Shooter (Burnout) (22 page)

Chris blinked at her. “What?”

“I’m not running some kind of scam on your friends. I mean, I wasn’t- It’s not like I was going screw one of them so I could steal from them or something.”

Chris ran a hand through his hair. “Well. Good to know I’m an even bigger asshole in your head. That’s comforting,” he muttered. Louder, he said, “Sit down,” indicating the porch steps.

Hayley didn’t move. Chris grabbed the bag from her. “Hey!” she protested but he was able to wrestle it from her easily.

He pointed to the steps. “I’m used to having my orders followed, remember?” He sat down.

Hayley took a seat on the top step, as far away from him as she could get. He eyed the space between them and sighed. “Hope you’re over there ‘cause you’re mad at me, and not because you’re scared of me.”

She glowered. “I’m mad,” she said quietly.

“Good,” he said, setting the duffel down on the step in front of them. “Slick, you have every right to be pissed at me.”

“I thought we were friends,” she replied.

He sighed. “We are.”

“Just so long as I stay away from your
real
friends, with my money grubbing hands and my questionable morals,” she grumbled.

He laughed suddenly and for some reason that angered her more than anything. She pushed off the step but he grabbed her arm and pulled her back down, and closer to him. “Sit,” he commanded. “Slick, I didn’t lose my temper at you because I think you’re a gold digger.”

She shuffled her feet on the step to avoid looking at him. “Yes, you did.”

“No, Hayley, if you think back, you’ll recall I lost my temper approximately 2.5 seconds after you called Jimmy the hottest guy ever.” Her heart knocked in her chest and she immediately tried to pull away, but Chris caught her hand and held it. “Sit, and listen, and let me finish. Nothing can happen between us. For a lot of reasons. I know it. You know it. But that doesn’t mean I like it when I catch you thinking about other guys,
my guys
, that way.”

She chewed on her bottom lip. “I didn’t. I wasn’t really. I was just…” she sighed. “I didn’t have a lot of friends in Denver. Or…any. And I forget sometimes that some stuff is better off staying in your head and not said out loud. I only wanted to know about Tex. And only because he said more than once that I wasn’t his type. And I’ve seen him at the bar. The girls he goes home with, well they don’t seem to have a lot in common with each other except for being really pretty. And I know it’s stupid, but I kind of thought maybe he was saying I wasn’t his type because I wasn’t pretty enough. Not that I want to date Tex.” She snorted. “Especially not now.

“But…it still kind of hurt my feelings to think that he thought I wasn’t good enough. I don’t know why I asked him. I don’t know what I would have done if he’d actually said I was beneath him. It’s not like I don’t know it. I mean, I may not be his type because he’s…into stuff. But I’m also not his type because I’m not good enough. I used to be good enough for a guy like Tex. Now I’m not. It still pisses me off sometimes.”

“Hayley-” Chris began but she cut him off.

“And that’s another thought that should’ve stayed in my head where it belonged. I didn’t mean to dump a bunch of shit on you. Sorry.” She sighed again. “I gotta go. Money’s on the table. For the rest of this month and next month, too. To give you time to find another tenant.”

Chris still didn’t let go of her hand. “Slick-”

“You don’t like me, Chris. Maybe you think you do. Or maybe you’re one of those guys who nails everything in a hundred foot radius and it irritates you that we’ll never…whatever.”

“I didn’t say I liked you,” he said abruptly.

She flinched. “So you don’t. Then why…”

“I didn’t say I liked you. I didn’t say I didn’t like you. All I said was I don’t like you thinking about my guys. They are not serious guys, but you are a serious girl.”

“No,” she protested, “I’m not looking for-”

He squeezed her hand. “But if you were looking, you are not a casual girl. I may not know much about you, Hayley, but I know that you don’t do casual.”

She chewed her lip again. “I can’t do
anything
,” she admitted.

“Okay. So you don’t need to get twisted up with one of my guys. Because they’re good guys,
really
good guys, but they are not serious. Only Tex would be open to settling down and we’ve already established that you are not capable of giving him what he wants.” He grinned. “Slick, you couldn’t call a man ‘Sir’ if your life depended on it.”

Hayley pushed her hair out of her eyes with her free hand. “Maybe I could. I know I definitely do not have
bedroom sass
. Whatever that is, I don’t have it.”

Chris smiled. “You will. Someday. And when you did, Tex would paddle you for it every night and you’d never sit down again.”

Hayley grimaced. “Ouch. Yeah, maybe not.” She paused, looking up at the sky. “Doesn’t matter. I’ve got too much in my head. I’ll stick to my books. They’re safe. No paddling allowed.”

“That’s not a life, Slick.”

“Yes it is,” she said firmly. “It is a life, Chris. May not be a perfect one, but it is a life. And I’m grateful to have it, such as it is.”

Chris suddenly leaned over and planted a kiss on the side of her head. “Stay,” he said quietly. “At least for a little longer. You have friends. A job. Good place to live. A
stove
.”

