Page 135 of One Good Crash
As I shoved open my car door, I reminded the guy, "I'll be back in an hour, maybe less."
When he grunted out some sort of acknowledgement, I grabbed my plastic grocery-bag full of clothes, got out of the car, and slammed the door behind me.
And then, I started walking.
It was still light outside, but just barely, and I felt incredibly self-conscious as I strode – making flip-floppity noises all the way – toward the front door of that all-too familiar mansion.
Today was Sunday, and it was nearly nightfall. I was almost certain that he'd be here. If not, I vowed, I'd just wait on his front steps like any other crazy person.
No matter what, I was determined to see him. Unfortunately, there was one thing I hadn't counted on – seeing someone else first. Andwhowas that someone?
It was Morgan, that psychotic ex-girlfriend I'd met at his party.
I stopped in mid-flop. I'd been walking with my head down and didn't even see her until I was nearly in the driveway.
From what I could tell, she'd just come out of the front door. Or maybe, or she'd been ringing the doorbell and had just given up. Either way, she wasn't facing the house. She was facingawayfrom it.
And she was staring.
At me.
Of course.
Chapter 55
Our gazes locked, and I felt myself swallow.Damn it.It was too late to run, and I had nowhere to hide. The driveway was empty, and there was only a single car parked out front – hers, apparently.
Of all the things I'd planned for, thiswasn'ton the list. I'd been planning to see Jax. I'd even been prepared to see Jaden, if only to give him a piece of my mind for whatever he'd done to Allie.
But nowhere in my half-baked plans, had I ever envisioned showing up to find Morgan lying in wait, like some kind of redheaded spider.
Yes, Ididrealize that she wasn't waiting forme. But that didn't make it any easier when a slow, evil smile spread across her face.
I knew exactly why she was smiling.
I looked like absolute crap.
Andshedidn't.
She was wearing a lacy black mini-skirt and a cropped white T-shirt. The skirt was very short and showed off her long, tanned legs. As for the shirt, it was cropped obnoxiously high, revealing a taut stomach and a shocking amount of under-boob.
Obviously, she'd skipped the bra entirely. Even from a distance, I could see the outlines of her nipples – perky little bastards – poking up against the thin cotton of her shirt.
Comparingheroutfit to mine, the only thing we had in common was the fact that we both wore sandals unsuitable for running.
But wheremysandals were cheap and flat, and yes, too darn floppy,herswere high and sexy, with chunky heels and little white straps that wrapped around her ankles.
As I stared stupidly from the sidewalk, I asked myself the obvious question.What on Earth had I been thinking?When getting ready for this little adventure, I'd been looking to make a point, but not to Morgan.
Cripes, if I'd knownshewas here, I wouldn't've come at all.
I still hadn't moved. And neither had she. But I couldn't exactly turn back now, so instead, I squared my shoulders and marched forward, well, as much as Icouldmarch in flip-flops anyway.
Soon, she was moving, too, striding straight toward me. We met in the middle, somewhere on the private walkway that led to the front door.
She gave my clothes a long, derisive look. "Well, don't you look precious."
I gave her a look right back. "Not as precious as you." I glanced down. "By the way, your boob popped out."
