Night Critters (Collection) (11 page)

As she expected, Lucky snorted. “Charm, don't be ridiculous. JR isn't that kind of guy. Yes, he's an asshole, but he's a legitimate businessman. He wouldn't bring himself to that level.” Lucky turned back to look out the front window of the cab.

Charm turned around to face front and set her hands in her lap. Very few people understood her ability to see patterns in the behavior of those around her that spelled Trouble. JR was Trouble—the kind you ran away from, very fast and very far. Some stubborn part of her insisted on trying to make Lucky see things her way. “How do you know what he's capable of? Look at how he threw your inability to shift in your face."

Lucky didn't say a word, but his face turned red, and his fists clenched and unclenched. The muscles in his jaw twitched.

Damn. She'd pissed him off again. Charm gave up and sat in silence for the rest of the cab ride.

Back at the bar, Lucky cut wood to replace the legs on the stool she'd broken over the obnoxious werewolf's back. He handled the noisy saw he'd pulled from his truck with a skill she could only envy.

Charm picked up the splinters and salvaged what she could of the rungs, as well as the seat itself, to help him out. Lucky hadn't spoken a word to her since they got out of the cab. She couldn't understand his silent anger. Was it because the bar would now legally remain closed until Monday when the owner returned? Was it something she'd done? Something JR had said? Hell, something the cab driver had said? Charm finally had enough. She couldn't take the silence anymore. “Lucky, what the hell is your problem?"

He stopped what he was doing and turned off the saw. “Excuse me? I couldn't hear you."

Charm cocked a hip to the side and stuck her chin out defiantly. Silence drove her nuts. Silence to her meant things were wrong or something was left undone. Or worse. She shouldered aside unpleasant memories. The past was the past. “I asked you what the hell your problem is."

Lucky straightened up and walked behind the bar, his delicious ass tempting her the entire time. He grabbed a beer, twisted off the top and placed it on the bar, presumably for her. Then he opened another one and took a giant swig. “There's nothing wrong. What is it with women always thinking there's something wrong?"

She took a sip of her beer. “A person just doesn't turn as red as an apple and look like their jaw muscles are going to break when there's nothing wrong.” Charm sat down on a stool and stared at him. “Is this about the asshole at the police station?"

Lucky's face looked like it would melt from the heat his anger generated. “You had better watch what you say about JR."

Charm blinked in total shock. She took a swig of the ice-cold microbrew. Now that she'd proven she didn't need a dour knight in chrome, had Lucky found someone else to defend? Who was this guy? Don Quixote reincarnated? “Why? He's an asshole who doesn't take no for an answer, and he obviously doesn't have any respect for you."

He leaned over the bar until he was nose to nose with her. “Of course he doesn't. Familiarity breeds contempt.” He hesitated and picked up a yellow tool resembling a gun and loaded it with a long string of nails. “You might say JR and I have a past."

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Lucky swallowed the urge to smack the rudeness out of his unwanted companion. She was beautiful and weird enough to be a distraction, not to mention the fact that his libido went into overdrive every time she bent over. She'd been the only thing that smelled pleasant in the holding cell. Still, he didn't need another painful relationship, and Charm was trouble literally on the wing.

Worse, he saw no reason to add to her contempt of him by explaining JR was his brother. Lucky, Enrique, Chester, and JR were his parents’ first and only litter. Funny—after them, their mother went back to implants. Not that Lucky blamed her much.

Charm's peridot green eyes blinked three times, and her hand reached up to close her own slack jaw. “Well, I still won't sell to him, and you can tell him I said so."

He shrugged and laid the new trim on the side of the bar. His air hammer snapped three times to secure the wood in place. Each time he placed a nail, his lovely distraction winced. “It's not a gun, Angel Face. Relax."

"Sorry. I don't know much about tools.” Charm bent and picked up her purse, which happened to be a suitcase-sized tote. She drew out a book titled
The Idiot's Guide to Home Renovation
and removed a sheaf of papers from inside. “Tools, tools. Where are the friggin’ illustrations in this thing?"

