Light My Fire (3 page)

Chapter Four

Dana stuffed her memo pad in the rear pocket of her pants and headed to the bar to fill drink orders for the Landrey crew. Leo, the bartender, spotted her and walked to the pass with his patented badass swagger, his shaved head gleaming.

With a deft flick, he tossed his bar rag over his shoulder. “Thought you were working the Ren fair this weekend.”

“Pauline called in sick.” Dana squeezed behind the counter and grabbed two soda glasses.

“Shit, that girl’s a walking germ factory.”

“It’s because of Tyler. Poor little guy is always picking up some nasty crud from daycare.”

Leo grimaced. “One more reason I’m never having kids.”

“Famous last words.” Chuckling, she snatched the nozzle for the cola dispenser and topped off the glasses. “Besides, you’d look adorable lugging a baby around in one of those sling carrier thingamabobs.”

His expression panicked, Leo shot a look over his shoulder, nearly wrenching his neck if the grimace on his face was any indication. “Keep your voice down. I don’t need Jane getting any ideas.”

Dana peeked toward the end of the bar, where Leo’s girlfriend was slurping away at a beer, studiously ignoring the college bowl game while she leafed through
Detroit Bride Monthly
. “Sorry to break it to you, but Jane is way past the idea stage.”

“I hate that damn magazine. They have a five-page spread featuring celebrity dog weddings. That’s beyond fucking wrong.”

“Come on, Yeager would look too precious for words escorting Jane down the aisle in a snazzy doggie tux.” She bit her lip to keep from laughing at the image of Leo’s macho Rottweiler prancing along a rose-petal-strewn runner in a bowtie and top hat.

Leo’s eyes narrowed. “You are an evil, evil woman.”

“Yep, that’s exactly what Raul said after I suggested he should shave his legs before putting on fishnets.”

“Damn fruitcake.” Leo yanked a beverage tray from the storage rack and plunked it in front of Dana. “Don’t know why your aunt doesn’t fire his crazy ass.”

“You know what a sucker she is when it comes to misfits and lost souls. Me being a prime example.”

Leo’s scowl disappeared, his mouth softening. “Don’t put yourself in the same league as his Royal Queerness Raul.”

“You’re right. Raul can make a mean shepherd’s pie, whereas I’m lucky if I manage not to burn toast.”

“Damn it, that isn’t what I meant and you know it.”

Yeah, she did. But trying to assure Leo and everyone else that she was no less a charity case than any one of Emmaline’s motley stable of rejects was about as easy as convincing Raul not to wear white pumps after Labor Day. Instead of wasting her breath, she resorted to her only other option—changing the subject. “Speaking of burnt toast, is Jane still making her infamous bread pudding for the employee potluck?”

“Yep. Be sure and stock up on antacids before next weekend.”

“Will do.” Dana settled the two colas onto the tray and reached for another set of glasses. Her gaze momentarily journeyed across the room and landed on two men huddled behind their opened menus. Frowning, she scanned their upper torsos, the only parts she could readily see of them. What she did manage to make out looked suspiciously familiar.

No. It can’t be.
Squinting, she stared hard at the guy in the black T-shirt. Wait…black. Nope, Aiden had been wearing a gray shirt. Shaking her head at her own paranoia, she quickly filled the remaining glasses and returned to the Landreys. She passed around the drinks, her mind wandering, circling around once again to Aiden and Jace. Without question, her encounter with them had been hugely weird. Which was saying a lot, considering her interesting track record where men were concerned. Still, most men didn’t make her feel all warm and shivery with a single heated glance.

Jen Landrey tapped Dana’s forearm, making Dana jump. Thank God she’d already set the woman’s iced tea down. Jen leaned closer, her sky-blue eyes sparkling with conspiratorial delight. “I hear you’ve got a booth at the Renaissance fair. Lucky girl. I’d be in heaven surrounded by all those beefcake men in kilts and armor.”

“Trust me, some of them shouldn’t be wearing kilts.” Remembering the flash of pimply butt cheek she’d been awarded from Lars, the ironsmith, Dana grimaced.

Mischief danced across Jen’s angelic features. “I wonder if it’s true what they say. You know, about a true Scotsman not wearing anything underneath his kilt?”

