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I bit my lip so hard that I tasted blood.
This time I pushed past him, whacked him in the shin with the crutches, and used my milk to punch him in the stomach when he tried to stop me.
I made it to the cashier and placed all my items on the counter, steadily counting to one hundred in my head to stop myself from turning around and smacking the shit out of him with the crutches.
Seriously, the nerve of the man was astounding.
I was so focused on counting that I hadn’t paid attention to the crowd that had gathered, or the fact that Mal had followed me and continued to plead with me to make the cake.
“Why do you have Callum Valentine’s wallet?” he asked loudly.
I clenched my hand around the wallet and said, “Because I’m going back to his house after I finish shopping He also refused to let me pay—unlike you—and kept my purse. Therefore, before you go saying I stole it, you need to check yourself before I punch you in the face.”
Mal looked totally affronted that I would say such a thing.
“You forget,” I said stiffly. “I know how you are when you’re pissed. You get petty, doing stupid shit that only a twelve-year-old would try.”
Mal stiffened.
“And you might want to talk to your father,” I suggested. “He’s not feeling well.”
“My father’s fine.” He sniffed. “You’re just trying to change the subject.”
I’d been thinking there was something wrong with Malloy for months. If Mal had one ounce of compassion in him and noticed stuff that didn’t pertain to himself, he would’ve noticed his father acting oddly.
But, since Mal was only full of himself, there was no way that he had.
Even with my urging him to check on Malloy, he probably wouldn’t.
“He’s really not,” I insisted. “You should check on him. Get him to talk to you.”
Mal rolled his eyes. “Dad’s always playing that card. Trust me when I say he’s fine.”
God, sometimes I just wanted to smack the crap out of him.
“You know,” he said, changing the subject all over again. “You’re really looking good lately.”
I felt the pressure building in my head and decided that it was just best to walk away.
Just get my shit, checkout, and walk away.
I smiled at the checker.
“Find everything all right?” she questioned me, looking at the man that still hadn’t left my side with a sideways glance before returning her gaze back to me.
She knew something was up.
I smiled painfully. “Yes, I did. Thank you.”
She once again glanced at Mal before raising her eyebrows, asking silently if I needed help.
I shook my head, hoping that she’d let it go.
Mal, although annoying, was mostly harmless.
And, unfortunately, I knew the way Mal’s brain worked.
He didn’t like not getting what he wanted.
In the beginning, that was me.
I’d played hard to get, convinced that a man like Mal had no real interest in a girl like me.
I mean come on, he was loaded, was well-known throughout the community, and had a killer body.
But the moment that he ‘got me’ and I married him, he’d started to change. The challenge was no longer there for him, so he just moved on to the next challenge—which was keeping his cheating a secret from me.
He’d done fairly well, too.
Until he didn’t.
Which brought us to now.
Callum had thrown down a challenge, telling him to stay away from me. Which triggered some dormant part of Mal’s brain that told him he had to compete, no matter what. Even if the other people in the situation weren’t competing.
And, he likely told himself, that the price was winning me back.
Which he wasn’t, under any circumstances, going to get.
Sure, if I’d been dumb enough to allow him back inside my house, he would’ve tried to seduce me. Tried to get back inside my good graces. Then, like the jerk he is, he would leave me again and still go get married to Margie.
Yeah, I was not dumb, though. Nor was I born yesterday.
Also, I had Callum sitting on his couch at his home, waiting on me to get back with a burger.
So needless to say, now that I had better waiting on me, I saw Mal for what he truly was.
Second fiddle.
“That’ll be forty-eight fifty,” the cashier said.
“I got this.” Mal pushed me aside.
And before I could elbow him back, he was swiping his card and paying.
I rolled my eyes and gathered my bags.
“I’ll make sure that Callum knows that you bought his things,” I said sweetly. “Have a good one.”
That last part was aimed at the cashier and not Mal.
Mal who was looking pissed all over again.
“That’s not for you?” he called out, hurrying to catch up to me.
I rolled my eyes. “Does it look like I need crutches right now, dipshit?”
I snickered inwardly at my use of ‘dipshit.’
God, sometimes I really did crack myself up.