She smiled and leaned into him. “You just want Sunday lunch.”

“Mmmm. And Thursday dessert. And maybe one other night, you know, if you’re feeling bad about me being forced to eat cat food due to my lack of culinary skills.”

She snorted. “That’s ridiculous, Chris. Ramen noodles are much cheaper than cat food. And besides, you probably have a garage full of MRE’s. Chow down on those if you get hungry. I promise the Zombie Apocalypse is still a few years away. You have time to re-stock.”

Chris laughed and put his arm around her neck, with his other hand he messed up her hair. “You have way too much regular sass!” She squealed and ducked out of his hold. “I need those MRE’s in case of a nuclear war.”

“Or Zombies.”

“Or Zombies,” he amended.

“So you do have them.”

“No comment.” She giggled. He rolled his eyes. “Okay, yes, but more for bad winter storms and long power outages. Both of which are not unheard of this far north. And that’s only after the chips and beer run out. Because, trust me, you don’t eat MRE’s unless it’s Armageddon.”

“Hmm. I think I’m in trouble if any of those things happen. No peach pie, no chocolate cake, no cookies. If I’m lucky, I’d remember to fill up the bathtub with water. But then I would forget what it’s for and bathe in it.”

“Jesus.”

“Hey, I’m a girl. We take baths very seriously! I could live without cookies and cake and pie, but I need bubbles, Mister!”

“Women.”

“Some people go to Church, I take baths. It’s a holy experience.”

“That only happens once a week? That explains the smell.”

“Hey!”

“Well, I wasn’t gonna say anything. You brought it up!” he argued, grinning.

“I bathe more than once a week!”

“I know. I pay your water bill.” She stiffened and leaned away from him. “Shit,” he muttered. “I didn’t mean anything, Hayley.”

“Chris-”

“Cook for me,” he demanded.

She hesitated. “What?”

“Cook for me. That way it’ll even out. You make dinner when you’re not working and Sunday lunch, and I mow the lawn and pay the water and utilities.” She frowned at him. “I really don’t have the time, Hayley. I’m busy all day at the shop and I’m tired when I come home. I know you’re on your feet all day, too, but truth be told you work a few less hours than a I do in a day and it would be nice if I could come home to a hot meal instead of cold pizza or spaghetti I have to make myself.

“I’ll keep the fridge stocked, you make whatever you want. You’re good at this and I am really bad at it. Please. I miss food, Hayley. Actually, that’s not true. You can’t miss what you never had. My mom wasn’t much in the kitchen. Or anyplace else. She took off when I was 10. Then I joined the army and you can imagine what their food is like. The closest I’ve been to real food is restaurants and what Tex dishes out when he’s in the mood.”

“Are you trying to play on my sympathy?” she asked.

“Totally. Is it working?”

“Totally.”

“Thank God,” he replied.

“Dinner,” she repeated. “And Sunday lunch. Yeah, I can do that. Small price to pay for tub time.”

“You can use my tub,” he offered.

“Um-”

“Before you answer…”

*****************************

Shooter opened the door to the master bathroom and turned on the light.

“Holy Shit!” Slick practically shouted as she gawked at the garden tub.

He grinned at her. “Yeah. The people who had the place before me put it in. It’s pretty damn girly but it’s brand new and I’ve been up to my neck in other shit and I just don’t have the time or the inclination to rip it out right now. And the shower, as you can see, is separate so-”

“So I don’t have to scrub out your nasty man-scum to use it!” she finished gleefully.

He crossed his arms in front of his chest. “It’s manly man-scum, woman. It’s not nasty.”

She grabbed his wrist and held up his hand. There was still a bit of grease under his nails. Faint, but visible. “Man-scum. And it’s cute, the whole mechanic thing, but not so much when you’re talking about personal hygiene.”

Shooter stumbled over ‘cute’ but let it go. “I’ll give you the key to my place and you can do whatever it is you need to do.”

She turned to look at him. “You’re not worried I’ll rob you?”

“Nope.”

“What if I go through all your stuff?”

“I don’t have anything to hide and I don’t have that much stuff. But-” he said holding up a finger, “there’s a .44 in the nightstand drawer. Do not touch it unless I’m with you.”

She paled. “I- I was joking. I would never look through your stuff.”

He nodded. “Okay. Well, there’s a baseball bat underneath the couch if you need to unleash your sass on the mailman.”

“Mr. Tibbs? He’s, like, 90!”

“Yeah, but he’s shady. I never liked him. He’s always sticking the former owner’s mail in my box. What is that? He knows they don’t live here.”

“I can’t believe you think I’d hit a 90 year old man with a bat.”

“Better you than me. What do you weigh? 100 pounds? The most you could do is knock some sense into him.”

She moved past him out the bathroom and into the hall. “You’re so weird.”

“I’m not weird! I take the US Postal service very seriously! I’m an American! I didn’t serve three tours to get someone else’s mail!”

“Weirdo.”

“Do not sass me, woman!”