Lucky bit his lip to keep from laughing. Her determined attempts to learn about what came automatically to him were the first really charming thing he'd seen in her. He lifted the yellow machine. “It's an air hammer. You use it to secure two objects together with nails."

"Oh.” Charm bent to study his air hammer like a bug under a microscope. She turned his hand so she could see every angle of the machine. Her brow knit together. “Just nails? No glue or screws?"

Lucky permitted her to use his arm and strength to examine his air hammer. At least she had the good sense not to touch it herself if she was so clueless about tools. Those purple-nailed hands saw a manicurist too regularly to know manual labor. The stray thought lingered about how soft they would feel wrapped around his cock. He shoved the lusty thought onward. “Why do you want to know about tools?"

She dropped his hand like she'd been burnt. Her face reddened, and she bit her lip hard enough to make it whiten. When she tried to put the overloaded book back into the tote, small notes fell out. “Told you.” Her mumble was barely audible. “I'm fixing up my house."

Lucky picked up two paint chip samples and a note, which read, “Call Home Inspector. What's HVAC stand for?” He had a more difficult time choking back the snicker than before. She really was completely clueless. “HVAC means heating, ventilation, and air conditioning.” He handed the chips and note back to Charm.

Oddly, her eyes welled up with tears. “Thanks.” Charm's gaze drifted to the floor, the bar, the broken stool, anywhere but him. “Know someone who can repair an outdated H... V... whatever? Oh, and that reminds me. I need to write you a credit note, don't I?” She dug into her purse again.

Lucky belatedly put two and two together. An outdated heating system meant she was freezing in this wintry weather, poor kid. She didn't even own a coat apparently, and used her wings for warmth. Maybe he could kick-start the heater until he could make some phone calls to his favorite subcontractors. Several owed him some blue chip favors.

He laid a hand over her purse, effectively stopping her rummaging. “We can worry about that later. Why don't you show me what's up with the heater?"

Charm hesitated, her hand still trapped in her purse. She visibly got her moxie back and shrugged carelessly. “It's an old house, and the last renters trashed the place. I bought tools and stuff, but...” Her voice trailed off.

He hefted his air hammer and smiled encouragingly. This little bird needed a lot more help than her pride would let on. Nothing got his attention and his time more than someone with the guts to try even when they were outclassed. “I'm not a bartender. I was just helping Enrique while he was on vacation. I'm in construction by trade. I'm very good with tools."

Her glittering smile and deliberate glance at his trousers showed how much backbone she had. Her cute pointed chin went up. “I can well imagine you are. Okay.” She let the insinuation hang in the air like a challenge.

Lucky deliberately kept his expression neutral. He'd won a small victory against the wall of her pride, but he'd lose the war of wills if he gloated too soon. “Have tools, will travel. My truck's out back."

Charm followed him out the door meekly enough, but she definitely wasn't a doormat. She tossed her short purple hair in the classic female gesture of disdain, spread her wings and flew the fifteen feet from the small platform to the other side of his truck. Graceful as a dove, she landed and waited for him to unlock the door with a playful grin on her face.

Not to be outdone, Lucky did a handstand on the rails before he vaulted over the side to land beside the driver's door. He ignored the impressed widening of those incredible green eyes and keyed in the code to unlock his Ford Hydro350.

When Charm's wings were carefully folded against the seat, Lucky engaged the special safety belt system designed not to damage a Nephylum's fragile wings.

Charm's eyebrows flew up at the expensive addition to an already pricey truck. “Got a thing for Nephs or something?"

Lucky laughed and set the navigation system to the address he remembered from her license. Jeff and Dan would spit their beers if they thought Lucky had “a thing” for them. “Nope. Two coworkers are Nephylum. I give them a ride home when the weather's too nasty for flight, that's all. You ought to hear them bitch about riding elevators like human mudsuckers."

The joke earned him a snort before Charm dove into his stereo system with happy squeals. “Ohmigod! You have recordings of the classics like Metallica! You fiend! Promise you'll share where you got them!” She punched buttons like a veteran electronics freak.

Lucky sang along with her and beat his steering wheel, imitating Lars Ulrich's style on the drums. Were it not for the automated speed governors on all modern cars, his truck would have undoubtedly raced down the highway at a breakneck pace. After all, it was a tradition to scream down the road with eardrum bursting sound while playing classic Metallica music, and Lucky wasn't one to break the rules.

