Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 121755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
And Titus, one of our informant/friends (just to say, if Titus invited us to his man-cave garage for a chill session, I always found a way to make it, because Titus was the shizzlesticks, and his man cave was too) said they were one, if not the premier investigation service in the entire US of A. And Titus always knew what he was talking about.
Oh, and there was the small fact we saw them in action not too long ago—Cap, and particularly Gabe, taking down two bad guys in a matter of what seemed like seconds.
This had happened post kiss, so witnessing it caused a cacophony of emotions in me: awe, shock, admiration, terror, despair and unequivocable lust.
Belatedly, I decided silence was the way to tackle this unexpected situation.
Though, I had to puncture this by giving directions.
Gabe fell in with that silence like it was the most natural thing in the world, and that made me even more ticked at him (because, I’ll reiterate, I was exhausted and making conversation with a hot guy, or fighting with him, took energy) along with grateful to him (which was worse).
We hit the house, and he idled at the curb.
“I won’t be long,” I mumbled as I handed him the cake so I could hop down.
“I’ll be here,” he said when I was out, and he handed it back.
The unexpected velvet blow of his words hit me like a promise I’d been waiting for my whole life had finally been fulfilled.
I lifted my gaze to him, and I just didn’t have it in me to hide what I should have.
The vulnerability.
Just how huge those words were to a girl like me.
Fortunately, I had enough in me to turn away from the flicker of comprehension and the softness that began to infuse his rugged features, and I dashed up the drive to the front door, or I went at as much of a dash as I could while holding the cake.
I hit the doorbell, and the door opened to a member of what I thought of (but being the good sister I was, I would not say it out loud, ever) as one of the Arcadia Squad.
Those being young women who had young children, rich husbands, cleaners and probably nannies. They wore Lululemon almost exclusively, unless they were going out with their men in the evening, or on a shopping and lunch date at Fashion Square Mall. And they always carried Chanel, Dior, Gucci or Louis Vuitton bags.
They had old-wave “perfect” bodies (that word in quotes because who really gave a shit about that anymore?…except the Arcadia Squad), even when their children were but months old in their strollers, because they had time to go to Pilates classes and work out in their state-of-the-art home gym.
Normally, I would not be judgy about this.
To each their own.
I wouldn’t turn my nose up at a rich husband, designer bags or a home gym either.
However, they were so aggressively snooty, dismissive and entitled, I got judgy about it.
And I knew the instant I clapped eyes on her she was precisely what I thought she was.
She then set out to prove it.
“Thanks so much,” she said, reaching for the cake. “I’ll catch you later to pay the remainder.”
Catch me later?
I lived north of downtown. She lived twenty minutes away from me and five minutes away from Scottsdale.
We did not run in the same circles, attend the same cocktail parties, belong to the same gym or shop at the same grocery store.
If I handed over that cake, I’d never hear from her again.
So I twisted away, taking the cake with me.
I would not start by apologizing, I would not.
I did not.
“As explained when you ordered, and as is noted clearly on my website,” I said thinly, “the remainder of the payment is expected on delivery. I accept cash, Venmo, Zelle, and I have Zettle and can take credit cards right here. However, there’s a three percent extra fee for Zettle.”
“I’ve got twenty kids showing up here in twenty minutes,” she shared with me.
Then it would have been good to have the cash on hand when you opened the door, woman, Logic said.
“Whatever your choice, it won’t take but a couple of minutes,” I said.
She reached for the cake again, and I took a step back.
“Really,” she said tightly, “with this display, are you suggesting I’m not good for it?”
“I communicate my policies clearly for a reason, and you signed off on them when you contracted for this cake.”
“I’m running behind,” she replied.
“I can imagine that’s stressful, but it isn’t helping matters to launch an argument you aren’t going to win,” I noted.
“This is unbelievable,” she whispered irately.
“I don’t understand how, since I explained the process and you signed off on it.”
“If you keep this up, I can promise you, you won’t get a good review on Yelp,” she threatened.