Mischief and the Mechanic (The Everette #3)

1. Andy

ANDY

Maybe the glitter bombs were a mistake.

Muffled curses and coughing come from the front of the apartment. An apartment I know like the back of my hand. I’ve spent almost as much time in Jedd’s place as I have my small cottage.

“Goddamn it, Mischief. I just got the fucking confetti cleaned out from the last time.” Shuffling accompanies his muttering.

Through the hall closet’s cracked door, I can spy on Jedd, who is moving around his living room cautiously while leaving a confetti disaster in his wake. I stifle the giggles that nearly emerge at the exasperation in his tone.

Three.

Two.

One.

A loud pop heralds the shower of sparkles raining over his inky hair.

I anchored the glitter bombs to the ceiling with an army of push pins and kitchen twine—trip mine-style—so he got a literal shower of fine grit glitter when he closed the door behind him. The twine at his feet set off the four confetti canons when he opened the door.

Ahhhh, the sweet smell of victory.

“Glitter? Come on! We agreed no more fucking glitter. Did she set them on a fuckin’ trip mine? What are we in? Call of fucking Duty?”

I bite back another round of giggles. We did agree. And then I decided to nuke that particular truce after he turned me pink for two weeks.

Pink.

Bright pink.

From nose to toes.

For two weeks.

“Why is it dick confetti? I have tiny penises on my face, woman. Oh. It’s on.” His voice drops to a mutter. “She’s not gonna know what fuckin’ hit her when I’m done.” My best friend gets grumpier and grumpier as he takes in the brilliance of my evil genius.

Jedidiah Calhoun and I have been playing this game for the nearly three decades I’ve lived in Idaho. Innocent pranks between friends have become more elaborate, more complicated and more technical over the years.

Easing forward, I stick the tip of my paintball gun’s barrel through the slim opening in the closet door.

Time for the coup de grace.

After a slow breath, I zero in on Jedd’s hulking form and squeeze the trigger. Bright splashes of neon pink—almost as bright as the dye he put in my body wash—splatter across his back as my aim hits my target dead on.

Bet he’s wishing he never taught me how to paintball right about now.

“What? Jesus. What the fuck?” He splutters through the onslaught and whips around in time for my second volley to spray paint across his trim stomach and wide chest.

His arms fly up to cover his head, and I take my opening.

With a tuck and roll, I ease as silently as possible into the kitchen. The best part about him being a handy guy who likes to fix shit? None of his doors squeak. His floorboards are silent. No normal house noises give away my position.

At the last second, I duck into the alcove behind the butcher block island between the rustic barstools I helped him pick out.

Giggles escape, no matter how hard I try to stifle them. I smash a hand over my mouth to muffle them before scooting to the far end of the room to wait.

“Yeah, yeah. Ha-ha. Now I know you’re here. Just wait until I find you, Andy. You’re gonna wish you were never born.” The raspy growl of his threat raises the hair on the back of my neck.

I stopped questioning my body’s response to him a long time ago. Jedd will never be more than a friend. I’m not built for anything other than casual with members of the opposite sex.

The muffled thud of his work boots hitting the linoleum tells me I have less than ten seconds before he finds my hiding spot, and my chances of escape at that point will diminish to zero.

The front door to his apartment is still standing open, and after a quick glance down at my watch, I grin.

Loud bursts of sound erupt, a cacophony of noise screaming through the small apartment.

“Jesus Christ, what now?”

It’s about twenty different alarm clocks going off in your apartment, Jedd. That’s what now.

As expected, he forgoes his search of me to thud his way back to his room, and I seize my chance to escape.

Popping out of my hiding place, I yank the strap of my paintball gun until it lays flat across my back, then quick-step around furniture toward the door as quietly as I can manage.

I’m small and light on my feet, so I don’t make a lot of noise.

I’m just feet from the door, with my arm outstretched to grab the knob, when it all goes wrong.

Strong arms, decorated in tattoos so familiar I could trace them in my sleep, close around me.

I’m lifted off my feet and an involuntary squeal emerges.

Immediately, I thrash in his hold. My bestie’s evergreen and engine oil scent invades my nose, both familiar and panic-inducing.

Fuck. Shit.

“Gotcha.” His breath gusts over my ear, though I barely make out the word over nearly two dozen alarm clocks beeping in the background.

My scalp prickles at the grit of his whisper in my ear.

Goosebumps prickle across my skin and speed down my arms.

Arms that he’s holding hostage. The rasp of his calloused hands is rough against my skin.

My nipples tighten against the cups of my bra, and I curse my body’s involuntary reaction.

Stupid body.

“Let me go.” I wiggle like a hellcat in his arms. He tightens his grip, holding me in place as my mane of hair slips out of the knot I have it in on the top of my head.

“You wish. You know the rules.”

I do know the rules. He caught me, so I have to help him clean up. I slump in defeat. I really thought the clocks would distract him long enough for me to get lost. I should have just stuck to the glitter bombs and confetti cannons with a camera set up to watch and record the destruction.

But I got cocky with the paintball gun.

“Fine. Put me down so I can go turn off the clocks.”

“Clocks? Is that what that is?” His arms loosen, and once my feet are back on the floor, I turn, grinning.

“Yeah. About twenty of them. We should turn them off before someone reports the noise.”

It’s after ten at night. Everette is a town that pretty much rolls the sidewalks up when the sun goes down, and most of town square is abandoned by now, but the last thing Jedd or I need is one of his brother’s deputies—or worse, Harlan himself—coming in with a noise complaint.

