Not Pretending Anymore

Home > Other > Not Pretending Anymore > Page 29
Not Pretending Anymore Page 29

by Penelope Ward


  “That feels so good. Let’s just go to my place. I’m dying to give you a good suck, too.”

  “Lead the way.”

  “Give me two minutes to go to the powder room so I can freshen up.”

  He took my hand and cupped it around his hard-on through his pants. “We’ll be right here waiting for you. Hurry.”

  “Oh, I will.”

  My departure was always well planned in advance. A few days ago, I’d stopped by the bar and found an emergency exit at the end of the hallway that led to the bathroom. Since it was at the back of the building, I’d parked my car on the street behind the bar.

  Pushing open the door, I strutted through and took a deep breath of fresh air. I was going to have to go home and shower after having that guy’s lips on me. But for now, I was done. I texted as I walked to my car.

  Elodie: Done. There’s a sucker born every minute.

  Soren responded quickly.

  Soren: Are you referring to me because of our bet or Larry the lawyer?

  Elodie: Both. Thanks for the extra cash. See you payday.

  ***

  Bang!

  Shit.

  I closed my eyes. This was the last thing I needed. I was forty-five minutes early for my interview, but that wasn’t enough time to deal with an accident. I put the car into park, being careful to leave it exactly in the position the accident had occurred, and got out. The front fender of my old Jeep Wrangler had a small dent and a few scratches, but the other car definitely bore the brunt of the damage. Its back tire was hissing and already halfway to flat. The rear wheel well had crumpled inward and pressed against the tire. The fancy-looking new Mercedes seemed to almost implode on impact.

  “What the hell? You’ve got to be kidding me.” The driver of the Mercedes got out of his car and joined me to look at the damage. He raked his hand through his hair. “Didn’t you see me? I was backing into the spot.”

  Of course. I not only hit what was probably a hundred-thousand-dollar car, but the driver had to have the jawline of a Greek god. Figures he’d be gorgeous to match his ostentatious car. I disliked him instantly.

  “I was there first. You started backing up after I’d already started pulling in.”

  “Already pulling in? I don’t think so. You tried to slip in while I was already backing up to parallel park. No one was behind me when I started.”

  My hands flew to my hips. “Oh, yes, I was. You just didn’t see me. I pulled up behind you and waited. When you didn’t move after a minute, I even honked my horn. So I figured you were just double-parked, and I was clear to take the open spot. If you wouldn’t have nailed the gas, you would’ve had time to see me and stop before you hit me.”

  His brows jumped up. “Hit you?” He pointed to his car. “I think it’s pretty obvious who hit who by the damage.”

  I ignored him. “What, were you on the phone or something?”

  He scowled. “I hope you have insurance.”

  “No. I drive around without insurance.” I rolled my eyes. “Just because I don’t drive a fancy car like you doesn’t mean I’m a criminal.”

  Mr. Mercedes huffed. “I have an appointment to get to. Can we just exchange information and be on our way?”

  I took out my phone and started to take pictures of the damage. “No. We need a police report.”

  “That’ll take an hour or two, at least. We don’t need a police report for such an obvious accident.”

  “Are you going to admit it was your fault to your insurance company? Because while you may be able to afford a rate hike, I can’t.”

  “I’m not going to admit it was my fault, because it wasn’t my fault.”

  “That’s why we need a police report.”

  Mr. Mercedes grumbled something I couldn’t make out and pulled his phone from his pocket. I assumed he was calling the police. But apparently, he wasn’t. I listened as he barked at whomever was on the other end of the phone.

  “Tell Addison I’m running late and to start without me.”

  No hi or hello. The man might be handsome and drive a nice car, but he was rude. He swiped to hang up without a goodbye, too.

  My face apparently didn’t hide my disdain.

  The jerk looked at me. “What?”

  “I hope that wasn’t your wife. You weren’t very polite.”

  He squinted at me. “I need to make another call. Why don’t you make yourself useful and call the police in the meantime?”

  What a dick. I walked around to the other side of my car to grab my registration and insurance information from the glove compartment. When I walked back to where Mr. Rude Mercedes stood barking into his phone again, his eyes were glued to my legs. I shook my head and dialed 9-1-1.

  The operator answered. “9-1-1. What’s the nature of your emergency?”

  “Hi. I just had an accident on the corner of Park and 24th.”

  “Okay. Is anyone hurt and in need of medical treatment?”

  I covered the phone and asked the other driver, “Are you hurt in any way? They’re asking if we need medical treatment.”

  His response was curt. “I’m fine. Just tell them to hurry it up.”

  I returned to the operator. “No, thank you. We’re both okay. Apparently the only things damaged are our cars and the other driver’s manners.”

  Mr. Mercedes scowled at me.

  I scowled right back.

  After I hung up, I held out my paperwork to him. “Why don’t we exchange insurance information before the police come? I also have an important appointment to get to.”

  He grabbed papers from his own car and pulled his license from his wallet. I took a photo of Hollis LaCroix’s ID. Naturally, he actually lived on Park Avenue—that went with the whole package. After snapping a shot of his insurance and registration, I noticed he was still examining my license when I finished.

  “I can assure you it’s real, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  He took a photo of my license and held it out to me with my other paperwork. “Connecticut, huh? That explains a lot.”

