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“Should we call the police and report this?”
“Do you really want to file another police report? That will just slow us down that much more. We’re running just shy of ‘on time’ as it is.”
“You make a good point.” He nodded. “We’ll just tell Miss Scanlon to add the cost of repainting the car to my bill.”
“Really?” I asked, lifting a brow. “That’s very nice of you.”
“Contingencies, Miss Puckett. They happen,” he said, echoing my words earlier. “Particularly when you’re around. But you shouldn’t be held responsible for the actions of mammary-minded juvenile delinquents.”
I searched his face for some hint of derision or deception. I found none, just unearthly blue eyes and an unsettling amount of sincerity. He really wasn’t angry or annoyed with me. He was incredibly embarrassed, however, and trying very hard not to look me directly in the eye.
Men, vampire or otherwise, were so strange when it came to boobs.
“Perhaps we can paint over the, er, additions with black paint so it’s less noticeable.”
“I thought about it, but adding another layer might make it harder for the professionals to fix. I’ll call Iris in the morning and ask her if we have some sort of vandalism roadside-assistance plan,” I said. “Let’s just get on the road, shall we?”
I reached into the car and popped the hood. As I propped it back over the windshield, Mr. Sutherland frowned. “I don’t think this is the best way to keep other drivers from seeing them, Miss Puckett, unless you plan to cut eyeholes in the hood.”
“Funny.” I snorted. “I just want to make sure our friendly neighborhood car decorators didn’t diddle with my engine.”
“Diddle?”
“I would use the f-word again, but cursing seems to upset you,” I said, peering down at the gleaming inner works of the car.
“Isn’t this just a bit paranoid?”
“It might be, if I hadn’t been stranded outside a mall in Poughkeepsie once, believing my car was completely dead, only to find out that some smartass had taken advantage of a faulty outside hood latch and unscrewed my distributor cap. The tow-truck guy laughed his ass off at me. So now, I just like to make sure everything’s in order.”
Mr. Sutherland peered over my shoulder. “Do you know what you’re looking at?”
I cut my eyes at him. “Would you ask a man that same question?”
“Yes, because I have no clue what I’m looking at.” He looked affronted, which made me laugh, despite the situation. “Why would said smartass do something like that?” he asked as I checked the obvious spots, the spark plugs, the alternator, the battery cables.
“I think I was being set up for a mugging in Poughkeepsie, but the tow truck got there before anything could happen. But in this case, I don’t know—just in case the automotive boobs weren’t demoralizing enough?”
I gently nudged his hands out of the way before snapping the hood shut. Remembering the incident with the car door, he flexed his healed fingers. “Are you demoralized?”
“Are you kidding?” I scoffed. “This is just Tuesday for me.”
“But it’s Thursday.”
“It’s an expression.”
“How do you know about engines?” he asked.
“I helped crew a yacht in the Caribbean one summer in college. I was friends with the ship’s mechanic, and he taught me the basics. It comes in handy when you travel as much as I do.”
“What did you do on the crew?”
“General dogsbody. I ran lines, cleaned cabins, cooked on occasion. The yacht belonged to my very well-off roommate’s dad, so he was pretty easy on us, on the rare occasions he was actually on the boat. It was one of the best summers of my life.”
It was also the precursor to my dropping out of school after just one year. It turned out that returning for school two months into the semester was frowned upon in some academic circles. Who knew?
I cleaned my hands with some Wet Wipes as he climbed into the backseat. Sliding into the driver’s seat, I turned toward him. “Look, we’re riding around in a car with tits. I think normal social constraints have gone out the window. Can you just call me by my first name? And sit up front?”
He was silent while he mulled it over.
