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Sutton~
Istared down at the text message on my phone, and even though I’d let the guy kiss me last week, his audacity was still incredible to witness.
Jerkface:I’m coming over. U better answer ur fucking door when I get there
The jacked-up thing about it all was that Delta wasn’t even here to play referee. Though her Tuesdays were a light load just like mine, she had texted me earlier, inviting me to go study with her. I’d had to remind her that it was my laundry and shopping day, though I wasn’t bothered by it. Delta always had a million things going on, so I didn’t take offense when she forgot what I was up to.
Staring at my phone, I was at war between texting Ross back or letting him find out on his own that I wasn’t home. With my laundry done, I had just entered the grocery store when his arrogant text had come through. A part of me wanted to leave the text unanswered, but then I imagined an unfortunate scene at my apartment complex with Ross banging down the door, and I didn’t need that kind of complaint lodged with the housing management. Decent apartments within a reasonable price range were hard to find in a college town, and so I texted the jerk back.
Me:I’m shopping
His response was fast as hell.
Jerkface:Where?
Me:Why?
Jerkface:So help me God, Sutton!
Well, okay. While I could admit to not knowing what was going on, it was obvious that Ross’ temper was teetering a fine line right now. And though I was still bitter as hell, I really didn’t want to be on the receiving end of Ross Carmichael losing his shit. The guy was powerful where I was not.
Me:Copa’s Grocery
Ross didn’t reply, and I had no idea if that was a good thing or a bad thing. So, shoving my phone back in my purse, I grabbed the cart handle, and then went about my business. I didn’t have a whole lot to pick up, so if Ross wanted to talk to me, he’d better hurry.
About ten minutes later, I was in the fresh fruit section when I heard someone huff loudly. When I turned to see what was going on, an angry Ross Carmichael was storming my way, rudely making his way around the shoppers in his path.
My brows shot upward when he stopped in front of me. “Problem?” I asked dryly.
“How do you know August Remington?” he asked, foregoing any sort of greeting.
“I don’t,” I answered, then went back to putting a couple of nectarines in the fruit bags provided by the store.
Ross grabbed the bag from my hands. “How many?”
“Five,” I answered, nonplussed.
Ross stuffed the nectarines in the bag, then toss them in my shopping car. “Is that it?”
I stood there.
Confused.
Looking up at him, I wracked my brain, then ran through those two weeks together and wondered how I could never have suspected that Ross Carmichael was crazy.
Plum crazy.
I cocked my head in confusion. “Do you want to tell me what in the hell is going on, Ross? Or did you seriously come here just to help me shop?”
Those blue eyes of his were still firing with anger. “How do you know August Remington?”
“I already told you,” I sighed, tired to the bone with this guy. “I don’t.”
Ross grabbed the shopping cart handle, then started to push it. “Yeah? Then why did he say he was going to ask you out?”
That stopped me. “What?”
Ross maneuvered the cart to the side, then grabbing my arm, he moved us into a corner, away from other shoppers. “If you don’t know him, then why would he talk about asking you out?”
