Chapter 1 #2
I follow them, since I have no intention of taking a random toddler home with me, even if he’d be better off with me than some loser who has only just found out he has two whole sons.
Although…how did that happen? Pump and dump twice in three years?
For fuck’s sake, he’s an even bigger asshole than I thought.
At checkout, the teenage cashier wrinkles her nose as if she can smell the man as well, and he sighs again, unloading his items onto the conveyor belt.
Shifting the toddler’s weight to my left arm, I grab two bottles of water from the side refrigerator.
Handing one to Josephine, I uncap the second and offer it to the toddler, encouraging him to take small sips.
The man gives me a half-hearted, grateful smile that’s gone in a flash when he drops one of the plastic bars onto the belt to separate his items from mine.
I set the separator aside and push my basket up the belt. “If I’m going to get roped into babysitting, then I’m going to be paid for it.”
The man grits his straight white teeth but doesn’t say a word as the cashier scans my late-night cravings of three tubs of ice cream and several bottles of artificial, make-your-teeth-ache toppings, adding the cost to his eye-watering total while the cashier’s eyes ping-pong back and forth.
The parking lot is deserted, given that the store is set to close in a few minutes, and yet, of course, we’re parked side by side.
Great, so now this guy knows my license plate number and has the perfect opportunity to throw me into his pearly silver, luxury SUV, if he wants to kidnap me.
I reach into my purse, gripping the bear spray, just in case.
We’re silent as he loads his groceries into his SUV, and then, with a huff, my groceries into the trunk of my blue Hyundai.
The car was my first major purchase since graduating from the University of Texas and moving back home to work at my dad’s financial planning firm.
I’m so proud of myself for having been able to buy it all on my own, even if driving it still scares the daylights out of me after having been T-boned by a drunk driver in Austin a few years ago.
My middle sister, Bailey, and I have the worst luck when it comes to driving.
She’s the only one who doesn’t tease me about my fear.
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.