"There a reason my kid likes you so much?"
"I can only imagine that Cheyenne enjoys having a conversation with somebody who doesn't refer to every woman as either bitch or babe," I say. I'm not sure where this conversation is going, especially since he's being so…human. "Well, this has been fun, but I really must be going now," I say. I must be having horrible luck with the male species today, because he doesn't move. Not only is this conversation awkward and strange, but it's actually not progressed anywhere, nor has it served a purpose. At this point, we’re just standing here like a couple of idiots. We might as well be chatting about the weather and our expectations for the upcoming baseball season.
He waits another moment before he finally pushes off the car and strides right up to me. I order my brain to shut down any and all thoughts about the way he carries his large frame as he moves toward me. He's still an asshole, I remind myself. Even assholes, I suppose, are entitled to look good. I consider myself to be a woman of self-respect, and decent self-esteem, so the fact that he's able to get my mind racing about the build of his body really just pisses me off. Men with so little respect for other people shouldn't be allowed to look this good. Ever.
"Oh, and Holly," he says as he leans down. He's invading my space, and if I wasn't overwhelmed by being in such close proximity to him, I might be able to think clearly enough to be annoyed by it. "You're avoiding me. I don't fucking like it. Eventually, you're going to run out of steam, and you’ll be tired out. Just do yourself a favor and take the money. Because, make no mistake about it, baby, I have stamina to go for days." Arrogant jerk.
“You’re bipolar,” I say. My blood pressure is rising. I have to hold my hands down firmly at my sides so I don’t reach out and slap the smirk right off his face. His perfectly strong jaw is mostly covered with facial hair. It doesn’t look like he’s really shaved since I last saw him.
One moment, he’s practically standing over me, and the next, he’s walking away across the parking lot. I blink back my surprise and try to clear my head as I walk back to my Jeep. With my head in a daze, I grab at the driver’s door handle. Just as I think I’m an idiot for trying to open the locked door without the use of the key, the handle gives way under my grip and the door opens.
“Great, now you’re imagining things,” I mutter to myself as I climb in and shut the door behind me. My purse and plastic bag from the pharmacy fall onto the seat beside me. I could have sworn I locked the doors before going inside, but I guess not. All my frustration and paranoia are clearly having a considerable effect on my ability to think clearly. I pull the Jeep out of the parking lot and get stuck at the first light on the way back to work. The loud roar of an idling motorcycle engine sounds behind me. Lifting my head, I find Grady on his Harley in my rear view mirror. The longer I sit at the red light, the more I consider the validity of “accidentally” putting the Jeep in reverse and backing over him. But murder is wrong—it’s even one of those pesky Ten Commandments. I’ve been trying to live my life in a way that I can be proud of and not cut corners like I used to, but the man behind me it making that commitment more difficult than it needs to be.
Hunger gets the best of me, and I reach over into the plastic bag in search of one of those bags of peanuts. The rustling of the bag almost distracts me from the odd crunch that sounds every time I hit the bottom of the plastic bag. Feeling more than a little off my game, I pat the bottom of the bag a few more times. Something isn’t right. I give the bag a shove and, sure enough, there is something underneath it. A large manila envelope sits on the passenger seat, half covered by my purse and shopping bag. I’d know that envelope anywhere. It’s the same envelope, right now to the nasty little note I wrote on it, that Grady and his friends have tried to give me several times over the last few weeks.
That asshole.
No really, that asshole.