the hood of his car in an empty stadium parking lot.

  “This is weird.”

  “What is? The snakes or the dead car? There’s a lot to pick from.”

  “All of that.” He laughed a little. A nervous laugh. “But I mean you. Us. Sitting here. Together. It’s weird, right?”

  Us. What the hell was he thinking about us for anyway? There was no us. And there sure as hell wasn’t any together.

  There was him. And there was Sierra. This new, grownup Sierra who probably didn’t want anything to do with him. Especially since he’d had a front-row seat to her childhood and knew exactly how she felt about second chances.

  Second chances were for things with feathers, fur, and scales. Not people.

  At least not in Sierra’s book.

  Marc knew full well that once she decided a door was closed, for any reason, that was it. He wasn’t getting back in.

  But that didn’t mean he couldn’t try.

  Sierra looked down at her shoes, hefty gray hiking boots, and cleared her throat. “So does Denise always take the kids to ArtWalk?”

  He wasn’t sure if he was glad or disappointed that she’d changed the subject. “They try to go every month. When they can.”

  “That’s awesome.” She was still looking at her shoes, tapping her toes together. “I mean, that she takes them.”

  “They like walking around, listening to music, seeing the exhibits. She’s always taking them to cultural or artsy stuff. Park concerts, plays, exhibits. The kids mostly like that they get to stay up late and eat gelato once a month.”

  Sierra smiled. A full-blown, full-mouthed smile this time. “That’s still great. We should go some time.”

  His heart dropped a beat, and it took him a second or two to start breathing again.

  She flinched, her eyes wide. “Luna! I mean, I should take Luna some time. She’d love it.”

  He tried not to look disappointed. “Who’s Luna? Your daughter?”

  It hadn’t occurred to him to ask about kids. Or a boyfriend. Or…

  He glanced down at her hand. No ring. He breathed a sigh of relief. Not that a lack of a ring meant anything. Sierra would no doubt consider a wedding ring some kind of branding.

  “No, no, no.” She shook her head. Then she chuckled. “It’s like you and the tattoo. It’s just not me. But my best friend Liz has a daughter. She’s great. I love her to pieces.”

  Her whole face lit up when she said that. She wasn’t looking at her shoes anymore.

  He bumped her arm, and his skin tingled at the connection. “See, you do have social skills.”

  She bumped him back. “Maybe just with certain people.”

  When she turned her head to face him, her gaze was soft and open. For once, she wasn’t prepped for a fight.

  Before he could stop himself—before he could worry about what people would think or if he would change his mind or if it would hurt—Marc leaned sideways and inched toward her face. She didn’t move, didn’t say anything, so he kept inching until his mouth reached hers.

  Her lips were as soft as they looked. He moved his hand up to her face, and he pressed his mouth harder against hers. He’d kissed her once before. But that goodbye peck—the one that h
ad left his heart lurching and swirling with confusion—had been nothing like this. Confusing, yes, but exciting and overwhelming and a rush of fifty other emotions overpowering him. Her lips parted when he took her bottom lip in his mouth. She pulled back, and he followed her with another soft kiss before braving to open his eyes and meet hers.

  He couldn’t read her face at all. Sierra, her every feature typically a megaphone of raw emotion, was blank.

  “They’re here.”

  “What?” he said.

  She nodded her head to point behind him. When he turned, Marc spotted an old green sedan driving toward them from the next entrance gate.

  Worst timing ever.

  Or the best.

  He turned back to say something, although he wasn’t sure what. Something. He had to say something, right? But Sierra was already sliding off the hood. She bent over into the open window to thank her friend. Marc took a long look at the back of her jeans before she turned and caught him staring at her.

  “This is Marc.” She raised an eyebrow to let him know he’d been busted before she opened the door and sat in the passenger’s seat. “You getting in or what?”

  He was still shaken from that kiss and the image of her in the window. He opened the back seat and sat beside a grinning, dark-haired girl with the biggest green eyes he’d ever seen. She flashed a tight, closed-mouthed smile at him while she held a tiny black cat in her lap and petted its head.

  “You must be Luna.”

  She gave him one quick nod but didn’t say anything. When Sierra twisted around to wave at her, the girl brightened for a second then turned back to Marc. She tilted her head to study him for a second before returning her attention to the window, all while petting the cat.

  “Thanks for giving us a ride,” he said to the woman behind the wheel.

  Liz turned and propped a large arm against the side of the passenger seat. An intricate phoenix tattoo glared back at him.

  “Marc, huh? You normally forget to fill up your tank?”

  Marc caught himself before he snapped a reply. “I did not forget to put gas in my car. My fuel line leaked.”

  Liz stared blankly at him. “Fuel lines don’t leak an entire tank of gas out of the blue.”

  “They do if someone cut it,” Sierra said.

  “Wait up,” Marc sputtered. “I didn’t say anyone cut it.”

  Sierra shrugged and faced the front window. “Makes sense.”

  “What do you mean someone cut the fuel line?” Liz’s eyes flamed, and she turned to Sierra, narrowing her eyes at her friend before snapping her head back to Marc. “What kind of mess are you getting her in? Because she can get in plenty enough on her own.”

  He could feel the tension radiating through Sierra’s seat as Liz put the car in gear. Something was wrong, and it wasn’t just what Liz had said. He just didn’t know what. He sneaked a glance at Luna, hoping for some clue, but she was still facing the window and petting that cat.

  Marc tried to think of something else to say, something to break the tension in the car. But all he could think about was that kiss a few minutes ago and how he couldn’t stop thinking about kissing her again.

  8

  Sierra fumed and tapped her foot on the floor of the car, while Liz breezed through lights. At this rate, it wouldn’t take long to reach the Nature Station and Sierra’s car. She still had to drive back to Breaux Bridge to drop Marc off, but after that Sierra would be done with him. For the night at least.

