Spitfire in Love (Chasing Red 3)

He was?

“What did he say exactly?” I asked.

“As if you don’t know.”

“I hit my head a lot when I was a kid, so you know, sometimes I have this tendency to forget. Why don’t you remind me?”

He scoffed. “He said he knows this guy who owes you money and you phoned everyone in his life, even his dentist and the girl who does his pedicure.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Is that right?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know. He came to warn me because he cares about me. He’s a good neighbor. Not that you know anything about being one.”

Idiot. He came to tell you because he was helping me. But that meant…he knew about me even before I met him that day. This was all so confusing.

He backed away a few steps. “Don’t tell me you came here to harass me next. I already paid my bill.” Then he eyed me up and down. And sneered. “You could use a little more here”—he cupped his chest—“but you’re pretty when you got makeup on. Make sure you put it on every day, eh? Just a little advice from a friendly neighbor.”

The pig. I wanted to dropkick him in the forehead, but I needed more information. I batted my lashes. “Thanks. I could sure use the advice.”

He looked pleasantly surprised. “Yeah?”

“Sure. Listen, I was supposed to meet him”—I pointed at Cameron’s house—“at his house five minutes ago. He wanted my shop to fix his vehicle, but he’s not answering the door. Have you seen him this morning?”

He scratched his head. “Yeah. Late last night, actually. He was throwing a big duffel bag into the back of his vehicle. Some tools. I asked him where he was going, but you know the guy. Tight-lipped son of a bitch. Didn’t say nothing to me. Just drove off.”

“Have you seen a black Ferrari in his driveway or just around the area?”

“No, can’t say that I did. Hey, you busy tomorrow night or any night this week? Wanna…?” He lifted his eyebrows suggestively.

Now I sneered at him. “What exactly do you mean by that?”

“Oh, come on. You know. Booty call. What do you say?”

I wanted to puke at his face. “You have a wife, don’t you?”

“Well, yeah, but she’s pregnant and…” He trailed off. He probably saw the absolute disgust on my face. His brows knitted together. He looked like a mean rotten potato.

“You’re not even that pretty,” he spouted. “Are you telling me you have the right to be choosy? Seriously? You know,” he continued, sounding irritated now, “those garden gnomes you drove over and destroyed? My mom left me those.”

I curled my upper lip at him and started to walk back to my car. “I’d be more worried about that face your mama left you with!” I called out.

I slid into my car, reversed out of Cameron’s driveway, and left Dingle Dick watching me with his jaw on the ground.

* * *

I drove home with dark thoughts about that black Ferrari. About where Cameron might have gone. About why he would leave just like that without saying anything. What about the deal he’d manipulated out of me? He had been so tenacious trying to get that deal, and suddenly he just disappeared? Either he had a house to flip, or he was running away.

Tools, Dingle Dick said. He was throwing a duffel bag and tools in his vehicle. Vehicle? What vehicle? Didn’t he tell me he only had his motorcycle? If he had another vehicle, why did he want me to drive him around in the first place?

I checked my phone again when I got home and before I went to bed. Still no text from him.

Damn, chica. He might just be gone today. He has a life and a business, you know. Tomorrow he might be back or he might even text you tonight.

But he didn’t.

Pride kept me going the whole week. He was gone. Just gone. He kept his phone off, so I couldn’t even talk to him. I left him two voicemails. After that, I was done. I wasn’t going to chase after him. The silent, arrogant prick.

It hurt as much as it confused me.