Spitfire (Puffin Cove) (32 page)

Jill
stuck her tongue out, then shoved by him to walk beside Will.

"Hi,
Jill," Will blushed, ducking his head so the guys wouldn't see.

Too late
. Nick saw it. And shuddered.

"Gonna catch big ugly today?
" Their rubber boots squelched in unison as they carefully picked their way down to the pond on slippery grass.

"I will if you'll help me, Will
. You know I hate takin' them off the hook. I hate hurtin' them."

"How we gonna look at the...you know...the
thing
?" Landon hissed to Nick, shooting a hateful glare at Jill. Nick's sneer commiserated. Geez, did she always have to be sniffing around them? She pestered them at school, tattling on every damn thing they did. Constantly banged on the door when they were holed up in his room, then put an ear to a cup pressed against it when they wouldn't answer. He had laughed his ass off, then felt kind of bad when Landon tip-toed up that last time and jerked open the door, causing her to stumble in, drop the cup and hack a slice out of her foot on the shattered glass. God. All that blood. Still made his guts clench when he thought about it. Stupid twit.

Geez,
Jill was a pain in his ass. Landon's too. Not Will though. Friggin' pansy.

***

God, Landon loved girls. All shapes, all sizes, all colours, all races. As far as Landon was concerned, women were put on this earth for the sole purpose of pleasing him. And he was placed on this earth for the sole purpose of pleasuring women. Well, that, and his freakishly wizard-like way of keeping the vehicles of Puffin Cove and its surrounds in perfectly running order.

He finished wiping the shaving cream from his chin, slapped on his signature scent, and tweaked a stray spike of his carefully arranged, salon-groomed blonde hair
. Not a smidgen of thinning, thank you very much. Smoothing a hand down the placket of his shirt, he plucked off his glasses and tossed them in the dish beside the sink, peering closer at his reflection through gold-flecked, chocolate brown eyes.

Fucking glasses
. He had resisted for over a year. But when the damned DMV wouldn't renew his license, just because he couldn't read the second line of the fuckin' chart...the thing was seventeen years old, for God's sake. It was faded! But, no. They refused to take that for an excuse. And so, he had to mar perfectly good looks with a pair of goggles. Shit. But wonder of wonders, he could now actually read the specs on the rims of the sparkplugs in the shop. He absolutely refused, however, to wear the fuckers on a date. He jammed them back on, knowing that he'd be up the creek if he got stopped without them while driving down to St. John's.

The night was a frisky, bitter cold, with a glowing thumbnail of a moon lighting up the snow like a blanket of pure, white diamonds
. A sudden slip of a breeze had soft, flirty flakes flying from the roof and kissing his cheeks. And a million stars twinkled in the sky. One of the few really great things about living in this small town. All those gorgeous stars.

He quietly, carefully kept his little hobby secret from his buddies
. Wouldn't want them to think he was going soft, star-gazing as he did in the privacy of his apartment. Landon enjoyed selective company, but not in his own private domain. He rarely had anyone there. Once in a while Kane or Nick would come over to watch the game, and he usually took his turn hosting their monthly poker nights. He kept his telescope and charts in the bedroom, away from curious, ball-busting eyes.

He never, ever had a woman over.

His breath puffed out clouds of fog as he gave the landing a quick shovel. Calculating the wisdom of not taking the time to clear the steps, he left them for tomorrow. Weather network wasn't calling for much tonight anyway. He picked up his pace, smiling at the thought of his waiting femme du jour, Annie. Or was it Annette? Yeah, that was it. Annette. From the bar last week. Ah, Annette of the caramel skin and wild black curls. And a most luscious booty. Her best feature. Oh, he planned to put some miles on that tonight. Been far too long since he sampled the delights of a lovely lady. Patting his pockets, he felt for keys, wallet, the distinctive crinkle surrounding the rubber ring of safety.

Whistling
come on baby light my fire
, he hopped down the last steps, rounded the garage, and banged flush up against the bane of his existence.

"Oh!"
Jill squealed. "Landon! I thought you'd be out." She pressed a mittened hand to her breast, heart hammering, and backed up abruptly.

Dammit
! Why'd he have to be here? He was never home on a Friday night. His car wasn't in the lot. Well, shit.

Her ancient, rusty Chev sat like the ugly lump that it was in the parking space behind her
. The old heap had coughed its last, wheezing breath as Jill had coaxed and cursed it on three and a half cylinders and squishy brakes into the lot at Blood's. She had intended to drop her keys through the slot in the shop door, but it was frozen shut. She could have just left the keys in the car. After all, anyone stupid enough to steal it wouldn't get far. But she was afraid that some dumbass kid might try to take it for a joy ride and end up killing themselves, or someone else. So, to be on the safe side, she had headed to Landon's apartment to stick the keys in his mailbox.

