Between his attitude and harsh words, he certainly lived up to the regal name. There was something about rich assholes that simply chilled my blood. He was no exception.
As the princely one faded into the distance, I couldn’t help but think how sad it was for someone so handsome to be such an asshole.
Only after he’d disappeared did I realize he’d dropped and left his sunglasses. I snatched them up along with my phone and purse, cursing under my breath. Afterwards, I studied the dark shades. I was right about him being a rich asshole. They were Maybachs. Six thousand a pop.
I could run after him, or I could keep them hostage. It was a small town. Whether a visitor or some jerk who’d just moved into town, it was small enough the odds were I’d run into again. Then I’d ransom them off to the jerk.
With a laugh, I headed to my truck, thinking of all the ways I could torment the man. Just for giggles.
I hadn’t gone two blocks when I realized the gas gauge was setting on E. It wasn’t that I was forgetful. I’d simply been extremely busy. Or maybe trying to keep myself busy to avoid the date on the calendar. Two years ago tomorrow was supposed to have been my wedding day.
Maybe I’d bake a cake and pop open a bottle of champagne, toasting to every asshole on the planet.
Once again, my phone rang just as I was pulling into the gas station. Shit. I’d forgotten to call Ashley back. Knowing her, since the conversation had ended abruptly, she’d call the sheriff. That I didn’t need. Where in God’s name had I tossed my phone?
With my foot on the brake, I pulled next to a pump, stopping before I reached for my purse, the handle instantly snagged on the gearshift.
Which caused a chain reaction, including my foot slipping from the brake, the truck rolling forward. And experiencing another hard bump that jarred my teeth together.
“Oops.” Instantly, I slammed my foot on the brake and slid the gear into park even before I glanced out the windshield to see who I’d run into.
The driver’s door was thrown open, long, muscular legs stepping out.
Why did God hate me today? Or maybe karma was biting me in the ass given the date and my clandestine escape from the church and a life of sheer hell.
When the stranger stepped onto the concrete, I was certain the man was ready to pull out a gun and kill the person responsible. Almost instantly, a lump formed in my throat because I wasn’t far off.
He’d left the cane in his fancy-dancy shiny black SUV, now standing with his jacket wide open, his hands on his hips.
Which allowed me to catch sight of a weapon’s holster attached to his shoulder. Either I hadn’t noticed it before, or his crushing weight had created irresponsible excitement.
Shuddering, I didn’t need to hear him barking to know how furious he was. His entire jaw was so clenched I was certain his mouth was jammed shut permanently. While I sensed walking without a cane was agonizing for him, he wasn’t about to be hindered by its absence.
He managed to glance down at the bumper and make his way to my door before my fumbling fingers managed to pull on the door handle.
As soon as the mechanism clicked open, I was yanked from the driver’s seat and into his arms. The look of shock undoubtedly crossing my face was mirrored by the same expression. Only his instantly turned vicious.
“You again.”
As much as I wanted to spout off nasty things given his piss poor attitude, I chewed on the fact I had caused the minor accident. But everything about the man and his nasty attitude crushed every concept of sensibility or concerns about danger. I launched into him.
“What about you driving that big, black monolith of an expensive luxury vehicle. Doesn’t surprise me.”
His snarl might be worse than his bite. “What the fuck are you talking about? You ran into me.”
“Well, Mr. Prince, I’m talking about how completely inappropriate it is for you to drive that vehicle in this part of the world. Haven’t you heard the latest weather report? We’resupposed to get six inches of snow tonight with an icy crust for good measure. Those oversized tires used for compensating your teensy-tiny dick will have you in a ditch or worse in two seconds flat. But I guess all rich assholes need to prove their manhood one way or another.”
Unlike before, he was completely uncertain of how to retort. But I knew it was just a momentary lapse. He’d come back swinging.
“Prove my manhood?” Unlike before, the decibel level had lowered, his tone darker, richer. Sexier.
“Yep. Classic sign. And get your hands off me.” I threw my arms up between us, breaking the hold and backing away. Although the same tingling electric sensations remained, even more potent than before.
I’d obviously floored him. Now, seeing him standing with his chest heaving, I remembered the weapon. While he could be a cop or an FBI agent, I had my doubts. He appeared more like a heavy-duty criminal. An assassin or spy. Maybe a mafia Don.
“How the fuck do you know my name?” Why was every word that flowed from his mouth a clear accusation?
“This is a small town and since you’re obviously some important dude, you already have people catering to your needs. In other words, we look out for each other. We care. We don’t like jerks interrupting our routines. But I digress. Welcome to Stowe, Mr. Prince.”