  Good riddance.

  He’d kissed her. Again.

  She hadn’t stopped him, and that was her own fault. But for that one brief second, she’d wanted him to kiss her. She’d wanted to believe in first kisses and second chances and in Marc Dugas. And that scared the hell out of her.

  “Did I miss something?” Liz asked, glancing at Sierra. “Or are you two always like this?”

  “Like what?” Marc asked from the back seat.

  “Ask him. He seems to like making decisions for other people. Might like answering for them too.”

  “I can honestly say, I have no idea what’s going on,” he said.

  “Join the club, buddy,” said Liz.

  Great. They made a hilarious little team.

  “Back to you, New Guy,” Liz said. “Or Old Guy, I guess? Who would cut your fuel line? And why? And why the hell are you involved in this, Sierra?”

  “I have no idea,” Marc answered.

  “But I’m going to find out,” Sierra said. “And I’m going to find out if it’s the same person who stole some welding stuff and put snakes at his sister’s house, so I can get the reward money.”

  Marc sighed loudly behind her.

  “So this is the snake guy from yesterday?” Liz pointed a thumb at the back seat. “Seriously, who is this guy and who’d he piss off?”

  “I used to live on his street when we were kids,” said Sierra. “And you’d be surprised. He’s pissed off a lot of people. You should read his stack of hate mail.” She patted the bag in her lap for emphasis.

  “Hate mail?”

  “Hey, it’s not that many people!”

  “Oh, it’s a lot.” Sierra stuck a hand in her bag and grabbed the stack of papers. “Should I read some of them to her?”

  “No!” Marc and Liz shouted together. Liz nodded at the back seat where Luna was staring out the window with one of the black cats from Liz’s rescue in her lap. Sierra could never keep their names straight.

  “For the record, you have your own hate club it seems,” Marc said. “Remember, I met one of them today.”

  Sierra cringed.

  Liz sighed. “Sierra?”

  “It was fine. We ran into the guy from the restaurant.”

  “Salt Guy?”

  “Yeah,” Sierra said. “It was fine. Just awkward.”

  “So what are you two going to do now?” Liz asked. “Do you have a plan? Am I to expect another rescue call tonight?”

  “Details.” Sierra dismissed Liz with a wave of her hand. “All the plan I need right now is for you to drop me off at the Nature Station, so I can get my car.”

  “And what are we doing with him?” Liz whispered.

  “I can still hear you. I’m in the car.”

  Luna giggled at that. Sierra couldn’t help herself at that sound. She turned around and smiled, trying her best to avoid Marc in the process.

  “Drop him off with me,” she said. “I’ll bring him home.”

  “I’m not letting you out of my sight for a while.” He still had a bad feeling that if she went off investigating on her own, she’d end up in danger from more than just some guy pissed off about salt in his drink. And it would be all his fault for bringing her into this mess.

  She spun around to glare at him, allowing the shock and horror to show her face. No way. She was dropping him off and going home. That was that. Kiss or no kiss.

  That kiss.

  It had been nice. More than nice. Like coming home or falling into a mountain of pillows. Comfortable and soft, with all the tingly excitement of a kid at their first amusement park.

  “Liz, would you please tell Marc that I am a grown woman and do not need a babysitter.”

  “Nope.” Liz shook her head. “I was tempted to drop him off and bring you home without your car, but I think Mr. First Love back here might have it covered. He might even have a better shot at keeping an eye on you.”

  “No one said anything about first love.”

  Hardly. More like first pain-in-the-butt.

  She could feel Marc’s smug smile burning a hole in the back of her head. She sure as hell didn’t need to turn around to see it.

  Liz pulled next to Sierra’s car and shifted into park. She propped her arm against the passenger seat again and nodded toward Sierra. “You take care of her. You understand me?”

  “Loud and clear,” Marc answered. “Nice to meet you, Liz. Thanks again. Nice to meet you too, Luna.”

  Luna nodded and smiled at Marc. Then, Sierra stre
tched into the back seat for their secret handshake.

  “Oh! I almost forgot.” Sierra dug inside her bag and pulled out the turtle bone. “Found this near a trail yesterday. Figured you could add it to your collection.”

  Luna’s face lit up like it was powered by a thousand stars. She nearly knocked the cat off her lap as she turned the bone end over end to examine it. Then, she pressed her palms together and bowed her head to thank Sierra.

  “Glad you like it.”

  Liz mouthed thanks to Sierra, who waved goodbye and exited the car.

  “I shouldn’t be back too late.”

  Liz glanced back at Marc and whispered, “Maybe you should be late.”

  Sierra rolled her eyes.

  “Hey, be careful,” Liz said. “I mean it.”

  “I promise.” She patted the door as Liz rolled away, leaving them alone beneath the Nature Station.

  The station was closed and all the campers were either starting campfires or inside their RVs for dinner. It was usually a pretty quiet scene, especially this time of evening. Any sane hiker knew better than to be out at dusk if they didn’t want to be eaten alive by mosquitoes.

  Well, no one except the familiar face she found nosing the ground near her car.

  “You again, huh?”

  She surveyed the area. No one was looking for him, and the tent she thought he might belong to was long gone.

  Sierra squatted beside the dog and let him sniff her hand. She could see now that he was far too skinny to be living off a camper’s hot dogs and burger scraps. It looked like he’d taken a couple of scratches across the nose, and he was missing a little chunk of a dark, floppy ear.

  She ran a hand along his back, easily feeling his ribs. Poor dude. And still, he wagged his tail and smiled at her like he'd won the doggy lottery by having a brief moment of her attention.

  “Fine. You win.” She opened the door and lifted the dog onto the back seat. After a quick scratch on his head, she found herself smiling at him.