Page 30 of Mountain Grump
Irritation flares in my chest as he pulls a small pad of paper out of his pocket. “What’s that?” I use the flower to point at his hand. “Are you giving me a ticket?”
He nods.
I stomp my foot, careful not to trample any flowers. “Seriously?”
He pulls a pen from his chest pocket and starts to write. “Same last name as Jack?”
“No.” I grit out.
He looks up at me.
I don’t want to tell him. But I don’t know if I can get arrested by a park ranger. And I don’t really feel like finding out the hard way. “It’s Wright. With aW. Like the airplane brothers.”
He takes a step closer. “Can you turn that music off?”
“No,” I say stubbornly.
He tilts his head, brow furrowing. “Where is it coming from anyway?”
I feel my cheeks darken. “None of your business.”
His gaze lowers to my waist, and my frustration at everything grows.
Him. Life. The fact that I fellagainbecause ofhim.
I want to leave the music on just to be obstinate. But it is pretty loud. And I’m no longer in the mood for this playlist. “Can you turn around?”
“No.” He repeats my earlier answer back to me.
I’d leave the music playing, just to bother him, but it’s making me feel…ridiculous.
“Please?” I ask between my teeth.
“No,” he says again, hovering his pen over the pad as he keeps watching me.
I press my lips together and angle my body so the side with the pocket is away from him. Then I shift the scissors into the hand with the flower, reach up under my skirt, and pull my phone free from my pocket.
I turn off the music, then slide my phone back into my pocket.
“Happy?” I face him.
“Ecstatic,” he deadpans. Then he goes back to writing.
Writinga mother-flipping ticket for picking a flower.
Anger building, I crouch down and cut another flower. Then another.
I can’t believe this man snuck up on me again.
I don’t know how big this state park is, but it seems super unlikely that he would happen across this same little piece of land two days in a row.
At least I didn’t imagine him.
Not that the reality of him is any better. Even if he is hotter than I remember.
I cut another flower and glance up at him, hoping to sneak a peek at his rugged good looks.
But of course, he’s staring right at me.
