Fender Bender Blues (13 page)

Rach turned back to the shelves and stopped before a row of gnomes. They were nothing like the yard gnomes he’d seen growing up, which had been a big thing for the women on his parents’ block to collect. These looked cheap, their colors were too bright, and their grins were more on the side of disturbing than cute. Horrifying, yet she must have thought they were perfect because she picked one up and grinned. She ran a finger down the mini-shovel the gnome grasped in its tiny plastic hands and handed it to him.

“You’re kidding me, Red. It’s hideous.” He lifted it in his hands, weighing it. “And surprisingly heavy. What the hell is it made of? Not plastic.”

“I don’t care what it’s made of, it’s great!” She picked up another. This one pushed an empty wheelbarrow, its blue pointed hat skewed on its head. He spotted a very nice cherub statue holding a bird bath on its hip. A normal person would opt for the cherub.

“No, it’s not great. It’s creepy,” he said, taking another gnome since she didn’t give him the option of accepting it or not. “Shouldn’t we have gotten a cart?”

Her eyes lit up and she hurried down the aisle, leaving him behind with the ugly yard gnomes in his arms. She called out, “I’ll be right back,” just before turning the corner.

“Shit,” he muttered, looking around. A woman wearing sweatpants and pushing a toddler in a cart paused at the end of the aisle. On a normal night she might have gazed at him with interest, but tonight she stared at him, curious, before moving on.

He turned around at the sound of rapidly rolling wheels to see Rach pushing a cart at him full speed. He backed up a step, afraid she might run him over. She stopped just in time, an inch from the toes of his shoes. Inside the cart were two boxes of multi-colored Christmas lights.

“Lights, too?”

“They’ll accentuate the gnomes,” she shrugged and loaded four into the cart, plucking the ones out of his arms to join the others.

“That’s a little overkill, isn’t it?” He fingered the price tag hanging from a gnome neck. “You’re going to pay twenty-five for these?”

“It’s not that much and it’s a good investment.” Her eyes swept around the aisle.

He tapped her on the arm before she could load up any more overpriced yard ornaments. “They are twenty-five dollars
apiece,
Red.”

She stared down in wonder at the contents inside the cart and choked out, “How the hell can these be twenty-five apiece? They’re ugly as sin and they
look
cheap.”

He did a quick calculation. “It’s going to cost you about a hundred and eighty dollars to annoy your neighbor. Not including tax, Sweetheart.”

She sighed and the crestfallen look on her face tugged at his heart. She was cute when she pouted.

After a few moments of consideration she picked up two of the gnomes and said, “Fine. I’ll put…all of them back but two. I need at least two. Mrs. Jacobs only had one and Mrs. Petska threw a fit. So if I have two gnomes and hang up out-of-season Christmas lights, she’ll be
pissed
.”

Her smile was breathtaking and he forced himself to look away.
She’s crazy, remember that.

He’d never met anyone like her. No woman he knew would ever have forced him into being an accessory to a yard war, nor would have been so upset about having to put back ugly yard décor. Her eyes brightened and she reached up to take down a garden stake with a bright plastic butterfly tacked to the top. The purple, green, and orange wings and long green antennas had been crafted to wave in the wind. After a moment’s hesitation she took down three more and threw them in the cart.

“She’s going to hate you.” He grinned and shoved his hands into his pockets, rocking back on his heels.

“Yup,” she chirped. She gripped the handle of the cart and pushed it down the aisle. “She should have thought about that before putting crap on my porch.”

He fell into step beside her with a chuckle. “To be fair, your dog put it on her lawn first.”

“Whose side are you on, mine or the mean woman next door?” she demanded. “Besides, Tally had to go and she doesn’t really understand the difference between my lawn and the neighbor’s. It’s not her fault.”

No, it was hers, but he knew it would be suicide to say so.

The yard war cost her eighty bucks. She grimaced at the total and swiped her debit card. Then as an afterthought she asked the cashier the strangest thing: “Does Spetzer-Mart hire people without cash register experience?”

