Page 46

DAX: I’m at your house.

HAYDEN: BMOFA

DAX: You ok?

HAYDEN: I am now. Let’s burn the witches to the ground.

DAX: No problem. BTW–head witch in charge sent an email making sure I knew you have a prank truce. But, dude, we uploaded her resume to BeANanny.com last week.

HAYDEN: I’ll tell her. You pull her resume.

DAX: K-but she already has like six interviews set up. I feel bad for the people who need a quality nanny.

HAYDEN: She’s not it. And they’ll back off once they hear from her character references.

I scrub my hand through my hair. My head is all over the place with the past and present. My phone rings and I don’t recognize the number. Perhaps it’s the minx from the City of Big Shoulders calling from someone else’s phone.

“Aren’t you supposed to be being brilliant or some shit?”

“Hello, Brother Hayden.” What is this? “I’m calling because you expressed a keen interest in the Church of Scientology. We’d love to have you come in for a reading and talk.”

I’m going to kill her.

BETTE

I fought a woman for the last can of Trader Joe’s tomato sauce. It’s the only one I like and I’m making spaghetti tonight for Three-Date Tate. He’s mildly amusing. He might be in trouble when it comes to getting serviced tonight, though. I’m a little sore after servicing myself four times in the middle of the night to the thought of that asshole’s voice. He wasn’t gentle, either. I shake my head and grab some fresh parm.

I have high hopes for Three-Date Tate. Although things have been rather tame, I’m hoping he surprises me. I’m fourth in line and the woman in front must feed dozens of linebackers. My phone vibrates in my pocket and I can’t get it out easily in these jeans. I’m in my smidge-too-tight jeans, so I have to wiggle and work my hand into my back pocket. Fuck. I accidently make a call. I hear someone pick up, but I can’t get to it.

I’m hopping around with my head turned back towards my ass and yelling, “Hold on. Hold on. I’m coming. I’m coming.” People are looking at me and I glare at them. “Not like that.” I finally get my phone out of my pocket. Sadly, it flips out of my hand and skids across the floor. I’m afraid it might be Three-Date Tate texting to confirm and now I’ve called him. I’m going to sound more eager than I am.

I crawl across the floor and when I’m an arm’s length from the phone, I say it one more time. “Hold on. Oh, my god, I’m coming. Right now.”

I get my ear to the phone and the voice fills me with ice-cold seething, like a burning sensation.

“I’m good but I’m not that good.” He sounds like he’s purring.

“Shit. Hayden. What?” I grabbed my work phone instead of the other one. Three-date Tate is probably out of his mind with worry because I haven’t answered his confirmation texts.

“You called me,” Hayden says.

“No. My ass did.”

“What else can your ass do?” I bet he’s smirking.

Trying to keep it flirty and not sounding like he’s been a frequent thought lately, I say, “Tease you into submission. It’s that good. Now, why did you text me?”

He groans and my body lights up. Remember, you hate him. Hate him so fucking much.

“It was a preemptive apology. And I’m curious how many more Mormon calls I’m going to have to field. They’re starting to wear me down,” he says.

I laugh, moving forward in line, leaning on my grocery cart. “Sorry, I removed you from the lists, but sometimes I can’t stop it. But what were you saying? Go on.” I wish I knew what he looked like.

He says, “Before we called the truce, I did something.”

“WHAT?” Everyone jumps around me as I yell.

“Calm down there, loud woman.”