Page 16 of The Art of Falling in Love with Your Enemy
“We’ll have to have a girls’ night when she’s back,” Riley says as she scans the dog park. “I swear, I thought I saw Max over that way a second ago…”
I indicate across the grassy space, where my two schnauzers are chasing the terrier in question around some trees. “Over there, with my two. Is he acting out because he misses Dylan?”
Riley giggles. “Man, having a dog is like having a kid. You guys never let on all the responsibility that happens here.”
“Being a dog owner is serious business.” I look at my watch. “Speaking of business, do you work today?”
Riley works part time for her family at their cafe in town. It’s a great spot, and I know she’s liked working there, but for Riley it’s a dead end street. She sighs, her shoulders slouching as she nods her head.
“Yeah, I need to go actually. I told my parents I’d be there by one.” Jumping to her feet, she puts her fingers in her mouth and whistles, one of those good, strong and loud whistles to get Max’s attention. It works, with Thor and Hercules trailing behind him.
I grab my things and walk toward the gate that frees us into the parking lot. Once we’re all on the other side, Riley wraps me a giant hug.
“I’ll come by tomorrow, late morning, to give you a hand, okay?”
I pull away laughing and shaking my head. Riley is the kind of person who is so amazing and generous with her time, I wouldn’t be surprised if she’d already promised her help to someone else, which is why I keep giving her an out.
“I’m willing to bet you fifty bucks you’ve forgotten you promised your mom’s cousin’s next door neighbor that you’d come by to help them set up their internet.” When I’m met with a stone-faced demeanor, I lean in and give her another squeeze. “Come on, it’s one of the things we all love about you.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she says with a grin. “I’ll show you. I’ll even bring the coffee.”
“It’s a deal.” I say, flicking my hand in goodbye.
If she only knew my fingers were crossed behind my back.
* * *
After tossing a shopping bag into the trunk of my car, I pull my phone out and tick off another item on Amelia’s to-do list. So far, I’d stocked up on pens and paper, gotten extra linen for the bunk house, managed to pick up supplies I need for the activities I’m planning from the local dollar store—where everything is really one dollar and twenty-five cents—and now I need to organize our firewood.
Luckily, we have Love Valley Firewood in town, your one-stop shop for all the wood and kindling you need. I zip into their parking lot and dash inside to give Mr. Burrall, the owner, our order, arrange the drop off, and then I’m back out again all in less than five minutes. This is when small-town living can be amazing. When you need to get a lot done in a small amount of time, you can.
I hop back in my car and glance at the clock on the dashboard and have a mild panic attack. I have fifteen minutes to get to the paint store before they close for the weekend and it’s ten minutes away, fifteen if there’s a tractor on a back road.
Drumming the steering wheel with my fingertips, I don’t think about it for too long. I throw my car in reverse and take off. If I can get there close enough to the time they’re closing, I may be able to beg Mr. King, the owner, to sell me the supplies I need.
I’m too busy berating myself over my lack of time management to notice the car that’s gaining speed on mine. By the time I glance up in my rearview mirror, the police officer behind the wheel of said car has turned the lights on. I’m no speed demon by any means, but a sneak peek at my odometer tells me I’m going five miles over the speed limit. I fight the urge to scream.
Seeing as we’re on a back country road and there’s no one else around, I shake my head and flick the switch to indicate right, pulling my car over to the side of the road as soon as I deem it to be safe. At the rate I’m going, I’ll never get to the store on time and painting will be put off again.
While I wait for the officer to come to my side of the car, I reach over and pull out my wallet with my driver’s license and grab the car registration. Movement from behind causes me to flick my eyes toward the rearview mirror—and I watch in what feels like slow motion as Zac Wright sashays his way to my driver’s side window.
I decide to wait for him to tap on the window to be let in, or invited in by me, if you will.
You know, like a vampire. I sit still, staring straight ahead with my right hand on the steering wheel and my left holding the documents I know he’ll ask for.
The knock on the window I’ve been expecting comes. Tap, tap. I take a breath, and close my eyes as I do, wanting to give Zac the full effect of my irritation. Tap, tap, tap. Summoning all of the Zen power from the goddesses who have walked this earth before me, I turn my head slowly as I hit the button on the center console to roll my window down.
I shove my license and registration through the window. “I think we both know you just want the pure joy of writing me a ticket right now, so here you go.” I wave my license and car registration in the air. “The address on my license hasn’t been changed to my new house, though.”
“It’s not like I knew it was you or like I want to do this, especially not today.” Zac takes off his sunglasses and steps closer to my window, taking the paperwork out of my hands. “Do you even know why I pulled you over?”
Controlling the rolling of my eyes, I nod my head. “I was going over the speed limit, and I’m sorry.” I point to the clock on my dashboard. “But, I really needed to get to King’s Paints before they close today.”
“Everything is still registered in D.C.” Zac inspects my license and registration, holding them close. “You need to change the address on both your license and car reg as soon as possible. We both know you’ve been here for more than sixty days, and that’s the time limit.”
Is this man for real? “Seriously, Zac. Can you just give me my ticket for speeding?”
Zac shakes his head. “You know, if I wanted to be a jerk, I could give you a ticket for both of these official documents not being up to date.”
