Page 64 of A Stop in Time
“Okay, so I’ll just pull up the app and order somethin’…” When I slide my phone from my pocket, she whirls around, pointing the wrench at me.
“No. There will be no ordering.”
I lift a shoulder in a shrug. “There’s gonna be some eatin’, and you’ve left me no other option.”
Her obstinate expression ought to make her look childish and unappealing, but somehow, it doesn’t. Who the fuck knows why. “I don’t order from apps anymore.”
“Why not?”
“Because the last time I did”—her voice rises with aggravation—“Naomi in a white Impala stole my damn food after I waited over a goddamn hour!” She finally exhales loudly and smooths a hand over her hair. “And I’m still really salty about it.”
I hold her gaze and slide my phone back in my pocket. “Guess that leaves us with only one option, then.”
Her hopeful expression grates on me. “You’re leaving?”
“We’re gonna head somewhere nearby to get food.”
“I’m getting pretty tired of repeating myself.” Her fingers tighten around the wrench, her knuckles turning white. “You need to leave.”
An exasperated sound climbs up my throat, and I drag a hand over my hair. “Look, if I hadn’t been here, you would’ve slammed your head into the damn concrete. You need to eat somethin’ more than that packaged bullshit.
“We don’t even have to sit together, okay?” Agitation fills my damn veins, because my protective instincts are going fucking crazy right now, which is…not exactly my norm. “Just gotta make sure you eat somethin’ of substance.”
She offers me a sharp, assessing look. “Then you promise you’ll leave?” As if the words hurt, she winces and rubs her temples. My hands fist at my sides as I resist the urge to do it for her. The fuck is wrong with me?
I nod. “You’ll watch me drive away.”
Resignation crosses her features before she lets out a sigh. Peering up at me, she raises a challenging brow. “All right, but you’re paying, right?”
I hate how hard I have to suppress my sigh of relief. But I do. “Yeah, I’m payin’.”
“Hmm.” She scrutinizes me carefully, tapping the wrench against her palm. “Well, that means we’re heading to Happy Mammy’s, then.”
I don’t know what the fuck that is, but if it serves food that’s hot and not wrapped in fucking plastic, so be it. “Let’s go, then.”
She tosses the wrench on the top of her messy tool chest while I stride to my car. I veer for the passenger side door when she sails right past.
Calling out over her shoulder, she says, “No way in hell I’m getting into a vehicle with you.”
I mash my lips together against the battering irritation. “Yet you let me fuck you.”
She doesn’t miss a beat, striding down the driveway. “Everybody makes mistakes.”
29
MAC
His long strides enable him to catch up to me quickly.
“You sure you’re good enough to walk there?” Daniel assesses me from head to toe. “How far is this place?”
“A few blocks.”
If I look up the definition of stupidity in the dictionary, I’d see my face staring back at me. Because that’s what this is—me agreeing to eat with a gang member who pulled a gun on me and acted like a royal assclown.
The only reason I agreed to it was to get my mind off what happened and let him think I passed out due to hunger.
I mean, it could’ve been because I hadn’t eaten much aside from my usual jumbo beef stick.