Page 23 of Wreck Me

Ginny was grateful Monique no longer suspected this had been a date, and she certainly wasn’t going to disabuse any of them of that, but something in her sister’s tone and words was giving Ginny misgivings. Something was making Ginny’s heart feel as if its contents were being scooped out and dumped onto the kitchen linoleum. “So, he usually talks about himself a lot?” she asked Monique, trying to keep her voice as nonchalant as possible.

“Are you kidding? In real estate, you deal with a lot of big egos. It just goes with the territory. But Nico is known around the office for his. He’s quiet at first, but once he gets going about his properties and his plans, he could yammer the paint off the Golden Gate Bridge.”

“Maybe he’s just really into his work,” Grant said.

“Yep,” Monique said, “he is. And nothingbuthis work.” She looked at Ginny. “I bet he didn’t even know Sadie existed. I’ve worked with him for almost a decade now, and he’s never once asked about my family. He certainly didn’t know you existed until you stole his property right out from under him.”

Ginny was too focused on the rest of what Monique had said to notice being accused, once again, of being a house thief. Was her sister right about Nico? Did he really love talking about himself and his business? Because he hadn’t made a single peep about himself or his work the previous night, not even when she’d handed him the chance on a platter. Monique was right about him not knowing Sadie existed, and Monique had known the guy for years while Ginny had only known him for a couple of hours. Her sister had to be correct. So why had he held back?

The only logical explanation was that he’d faked the entire evening, putting on a show to get what he wanted. He’d admitted he faked the threat of taking the dogs from her. Her mind swirled as this new interpretation twisted everything she’d enjoyed from the evening into something shady, something sinister. Had he practiced the exploding veggie dogs ahead of time? Had the laughter they’d shared been play-acting? And that moment staring into each other’s eyes—had that been a complete ruse too? Had he been laughing at her on the inside?

The so-recently scooped out contents of Ginny’s heart now felt as if they were being trampled on by stampeding elephants.

But they shouldn’t. That was ridiculous. She didn’t have feelings for Nico. How could she possibly? He was everything she hated in the world—greedy, cocky, self-centered. And now add conniving to the list! She mentally gathered up the bits of her heart from the floor and shoved them back into her chest, where they would stay.

10

With the bed of his rented truck fully laden again with supplies, Nico pulled up to the house and shut off the engine. He’d thought about calling ahead, but he had the sense that Ginny was the spontaneous type. He’d have more luck showing up with something tangible and irresistible to her than he would by offering her a hypothetical.

Stepping from the truck, he noticed a distinct lack of barking. The dogs must be hanging out with her inside. She really did love those orphaned mutts, and he couldn’t help liking her a little bit for that. There was, he’d found, a distinct difference between cat-owning women and dog-owning women, both in the type of attention they expected from a partner and in their general physical activity level. His brother had married a cat woman. They had three felines in addition to their two children. Sarah was a lovely, lovely person and a wonderful mother, but if Nico were to marry, which of course he would not, it would be to an easier-going, and livelier, dog woman.

The sun was so low, the little house’s shadow crept into the street, but that was fine with Nico. The impending darkness was key to executing his plan. As quietly as he could, he began settingup for the evening—blankets, pillows, dog beds, snacks, twinkle lights, a rug…

When all was ready, he couldn’t help but smile at his handiwork, but the longer he admired it, the warmer his cheeks grew. Creating a set-up this romantic was kind of embarrassing. Honestly, as a determined bachelor, he hadn’t known he had this in him. But this was business, he reminded himself. He was romancing his bank account, not Ginny Heppner.

Feeling safer, he started toward the front steps. He intended to hop up and ring the doorbell but caught himself just in time. No touching the house! Standing on the front walk and feeling like a supplicant, he dialed her number instead. After two rings, the call ended, but four faces appeared at the front window. At first, the quartet wore matching confused expressions. Then, one of them morphed into an angry frown. Perhaps he should have called ahead after all?

In the next second, Ginny slammed open the front door and stomped onto the porch, closing the dogs inside behind her. Her small hands were balled into fists, and her eyes blazed green fire. The fury twisting her delicate features hit Nico which such force, he took a step back. Even at their first unfortunate meeting, she hadn’t been this angry. What was going on?

Her outfit no doubt contributed to his shock. Her stained gray sweatpants weren’t just cut off around knee height, the cuts looked burnt at the edges and one leg was several inches shorter than the other. Her bright purple sweater, which sported some type of cat (unicorn? chicken?) motif, looked as if it had been home to many generations of well-fed closet moths. There was more hole than sweater (hence the confusion over cat versus unicorn versus chicken). Massive runs beneath each hole gave the hem of the sweater the look of a draped theatre curtain. Thankfully, she appeared to have some type of tight black t-shirtunder the sweater, but still—did she dumpster dive, or was she the person dumpsters were invented for?

She allowed him no time to consider that question.

“Why are you back?” she spat. Her eyes flicked angrily toward the street. “And why did you dump all that crap on my lawn?”

Nico needed a second before he could form word type things. “I…I…” he looked back at the adorable little outdoor movie theater he’d created, complete with a rented projector and screen. “We talked about watching a movie. I’ve got fresh popcorn and?—”

She bumped his elbow with what felt like intentional force as she marched past him on the narrow front walk, headed toward the lawn. “Youtalked about watching a movie.”

“No, I…I mean, yes, I guess so, but…” He was jabbering to her back. His tone turned plaintive. “It’s the movie Up.”

“Up, huh? I can do up.” With a grunt, she hefted a cushion nearly as large as herself and heaved it roughly back into the bed of the pickup. Turning back to face him, she swipe-clapped her hands in an ‘all finished’ motion. “There, it’s up. Now watch meupthis chair.” She grabbed one of the two metal folding chairs and swung it in a wide arc into the truck’s bed. She hadn’t even folded it first, and he heard a crack as it landed.

“Stop!” he heard himself say, but the gallons of buttery popcorn that rained down into his truck bed next suggested stopping wasn’t likely. The giant metal bowl hit the inside of the truck bed with a clang. The aggressiveness of her response at what he’d been certain was a kind gesture sent him into a bit of an out-of-body experience, like someone helplessly watching a string of cars collide. The ringing of the bowl broke his stupor. He began striding toward her.

Meanwhile, the twinkle lights were her next victim. Like a tiny Godzilla attacking Tokyo, she began ripping them off thedozen or so poles he’d set up around their outdoor theater. Their cheery glow winked out as she stomped them into the lawn.

Grabbing the next pole in the line, he forced her to pause.

Her voice was a snarl. “Out of my way.”

“But women love twinkle lights!” The moment he’d said it, he cringed both inwardly and outwardly. Womendidlove twinkle lights, but theydidn’tlike being talked about in the plural. “I mean, I thoughtyou’dlike them.”

A smile of evil delight curled her lips. “Right. Because I’m some generic, sappy woman you can wine and dine and push around? You think it’s going to be that easy to steal my house from me?”

He blinked in shock at the unfairness of this attack. She wasn’t completely wrong, but she was also completely out of line. Whatever happened, he was most certainly not the thief in this situation. He needed desperately to smooth this over, but how does one smooth things over with a raging insane person? “Ginny, please. We didn’t even talk about the house.”

He’d forced his tone into a calming whisper, but it only seemed to trigger her more. She pointed a finger at his face. “First, don’t you dareGinnyme. Second, that’s right—we only talked aboutme. You plied me for all kinds of information—my family, my college days, my insecurities! Were you looking for a soft spot? Well, you didn’t find one, because I don’t have any.”

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