Page 45 of Story of My Life
“I don’t know?Civilization?” she said, finally sounding irritated.
“Well, think again,” I said.
“Haze, the place is called Angelo’s, and it’s not even six blocks from here,” Zoey reported from her phone screen.
Hazel scoffed at me. “You people can’t handle walking six blocks? I once jogged fifteen blocks in Jimmy Choos during rush hour. Let’s go get some dinner, Zo.”
I rubbed my hands over my eyes and tried not to imagine Hazel’s first encounter with Emilie’s free-range pet pig in the dark. Hazel would probably attempt to murder yet another town fixture before she even made it to the restaurant.
I let out a tortured groan and dropped my hands. “I will drive you to the restaurant. You will not speak. You will get out, go inside, and leave me alone for the rest of the night. You will find your own way home without getting injured or causing injury.”
“Yes sir, Captain Pouty Man Bear,” Hazel said with a smart salute.
“Get in the damn truck.”
11
BREADSTICKS AND ACCUSATIONS
HAZEL
Cam climbedbehind the wheel and tossed the flashlight he’d used to guide us through my dark yard in the back seat.
“So what’s good at Angelo’s?” I asked him as he started the engine.
“The food,” he said shortly as he slid an arm around my seat and backed out of my driveway.
He’d changed out of his work clothes and into gym shorts and a tight T-shirt for his shift at the store. There was no doubt the body beneath was athletic. But I was more interested in the inner workings of his mind. Campbell Bishop was a walking, talking grump who seemed hell-bent on doing the right thing.
Zoey:Still finding grumpy Hot Dog Fingers attractive?
I smirked at my phone in the dark of the truck cab.
Me:He’s perfect.
Zoey:He’s far from perfect. He’s a walking insult generator.
Me:He’s the grumpy to someone’s sunshine. He’s stingy with his niceness so it means more when he’s nice. Readers are going to eat him up.
“Stop texting each other,” Cam ordered from behind the wheel. “It’s rude and annoying.”
“You’re rude and annoying,” Zoey pointed out.
“How did you know we were texting each other?” I asked as he turned off the road and into a parking lot.
“Because as soon as one of you stops typing, the other one starts smirking.” He brought the truck to an abrupt stop at the front door. “We’re here. Go away.”
“Thanks, Hot Dog Fingers,” Zoey said, sliding out of the truck and onto the sidewalk.
“I reject that nickname,” he called after her.
I grinned at him as I released my seat belt. “Thanks for everything today, Cactus Cam.”
Just as I opened my door, Cam reached out and touched me. I froze and looked down at his large manly hand covering mine. He yanked his hand away and looked out the windshield again. “I should have some numbers for you later this week.”
“I look forward to it,” I said, meaning every word. If this worked out, if I could hire Cam to work on my house, I would be guaranteed to see him almost every day. I’d be rolling in inspiration.
Another truck pulled up alongside. The passenger window rolled down. Cam swore and lowered his.
