May 15 to October 31
Well, shit.
“I’m really sorry,” Bun-Guy said. “If I’d known you were going to come back, I wouldn’t have called them.”
Nick went cold. “You called the tow truck?”
The guy straightened his spine and crossed his arms over his chest. “You parked in my spot.”
“Excuse me?” Was his name engraved on it? Nick paid his taxes, and this was a public lot. What gave this guy any bigger claim on this 140-square-foot patch of asphalt than anyone else?
And yet. “This—” the asshole with the hair spoke slowly as he gestured around them at the now-empty parking space, “—is my spot. It’s where I’m supposed to put my stall, and you were in it.”
“I’m sorry to be so inconvenient.”
“More like inconsiderate. People have businesses to run.”
“I was at work.” He forced himself to keep his voice low and even.
Bun-Jerk’s forehead wrinkled. “And I’m trying to get to work, but you were in my way.”
Nick’s fists clenched as he stepped into the guy’s space. He was an inch or so taller, but Nick was bigger. “Your way? What is it you do, exactly? I work in a place that saves lives, and you couldn’t wait another twenty minutes to, what, sell your turnips?” Nick took another step forward. They were virtually nose to nose. He didn’t like to use his size to intimidate people, but this guy was pissing him off, and he looked like he could take it.
His intuition was proven right when the asshole stepped in too, so they were nearly chest to chest. “You’re not twenty minutes late. The sign says midnight. You’re seven hours late. They should have towed that junker ages ago.”
Nick flinched. The car wasn’t fancy, but it did its job, and that was still no excuse for this moron taking it upon himself to ruin Nick’s morning. He clenched his teeth as he and the other guy stared each other down.
Someone coughed. A small group of nervous-looking farmers and market vendors had gathered, watching Nick and Bun-Jerk nervously.
Nick was tired. The stupid car wasn’t worth it.
“Fine.” He took a step back. “Thanks for the grace period. I hope you enjoy your turnips.” He gave the asshole one more glance. The early sun was turning his hair and skin golden like a statue, or a god.
Too bad his face and his personality didn’t match.
2
The cab hit every possible red light between the fire department and Nick’s house. The driver had a lead foot, and each time a traffic light turned green, they were nearly catapulted into space. Nick had never been prone to motion sickness, but he practically tumbled through the cab door when the car lurched to a stop in front of his house.
His morning did not improve. The old bungalow’s front windows were open, and yelling filtered out from inside.
“Don’t give me that!” Anya’s voice was edging into shrill, which meant the argument had already been going for a while.
Hayden’s reply was, of course, inaudible, and Nick stood on the lawn, half inclined to wait until whatever was going on was over. His whole body sagged with fatigue. If the morning had already descended into yelling matches, he wasn’t going to bed yet. Sighing, he made his way up the walk and pushed open the front door.
“It’s not negotiable.” Anya had her hands on her hips as he entered. “In fact, it’s a legal requirement. You have to go.”
Hayden didn’t say anything. He was slumped in a kitchen chair, somehow managing to look supremely annoyed and disinterested at the same time.
“What’s going on?” Nick asked.
“It’s Saturday.”
Market day,the hot blond guy in Nick’s head said.
Shut up.
“And?” Nick went to the fridge and opened it, scanning for something he could eat quickly before he collapsed in bed. If he played this cool, maybe the tension in the room would relax as well.