I start back toward his bedroom, pulling plugs to the clocks along the way. Could I have put them all in his bedroom to make my life easier?

Of course. But I didn’t. They’re scattered around his apartment. Some behind his couch, some in his bathroom, more in the kitchen, most of them in his bedroom.

“Glitter?” he asks.

“Payback for turning me pink.” I regret nothing.

I walked around looking like Poppy from Trolls for almost two weeks.

“I guess that’s fair.” He chuckles.

One thing I love about Jedd is that he can take as much as he dishes out. It’s the one unspoken rule of our pranks. As soon as it’s no longer funny to one of us, we stop.

I yank another screeching alarm clock plug from the wall.

So much for my plan to make a hasty escape while he was busy.

Lesson learned for next time.

Because between Jedd and me? There’s always a next time.

Flavor explodes on my tastebuds as I slurp up the noodles in the bowl in front of me. On the TV across the room, a band of animated idiotic misfits embarks on a quest against dragons.

“Oh my god, Jedd. What are in these?”

He’s sprawled out on the couch next to me, devouring his own bowl of noodles. I can honestly say that I’ve never cooked anything as good as the Calhouns do a day in my life. Jedd’s is the best though. But maybe I’m biased.

“Some sesame seed oil, brown sugar, soy sauce, ginger and a couple other things. Not too hard.” There’s a shimmer dancing in his beard, and it makes me snicker.

One, because I got him good with the glitter. He’s going to be cleaning it out of his hair and beard for weeks. Two, because less than an hour after cleaning up the wreckage of our latest battle, we’re curled up on his couch, hanging out like usual.

Hanging out with Jedd is my happy place.

“Not too hard for you,” I say. I’ve learned a few recipes for my nine-year-old niece, Piper, but most of them were things Jedd swore even I couldn’t mess up as he taught me how to make them.

I snag a thin slice of perfectly cooked beef between my chopsticks. It melts on my tongue. A sip of ginger beer is the perfect complement to the savory meal.

On the TV, two of the show’s main characters are pining for each other, and I roll my eyes. “I wish those two would just bang it out already. The angst is too much.”

Jedd laughs at my exasperation. I’ve been vocally shipping these two as a couple since episode one, and here we are on season three and the two dummies still haven’t gotten together.

“I mean, what’s taking them so long? He literally told her he loves her in season one and two seasons later they still can’t sit down to have a fricken conversation.”

“She’s going to live for hundreds of years beyond him. He’s also tied to his matron now, so it complicates things.”

“Pfft. Love conquers all. Or at least it should if ratings weren’t involved. They should just talk it out and bang, then live happily ever after.”

God, do I love a happily ever after. But what works for other people doesn’t make sense for me, so I root for true love from the sidelines, and I’m mostly okay with that.

“If you say so,” Jedd says. He takes a sip of his beer, and I watch his Adam’s apple bob in his throat.

There’s a glint in the dusting of hair there too, and it makes me irrationally happy that he’s sparkly like a mid-2000s vampire.

I set my empty noodle bowl on the coffee table and snag the afghan blanket from the back of the couch. Early October is chilly, but Jedd hasn’t turned on his heat yet since he runs hot. Me? I’m already cold and thankful for the thick socks I put on this morning.

“You cold?” he asks, and I shake my head.

“Nah. I’m good with the blanket.” The episode’s credits roll, and I turn to look at Jedd closer. He gets up early. We both do, and it’s late. I know that he has more than enough work to keep him busy, but I’m greedy for a little bit more time.

“One more episode?” I ask hopefully.

His mouth cracks in a wide yawn. “Sure. I have to let dinner digest a little bit anyway, or I’ll have heartburn all night.”

I reach for the remote and click through the opening sequence before pressing play and leaning against him. His arm comes around my shoulder, and I soak in his heat while I watch the beginnings of an epic battle scene play out on the screen while sneaking peeks at him.

He looks tired. I’ve been telling him for the last year that he needs more help during this time at the shop, that he can’t do it all, but does the stubborn man listen to me? No, of course not.

His eyes start to drift shut about five minutes into the episode, and instead of waking him up to go to bed, I stay still, just enjoying his company and being close to him.

We’ll have to watch the episode again, but that’s fine.

This has been our usual for as long as I can remember.

We met in kindergarten when I was the new kid in class and some of the other kids tried to pick on me and my sister, Alex.

Jedd swooped in like a valiant knight and chased away the dragons.

Soon, I was following him around until he couldn’t shake me.

The final test of our new friendship? He dunked my head in an epic mud puddle on the playground after I pantsed him at recess.

From there, our relationship of pranks was born. We’ve been inseparable ever since. Other than him going to college and then trade school and me to cosmetology school, we’ve lived in each other’s back pockets.

Play dates turned into group events with friends, and then shifted to dinner and watching TV shows. Jedd and the rest of the Calhouns have been a family to me nearly forever.

I know my time as his best friend is running out.

That someday—probably soon—he’s going to find someone to settle down with.

That his person will take my place in his life—as they should—and that I’ll need to move on in my own way.

Hell, two of his brothers already have their happily ever afters, so who’s to say he’s not next in the universes cosmic quest to marry off the Calhoun boys?

My time as his number one buddy will end eventually, and I can’t help the pinch in my heart when I think about him not being the first name in my head in the morning and the last person I’ll annoy at the end of the day.

But for right now? We have spicy savory noodles, our current favorite show, and snuggles on the couch. A girl can’t ask for much more than that.

Not when staying single is the only option.