No way.
Derek.
Derek: Hey, babe, I’m gonna cancel our Friday date. My mom’s in town. Or she will be then. Sorry. Check ya later.
“‘Check ya later’?” I read aloud. “Are you kidding me, dude?”
When another message didn’t come through, I decided he was not kidding me. And I had no response.
Unwise decisions were made that night. I was not ashamed—at least right then. Later would be another story.
I reached into the bag for the fuzzy handcuffs, staring at the flawless, gleaming silver paint of his truck. Purpose burned in my gaze as I rushed forward and settled on the perfect spot to become my version of Picasso—also known as the driver’s side door.
The wind picked up as a couple hurrying by shrieked and laughed, giving me a chance to reconsider my ill-conceived actions, but I did not. In for a penny, right? Biting my lip, I cocked my head, furiously blinking away the rain as I started to dig my message into the paint. The scraping noise made me shudder, but it did not make me stop. Nothing could at this point. After the day I’d had, this was the only way I could get some of my own back.
I didn’t even know if I’d get to keep my damn cat. Due to his own stupidity, granted, but whatever.
My message was short and pithy. And easy to read since I did it in block letters.
Catch this one later, you troll.
I tried to shake the water out of my hair like a dog. It did not work. But I did it again just the same as I stepped back and tilted my head to view my handiwork once more.
LITTLE DICK
My lips curved as I whirled to go—and smacked into a very hard male chest. My startled gaze flew upward as his brutally strong hands clamped around my upper arms. The only thing I’d been able to coherently absorb in that minute was just how huge he was and that his shaggy hair hid half his face.
“What the hell did you do to my truck?” His deep baritone halted my flight to escape. “And why?”
“Your truck?” My gaze shot to my message. “This isn’t your truck.”
Except clearly, I had not chosen the correct frigging vehicle. Because why would I? I had the worst luck in the entire world.
Now I was going to go to jail. That would look awesome on my profile for thirty businesspeople to watch under thirty.
The guy held up his key fob and unlocked the truck door. “My. Truck.”
“Oh, no.” My voice was barely audible over the cracking thunder and the endlessly pelting rain.
My first occurrence of vehicle-induced violence and I hadn’t even picked the right truck.
Fuck me now.
TWO
Today was a fucking banner day.
I shoved my wet hair out of my face and her eyes—which were already the size of an anime heroine’s—widened. Right now, I was too pissed off to worry about the damn scar on my face.
I was tall and I knew my eyes were a creepy dark blue that looked black in low light. Add in the slash down my eyebrow and cheek from an accident in my workshop and I probably freaked her out. The rain-slickened streets kicked back every single headlight and streetlamp at me, making my eyeballs throb in my head. Just great. Now I was having an optical migraine to add to this exceptional day.
The woman had just gouged the side of my truck with...fuzzy handcuffs?
What. In. The. Fuck.
I stepped closer to her, towering over her even in her ridiculous leopard-printed stilts. The light show going off in my head left light trails all around her. “Wait right there. I’m calling the cops.” I dug my phone out of my now soaked jeans.
“Wait. Can we talk about this?” She tried to brush her wet hair out of her face, and it just kept sticking to more of her.
“No.”
She snatched my phone out of my hand.
Shock had me reeling back a step. That and because her glitter-bomb of a shirt was turning the world into sparkles. “For real, lady?”
“This is a mistake. I thought you were a different guy. I promise.”
“I don’t care.” I reached for my phone, and she shoved it down the front of her shirt. “Don’t make me go for that, Hellcat. Because I will.”
She took an unsteady step back and fumbled into her huge leopard purse for something.
“If you’re reaching for pepper spray, I’m going have the cop add assault to the destruction of property charge.”
She shook her hair back. “Okay, I won’t go for the pepper spray if you back up, Mr—”
I ignored her. I hadn’t been called mister anything in a damn long time. “Give me my phone back.”
