Page 3 of His Vivacious Angel
Josephine climbs into the SUV’s back seat, buckling herself in the middle, while the man secures the baby’s car seat into its base on the right. I shake out my arms—carrying a toddler is hard work—when the man takes the boy to buckle him into his car seat on the left. As I had silently predicted, the toddler starts fighting, going stiff as a board, when the man tries to get him to sit.
With a huff, I say, “Let me do it.”
The man immediately steps aside, lingering behind me while I lean into the SUV and cup the toddler’s face, trying to calm him with soft-spoken words. It’s the promise of a bowl of ice cream when he gets home that does the trick, and the toddler folds, letting me buckle him in. Leaning farther into the vehicle, I reach past the toddler and Josephine to pinch the infant’s straps, making sure there is no give. At least the dad can do one thing right.
I look over my shoulder and roll my eyes. I hadn’t expected anything different from the low-life, finding his eyes glued to my backside where my sundress had ridden up my thighs. “Take a picture, why don’t you? It’ll last longer.”
The man startles and quickly looks away, hiking the gross sweatpants up his narrow hips by the waistband, mumbling an apology.
After climbing out of the SUV, I pop my trunk, grab a pint of chocolate Blue Bell ice cream, and slap it against the man’s chest. “You owe me, dickcheese.”
“No, I don’t. I’m the one who paid for it.”
“Like I care.” I hold my hand palm up. “Pay up, buttercup.”
His eyes bulge at my request. “Are you serious?”
“As a heart attack.”
“I don’t carry cash.”
I click my tongue and pull my phone from my purse. “I have Venmo, Cash App, PayPal, and Zelle. Pick one.”
“You really are a piece of work,” he grumbles when he wires me exactly four dollars and ninety-eight cents. His username is as stupid as he is.
“I’d say it was a pleasure doing business with you, BigDawg12kn, but I’m not in the habit of lying.” More curious than I should be, I ask, “What’s the ‘K-N’ stand for?”
“I meant to put ‘I-N’,” he says with a cough.
“As in twelve inches?” I bark a laugh.
“I was a dumb teenager when I made that username, miss ImNoAngel,” he says gruffly.
“It’s a shame to see you haven’t changed at your big age,” I snarkily reply, drop my phone in my purse, and jump into my car, stabbing the lock button before quickly turning the engine over.
After a few minutes of gripping my steering wheel as I stare straight through the windshield, BigDawg12kn knocks on my window. I ignore him as a cold sweat breaks out across my forehead. His knock only grows more insistent and obnoxious until I finally crack the window and snap, “What?”
“Your crappy parking job is boxing me in.” He studies my face, and whatever he sees there has him dropping his voice. “Do you need me to back the car out for you?”
“No.” I put the gear in reverse, swallowing hard.
He waits expectantly, a muscle in his cheek rippling when he clenches his jaw. “I’d like to get the kids home sometime this century.”
Surrendering, I put the car in park and step out, making him hand over his keys as collateral. Once he backs my car out,pulling far ahead enough in the lane to give him room to reverse out of his spot, we switch keys.
“Thanks,” I mutter before dropping back into my car, taking several deep breaths, and finally driving away. I only look back once at the man staring after me in the rearview mirror.
Chapter Two
Forest
The sarcastic, infuriating, insulting young woman, who looks like an angel but sure doesn’t act like one, drives at a snail’s pace. The moment she got her car running, her bravado shattered. Her spitfire attitude vanished and the color drained from her face, leaving her pale and shaky. What’s the story there?
It is unfortunate that ImNoAngel and I both turn right out of the parking lot, and then again at the first major intersection. Then left, then right. The roads are all two lanes, so I don’t have the opportunity to pass her, as much as I want to, with her driving ten miles under the speed limit. A pit forms in my stomach when we take yet another turn together. She probably thinks I’m following her, and I can only imagine the frantic dart of her unsettling, icy-blue eyes in the rearview mirror.
Eventually, I smarten up and take a left onto a side street while she goes straight at the traffic light. Idling for a few minutes in front of a darkened house, I double back andcontinue on the way home. But, dammit, I catch right back up to ImNoAngel. We both turn right into the same neighborhood. She must catch me on her tail because she suddenly guns her engine and whips her car into a long driveway.
The universe is playing a sick joke on me, because not only do we live in the same quiet development of nineteen-fifties brick ranchers, but my new house is only three doors down and across the street from hers. I throw my head back against the leather headrest with a groan when I spot ImNoAngel storming across the paved road with a can in her hand.
