Page 88 of Her Filthy Grump
Her eyes narrowed, and the vein in her forehead popped. “Why not?”
“I’m moving to California.”
“For good?”
“Yes. For good.” My heart skipped a beat, and I let out a slow breath. I can’t wait to see Layla again.
I blink and stare at the white garage in front of my pickup. Damn. What time is it? I glance over at the stereo dashboard. Three-thirty. Crap. I fell asleep with the engine running.
Thank God I stayed outside and didn’t go into the garage. I shake my head and switch off the engine. My neck screams in protest. Fuck. I’m too old to sleep sitting up. I clutch my neck and rub the muscles hard, slowly working my thumb and fingers over the knots.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Layla
After spending the night with Harbor, I turn onto my street. I’d have stayed but I didn’t take anything when we left. A couple of kids dart in front of my car, and I tap on the brakes until I come to a complete stop.
They wave and giggle as they run the opposite direction after a basketball that scoots across the road and lands in the opposite gutter.
Oh, my God.My heart races in my chest. I was only driving ten miles an hour and almost ran over those kids.
Sweat beads on my forehead, and nausea rolls in my stomach.Stop. You’re being dramatic. They were forty feet away, and you were driving ten miles an hour.
But…. But what? They weren’t in any danger, and they’re at least twelve or thirteen years old.
But what if they were two and three. I clutch my stomach with one hand and rub slowly over my flat stomach. How do you keep a baby alive? I unclench my other hand from the steering wheel and wiggle my fingers.
You’ve got this.I exhale and step on the gas.
When I go by Jenny Bowman’s house, my mouth drops open. That’s Kameron’s pickup.What the fuck? He’s screwing Jenny Bowman. You’ve got to be fucking shitting me.
He has a pregnant ex in K.C. Got me knocked up. And now, he’s screwing Big Tits?
I snap on the blinker and come to a screeching halt behind his vehicle, making sure he doesn’t have enough room to get out and run. She deserves to know what a dick he is.
He’s got another thing coming if he thinks he can continue to treat women like trash. I slam the door shut behind me, and the glass rattles against the frame. We’ll start a Kameron Willoughby Hate Club.
My hands ball into fists as I eat up the distance between my vehicle and the front door. As I clomp up the steps, the door swings open.
Kameron stands in the threshold with low slung jeans, no shirt, and his hair covered in a backward baseball cap. My knees buckle.
Motherfucker. You’re not swooning over his pretty face. You’re too strong for that.
“What are you doing here?”
“It would seem pretty obvious. I live here.” He steps onto the porch and rests his back against the frame.
“You live here?” Anger flies through every vein in my body until the only thing I can see is red.
“Yes, I live here.”
“With Jenny Bowman?”
He lurches backward like I struck him and gapes at me. “You think I’d move in with another woman?”
“Jenny lives here. You live here. I can only assume you’re fucking her. She will expect bumping uglies to be part of the roommate agreement.” I glance behind him.
Where is she?