Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 97780 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97780 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
But just as Jess moved her foot to the accelerator to pull in, a black sedan swerved around the bend from the next row over, gliding into the spot with an impressive Fast & Furious screech.
Smacking the steering wheel, Jess yelled an aggravated “Oh, come on!”
She threw her hands up passive-aggressively, hoping the driver saw and felt like an asshole for taking the spot from a woman who’d never done anything more selfish than eat the last Ding Dong and blame it on her grandfather. Exaggerations aside, Jess—always able to keep her cool behind the wheel—was on the verge of laying a heavy hand on her horn. But then the car door opened, and one impossibly long leg stretched out, wrapped in pressed charcoal trousers and capped by a shiny leather shoe. There was something about the shoulders that emerged, the poise … and then it hit her. Jess didn’t need to see his face to know, because this wasn’t just any black sedan, it was a black Audi. His black Audi.
River Peña stole her parking spot.
She leaned out her window, shouting, “Hey!” But he was already walking briskly down the sidewalk and didn’t bother to turn around.
Jess spotted another car backing out a few rows away, and winced at the audible squeal of her tires as she bolted around the turn. Ready to lay on her horn lest anyone dare take this spot, she pulled in, shoved her car into park, grabbed everything she needed, and shuffle-jogged in heels and her fitted skirt toward the entrance.
Nearly ten minutes late now, but last time Jennings had been running fifteen minutes behind, and she could already see the elevators on the other side of the glass doors. She just might make it …
And who was standing at the elevator but River Peña? Jess watched him reach forward, pressing the button.
The light above it blinked on, the doors slid open. He took a step forward, and Jess clutched her laptop to her chest, breaking into a sprint.
“Hold it, please!”
Turning, he glanced over his shoulder and then disappeared into the elevator.
“Motherfucker!” Jess mumbled.
Jennings Grocery headquarters was only three floors up, so instead of waiting, she took the stairs. Two at a time. Visibly out of breath when she jogged from the stairwell into the hallway, Jess immediately collided with a brick wall of a man. For the record, he smelled amazing. It was infuriating.
“Careful,” he murmured, eyes on his phone as he stepped around her, continuing down the hall.
But Jess had reached the boiling point: “Americano!”
Hesitating only briefly, he turned. His dark hair fell over one eye and he brushed it aside. “I’m sorry?”
“Apology not accepted. You took my parking spot.”
“I took your—?”
“And you didn’t hold the elevator,” she said. “I’m running late, you saw me, and you didn’t bother to hold the door.”
“I didn’t see you.” He let out a short, incredulous laugh. “Maybe you should leave a little earlier next time.”
“Wow. You really are an asshole.”
He frowned, studying her. “Do we know each other?”
“Are you kidding?” She pointed to her chest. “Twiggs? Spit in a vial? Entirely average? Any of that ring a bell?”
Comprehension was a weather front that moved across his face. Surprise, recognition, embarrassment.
“I …” His eyes flickered over her and then down the hall as if there might be reinforcements coming at any moment. “You were … completely unrecognizable. I didn’t know it was you.”
For the life of her, Jess couldn’t figure out if that was a sick burn or a backhanded compliment.
“I’m sorry, I don’t recall your name, Ms. … ?” he asked evenly.
“You’ve never known it.”
And there was the look that delighted her—the one that said he was barely tolerating the conversation. Breaking eye contact, he finally glanced down at his watch. “You said something about running late?”
Shit!
Jess pushed past him, jogging ten feet down the hall to Suite 303, the offices of Jennings Grocery.
THIRTY-ONE PERCENT OF California households are run by single parents, but Jess would never have guessed that from the people streaming into the Alice Birney Elementary Science-Art Fair meeting. Being a solo parent at a school event was like being a single person at a couples’ party. Minus the wine. If Nana or Pops wasn’t with her, Jess was made intensely aware that the other parents had no idea how to interact with a single mom. The longest conversation she’d had with someone there had been at the first-grade holiday recital when a mom had asked if Jess’s husband was going to be sitting in the empty seat next to her. When she’d said, “No husband, free chair,” the other woman smiled awkwardly for a few beats before rolling on breathlessly for five minutes about how sorry she was that she didn’t know any nice single men.
But for the first time at one of these events, she realized as she walked into the hall, Jess was relieved to be alone; she wouldn’t have to small-talk. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to do that tonight; every meeting she’d had today had been a dead end. Well, except the Jennings Grocery meeting. That was a complete disaster.