And here he frickin' was
. Looking slicked up, turned out, and ready for action. And
God!
Why'd he have to smell so good?

"What are you doing here
? Wh-where's your car?" she accused, mad and stammering. Lord, he'd taken her by surprise. These days, she avoided situations involving encounters with Landon like the plague. They rubbed up against each other like rusty metal and forty-grit. He flat out, downright hated her. No secret there. Everyone knew it. Since they were kids.

Back then she had taken every opportunity, done anything she could to get in his face, and bug the living shit out of him
. She had bloody
loved
it. Rarely did a week go by that she didn't ruin some scheme of her brother's and his posse. She only ever felt bad about Will.

Poor Will
. He would always try to smooth things over, make her feel included, cover up her machinations. He would gently rebuke her, trying valiantly and without success to convince her to give up on her penchant for destruction. And she would always giggle gleefully, saucily flitting away to stir up more.

Landon sneered, "I live here, twerp. And I just detailed my car, so it's in the garage. I was just heading out. What do you want?" Oh, he did
not
want her here. In the way and irritating as usual. Now he was going to be late for Angie. And his nice, happy anticipatory-sex mood fizzled into Jillian-induced pissed-offedness.

"My car," she poked a thumb toward the abomination on his property
.

"Oh,
hell
no. I'm not gonna to waste my time on that fuckin' piece of crap again." He had spent countless hours, chunks of his life that he would never get back, working on that worthless cause. The twit needed to realize that a decent burial was the only humane thing to do.

Rubbing the key in her mittened palm, she begged, "Please,
Landon. I can borrow momma's car 'til it's fixed. You don't have to do it right away." Her bright, robin's-egg blue eyes softened, thick lashes blinking rapidly, pleading.

"Cut the crap,
Bainbridge. Your damsel in distress shit doesn't work on me. Just junk the thing already." He moved to shove by her, the spicy, woodsy scent of his cologne drifting from his warm skin in the cold night air.

"Landon Blood, you fix that car
! I need it!" she snapped.

Ah, there it is
. Landon liked those clear blue eyes flashing sparks a whole lot better than her pitiful attempt to beguile. She should know better than to try that shit with him. He didn't know how, but she had everyone else fooled. Christ, every blasted person thought her the sweetest thing on the planet. But he knew her. Oh, yes. Landon knew the evil spawn of Satan that lived inside that little pixie body.

"Not doing it,
Sweetness
. Find some other sucker. You shouldn't have any trouble conning some poor bastard into fixing that heap."

Landon
tromped through the snow and keyed in the code to open the shop door. He looked back over his shoulder and watched her, head hanging, walk up the deserted street. He called, "Hey. Where you goin'? Get back here and get that piece of shit off my lot! Hey!"

When she just kept up with the damned dejected plodding, he mentally punched himself in the head, cursed himself for the afore mentioned poor bastard that he was, and yelled
, "Gimme the goddam key!"

Jill bit back her smile, doused the delicious flare of victory in her eyes, and schooled her features into a look of abject, pitiful gratitude. She hurried back across the snowy lot to stop in front of his scowling face. Prying his tightly gripped fist open, she dropped the key into his hand. "Thank you, Landon. I really mean it."

"You're a conniving, manipulative b...twit, Jillian
. If it wasn't for that sweet little girl of yours, and for the life of me, I don't know how she came from you, I'd let you rot right along with that useless excuse for a car. Now get lost. I've got a date," he very nearly growled, the gold flecks in his brown eyes flashing frustration and bloody murder at her. She quirked her head when she saw the dull glinting silver of the key she had just placed in his hand sliding in and out between his thumb and forefinger almost lovingly. Weird, his obsession with cars. Even if it was her old rattle trap.

She fluttered her eyes, gave him a cheeky grin, and went up on the toes of her boots to peck his chin
. "T'anks, b'y. Call me when she's ready." She spun away from him, and practically skipped back up the street.

"
Now
what the hell are you doing? You're not walking all the way...Jesus Christ! It's minus twenty-eight degrees!"

She couldn't hold back the bright, clear laugh that tinkled across the frigid night air
. "Just going up the hill to Mom and Dad's," she called over her shoulder.

He did growl then, the wind carrying the streams of curses on the air as he pulled his car out of the shop, hit the remote to lock up, and fish-tailed up the road to shout out the window, "Get in the goddam car!"

Jill bit her lips again, barely suppressing a whoop of victory, and climbed into the enveloping warmth.