Spike had a problem, a huge problem that just happened to come in an almost impossibly perfect package. Morality wasn’t something that kept him up at night. He swore, drank and gambled with the best of them and with more than a few that would never be the best at anything. He was not a monk; if a nice looking bird wanted to go for a few rounds he saw no reason to deny her, provided she was the right kind of girl.
Buffy was not the right kind of girl. Hell, she was the poster child for the wrong kind: too young, too sweet, too innocent and far, far too bloody cute. Even her feet were cute. She’d worn sandals to drop off the muffins the day before and he’d found not staring at her pink painted toe nails startlingly difficult.
Pretty toes didn’t take away the giant red circle with the line through it that followed the girl around, though. His best course of action was obvious; he needed to stay away from her, because his cock did not understand the rule about messing around with virgins. Nope, his cock was all about pretty girls with great big green eyes that looked at him like he was some kind of Superman.
The problem was she wouldn’t stay away. He stared at her for a moment before speaking. She was wearing another dress, a white and green printed number with a full skirt and tiny straps tied into bows on her shoulders. She looked like she was on her way to a TV show picnic with matching plates and a super green lawn or maybe to pose for a mayonnaise ad. Yeah, he could see that. She had the sort of wholesome prettiness that casting blokes wanted to pass off as the girl next door. Spike had lived in a lot of places. He’d never had a girl like her living next door.
He sighed. “Seem to recall telling you to stop with the baked goods.”
She smiled. “It’s a turkey sandwich with avocado and bacon on sourdough.”
Fuck, that sounded good. “You do understand that the baked part wasn’t really the point, yeah?”
She shrugged. “Are you having a good day?”
He laughed. “I was…yeah, it was fine.” He tried to stress the word was, but she remained unfazed.
“What kind of music do you like?”
“Why? You gonna make me a mixed tape?” He didn’t mean to flirt; she’d simply surprised him and he’d responded without thinking.
She shook her head. “That’s kind of a boy thing. Boys make mixed tapes to impress girls. Or they did back when people still had tape players.”
“And girls bring food?”
She shrugged and grinned. “Haven’t you ever heard the saying? The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”
Spike’s stomach flipped. “Not mine.” He pressed the bag back into her hands.
She giggled. “We’ll see.” She walked over to the tool bench. “I’ll just leave this here. If you’re not going to eat it soon, you should put it in the fridge. The mayo could go bad if it’s out too long.” She placed the white bag carefully on the oil-stained surface and turned around to smile at him.
“You do know there are other men in town with a motorcycle, right?” It happened from time to time, he thought. Good girls got off on motorcycles. Not literally, or yeah that too, but something about the power and freedom pulled them in.
“Of course I do.” She shook her head like he was the strange one. “I should let you get back to things. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She turned and sashayed back out the door.
He was too distracted by the swishing of her skirt to remember that he didn’t want to see her the next day.
Gunn came over and slapped him on the back. “Congratulations, man.”
Spike frowned. “What?”
“On the impending nuptials.” He laughed at his own joke.
Spike didn’t. “She brought me a sandwich.”
Gunn’s laughter only increased. “What, does she want you to start eating healthier?”
“It’s just a crush ‘cause I helped her out the other night. She’ll get over it soon.”
His friend shrugged. “Maybe, man. The question is why do you want that. Girl brought me a sandwich…” He nodded and grinned. “Yeah.”
“She’s not…she’s going to college.”
“Now?”
“Yeah.” Spike nodded.
“Sounds legal.”
“That’s not—she should date college boys.”
Gunn frowned. “You’re smart, man. You could go back to school if you want.”
“I don’t.”
“So there’s no problem here. Take her out for tacos and let her bake you a cake.” Gunn shrugged. “Or, you know, go ahead and marry her. You’re not going to do any better; her chocolate chips cookies were better than my Mama’s.”
Spike laughed. “I’ll be sure to tell your Mum next time I see her.”
“Yeah, like I’m gonna invite you over.”
“No need. We got a standing thing every Thursday. She likes a bit of light meat.” He wiggled his eyebrows.
Gunn slugged his shoulder just a little harder than was strictly friendly. “That was wrong, man. You are wrong. Don’t talk about my Mama.”
“But she just loves to talk about you. You know before—afterward she’s too tired. One cigarette and then I have to go.”
“Fuck, man!”
Spike laughed until his eyes welled up with tears. “Your face…mate, you’re so bloody easy.”
“Yeah and you’re an asshole.”
Spike nodded. There was another easy joke there, but a man can only claim to mess around with his mate’s mum so many times.
*************************************************************************************
Buffy sat with Cordelia on her bed in Cordelia’s tastefully decorated bedroom and surveyed her nail polish collection. “This is nice.” She tapped a peach color.
Cordelia nodded. “I wore it with that grey dress the first time I went out with Liam.”
Buffy laughed. “I can’t believe you remember that stuff.”
“It’s this thing, when you fall in love; everything is imprinted on your mind. Or at least it’s always like that for me.”
“Yeah.” Buffy sighed. “I get that.”
