It had been designed for people far less competent than me, people who struggled to parallel park, people who fumbled over a seatbelt, people who thought cruise control was advanced driving.
And yet.
I, a man who could control a championship car at ridiculous speeds, was currently losing a battle with a pram.
One-handed fold, they’d said.
Easy, they’d said.
They lied.
I pressed the button.
Nothing.
I pressed it harder.
Still nothing.
Jace turned, one brow raised. “What are you doing?”
I scowled at the pram. “Folding it.”
He leaned against the car, unimpressed. “That’s not what it looks like.”
I ignored him, gripping the handle and pressing the button again. It gave slightly, but the damn thing wouldn’t collapse.
“I’ll do it.” Violet slid out of the car, shaking her head at me.
“Hey!”
I froze.
Jace stilled.
Violet went rigid.
My pulse jumped. The man, the one with the phone, was walking straight toward us, grinning wide, eyes flicking between me and Violet like he’d just won the lottery.
“Holy shit,” he said, breathless. “It’s you, isn’t it?”
I forced a smile, adjusting my posture, already prepping a plan for damage control. “Uh?—”
“Oh, man.” He shoved his phone into his pocket as he reached us. “I knew it! I told my mate.” He turned to Violet, beaming. “You’re her, right? That actress?”
Violet blinked. I blinked. Jace coughed, barely containing a laugh.
The guy studied her, excitement faltering. “Wait… oh. Sorry. Thought you were someone else.”
A beat of silence.
Then Violet exhaled, her entire body sagging with relief.
The guy scratched the back of his head, sheepish. “Yeah, I thought you were the actress from Dark Traces.”
I covered my mouth, barely suppressing a laugh.
Jace didn’t bother trying.