“In some cases, unfortunately yes.”

Jen giggled. “Well, I’m making a trip out there next weekend. I absolutely loved the cute flower fairy painting you made for my mom. Do you think you could do something similar for me?”

At the mention of Faye Landrey, Dana cleared her throat. “Of course. Umm…would you happen to know if your mom has deposited my rent payment for the gallery yet? I checked my bank balance yesterday and noticed the funds haven’t been withdrawn.”

The one thing Jen didn’t possess was a poker face. She tried to cover her flustered response by patting her frizzy black hair with one hand and inspecting her manicure on her other. Yeah, that was never a dead giveaway someone was about to utter a big fat lie. “Errm…uh…not sure. You know how absentminded my mom can be.”

Dana recognized a pile of horseshit when she smelled it. This was the third time in the past eight months Faye had conveniently
forgotten
to deposit the gallery rent. Sure, it was a sweet gesture, but if everyone continued treating her like a bum forced to collect loose change, her ego would shrivel to the size of a pea.

Little Frank Jr. tugged on Jen’s sleeve, gaining her attention. Dana used the opportunity to slink away. She headed toward the kitchen but stalled when she heard Emmaline and Raul’s raised voices. The idea of dealing with those two right now held about as much appeal as skinny dipping in a tank of electric eels. What she really longed for was some fresh air. Perhaps that’d slap her out of her funk.

Tiptoeing down the back hallway, she swung open the delivery entrance door, wincing when it squealed a rusty whine. “Note to self—pick up WD-40.” She ducked outside and slumped against the wall, a blissful sigh escaping her lips. It felt amazingly good having only the soft breeze for company. Short-lived as it would be.

She loved Emmaline. Would do anything for her aunt, including giving up every other weekend to help out at the restaurant, but days like this she’d give anything to fall mindlessly into her true escape—a blank canvas, a palette of paint and the giddy magic of her muse.

“Dana?” The dreaded voice that continuously popped up like a cockroach that refused to die shattered her idyllic moment.

Turning her head against the rough brick, she glared at Calvin. “Oh. My. God. What’s it going to take for you to get a freakin’ clue?” She shoved away from the building, her patience stretched beyond the snapping point. “I’ve had enough. Do you hear me?
Enough.
I’m giving you five seconds to leave before I go inside and fetch Leo.”

She’d expected the threat to slap some sense into Calvin, so she was justifiably startled when his fingers dug into her upper arms and pushed her forcibly against the wall. “Stop it,” she gasped. “You’re hurting me.”

“I would never hurt you.” Calvin’s pleading gaze bore into her, his face close enough she could smell the overly sweet mintiness of his breath. “You have to believe me.”

“Let go of me now, or I swear to God I’ll scream.” She tried valiantly to hide the tremor in her voice but failed. Despite her vast experience dealing with whack-job exes, nothing had prepared her for this. Before Calvin, no one had physically threatened her.

“Sweetheart…”

She sucked in a lungful of air and prepared to release it in a blistering scream. A flurry of motion came from the left and the next thing she knew, Calvin was hurtled into one of the dumpsters. Pretty damn mind-boggling considering the dumpsters were parked twenty feet away. Blinking, she dragged her focus from Calvin, who was attempting to wobble to his feet and looking as dazed as she felt. She gaped at the man who suddenly filled her line of vision.

Aiden’s jaw was rigid enough to crack open a coconut. “Are you okay?”

“Wha—?” She shook her head, trying to rattle the words free from the roof of her mouth.

“Did that son of a bitch hurt you?” Aiden’s fiery gaze returned to Calvin, spearing him in place.

Jace stepped into view, his expression equally lethal. “Say the word and I’ll pulverize the dick-for-brains myself.”

A hysterical bubble of laughter popped from Dana’s throat. “All right, I give up. Where are the hidden cameras?”

Aiden and Jace gave her a look that was usually reserved for the folks about to be locked in shiny, padded cells. She stepped forward and her shaky knees threatened to topple her in an embarrassing sprawl. Aiden easily caught her, his strong arms a steadying presence. Feeling like a clumsy doofus, she leaned into his rock-solid chest. His fingertips quested along her right arm and stopped at the angry red marks left behind from Calvin’s manhandling.

