Chapter 4
Garrett
“What flew up her butt?” JJ, the clerk who was helping the overly peppy redhead, mutters as she hightails it out of the store and climbs into a waiting car. He rolls his eyes and gives me a conspiratorial smile. “Bitches be crazy, am I right?”
“Crazy. Sure.” I don’t return the smile as I look the guy dead in the eyes. “Especially when their time is wasted by two unprofessional twat-waffles who can’t handle a menial job.”
The idiots laugh. Then frown. Then the guy helping me—a mouth-breather named Chuck—hands me my phone while JJ disappears into the back for another break, despite the waiting customers crowding the store. These guys aren’t helping my view on humanity.
“Here you go, Mr. Cooper.” Chuck plasters on a massive smile after the dressing down I gave him. “If you could just power that bad boy on and make sure everything looks okay, we’ll be good to go here.”
I turn on the device and stare at the loading screen, wondering if the lackadaisical attitude comes hand in hand with being a native of the Keys.
Never in my life has buying a phone been this unprofessional—and that’s saying something.
From the packed store with one clerk hiding in the back, to the ten-minute conversation these morons had about my phone, to them being offended when the woman beside me left in a hurry.
The Marine she was with—boyfriend maybe?
They looked awfully close—even told them he only had ten minutes and they still fucked around.
I skip the security setup because I am so done with Seaside Mobile that I wish I’d chosen any other store on the list. The stock lock screen blinks to life and I swipe it open.
The phone buzzes almost instantly with a text from…
Nick the Wonderful? Who the hell is that?
And why is there a middle finger emoji next to his name? Did Charlie mess with my phone again?
Confused, I tap on the message.
Nick the Wonderful
Just wanted you to know you’re an amazing woman and I’m proud of you every day.
You’ll get through this rough spot. You know it.
I know it. That’s just what you do. But if things get hard, I’m here to hold your hand through it all.
Even when I’m on another continent. Love you pretty damn big, silly angel
My brows furrow as I read. This isn’t Charlie messing with me. This is…this text was meant for someone else. Fuck me. What the hell is going on?
Chuck’s grinning face comes into view. “Loving it already, right?”
“This isn’t my phone.” Irritation sets my teeth on edge. As if it wasn’t bad enough that they wasted my time, I don’t even have what I came here for.
“Well, no.” Chuck folds his arms over his chest. “Not yet. You still have to set everything up the way you want it, security, home screen, or, you know, you could restore from a backup—”
“No.” I place the device on the counter and slide it his way. “This is not my phone.”
Baffled, he picks it up and turns it over in his hands. “I don’t understand, sir. Isn’t this the make and model you asked for?”
“It is the make and model I asked for. It’s also the make and model the woman standing next to me asked for.” I point at the device. “When you two were messing around, you mixed them up. I have hers and she just left with mine.”
This is what I get for assuming the worst was behind me. A fucking catastrophe. If Mom was around right now, she’d tell me this was a bad sign, bad juju. She might even go so far as to suggest skipping tomorrow’s meeting because all signs point to disaster.
Good thing, I don’t believe in that stuff the way she does.
Chuck shakes his head, looking exasperated instead of contrite. “Are you sure?”
“I just got a text from a guy named Nick. I don’t know anyone named Nick. If I did, do I look like the kind of guy who’d call him ‘The Wonderful?’ Or does that seem more like something one of those crazy bitches be doing?”
Chuck flinches, then gingerly lays the phone on the counter as if distancing himself from the device will magically solve the problem. “What do you want me to do about it?”
Are you fucking kidding me?
I suck in my lips to keep from spewing obscenities in public. “I want you to switch it back.”
The obscenities march through my head anyway. I deserve a medal for not letting them fly.
“But sir, she already left.” Chuck scoffs as if I’m the one being difficult here.
“Sweet Jesus boy, could you find two brain cells in there and rub them together? Surely you have a way to contact her.”
His eyes harden. “I can’t give out a customer’s personal information. And there’s no need to be rude.”
“You mean rude, like having private conversations with coworkers instead of helping customers? Or rude, like refusing to fix the problem you caused? If you had simply done your job, we wouldn’t be in this mess.
” Seething, I gather my things, shaking my head.
“I’ll just text my number and let her know what happened. ”
Chuck rolls his eyes. “Like texting yourself is gonna help anything. Now look who’s being a twat-waffle.”
“She has my phone…” The words grind past my clenched teeth, and I turn on my heel before I lose control of my mouth.
A blast of humidity slaps me in the face as I step onto the sidewalk. Inhaling deeply, I lean against the building and compose a text, careful not to snoop into more of this woman’s life than I already have.
Hey. There was a mistake at Seaside Mobile. You have my phone and I have yours. When can we meet to switch back?
I hit send and wait, half expecting her to storm around the corner after realizing the mistake herself.
She’ll probably spew some happy-go-lucky nonsense about things always working out in the end, then go on her merry way.
She seems like that sunshiny type who’s never met a problem she couldn’t ignore.
Seconds turn into minutes while I stare at the phone.
Now what? Surely, she’s figured out the mistake by now.
Unless she’s just as laidback and dense as JJ and Chuck.
I swipe a hand over my face. What if that’s just the way everyone is in the Keys?
Fuck me. What does that say about tomorrow’s meeting?
Irritated, I send another text.
Hello? I really need you to respond.
I’m missing calls. Emails. Important messages. There is so much work that needs done and I’m already hours behind. Worse, this stranger has access to my entire life. Vulnerability isn’t my thing with the people I know and love, but with some random woman?
Hard fucking pass.
Five minutes go by without a response, so I send another message.
Look, I don’t know if you’re getting a kick out of making me wait, or if you think you can get something out of me by holding my property hostage, but come on lady, I really need my phone.
No response. Go figure. I angrily swipe through the screens, imagining her digging through my messages, my photos, and who the fuck knows what else.
A bead of sweat trails down my spine and I let out a long breath, then inhale deeply and let that one out slowly too.
Your anger isn’t proportionate to the situation.
I repeat the thought several times while breathing deeply, the way my therapist suggests when my rage ramps up. My fists clench and I consciously release them, then start talking myself down.
There’s any number of reasons the woman couldn’t respond immediately.
No need to jump to the worst possible scenario.
Everything is going to work out the way it’s supposed to…
I scoff at the thought. Isn’t that almost word for word what the redhead said before things went to shit? Shows what she knows.
Regardless, I’ll go to my hotel and check in.
If I still haven’t heard from her by this evening, I’ll figure out what to do then.
In the meantime, I’ll answer emails and messages from my laptop.
No big deal. With a shake of my head, I push off the side of the building, cross the parking lot, and unlock the rental.
Heat boils out of the vehicle, and I swipe a hand through my hair as I lower myself inside and crank the AC.
As much as I hate to do it, I open the GPS on the redhead’s phone, then search for my hotel. One of the autosuggestions is the Hutton Hotel which…oddly enough…is labeled as “work.”
“Isn’t that convenient,” I murmur as I start navigation and head out of the parking lot.