Page 7 of Pursued By My Grumpy Fiancé
“So, where do you live?” he asks as the engine purrs to life.
“Up the street from hell,” I retort.
“Alright, be that way. I can stay here all night. I don’t have anywhere else to be.” He shrugs and reaches for the key.
“The apartments near USF,” I mutter with the heaviest sigh I can muster.
I want him to know exactly how miserable I am.
He backs the car out of the parking spot and leaves the parking garage. I’m surprised and grateful to discover that he’s a calm driver. My stomach is still turning a little from earlier. I feel Landon’s eyes on me as we stop at a red light.
“Um, could you not put your face on the window? You’re going to leave smudges,” he says with a hint of annoyance.
“Oh, you don’t like that?” I ask, then move my forehead up and down the window.
I turn to look at him. If looks could kill, I would be six feet under at this very moment.
“I’m sorry, is messing with other people’s property a game to you?” It brings me joy that I’ve gotten under his skin.
I smirk and he rolls his eyes as the light turns green.
“Oh, my bad, I didn’t realize that you’re incapable of cleaning windows.” I roll my eyes and go to lay my head back against the window.
“Wha Seriously? You’re putting your head back on the window? What’s wrong with you?” he says with a hint of indignation.
I whirl on him, slightly losing it.
“I’m sorry, did the man who just announced to the world that a non-consenting party is his fiancée just ask what’s wrong with me?” I scoff and he sighs.
“Right, that’s fair.” His fingers tap lightly on his thigh as he continues driving, one hand on the wheel.
We both go quiet. I don’t put my head back on the window, instead deciding that I’m owed some answers.
“So, why me?” I ask.
“Why you what?” he replies.
“Um, why did you choose me to be your last minute fiancée?” I’m seething.
“Well, it’s not like I planned it. You’re the one who got in the wrong limo,” he says.
“Okay, and a normal person would have been like, ‘Hey, what the hell are you doing in my limo?’ but, no, not Landon Gould. Instead, you’re like, ‘Hey, mom, this is my girlfriend. Hey world, this is my fiancée even though she said no!’” I lower my voice a few octaves to mimic him, which he doesn’t seem to appreciate.
“I see you’re upset,” he says.
“Oh, someone call the press! We have a new detective in town.” I roll my eyes at him.
“Hailey — Ms. Dunn, I can assure you that it was not my intention to bring you into the spotlight. It was more of a spur-of-a-moment thing. I got on stage and it just kind of popped out of my mouth. I am really sorry for putting you on the spot.”
I study his profile, trying to figure out what kind of person decides to announce a fiancée in the spur of the moment. I think about asking him when I spot my apartment down the street. It’s not worth pursuing answers for a conversation neither of us are sure to enjoy.
I sigh and drop the issue.
“It’s this building.” I gesture right as we come up on it. Landon executes the smoothest parallel parking maneuver I’ve ever witnessed, and I have to stop myself from responding in awe. I take a moment to collect myself as the engine dies.
“Right. So, as fun as this wasn’t, we’re done here. I will not pretend to be your fiancée for another second. I want my pay and then I want to never see you again,” I say as calmly as I can.
“Cash or check?” He asks.
