I glanced at Cycle Life as I crossed the street in front of it. Lilou was currently having some work done to the parking lot, so I’d been forced to park my car closer to Vann’s shop than the restaurant I needed to borrow lettuce from.
All romaine lettuce was currently confiscated as nationwide outbreaks of E. Coli rocked the food industry. People were getting sick like crazy and all romaine had gone through an emergency recall.
Since we’d quickly thrown all our lettuce away, I was currently on the hunt for substitutes. Thankfully, due to a clerical error and Wyatt’s hunt for a better sous chef than Benny who made the clerical error, they had ordered an obscene amount of butter lettuce. Which he graciously offered to share with me at the low, low price of my eternal soul.
When I had refused to sell my non-physical body parts to him, he’d said, “Okay, then just come back and be my sous chef again so I’m not stuck with so much fucking butter lettuce. I’m contemplating lighting it all on fire.”
When I’d said, “That much, huh?”
He’d replied with a casual, “Maybe I’ll light Benny on fire instead.”
Which led me to rushing over in hopes that I could take some of the dreaded butter lettuce off Wyatt’s hands and save Benny from being burned at the stake.
I was also checking out Cycle Life to see if Vann was anywhere to be seen, while keeping a low profile and working the totally aloof angle.
Basically, I was looking anywhere but where I was going. And that was a tragedy. Because one second, I was playing the role of super spy while I walked casually down the sidewalk in Louboutin Mary Janes I would never usually wear to work and a sun dress that flared in all the best spots. And the next second, my arms flew wildly in the air as I totally biffed it.
I was pretty sure I screamed too.
Because one could not fall the way I just had, my dress going up over my head, my knees meeting the pavement with a hard thwack and my palms following shortly after, without screaming bloody murder.
This was Molly’s fault. Because of my crazy schedule, we’d met for breakfast to go over our marketing plan. And then news of the romaine had come in the form of a panicked text from Blaze, causing me to swing into Bianca instead of going home to change first. Now I was at Lilou—well, almost to Lilou—and my timeline was shrinking.
And I twisted my ankle.
Damn, that hurt!
I gingerly picked myself up from my sprawled position and attempted to untangle my ankle. It didn’t budge.
“What the hell?”
Attempt number two of standing up, didn’t go any better. I looked back to see the stupidly pointy heel of my shoe trapped in a cut out on the manhole cover I’d just walked over.
Pulling my leg harder proved futile. I was well and truly stuck.
I would have to unstrap my shoe to get it out. But I’d have to stand up to do that. Argh! This was what I got for dressing up before work.
If I didn’t get this butter lettuce situation taken care of soon, I was going to have to cook in these bad boys.
Which might have been fine, if they weren’t currently pissing me the hell off!
“Son of a bitch,” I hissed at the ground as I slowly pulled myself to standing on my free foot. “Son of a bitch!” I snarled, when I started to tip over again.
What was with this manhole cover? And how had I found the one hole to stick my shoe into on the entire city block?
“Dillon?”
Slamming my eyes shut, I turned away from the voice that belonged to the man jogging my way. This was not the way I wanted to capture his attention. Or anyone’s attention.
There was only one way to play this—like I wasn’t totally trapped in the manhole. Where was my I’m fine personality that everyone knew and loved?
“H-hey, Vann.”
He was in front of me a second later. “Are you okay? I saw you fall.”
My cheeks burned red. Of course, he had.
“I-I’m fine.”
