Oops, I've Fallen

“Hey. I know we just met, but—”

I wave him off with an arm and a shake of my head. “Try me again when I haven’t just competed in a garbage-can relay race.”

He laughs. “You got it. I’ll be back next Thursday—”

“At five,” I supply. “Yeah, thanks. I know that now.”

I don’t bother saying anything else, instead, dragging my carcass and Stella’s empty can up the road toward her house.

My boobs ache a little from the unsupported run, and I give them a squeeze with my free hand to see if that’ll make them feel better. I’m rounding the corner into my mom’s driveway, basically fondling myself, when a throat clears from across the patch of grass at my side.

Right there, in the driveway next door, a way-too-young-to-be-in-Sunny-Creek man with dark hair and striking blue eyes is covering his mouth to keep from laughing.

I can only assume his humor is directed at me.

“Trash pickup is at five sharp,” he supplies helpfully, making me roll my eyes.

Would it have killed one of these fucking people to tell me this beforehand?

“Yeah, thanks,” I say with a laugh. “Your information is a little late.”

Seemingly unfazed by my pithy comeback, he strolls to the curb, grabs the can he obviously placed there in plenty of time, and starts to drag it back to the garage.

I glance back at the can I’m pulling and drop it with a vengeful sigh.

You make my life hell, you can wait to get put away until tomorrow morning.

I start to walk back up to the garage when the stranger next door calls out to me again. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

I turn back, my intent to open my mouth to offer a smart response, but when I look closer at him, really taking him in, I’m hit with the strangest sense of déjà vu. I also don’t miss the way his eyes go wide in surprise when they lock with mine.

Do I know this guy?

Tall, dark hair, handsome-as-hell face, definitely under forty, he is oh-so-familiar, but I can’t quite place why.

He’s super dressed up for taking out the trash, but no doubt sexy in an “I’m an all-business CEO” kind of way. If the sleek fit is anything to go by, I bet he looks real good underneath it too.

I tilt my head to the side, engaging my flirt-face just a little. “I’m sorry, but…have we met before?”

He laughs and then shakes his head. “You stole my taxi.”

Recognition hits me like a freight train.

Oh shit. It’s him. Seriously hot Barney Fife from the airport.

And he looks about ready to arrest me for my sins.

Ryan

I have to admit, it’s pretty satisfying watching the taxi-stealer’s face bloom with recognition during a situation in which I hold the upper hand.

I’ve never really considered myself a petty person, but evidently, there’s a touch of it in all of us.

“Oh,” she says, her cheeks pinking up ever so slightly.

The blush suggests, at the very least, that she isn’t without a conscience. If she were, running into me again wouldn’t embarrass her in the slightest, but with the way she’s reacting now, I’d guess she only had the confidence to perpetrate the crime against me because she thought she’d never see me again.

“I-I’m…” She stutters. “Well, I’m sorry about that. I was in a pretty big rush, though, so try not to hold it against me.”

She smiles, the corners of her mouth curling up and spreading the expression into her eyes. Her long red hair is disheveled, and her attire is quite a few notches below formal, but she’s still vividly beautiful.

Strikingly so.

I bet she gets away with all sorts of stuff, with just a coy blink of her eyes, and for some reason, it annoys me. Which is completely unexpected. I’m not normally the type to hold a grudge at all.

“I won’t,” I eventually reply with a smile, the little white lie feeling unbelievably foreign on my tongue.

“Good. I’m so glad. I’m here for a little while helping out my mom, and well…I wouldn’t want there to be any bad blood.” She snorts. “There’s nothing worse than turning into a Taylor Swift song, am I right?”

I smirk again. She’s cute. Really cute. I’ll give her that.

My gaze flits from her face to her body once more, taking in the pajama shorts and nearly transparent white tank top above them. Her breasts are high and full, and I can see both of her nipples distinctly through the thin fabric pretending to cover them.

I’m a gentleman, so I avert my eyes, but I think there’s a chance I may do it a little too quickly because she glances down and then crosses her arms over her chest.

“I…I’m sorry, I’ve completely lost my train of thought now, but were you saying something before?” she asks.

I could tell her what I was saying, but again, the taxi. Call me slightly evil; I don’t care. I have one tiny sliver of revenge at my disposal, and for once in my life, I’m going to use it.