1
Blayde
I jerked out of my reverie, a gasp of air filling my lungs. The distinct sound of gagging somewhere nearby made my fingers tingle with unspent magic.
My head turned to the side, and I narrowed my eyes at the sight of my cat. His head was thrusting back and forth, eyes bulging and tongue hanging out. “Tuddle!” I tried to scramble out from under the Lamborghini. “Don’t you dare throw up on my new carpet!”
“Of course, Love.” He gave me a knowing smirk, his tongue flicking out before his stomach lurched again. Time seemed to slow as his neck stretched forward, his mouth fell open and chunky green bits projectiled out of his throat all over the carpet.
“Ewe!” I recoiled and squeezed my eyes shut, my whole body jerking in disgust. Vomit was the worst.
Magic sparked from my fingers, spurting out in one giant, frantic surge. My eyes flew open to see it hit the wiring harness above me, right between the transmission and the engine.
“No!” I sucked in a breath, horrified. The wiring sparked, blue magic sizzling over it like a sparkler going off. Hissing like an angry cat, grey and blue smoke exploded in a puff.
Shit. I was in so much trouble.
It was bad enough that I was a girl working in a man’s world. Any mistake I made would be doubly scrutinized, purely because of my gender. Little did I know that this was only the beginning of the shit storm about to enter my life. In fact, it would turn out to be one of the highlights of my week.
Pulling myself out from under the car, I jumped up and, frustrated, kicked at the fender. I yelped as it dented, and more dollar signs flashed in my mind. I was going to have to fix that now, too, as my body work guy had given the bird to this small town and flown permanently south to Mexico for a life of sipping margaritas on the beach. “Argh!”
I ran my fingers through my hair and swiveled around to face my orange tabby cat. “Tuddle. I’m going to kill you.”
The brownies, little-sized people, who’d been watching me all day from the top shelf giggled. One of them picked his long, green nose, then shoved the booger in his mouth. I shuddered, more disgusted about that than the vomit, and turned back to Tuddle.
He sat next to the puddle, licking his paws, pleased as punch.
“I just replaced this carpet, you asshole.” I stomped towards him, ready to put the smash down on my stupid cat. “You’re going to clean that up. I’m not doing it! And you’re going to scrub every inch so that you can’t even tell it was there, even if you have to lick it up with your own tongue.”
Tuddle stopped licking his paw and tilted his head towards me, a bored look on his furry face. “I don’t clean up my own vomit, love. That’s a hooman woman’s job.” He layered his fake British accent on thick; he knew I liked it and always did that when he was in trouble. It was his way of buttering me up, even though he’d never visited the great isles in his life. “One for the nanny. Mary used to do it all the time.”
Years ago, I’d magicked my cat so he could speak his thoughts. That was before I knew what a deluded, misogynistic jerk he was. “Mary Poppins was never your nanny, and you know it. And said nanny never was available. She died in 1802 when nannies went out of style and children were expected to do their own cleaning.”
“It’s not my fault you put white carpet in a mechanic’s office.” He glanced down at his vomit, a look of disgust on his furry face. “I really hope it doesn’t stain.” Then he stood, flicking his tail and trotted off without a care in the world, only glancing back to flash me a haughty look. “Besides, I’m not the one that looks like Freddy Krueger had trouble opening an oil bottle. Just watch. There’ll be oil and dirt eating this floor within the week.”
I grabbed an oil rag and flung it at him, hitting him right in the back of his head. He hissed and sat down, his paws grappling at the cloth. I laughed at how ridiculous he looked, then turned back towards the car, frowning. If I focked up the wiring in the car, all my earnings from replacing the tranny would be flushed down the drain. It’d taken me all day and way into the night to do it. The asshole owner of said car wouldn’t be back for a couple of weeks, but I’d eagerly jumped into finishing it, the promise of actually earning some good cash burning a hole in my pocket.
I might actually be able to buy some fruit and vegetables instead of Ramen noodles for the week.
I marched back towards the car, glancing at myself in the large mirror occupying the whole back wall of the shop. Oil and car dirt caked my hair and was smeared across my face and stomach. As for my tutu skirt? Flattened with a large spot of transmission fluid covering the front of it.
Well, shit. Tuddle was right. I’d never really paid that much attention to how dirty I was before now. I glanced down at my black leather combat boots and smirked. At least they were still spotless, which had nothing to do with the cleaning spell I’d put on them right after I bought them.
Tuddle hissed, and I jerked towards him. “What do you want, cat?”
The oil rag had been shredded to pieces, of course. Instead of circling it triumphantly like I expected him to do, he was staring out the shop’s bay at a figure emerging in the dark of the night.
Someone was pushing a car, a man, with broad, muscular arms that made the shoulders of his white t-shirt strain. He had golden-brown, wavy hair that flowed past his shoulders, and it glistened in the flickering street light like sand flowing through an hourglass. Something about him made me still, and a deep aching in my gut blossomed, filling it with an intense and indescribable longing. He paused to shake his bangs out of his face and time hovered in between real life and movie slow-mo, where all I could do was stare at him in awe.
I wanted to snuggle up next to him, to touch his skin, to taste it on my tongue, to fill my nose with his smell.
Ridiculous. And yet, as real as the Spanx my old high school Spanish teacher used to wear.
I blinked, coming back to reality and followed the lines of the car down to the driver’s seat. I could vaguely see the outline of a body steering the car. This time, electricity danced across my skin, sending a buzzing, popping sensation into my fingers and the tip of my nose. I shivered, wondering what the fock was wrong with me. There was something about the smell in the air, the clenching feeling in my gut, their sudden presence in the otherwise quiet night, that made all my senses sit up and take notice.
Only years of training and mom’s voice in my mind kept me from stepping out of the safety of my garage towards them.
Needing to do something with my hands, I grabbed another rag and wiped it across my face and stomach absentmindedly, while watching them cautiously. Tuddle’s hissing grew louder. “Shut up, would you?”
“That’s trouble, love. Stay away.” He darted out the back door, but not without dropping his typical Tuddle wisdom. “May the fur be with you.”
“Force,” I automatically corrected, still unable to keep my eyes off the approaching broken down vehicle.
Tuddle’s words made me leery of their presence, like a dark omen looming in the night. I watched them more carefully as they headed straight towards my shop. Usually I would rush out to help anyone pushing a car, but the man moved as effortlessly as if he was pushing a stroller at the grocery store. As they moved under the street lights, I took mental note of the shiny red paint job on the brand new Chevy Corvette Stingray and smelled money.