Breaking Even (4 page)

My humor fades quickly, because this is crossing a line. I storm out of the house, ready to go bark at the idiot and form some boundaries for the war, when he bursts out of his door, stalking in my direction, barely recognizable under the sliver of moonlight when he gets closer.

It's then I realize the entire street is blacked out, and he looks around to notice the same thing.

“Was it her?” a guy asks from inside his house, laughter lacing his words.

“No,” Mr. Sexy growls. “Whole damn neighborhood is blacked out. Let's take this to someone else's house.”

He starts to say something to me, since I'm standing here at the edge of his yard and staring for no particular reason. He's still wearing ketchup. I can say that's why I'm staring, even though it’s really too dark to see it.

“Can't. Just got a text to pick up some diapers. I need to go,” a male's voice says—and it sounds familiar, oddly enough.

“I should go, too,” another says, and they all speak over each other as bodies filter out. All I can make out are their silhouettes before I turn around.

I head back to my house, feeling a little weird just staring in the dark. It's been a while since this neighborhood has had a blackout. It's usually the bigger cities in the summer that blackout because of the heat and everyone using their air conditioning.

It’s not anywhere nearly that hot, so I don’t know what’s going on.

Just as I settle down on my sofa and pull out my phone to call Maggie, there's a knock at the door. I start to answer, but I know who it is.

“Not in the dark,” I murmur, shivering a little. He'll torture me if he finds out I'm creeped out at night when I’m here alone.

“I'm not here to get revenge just yet,” he says through the door. “You have a gas hot water heater. I've fixed it for Maggie before. Mine is electric, and you've hosed me down with ketchup. It's only right you let me in to use the shower.”

He's good at sounding harmless. Too bad I'm too smart for his tricks.

“Sorry. But no. You have plenty of friends' houses you can go to.”

“They all just left. Most of them have shit to do tonight. Some of them aren't really friends. And besides, I'm not getting into my car with this shit all over me.”

I purse my lips for several long minutes, and finally, with a reluctant sigh, I do something he's bound to make me regret.

“As long as you call a temporary truce,” I say through the door, my hand hovering over the doorknob.

“Truce until I'm out of your house. Then the war resumes,” he says quickly.

I doubt I can trust him on that, but I still let him in. I gasp when he rips me up from the ground and crushes me in a... hug? I'm really embarrassed when my legs try to wrap around his waist, because he drops me back down to the ground and laughs as he walks into my bathroom.

“I've got first shower,” he says, shutting the door behind him. “By the way, love the new hair color.”

It's then I realize what he's done. The bastard has covered me in ketchup, and made fun of my horribly bluish-gray hair. I go to pound on the door, wishing I had the strength to beat the hell out of him.

“You said truce!” I yell, glaring at the door like I can see through it.

“Believe me, that wasn't revenge. That was just a taste of what's to come.”

I wish he meant that dirty. I hate him for making me wish that. Especially since I know he'd never see me that way. Guys like him go for girls like Tria Noles or Ash Masters or even Raya Capperton. They don't go for girls like me.

Instead of fuming at my bathroom door or throwing myself a pity party, I grab some clothes and head to Maggie's room. I'll just shower in there—a cold shower. Maybe he'll be gone by the time I get out.

***

RYE

Does this girl buy anything other than white or black cotton panties? No lace, no satin, no other color. How can someone so feisty manage to be so dull in every other way? There's no way she's getting laid if she’s wearing this stuff.

She has a thousand candles, like most girls, and they’re all lit throughout the room and the house, giving me a view of the sad life she leads. I should have snooped when I was cutting down her bed.

“What the hell are you doing?” she yells at me, slapping my back and then dancing around while clutching her hand as she scowls at me. “That hurt!” she barks.

I look at her as though she's lost her mind while I close her sad underwear drawer.

“You hit me,” I remind her as she glares at me.

Her hair is wet and dripping down the front of her red shirt. That wouldn't be so distracting if I had gotten laid in the past few months. Damn work.

“Yeah, but you're looking through my panties!”

