Page 34 of Runaway Road (Runaway 1)

“Don’t play dumb.” I frowned. “That’s my place of business.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The last time you came in and messed up the place, you set me back a week. But you crossed the line here. You fucked with a customer’s car.”

“Are you drunk?” She leaned forward. “I haven’t been to the garage in months.”

It was always the same with her. Lie, lie, lie. Even when she knew she was caught, she never admitted defeat.

“Whatever. Stay the fuck away from my garage. The next time, I’m calling the cops.”

“I didn’t do anything, Brooks.”

“Sure.” Heard that before too. I spun on my boot and marched down the sidewalk.

“Brooks,” she snapped.

I didn’t answer.

“Brooks!”

I strode to my pickup.

“Fuck you.” Now the fangs were out. Was it really a wonder we hadn’t made it? I was almost to my pickup when she yelled, “Wait. Please.”

I sighed, pausing on the sidewalk. “Yeah?”

“Are you coming tomorrow?”

I scoffed. “No.”

“You promised.”

“I said I’d think about it. I have, and I’m not coming.”

“Grr,” she snarled, stepping inside the house and slamming the door. It echoed down the block.

Typical. That wasn’t the first time she’d slammed that door on me. I’d had enough of her bullshit to last a lifetime.

Moira had come over last night and asked me over for dinner. Her parents were coming to town tomorrow and had hoped to see me. It was something we’d done over the years, even after the divorce. I wasn’t a fan of my ex but her parents were good people.

I’d have to catch them the next time. Tomorrow I’d still be fuming mad at their daughter.

The key marks in the Cadillac had Moira written all over them. A year after our divorce, I’d dated the new kindergarten teacher in town. Things had been going pretty well for about a month, then she’d called me one Sunday morning and told me we were over without explanation.

I’d found out a week later it was because Moira had keyed the hell out of my girlfriend’s car.

I hadn’t dated for two years after that. But then I’d finally met a nice woman who’d worked with Dad at the hospital. Moira hadn’t even given us a month. Six dates in and Moira had slashed her tires. All four of them.

She’d admitted to that one eventually, after the nurse had moved away from Summers. She’d gotten drunk one night and called me in tears, begging for a second chance. When I’d assured her it would never fucking happen, she’d gotten nasty and vowed no woman would ever hang around for long.

Years later, I guess she still meant it.

Moira’s antics had cost me stress and money I could have used for much better things. I’d paid to have the key marks fixed and the tires replaced. But I hadn’t bothered to date since. No woman I’d met had seemed worth the drama.

Until Londyn.

Even after I’d admitted it was likely my ex-wife who’d trashed her car, Londyn hadn’t run away screaming. She’d asked me out. Then she’d let me kiss the hell out of her.