“Ooh, that’s right. You have a mystery crush. You ready to tell me who he is?”
“You really don’t know him. He’s…older.” She traced the floral pattern on Cordelia’s bedspread with her finger.
Cordelia’s right eyebrow arched perfectly. “How much older?”
“I don’t know. I mean he’s not old, just twenty something.”
Cordelia nodded. “Hmmm…like twenty-one or like twenty-nine?”
“Somewhere in the middle, I think.”
She selected a color and shook the bottle. “And where did you meet this mysterious older man?”
“He…he sort of gave me a hand when Rick…got out of hand. He’s…he is really…”
“What?” Cordelia leaned closer, her eyes twinkling with interest.
“Hot. I mean, really.”
“So you’re going out?” She twisted the cap off and pulled her knees up to her chest so that she could paint her toenails.
“Not yet, but I have a plan.”
“What kind of plan?”
“I’m going to wear him down.”
Her friend looked skeptical. “You know Liam has friends. If you want, I’m sure he’ll set you up with someone nice.”
Buffy laughed. “I’m not desperate, I’m just…decided.”
“He’s that hot?”
Buffy nodded. “Yup.” She picked up a bottle of fire engine red polish. “Can I borrow this?”
“Sure.” She looked at her quietly for a moment and Buffy knew that this was one of the rare times that her friend was considering her words before she spoke. She was a little disappointed when Cordelia settled on, “This is more you,” and picked up a pale pink. “Ooh or if you want to try something kind of different, this one is called Granny Smith it would be super cute on your toes.” Cordelia handed her a bottle of light green polish.
It would be super cute. She loved it. Buffy shook her head. “I’m going for more of a not cute look.”
***********************************************************************************
Spike wasn’t even surprised when he heard her voice the next day. To be more accurate, he wasn’t surprised until he rolled himself out from under the BMW he’d been working on and got a glimpse of her in a black leather mini skirt. He was torn between the impulse to slide back under the car and try to forget the sight and an even stronger urge to wrap her in a tarp and send her home before anyone else saw. Of course it was too late for that; she was chatting happily with Gunn.
He wiped his hands off with a rag that was too dirty to actually do any good and walked over to them. He should pretend not to notice her evocative attire, he thought. She’d clearly thought that putting on a tiny skirt and a tight red shirt would get his motor running. He didn’t need to confirm her suspicion. He swallowed, hard. If she unbuttoned her shirt and laid down across the front of a car she’d be all ready to feature in one of the magazines that Mack left in the bathroom. Where had she even found knee high leather boots? He couldn’t imagine they were sold in the same store as the pretty frock she’d worn yesterday. He just had to ignore it. He shot Gunn a glance and waited for the other man to disappear.
“New look?” Fuck! What happened to ignoring it? He railed inwardly, but was careful to project a look of casual indifference. He even leaned back against a shelf.
“Oh.” She pretended to be surprised at the question, the minx. She glanced down as if she didn’t remember what she was wearing. “Not really, just something from my closet.”
Spike nodded and tried not to laugh. Something from her closet –- his pale, British behind.
“Do you like it?” She shrugged as though the question had just occurred to her. She was just too bloody adorable.
“No.” He shook his head. “I like the way you normally dress.”
Her eyes widened slightly and he knew she was surprised. Well so was he, surprised he’d said it and even more surprised to realize that he’d meant it. He did. Spike saw girls wearing a version of Buffy’s current get-up a dozen times a week. They almost never looked as good in it as she did, but that didn’t matter. He liked her dresses, all clean and girly. She was like a beam of light in the dingy garage.
“Oh.” She looked down as her cheeks reddened. “Well, it was just something in my closet anyway.”
“Could be worse. When I wait too long to do laundry, I get stuck wearing a T-shirt with SpongeBob Squarepants that the guys gave me as a prank last year.” Why was he telling her that? She smiled and he realized why. “Anyway, unless you’ve got a car that needs work—”
“Just bringing you this.” She held out a foil-covered pie plate. “It’s cherry.”
Of course it was. He almost groaned. A thousand innuendo-filled remarks flooded his brain. He simply took the plate. “Thanks, love.”
She beamed. “You’re welcome. I’ll see you—”
“Tomorrow.”
“She nodded. “Yup.”
He sighed. “I meant what I said. You’re a nice kid, but—”
“I can vote and your hair is not naturally white.” She grinned. Even her teeth were perfect. “See you tomorrow.”
As soon as she walked out the door, the garage was filled with the sound of Warrant’s Cherry Pie blaring over the speakers. “Gunn!”
His friend came out of the office laughing. “Not me, man. That’s all Mack. You know he loves that hair band crap.”
It was enough to make a grown man cry all right.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Thank you all so much for the lovely comments. I am way behind in responding to all of them, but I promised a new chapter this weekend...so here it is. :)
Extra Special Thanks to Puddinhead for beta-reading and enthusiasm!!!
Extra Special Thanks to Puddinhead for beta-reading and enthusiasm!!!
Chapter End Notes:
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