“That's what you call them?” I ask, sounding intentionally disappointed as I point over my shoulder, gesturing to the drawer of the dreary.

Her eyes rake over my naked chest and fall down to the pink towel clasped around my waist. Good thing I'm sexy enough to pull off any color.

She blushes while attempting to scowl, but she's too busy getting lost in her fantasies. While she's distracted, I walk by her, pretending as though I didn't just break the cardinal rule about personal boundaries. You learn a lot about someone by their underwear drawer. Poor girl has no life.

No wonder she started a war with me. It's probably the only excitement she ever gets.

“Why were you looking at my panties, and why are you wearing my towel?” she asks as she follows me out.

“Let me go grab some clothes and we'll go get something to eat,” I say instead of answering her question.

Her footsteps pause, and I fight back my grin.

“Why would I go to get something to eat with you?”

“Because I'm starving and you interrupted my food, which is too cold to eat by now, and I have no way of warming it up. Get ready.”

“I'm already ready,” she says as I turn around.

Her hair is still wet, she’s wearing very little makeup, and her clothes are two sizes too big for her. Did I mention her hair is wet?

“Just thought you might want to wear something that fits. Or maybe dry your hair.”

“I prefer comfortable stuff,” she says, an angry, defensive undercurrent to her tone. “And I can’t dry my hair without power. I’ll look like a clown if I attempt makeup by candlelight.”

Sheesh. She blows my kitchen to hell with her ketchup bomb, and she's pissed at me. Hell, I didn’t even point out the makeup bit. Not aloud, anyway. Well, I don’t think I did.

“Fine. I'll be back in five.”

I jog over to my house while still wearing her towel, and ignore the numerous whistles and mocking catcalls I hear in the darkness. At least they can't tell the damn thing is pink.

It doesn’t take me long to pull on some clean, ketchup-free clothes—even though the fact I can’t see a damn thing makes me uncertain about what I’m even wearing.

Several flashlight beams are littering the sidewalks when I come back out, and my feisty little neighbor is standing in my yard, her back turned to me as the moonlight gives us all the light it can produce—which isn’t too much tonight.

“You could have come in,” I say as I shut and lock the door.

She turns around and her arms fall to her sides.

“I'm still trying to figure out what you're about to do,” she says, her eyes probably oozing skepticism, but it's too dark to see.

That's when the lights come back on, and the neighborhood comes to life as all the interrupted evenings resume. She looks up at the streetlights, and she shrugs.

“Looks like you can heat your food up now,” she says while walking off.

It's like the life has suddenly been zapped out of her, but I don't say anything as she crosses the street. Well, until I see her car is still crumpled up. Now I have to speak.

“You need to get your car fixed,” I call out.

That shit is dangerous. No brake lights or taillights are there right now.

“I'm working on it,” she sighs, and then she disappears into her house.

Oh well. So much for eating out. At least now I have plenty of time to plot my next attack.

Chapter 3

RYE

She's going to be so pissed when she finds the little surprise I left for her. My stupid grin only grows. I feel like a kid right now.

I hate early mornings, so it’s rare that I ever go in before ten. But this morning I have too much to do, so I’m heading in at the ungodly hour of six. I'm already running late, but I can't leave until I hear her—

“Shit!” she screams, a loud clattering following her squeals of terror as her feet scurry in panic across the house.

Fuck yeah!

I bought the nastiest looking tarantula I could find at the pet store after I ate my reheated burger, and then I put it in her room while she was sleeping. Maggie is quickly becoming my favorite accomplice. I think she's enjoying watching this little war.

I'm sure as hell enjoying partaking in it.

My laughter comes out in thick spurts as I make my way across her lawn, and her door jerks open as she yells at me. “Bastard! I let you borrow my shower, and this is what you do?”

I just laugh harder as I make it to my car.

“Sorry, tiger. Couldn't resist.”

“Come get it out of my room. It's on my bed!” she yells, standing there with her hair a complete wreck while wearing the most embarrassing pajamas known to man. Are those unicorns on flannel? Oh good grief.

