Accidental Knight: A Marriage Mistake Romance(119)

Heather answers on the first ring.

“Heather, it’s Wendy. Bad news. I was in a car accident while delivering the cake –”

I have to stop talking while she asks if I’m okay, what happened, followed by a dozen other questions. Heather always talks a mile a minute, and she's doing it again, without stopping long enough for me to get a word in.

I glance toward the luxury rig, where Ben sits in the passenger seat, looking like someone just killed his dog.

Sighing, I walk toward the SUV, letting motor-mouth Heather get the last hundred words in.

“I’m fine, really,” I say, when she finally takes a breath. “Yes, I've got another cake I plan on decorating. I'll have it there by five thirty at the latest. Promise.”

Clicking off before she can fire another string of questions, I arrive at the driver’s door of the SUV, where the window is already cracked. I’m sure Ben rolled it down, so he could hear if I’d mentioned the stolen game or not.

“I haven’t said a word,” I tell him. “And won’t, as long as that disk gets returned with an apology.”

For a second, he stares at me like a deer waiting for the inevitable crash of headlights. Then he nods, while glancing at my van, which sputters to a start just then.

“Tomorrow. I’ll call the game shop to make sure,” I tell him before walking away.

Mr. Money Bags climbs out of my driver’s door. “The van was still in drive, but it’s running fine now. You must've hit the brakes so hard you killed your engine.”

I could practically slap myself.

“Maybe. To keep from hitting your kid.” I’ve calmed down. No longer panicking over almost hitting Ben or the cake.

I’ll make this work, I know I will. But I'm still pissed. Flustered. At myself now because I can’t stop giving him those looks I know I shouldn't.

Money Bags. The name barely fits. He's rich, obviously, but he's so damn handsome. The Fortune 500 combined couldn't bribe their way into winning a Mr. Universe contest against him.

“Good. Then you'll let me pay for the damage to your van. Just let me know where you take it.”

All I can think through the new wave of shock is that maybe the name fits after all.

He’s handing me a business card, which I take and shove in my pocket.

That, too, just riles me up. Apparently, his only concern, his only answer, is to pay for everything.

Like money solves everything and he's got a sweet, sweet orchard of money trees planted in his backyard.

“I’ll make it right,” he says. “Don't you worry your pretty head.”

Ohhhh. There it goes.

Something inside me snaps.

Maybe it's because I still see Ben’s solemn blue eyes in my mind, a shade brighter than his father's. Or maybe it's because I’m just flipping sick of Murphy and his damn law that won’t leave me alone today.

Everything that can go wrong has gone wrong in spades.

“You know how you can make this right?” I ask quietly, with no intention whatsoever of giving him time to answer. “By keeping your boy off the street and away from speeding vehicles.”

“Lady, Ben’s a good kid, he just—”

Not in any sort of mood to hear more, I say, “Rich or poor, kids with too much free time on their hands are going to get into trouble. You're lucky he avoided more, this time.”

Finally.

I'm being a royal snark queen, I know, but it happens in a flash.

Those blue eyes of his turn so dark I have to take a second look. I'm second-guessing everything I just said. Oh, yeah, he’s pissed.

But it does feel good.

“What exactly are you insinuating?” he says, an edge that could cut in his voice.

Crap. I can’t say anything about the game. I promised not to.

So I just shrug. “Let's see...a hundred-dollar sweatshirt, three-hundred-dollar jacket, two-hundred-dollar shoes, four-hundred-dollar skateboard.” I’m just throwing out numbers, but from his expression, I’m hitting the price tags close to the nose.

“There’s nothing wrong with having nice things or sharing wealth with my family.”

“No, there’s not,” I agree, while walking to the van. “It’s a fine goal for many people. What I'm saying is, whether a person has money or not, a job teaches them a lot. And it keeps them too busy for mischief.” I climb in the van, feeling lower than ever.

Life in general right now isn't bringing out the best in me, so I just keep going. “There are some pretty awesome perks, too. Responsibility, accountability, and time management, just to name a few.”

I shut the door before he can respond with all his millionaire fury and shift the van into drive.

My escape car, because that’s exactly what it is, isn't as smooth as I’d have wished. The cake on the passenger seat hits the floor again as the front tire rolls off the curb.

I bite my lip and bounce too, but keep driving, refusing to look in the rear-view mirror. No good could come of it.

I need to stay focused. Get back to the shop. Decorate another cake. Deliver it.

Get back to the shop. Bake another cake. Call my mother.

Tell her about the van she’s had since she was my age – and that's only a slight exaggeration.