  I snatched my stuff from Mr. Rude Hollis LaCroix. “How so?”

  “You don’t know how to parallel park.”

  My eyes narrowed. “I’ll have you know, I’m a very good driver.”

  He tilted his head toward his car. “I have ten thousand dollars’ worth of damage that says otherwise.”

  I shook my head. “You’re an ass. You know that?”

  I could’ve sworn I saw his lip twitch, like he enjoyed getting a rise out of me. Thankfully the police arrived so I didn’t have to deal with him anymore. After talking to the officer and giving my version of the story, I went to sit in my car. The police then spoke to Hollis. My stomach growled while I watched the two men talk outside, so I grabbed the bag of junk food I’d bought to watch movies with Bree tomorrow night and munched on a box of Junior Mints. Eating the snack made it feel like I was in the audience watching a show—a show with one damn good-looking leading man.

  Hollis really was handsome. Tall, broad shoulders, narrow waist, Coppertone tan, dark hair that was a little too long at the collar and didn’t exactly match his immaculately tailored suit. But it was his bright green eyes and thick, dark eyelashes that were the showstoppers.

  As if he felt me staring, he looked over at my car, and our eyes met. I didn’t bother to turn away and pretend I hadn’t been watching. Screw him. If he could check out my legs, I could look at his pretty-boy face. When he didn’t stop staring, I flashed an overzealous and clearly phony full-tooth smile.

  That time there was no mistaking the twitch, mostly because it was followed by a full smirk. Hollis looked away, turning to speak to the police officer again, and I felt like I’d won an unspoken staring contest. By the time they finished and the officer walked over to my car, I’d downed the entire box of Junior Mints.

  “Alright, Ms. Atlier. This paper has your police report number on it. You can go online and get the actual report in about twenty-fo
ur to forty-eight hours, or stop down at the precinct and pick up a copy.”

  I took the paper. “Thank you. Did you put down that the accident wasn’t my fault?”

  “I listed the facts. It’s up to insurance to assign the percentage of fault to each driver.”

  I sighed. “Okay. Thank you. Is there anything else? Because I have an appointment I really need to get to.”

  “No, ma’am. If your car is drivable, you’re free to go. Mr. LaCroix has to wait for a tow.”

  “Okay. Great. Have a good day, officer.”

  “You, too. And be careful driving.”

  It felt odd to just pull away without saying anything to Hollis. So I waited a minute, until the cop got back into his car and drove off. Then I got out of my car and walked over to the Mercedes. Hollis was leaning against his trunk, playing with his phone.

  “Umm…is there anything you need?” I asked. “A ride or anything?”

  “I think you’ve done enough for the day. Thank you.”

  God, why did I even ask?

  “Great.” I offered an insincere, plastic smile. “Have a nice life.”

  CHAPTER 2

  * * *

  Hollis

  Addison was going to kick my ass for being late. I’d asked her to sit in on the interviews as a favor, and wound up missing the entire first one. I looked at my watch. The second one was likely half over by now, too.

  The elevator arrived at the fifteenth floor, and I walked through the double glass doors, tossing my briefcase on the reception desk. Everyone was gone for the day, but I heard voices coming from the conference room down the hall. I was already late, so stopping at the men’s room couldn’t make it any worse.

  I yelled to let Addison know it was only me. “Addison, it’s Hollis. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  “Nice of you to show up!” she shouted. “Maybe you need to replace that gaudy Rolex you wear with a Timex.”

  I ignored her and went to the men’s room. I’d had to take a piss for the better part of an hour while waiting for the damn tow truck. After washing up, I took off my jacket and headed to the interview. With the day I’d had, I really hoped the candidate was a good one. I needed help desperately.

  Addison had pushed her chair back to look down the hall and saw me coming. She tapped her watch. “Had this thing for fifteen years. Paid only fifty bucks for it, if I remember correctly. Yet it miraculously manages to keep time.”

  “Sorry I’m late.” I walked into the conference room and turned to offer an apology to the candidate sitting with her back to me. “Someone hit me while I was trying to pull into a parking spot.”

  The woman turned and started to speak. “That’s funny… I—” She stopped mid-sentence, and I looked down to find out why.

  You’ve gotta be freaking kidding me. I shook my head in disbelief. “You?”

  Her smile fell just as quickly as mine. She closed her eyes and sighed. “Hello, Hollis.”

  Elodie.

  No.

  No fucking way…

  Buy Park Avenue Player now!

  ABOUT PENELOPE WARD

  * * *

  Penelope Ward is a New York Times, USA Today and #1 Wall Street Journal bestselling author.

  She grew up in Boston with five older brothers and spent most of her twenties as a television news anchor. Penelope resides in Rhode Island with her husband, son and beautiful daughter with autism.

  With over two million books sold, she is a 21-time New York Times bestseller and the author of over twenty novels.

  Penelope’s books have been translated into over a dozen languages and can be found in bookstores around the world.

  ABOUT VI KEELAND

  * * *

  Vi Keeland is a #1 New York Times, #1 Wall Street Journal, and USA Today Bestselling author. With millions of books sold, her titles have appeared in over a hundred Bestseller lists and are currently translated in twenty-five languages. She resides in New York with her husband and their three children where she is living out her own happily ever after with the boy she met at age six.

 

 

 


‹ Prev