Page 40 of The Prodigal

“Don’t get all growly. I’m getting in. I’m waiting for you to open the door like you did earlier.” Granted, he didn’t open the back door to be chivalrous. He was manhandling me, but still. He set the standard, and now he has to live with it.

A million different emotions flash across Remington’s face before he grits his teeth and opens the door. If he were superhuman, I imagine he’d rip the door off the hinges and throw it behind him. But alas, he’s simply an ordinary, pissed-off man.

I flash him a polite smile, which only seems to annoy him more. “Could you also grab my bag in the back? I forgot it in my quick exit from the car.”

I swear he groans, but it’s too fast for me to appreciate fully, since he already has grabbed said bag and shoved it into my chest. “Anything else, Your Majesty?”

Aww. Another pet name.

“No, darling. I think that will be all for now. But”—I hold up one finger—“shall I suggest some song choices?”

He rounds the front of the car. “No.”

“Are you sure? It doesn’t look as if you have good taste.”

Those dark brows rise mockingly. “And you do, with your expired mints and trash bags for overnight bags?”

I’m not insulted in the least. Overnight bags are for rich people. “We can’t all be the son of a surgeon.”

Something in his stance changes, almost like someone dropped a ton of bricks on each of his shoulders. His whole body looks weighted down when he says, “I’m going to regret this.”

Remington

She sings.

And only gets louder when I roll down the windows, trying to drown her out. It was my last attempt at politeness.

I slam on the brakes and see smoke in the rearview mirror, coming from my tires as I pull the car onto the shoulder. “Do you want me to drive us into oncoming traffic? Because, if so, keep right on singing.”

Eden doesn’t seem disturbed by my dangerous theatrics. She didn’t gasp or grab for theoh shithandle when I veered off the roadway. She simply carried on as if I were pulling off onto an exit ramp.

“Since we’re stopped, do you mind if I jump out and take a quick picture? I’ve never been to Alabama before.”

I want to slam my head into the dashboard, hard enough that I won’t remember visiting Alabama—especially with her. “No—”

My phone rings, and seeing the name on the screen means I need to answer it in private. “Fine. Take your fucking picture and, by all means, if someone offers you a ride, take it.”

She flashes me a smile. “And leave you brooding alone? Never.”

I should have dropped her off at a fire station. Surely, they take more than just infants.

When Eden is out of the car, I swipe the screen and answer my phone. “Yeah.”

The male voice I dread hearing spares the pleasantries. “You were supposed to be here an hour ago.”

I suck in a breath while my eyes stay glued on the pain-in-the-ass girl trying to take a selfie with an old-school Polaroid camera by the road sign. “Yeah. Looks like I’m not going to be able to make it.”

“I thought we agreed you would makeeverymeeting I set?”

“Something came up.”

His frustration bleeds through the phone with his exhale. “What about this afternoon?”

When I don’t answer, he tries to guilt me into turning around. “Maverick assured me you were ready to comply with my demands.”

Maverick can blow rainbows out of his ass and fuck his stupid sea lions. He doesn’t speak for me. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, Grant, but unfortunately, something came up,again, and I can’t make it back to your office today.”

Grant won’t be the only one I disappoint with this trip. He might as well get used to the feeling.

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