Chapter 3 #2
He didn’t answer. Instead, he yanked out his phone and searched through his contact list. I watched, curious, as he placed a call.
“Yes, this is Brody Bates,” he said to whoever picked up. “I was run off the road by an idiot on a scooter just past Deer Creek A Coastal Grill, right by their parking lot.”
“That’s a really stupid name for a restaurant,” I pointed out.
Brody still wouldn’t look at me. He was completely focused on his phone. “Yes. Thank you. I’ll see you shortly.” When he turned to me, he was smiling. Not a good smile either. “You’re not going to live here long.”
The way he said it, so smug and full of himself, got my dander up. “Want to place a bet?”
“Gladly.”
IT WASN’T A POLICE OFFICER WHO RESPONDED to Brody’s call. It was a community safety officer. At least that was how he introduced himself.
Ned Danvers was in his forties. He combed his hair over the top of his head and pretended it was a style choice and not a reaction to what was clearly turning into a bald spot. He was about five-foot-ten and a little soft around the middle. He had a winning smile and wore socks with sandals.
“What happened here?” he asked in the politest voice I’d ever heard a police officer use. Sure, he wasn’t a police officer, but that was essentially his function here.
I opened my mouth, prepared to wow him with my adorable personality, but Brody responded first.
“She flew into my lane when I was trying to leave, and I had no choice but to veer to the right to avoid a collision,” he announced. “The momentum was enough to roll my cart down the hill, and I have no idea how I’m going to get it out of there.”
I leaned to the right so I could look down the embankment. “I bet the four of us could push it up,” I offered helpfully.
Brody had laser eyes. Yes, laser eyes. He wanted to burn a hole in my soul. “I thought scooters were banned,” he said to Ned.
I frowned and jerked my attention away from the cart. “What?” I couldn’t have heard what I’d thought I’d heard.
“It’s true,” Ned said.
He looked appropriately grave to match his tone, which was basically telling me, “You might be pretty, but you’re not too smart, so I’m going to have to explain this to you like you’re two,” and it made me want to punch him in the nuts.
“Scooters aren’t allowed. At least not this variety. Kick scooters are allowed.”
Does he think I’m going to get around this place on a kick scooter? That is … well, they do have electric ones. I might actually like a kick scooter. I’m not trading in my Vespa for it, though.
“Can you point to the rules where it says scooters aren’t allowed?” I asked in a singsong voice. I didn’t think he would be able to come through.
“Yup.” He bobbed his head, his brutally pleasant smile remaining in place. Ned pulled out his phone, touched the screen twice, then held it up for me to see. He rattled off the section and subsection of the resident rules for me just in case I was going to continue questioning him.
I pressed my lips together, debating. When I looked up, I found Brody watching me smugly. I wasn’t certain what I could do about that, but I hated the idea of him feeling superior. Actually, I hated the idea of anybody feeling superior.
“You’re not the police, though,” I said finally. “You can’t tell me what I can and can’t drive.” I thought I had him over a barrel.
Ned’s smile disappeared in an instant. “Young lady, when you signed the documents to live in this community, you acknowledged that our public safety department had authority over you.”
I did not remember acknowledging anything of the sort. “Well—”
“No scooters.” He was firm.
I glanced at my Vespa, the first big purchase I’d ever made. At the time, it had represented freedom. Now everybody at the top of the ditch was looking at it as if it was somehow the enemy.
“Now, I’m not going to cite you,” Ned said. “You’re new to the community. You probably haven’t had time to read all the rules.”
I had news for him—I was never going to read all the rules. It just wasn’t going to happen.
“You have to make amends with Mr. Bates, here, first,” Ned continued.
I snapped my eyes in Brody’s direction, my nostrils flaring. “What does that mean?”
“It means you have to make sure he’s satisfied before I can let you leave here.” Ned was grave. “We take resident happiness very seriously in the Landings.”
I wanted to laugh at his grave expression. Instead, I flicked my eyes to Brody. “What do you want?” I growled.
His smile was the stuff food poisoning was made of. “I believe I need a mechanic to look over my cart and make sure everything is copacetic.”
“Copacetic?” I asked.
“No dents. It needs to be detailed.” He took a deep breath. “You need to pay for it to be towed up the hill too.”
I bit back a vile oath. I wanted to tell him exactly where he could shove that cart. But I wasn’t an idiot. Clearly, Hayley had been right about the rules in this place. I should have paid closer attention. Now I was in trouble.
“Of course,” I said. There was nothing else to say. Plus, well, I had caused the accident. I could only admit that to myself, never to him. “Just send me the bill. I’m sure Ned, here, can give you my address.”
“Absolutely.” Ned nodded. “I just need you to sign an acknowledgment of your culpability in the incident, and then you can be on your way.”
I smiled, but it was more of a grimace.
“Not on your scooter,” he added. “I can arrange for that to be transported back to your house, where it can remain in the garage. For a fee of course.”
“Of course,” I said sarcastically. “That sounds lovely.”
Ned either didn’t pick up on my mood or didn’t care. “It won’t take long. Then you can be on your way.”
“Awesome.” I shot him a cheeky thumbs-up. “This place is amazing. Has anybody ever told you that?”
“Each and every day.”