Chapter Thirteen
“She cleaned my place last night.” Mike was saying to Tim as he turned a wrench underneath the SUV he was working on.
“Are you seriously complaining right now?” Tim asked, his disbelief written all over his face. “Do you know what I’d give to have someone clean my apartment for me?” The bigger male griped as he shoved half a donut in his mouth.
“I thought your lady love was perfect.”
Tim finished his breakfast and wiped his hands off on his jeans. “She is. That’s why I don’t invite her to my place to see howimperfect I am.”
Mike wiped impatiently at the cold water dripping down the back of his neck. Damn snow. Just one more aggravation to add to his already crappy mood. Things had been going so well with Rin the night before, only to be interrupted. The client with the rental car stuck in the guardrails would have thought Mike a complete asshole if he’d bothered to stop bitching about the lack of cell service in the area for two seconds. And of course the guy didn’t want the car brought to the closest garage – oh, hell no – it had to go to an authorized dealer. Normally Mike would have shrugged, it was the client’s dime after all, but last night he had had a reason to come home and was pissed he couldn’t get back sooner.
The surprise of a clean place had been nice. Three-quarters of a pizza wrapped in plastic and left on the table for him had been nice. But the sticky note that said thank you with a smiley face left next to the pizza had made him grin like an idiot for at least an hour. He’d immediately folded the note and tucked it into his wallet for safe keeping. Then his hyperactive brain had kicked in with a shit-ton of doubt…
“I just don’t want her thinking she needs to do stuff like that for me – like she’s paying me or something. That’s not the kind of relationship I want with her. That, and – am I that much of a slob that she couldn’t eat in my place without cleaning it first?”
“Yes, you’re a slob.” Tim readily agreed before shrugging. “But maybe she was just being nice.”
Mike opened his mouth to respond to that when Tim changed the subject. “Word has it there’s a big payout tonight in Rutland. You feeling up to it?”
Mike’s first, second, and third instinct was to say no. After all, Rin had said she planned to stop by once she got out of work, but Mike didn’t need to look at his books to know that he could use the cash. He was good for the month as far as bills, but there was a sweet ride he’d had his eye on. A 1971 Plymouth Barracuda. The beast was loaded with miles, but it was a southern car so the body was solid. The owner wanted rid of it and if Mike didn’t jump soon, someone else would be calling that baby theirs.
“You driving?”
Tim grinned, “Can I drive the Charger?”
“Sure. If you sign over a kidney as collateral.”
“Deal.” Tim tipped his head back and let out a howl.
Rin’s day had gone downhill fast. That afternoon, she’d ridden with Ginny to meet a client not far outside of town. An old farmer, human, who as Ginny put it, could take some getting used to. “I’ll remain his primary contact,” Ginny said, “but best to meet him in case there’s a problem and I’m not there.”
The man’s house was by no means small, yet the inside was packed so full of things, there was barely space to walk. National Geographic Magazines – probablyeverypublication – in floor to ceiling stacks lined the walls of the living room, as well as stacks of books, and newspapers. Added to that, the man had a collection of clocks that seemed to occupy every surface. He also had a taste for antlers in his décor, though Ginny assured Rin that they were made of wood rather than taken from some poor animal.
The man was nice – if a little scattered. His filing system pretty much a collection of shoe boxes full of receipts. But all of that was fine. It was when he brought them out to the barn to see the new litter of puppies that things had taken a turn for the worst.
Rin was bent over admiring the little fluff balls nursing from their mother when she heard the farmer curse and sharply say, “Now, Lulu, you mind your manners.”
Rin stood and turned, only to come face to face with her first – and hopefully her last – llama. The beast eyed her for all of two seconds before promptly spitting a thick, odious smelling goo right in Rin’s face.
Amazingly, Rin made it out of the barn without gagging. Ginny rushed after her, saying “Please don’t quit, please don’t quit, please don’t quit” as she frantically dug into her bag for some wet wipes to offer for cleanup.
The little cloths were okay in a pinch, but Rin was pretty sure she needed a shower, or a decontamination booth. God, the smell. It definitely beat out Mike’s jar of goo for sheer nastiness.
With a quick assurance to her client that all was well and that Ginny would return, Rin was ushered into Ginny’s car and they sped back to Malsum Pass, both of them rolling their window’s down and breathing through their mouths.
Ginny gave her the remainder of the afternoon off, probably as a balm to ensure that Rin didn’t quit – not that the thought had even crossed her mind, but once she had showered and passed the sniff test, Rin felt silly, it wasn’t like she was sick. So donning a fresh outfit, she’d trudged back to the office, let herself in, and settled in to get some work done. That’s when the phone started ringing, and ringing, and ringing. Holy crap. Every time she tried to get something done, she was interrupted. No wonder Ginny was so ecstatic to have help.
Feeling like she’d been run ragged, Rin was looking forward to some comfort food and some good company. With that in mind, she bundled up against the cold, slung her workout bag over her shoulder and walked to the grocery store. She was going to follow Ginny’s advice and surprise Mike with dinner. A nice gesture indeed, unfortunate though, that part of her reasoning was based on ulterior motives. She fully intended to guide the conversation in such a way as to glean some insight into why Mike was keeping such a large amount of cash in his apartment.
Originally she thought to make Mike her favorite: Coney Island hotdogs. Her dorm mate, a Detroit native who couldn’t understand why a food named after a place in New York couldn’t actually be found readily in New York, had taught her how to make the things. Rin had been hesitant to try them – they’d looked truly awful – but she’d been hooked after her fist bite.
The problem was in how messy they were. They ranked up there with ribs – not a food you could eat with any decorum, and not a food you wanted a male you might possibly be interested in romantically, to see you eat. Not that she thought Mike would mind, he seemed really down to earth, but she still didn’t want him witnessing her covered in mustard and meat sauce, which was bound to happen. Couple that with onion breath… yeah, not a food for early on in any relationship.
Thus, she went with her second favorite: chicken and biscuits. It had always been a source of amusement growing up, that a family of Kitsune rarely ate Japanese food. Mostly because Rin wasn’t a fan. There were a few things she liked – gyoza, kare raisu, and yakitori, which her mother would make on special occasions since the entire family approved of those few dishes – but Rin’s palette was decidedly American.
With the ingredients bought and paid for, Rin ducked her head against the sting of cold and walked as quickly as she could manage to Mike’s garage. She really needed to ask him for another driving lesson or two and actually make an appointment to get a driver’s license. Malsum Pass may not be a big town, but walking in the cold and snow, it felt like miles. Getting into a warm vehicle right now would feel like heaven.
The door to the garage opened easily, but the dim lighting and the quiet left Rin with a sharp pang of disappointment. “Mike?” Rin called out, setting the bags down by her feet. No answer. She frowned, not sure what to do. Had he just stepped out? He must have, since he had left the door unlocked.