The checker gave her a smile with a shake of graying brown hair. “Oh no, they hire just about anyone with customer service experience and a smile.”

Rach grinned and took the receipt from her hand. “Good to know, thanks.”

Craig took charge of the cart, pushing it toward the doors. He waved his hand at the veteran greeter in a wheelchair and followed Rach into the cool night breeze. A cart full of crap—he wouldn’t be going home any time soon.

Chapter Sixteen

“You really know how to work a man,” Craig grumped and collapsed, exhausted, onto her couch. They’d hung the lights, set out the gnomes and stuck the garden stakes in the ground to line the sidewalk. Had he known what a night with her would entail, he would’ve worn jeans and tennis shoes. Or he wouldn’t have come at all.

His plan had been to eat a couple of slices of pizza and head home. Kick his feet up and watch the tube for a few hours, something he didn’t do often. After a long day of phone conferences and meetings, he’d been looking forward to some down time.

Instead, he was eating cold pizza with a possible crazy woman and in no hurry to leave.

“Boo-hoo,” she teased, slapping his hand away from the last slice. She picked it up and took a big bite, then sighed and held the piece out for him. He took it without a word and bit in. When had they fallen into such cozy complacency? She accepted the pizza back, and said, “Well, I’m glad you stayed and helped, it would have taken me all night to get those lights up by myself. I suppose for all your hard work I can offer you a drink.”

He laughed and wiped his hands on a paper towel. “Thanks, I suppose I could take one after all the hard work you
forced
me to do.”

Rach disappeared into the kitchen, leaving him and the golden retriever to stare each other down. She returned a few minutes later with a glass of soda and ice—he could smell the liquor without raising the glass to his nose. Craig gave her a questioning look before taking a hesitant sip. He winced as he swallowed. “Pretty strong.”

“Sorry, I’m not that great at mixing drinks and all I have is rum. I don’t drink the bubbly girl stuff.”

He chuckled. “Are you talking about champagne?”

“Yeah.” She sat beside him and turned on the TV. “You look like a champagne kind of guy.”

“Wedding, maybe. Are you looking for a job?” he asked, watching her flip through the channels. She stopped on an episode of
Extreme Makeover: Home Edition.

“Why, you offering me one?” she asked.

“Uh, no,” he answered, thrown off by the question. He blinked and shook his head. “I, uh, just thought—well you asked that woman at Spetzer-Mart about a job.” The idea of seeing Rach every day in his office had him torn between excitement and dread. An image of her long legs and tight ass in slacks, bending over his desk, made his muscles tense with desire. He clenched the glass in his hand. “Besides, I don’t think you and I would be very productive under the same roof.”

“Just keeping my options open with the Spetzer-Mart thing,” she shared. A small smile enveloped her lips and he looked to the TV to see what had made her face soften. A family was thanking ABC for changing their lives. “It’s amazing to see people who’ve struggled for so long get an opportunity like this. If I had the money or the chance to be part of something like this, I would.”

A woman who waged yard wars didn’t seemed the philanthropic type. She’d been a constant surprise since he’d met her.

“You could. There are a ton of organizations that help families. You should look into it,” he suggested.

She looked at him, thoughtful. “I did once. I went to school to be a social worker.” She stood up and grabbed Craig’s empty cup off the coffee table, her long fingers wrapping around the glass. She had pianist’s hands and he wondered if she played. “Would you like a refill?”

He stood, wanting to stay, but instead answered, “No, I’d better get home. Early day tomorrow and all…”

Her expression said she didn’t buy it for a minute. “On a Saturday?”

He owned a dealership, working weekends was part of the job. Craig almost explained it to her, but changed his mind when she shrugged and turned her back on him. Her opinion of him didn’t matter, they were practically strangers.

Sounding foolish, he announced, “I’m leaving.”