Charm grabbed an old claw hammer off the floor and used the black bottom as a pretend microphone, bouncing on the pleather seat as much as the restraints and crowding of her wings allowed. She could head bang well enough to make her grandmothers proud. Who knew she was such an old-fashioned girl?

Regrettably, the truck's navigation system was efficient. The Ford turned off the highway after only two songs, and Lucky quickly turned down the sound so as not to break peace laws.

Charm's hand landed on top of his, intent also on lowering the volume. The little white palm was even softer than it looked, and more than a little cold.

Lucky shivered at the chilly touch even as his mind provided an alternative to fixing her heater to warm her up. He wanted this crazy Neph like he wanted to breathe. Chagrin flooded him and he winced. She was cold, and he hadn't even offered her his jacket or turned on the heater like a gentleman. In fact, he had one of Dan's spare jackets in the back behind the driver's seat. “Want to borrow one of my coworker's jackets? Dan keeps a spare in here."

She waved refusal and pointed at the lonely house in the middle of what had once been a vast forested area. Construction zones surrounded her sanctum, but work had apparently halted once the trees were cleared. “My heater does work—it's just not very modern. That's my home there. See what JR has done?"

For at least a quarter mile in all directions, there was nothing but dirt and piles of scrub forest trees stacked for recycling. Not far to the west stood the usual collection of construction company trailers bearing the Thornburn Construction logo emblazoned on the side. The only exception to the devastation was Charm's house, standing in isolation amid a few trees inside the property line.

Lucky didn't bother to hide his growl. What had his brother done? Clearing a forest for a shopping mall was close to sacrilege to a werewolf. Lucky's hands clenched the steering wheel just like he wanted to strangle JR. Lucky vowed to have words with his dear brother and grandfather as soon as he was back at work on Monday. “He'd better have a good reason for this.” Lucky slammed the shifter into park with more force than necessary.

Clearly anxious to be out, Charm fought with the restraints and shoved open the door. She yelped at the icy blast of wind and cursed JR with fluency. “This place used to be cozy until JR cut down all the trees. Now it's cold and desolate. Mom would have a litter of kittens if she knew.” She grabbed her tote and ran for the front porch like demons chased her.

Maybe he wasn't a hound of Hell, but Lucky wanted to chase her. Simply because he couldn't shift didn't change his nature. He was still a predator with a sexy female he wanted—what an inadequate word—running in front of him. Belatedly, he remembered she was waiting for him on the porch and got out. He needed to stop daydreaming and get his head on straight. To hide his erection, Lucky took his time getting his tools out of the back.

The front door slammed. Charm undoubtedly had gotten a brain and went inside to get warm. Courteously waiting for your guest so you could let them in was one thing and freezing unnecessarily was another. Maybe he could con her into putting on a pot of coffee to warm them both up.

The place was halfway to shack status, but he could see the former glory of the old circa 1970 rancher's sturdy construction. Many vampires loved the homes of the era because there were few windows and the decor often included dark wood trim. From the look of the place, he'd find original stick framing and—heavens help him—a heat pump furnace. No wonder Charm was cold. Lucky bet himself he'd even find an antique tank water heater. He could hardly wait to bring the house up to code and twenty-first century comfort. Eagerly, he climbed the porch and knocked politely. Privacy was a real issue with him, and he'd prefer if she let him in.

One white hand reached out around the barely open door, grabbed the front of Lucky's shirt, and dragged him in. Charm's hot mouth locked onto his with the same strength and urgency as her hands. Speaking of her hands, they were bent on getting Lucky out of his clothes by popping buttons and ripping seams.

Not that he planned on arguing. Lucky's brain snapped and popped like bad circuitry before going blank. His hands loosened on his toolboxes and they hit the uncarpeted floor with loud bangs and rattles. Thankfully, the heater worked well enough to chug out a fair dose of heat, and Charm must have set the thermostat to “tropical.” Freed of their burdens, Lucky's hands developed minds of their own and sought ways to get Charm out of her laced bodice.