A low, dangerous growl rumbled from Aiden. “He did hurt you.”

“I’m all right.” She peered into the blazing intensity of Aiden’s stare. “Th-thank you for coming to my rescue.”

“Does this mean you don’t want me to kick the dude’s ass nine ways to Sunday?” Jace sounded more than a little disappointed.

She quickly glanced at Calvin, who was still cowering on top of the garbage piled high in the dumpster. “I think he’s learned his lesson.”
Hopefully
.

His wary stare panning between Aiden and Jace, Calvin tumbled from the dumpster and sprinted across the parking lot. After some fumbling, he wrenched open the door to his Bonneville, jumped in and sped off. It’d probably take him weeks to rid his car of the stench from last night’s Curry Surprise.

Aiden’s deliciously distracting caresses along her inner arm managed to recapture her attention. The voice of logic intruded, reminding her that she was supposed to be tending tables, not plastered against Aiden’s hot, yummy body. “Why don’t you and Jace come inside? Your dinner is on me.” It was the least she owed them for scaring off Calvin.

Aiden’s palms stopped coasting along her tingling skin. Absurd as it was, the loss of his touch left her with an empty ache. He stepped back, his expression tight. “Let’s cut to the chase. What exactly is waiting for us in there? Assault rifles and snare nets? Or are they going old school with steel swords?”

Dana’s mouth fell open. “Uh…no. Just Raul’s duck sausage gumbo and the prime rib special.”

A disbelieving snort came from Jace. “Yeah, my ass.” He scooted to her other side, locking her in the middle of a Jace and Aiden sandwich.

Oh hell no. I did not just think that
.

“You didn’t have to sic them on us, darlin’.” Leaning in close, Jace pressed his mouth against her ear. An exhalation of warm breath fanned her cheek. “Honest, we’re not the big, bad beasties everyone makes us out to be.” His deep baritone dripped with teasing sexiness.

She gaped at Aiden and noticed the nerve twitching in his clenched jaw. For a brief, crazy moment, she swore his fierce countenance had something to do with Jace snuggling against her neck.

Aiden met her gaze and the fire flickering in his eyes mellowed. “Jace is right. We’re not savage beasts.”

Considering how he’d looked ready to bludgeon his own brother a second ago, she found that a tad hard to believe. She pried herself from Jace’s seductive hold and rubbed her arms. The area where Calvin’s fingers dug into her was still tender but she ignored the twinge of pain.

“Look, I have no idea why you think I sicced anyone on you. For Pete’s sake, you just saved me from my lunatic ex. If you don’t want to accept my goodwill offering, fine. You don’t have to make up weird stories about rifles, swords and nets.” Jeez, if this wouldn’t prove to Haddie that fate sent her nothing but whack-a-doodles, nothing would.

Aiden’s arm swept toward the doorway behind them. “There are at least nine Drakoni hunters inside that restaurant. Are you telling me it’s a coincidence?”

“Yes. Because I have no
freakin’
idea what a Drakoni hunter is.”

His eyes narrowing, Aiden stalked toward her. “Don’t lie to me. I’m too cranky and tired to deal with it right now.”

She planted her hands on her hips. “You’re cranky and tired? Hell, welcome to
my
world. I’m willing to bet you don’t have blisters on the back of your heels and a migraine the size of Texas pounding behind your skull.”

“You have a headache?” Concern softened the rugged, masculine planes of Aiden’s face. “Do you want me to get you some aspirin?”

His change of temperament was enough to give her whiplash. “Who
are
you?”

Aiden and Jace exchanged a glance. Ooh, she was getting beyond ticked with the way they constantly did that. She tapped her foot. “You know, it’s majorly annoying being the only one standing here without a damn idea what’s going on.”

“You truly don’t know who we are?” Aiden demanded. “Or why we’re here?”

She knuckled her temples. “You said something about commissioning a painting, but I—”

“I lied. We never commissioned anything.”

Glaring at Aiden, she dropped her fists. “Oh, so it’s all right for you to go all big bad wolf on me when you suspect
I’m
lying.”