Page 28 of Just My Luck

Fine. She’d follow these people as long as the Kumquat held up. If only she could drive her father’s car, which was a pretty nice Lincoln Navigator. But it had been repossessed soon after his arrest, and she couldn’t afford those payments anyway.

She needed to go see Dad soon, she thought, her heart sinking. He wanted her to bring Mia and Eddie, but so far, they hadn’t wanted to see him, and she wasn’t going to force them to do it. For a moment, anger bubbled up inside her. Why should the children get left holding the bag when parents fucked up this much? Why couldn’t Judy, their mother, tear herself away from that man she insisted was a living saint? That woman had a fatal attraction to con men, in Zara’s opinion.

Ride that wave, she told herself as her heart twisted. That motto applied to anger as much as anything else. Let it pass through you, feel it, but don’t stay there. Living in anger was not the way.

Glancing up ahead, she realized she’d lost sight of the Mercedes. It had a much more powerful engine than her Beetle, and she’d fallen too far behind. Crap. She turned right at the next chance and executed a three-point turn using someone’s driveway. Hopefully her brakes would hold up for the lengthy downhill run back to the highway.

And then—there it was, the Mercedes, pulling right in front of her. Blocking her.

A man swung out of the driver’s seat and strode toward her. She quickly locked her door, but rolled down the window a crack when he glared down at her. Between his short-cropped dark hair and hyper-muscularity, he looked like Buzz Lightyear come to life.

“Why are you following us,” he demanded.

“I…I…” she stammered, wilting under his stern glare. “Why would I? I don’t even know who you are. I’m just on my way home. Well, after I stop at Costco for some ramen noodles. There’s a storm coming. You’re getting wet, you should get back into your car.”

Babbling nonsense, basically. He knew he was getting wet. Raindrops darkened his gray cotton sweater.

“You don’t live up here, Zara Morrissey. You’re lying.”

Her mouth fell open. How did he know her name? Her gaze flickered to the blond woman in the passenger seat, who had twisted around and was watching her closely.

“I never said I lived up here. How do you know who I am? Did you look me up?”

How? From her license plate? Was that publicly available information? She didn’t think so.

“Who are you working for?” he demanded.

“No one! I mean, I have a job, but that’s none of your business.” A shocking thought struck her. “Is this about my father?”

Lucky Lou Morrissey had pissed off a lot of people. Occasionally she ran into one of them and had to suffer through a rant.

The man crossed his arms over his broad chest. A car door slammed and the woman came charging over, an umbrella shielding her from the rain. “You tell that selfish, arrogant, inconsiderate asshole of a brother of mine that he’s not going to rattle me. He made his bed and burned his bridges. Now he can lie in it.”

“In the bridge or the bed? You’re mixing up your metaphors.” Zara had achieved a surreal sense of calm. None of this made any sense anyway, so maybe it wasn’t actually real. Disassociation, was that the word?

“What? Good lord. If you think that innocent act is going to fool my brother, dream on. He’s had gold-diggers after him his whole life.”

“You know the gold-digger trope is very sexist. It puts all the blame on women for trying to survive in a patriarchal society.”

“So you’re admitting you’re a gold-digger?”

Oops. Maybe she’d walked into that one. “Touché. But no, I admit nothing.”

The woman had gorgeous blond hair with honey undertones and a forehead that didn’t show a single wrinkle despite her obvious fury. She had a faint Southern accent, very lovely.

Zara considered herself a “girl’s girl.” Women ought to stick together and support each other, in her opinion. Also, she was a hopeless optimist, so her natural inclination was to give this woman the benefit of the doubt.

“I suppose you’re just looking out for your brother, whoever he is. I can assure you that I’m not after anyone’s hoard of gold. Ooh, unless…is your brother a dragon? I could use a dragon.”

The man snorted, and the woman looked at him incredulously. “Don’t laugh. This is absurd. This girl has been following us for a reason.”

“Sorry, ma’am.”

Ah, so Buzz Lightyear worked for the blond woman. Zara spread open her hands. “Look, it’s raining, and I need to get home. If I promise to stay away from your brother, will you let me pass?” It was an easy thing to commit to, after all. She couldn’t possibly know anyone related to this woman.

To emphasize her point, she pressed the gas pedal, although she was still in neutral. The Kumquat coughed out a billow of exhaust, causing the woman to cover her mouth with her hand, showing off a diamond tennis bracelet.

“Let’s get moving,” she told Buzz Lightyear. “Link wouldn’t waste his time with someone like this, no matter how many bonehead decisions he’s made lately.”