Rach stopped in the doorway to the kitchen and turned to lean her tall frame against the wall. Her look of amusement annoyed the hell out of him.

“Oh yeah? I thought you’d be gone already—big day and all tomorrow.”

Craig found himself doing exactly what he’d told himself not to: “I do have to work tomorrow. I sell cars, I don’t get days off.”

“I understand completely,” she replied, not sounding as if she did or cared to.

He stormed forward, halting a few feet from her. “I don’t give a damn if you believe me or not.”

She raised her chin in a stubborn gesture, the small nose upturned and haughty. “And I don’t give a damn if you think I believe you or not.”

“You’re the snob,” he threw back and her eyes flashed like green gems in the sun.

“You’re the one with the stick up your ass,” she countered, jabbing him in the chest with a glass, the ice cubes tinkling with the movement. “You’re the one who walks around with your head inflated the size of a watermelon.”

“If by stick up my ass and a big head you mean responsible and career driven, then yeah, you’re right. You should try it sometime.”

She gasped and he winced, disgusted with himself for punching so far below the belt. With a heated glare, she hissed, “You’re a jerk. Go find one of your bimbos to railroad—I don’t need to hear this crap from you.”

He grasped her wrist to stop her from jabbing him again, but the feel of her skin beneath his fingers unnerved him. He released her wrist. “Whatever you say, ice princess.”

“Ice princess, my ass,” she huffed, and stepped closer to look up into his face. “I think you’re so used to having women fall at your feet, it annoys the hell out of you that I’m not the least bit interested in someone like you.”

He bristled. “Someone like me? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You’re a snob,” she tossed at him. “I’m not interested in snobs.”

The insane urge to prove her wrong had him yanking her into his arms and slanting a rough kiss against her lips. He slowed the pace to move his lips over hers in a deep, sensual kiss and her body relaxed. He fisted his hands through her hair, as he’d imagined doing since the last time, and groaned against her lips when she pressed up against him. He nibbled at her lower lip, sucked at it softly, and then slipped his tongue inside.

He reveled in the feel of her against him and pulled her closer to tuck her inside his embrace. No escape. But the longer he kissed her, her soft mouth moist and inviting, the harder it was to remember why he’d kissed her in the first place. He released her quickly, satisfied he’d proven his point, and stepped away. His hands were shaking and he stuffed them inside his pockets.

The sudden movement had left her dazed. He tried for a cocky grin he wasn’t sure he pulled off. “You look pretty interested now.”

She donned a glower and rolled her eyes. “Not really.”

But her lips trembled. He couldn’t take his eyes off those lips.

Then she turned on her heel and strolled into the kitchen. She called out, “Don’t let the door hit you on your ass on the way out.”

Craig turned around and marched out the door. After his nightmare relationship with Maggie, which he was still suffering from, his next relationship would not be with a woman who enjoyed busting his balls every chance she got. He had no time to get caught up in Red’s crazy schemes. If Leah and Rick were worried about her stomach they could play the pizza delivery game themselves.

Chapter Seventeen

Rach was jerked awake by a loud, piercing shriek below her bedroom window. The alarm clock read five a.m. She stretched, yawned, and rolled over with a sleepy smile before snuggling back under the covers to fall into a light slumber.

Fifteen minutes later a loud bang on the front door brought her to terms with the fact there would be no sleeping in. With a grumble she rolled to her feet and made a blind reach for the cotton robe she’d left at the foot of the bed. She stumbled with blurry eyes down to the kitchen.

There were three more loud
bang, bang, bangs,
but no way was she answering that door. Only one person would be out there at the butt-crack of dawn. She sat down with a steaming cup of coffee loaded with sugar and the last drop of two percent milk. Tally nestled in beside her and she covered a yawn. She leaned her head back against the couch and closed her eyes.

She was still parked on the couch an hour later when another knock on the front door woke her from her snooze. She glanced furtively at the door and ducked low into the couch even though whoever was out there wouldn’t see her through the blinds and curtains on the living room windows.