“Not happening,” I chirp while opening the door to my car. “Have fun with your new pet. I named him Killer.”

She runs to grab the garden hose from beside her house, and I crank the Range Rover and toss it in reverse, trying to hurry before she gets me, and laughing my ass off the whole time. When I throw it in drive, I glance in the rearview mirror to see her running with that hose in her hand until it reaches its limit and jerks her backwards.

My laughter only pours out harder, and I finally turn on my air to kill the heat trapped in my car.

“Fuck!” spews out of my mouth as the pink flecks from hell blow out and cover me.

Glitter? Fucking glitter? How did she get glitter into my air vents? My car stays locked!

I can't go back home because that crazy girl will be waiting. She probably prepared for my return. No. I refuse to give her the satisfaction of seeing me wear this... fucking sparkling shit, or shooting me with her damn garden hose.

I curse like a madman as I drive to work, groaning every time more glitter falls from my body. My ride is going to be a bitch to clean up.

I park quickly, hoping no one sees me like this... But my shitty luck continues.

Tag is here, waiting for me. I forgot I was supposed to take in Ash's car for upgrades today.

The grin that unfolds on his face taunts me before his merciless laughter.

“What happened to you? Just get back from Never Never Land, Tinker Bell?”

I hate him.

“Don't start,” I growl, which of course makes him laugh harder as he follows me into the garage office.

He stands at the doorway, doubled over in laughter, and I turn to glare at him as more pink glitter falls to the floor. Christ. That shit is going to be everywhere.

“Are you coming, or are you going to stand here and laugh all fucking morning?”

He has to grip the wall when his body buckles from his laughter.

“Go on without me, Tink. I'll just follow your pixie dust trail. Peter Pan might need your help.”

I roll my eyes while clenching my fists.

“Fuck you,” I grumble, watching his body continue to shake with his mocking roars.

“Easy, boy,” he taunts. “Someone needs to calm down, and
think happy thoughts,
” he says, singing the last part in a child’s sort of tone.

Even I have to stifle my grin. The girl is crafty. I underestimated her. How is she breaking into all my stuff?

“Are you done yet? I thought you came here to get work done to your wife's car.” I cross my arms over my chest as he slowly straightens back up, his laughter only barely tapering off.

“As long as the Lost Boys can spare you, then yes. I'd like some stuff done to Ash's car before her birthday.”

I groan while rolling my eyes, and he laughs harder while taking a chair.

“I take it she won this round?” he asks.

By comparison, my tarantula prank sucks. And I was proud of that, too. Damn it.

“Yeah,” I grumble. Especially since I didn't see it coming.

We've been going back and forth, but she had to have planned this before she found the spider, considering I was there when she found the damn thing. Shit.

I refuse to let her win this prank war, and right now, the numbers are in her favor.

***

RYE

“What the hell is that?” Wren asks, wrinkling his nose as he walks in.

“Mayonnaise and donuts,” I answer, looking at him as though it should be obvious. I squeeze in more of the nasty filling, imagining the look of pure disgusted horror she’ll have when she takes a big bite.

The donut swells, and I take the tube out to move on to the next.

“Are you using a calk gun to do that?” he asks through a snicker.

“I didn't exactly have anything else on hand.” I shrug, glancing around my office like that should be obvious, and then I look back down to resume the task at hand.

“So the girl puts a dirty movie on the side of your house and blows up a bottle of ketchup in your kitchen, and your idea of revenge is to give her gross donuts?” he asks, shaking his head in disappointment. “Weak.”

He doesn’t even know about the glitter explosion.

The donut idea is weak. But I need time to fully form something massive.

“The donuts are just part of the prank,” I lie, trying to save face. “There's more to come. What are you doing here?”

I look up from my sad donuts that now don’t feel good enough for the war. Damn him for ruining this for me.

“Just walked out on the blind date from hell. I love Tria and Ash for trying to get me back in the game, but I swear they are terrible at picking girls. Besides, I'm not really ready to date yet.”

Considering his ex-wife screwed his brother, I get that. What I don't understand is why he married her if he couldn't get past it.