Hissy Fit (The Southern Gentleman #1)(70)

Luckily, all the damage that was done was a small scrape of yellow paint from Camryn’s front bumper. Her car, on the other hand, had quite a bit more damage.

I turned, ticket in hand, only to stop short of taking a single step because Camryn was standing right there, inches away from me, staring at me with anger written all over her face.

“Here,” I said, handing it to her. “Sign at the bottom.”

She glared at the ticket book I was holding out to her, and then snatched it from my hands.

She didn’t flat out tell me ‘fuck you’ but her actions spoke louder than actual words.

After scratching out a quick, barely legible signature, she practically shoved the book back in my chest.

I had to fight the urge to smile.

I liked her spunk.

Even more, I liked the way she looked when she was glaring at me.

“Anything else, Officer Flintstone?”

I barely held back the smile that threatened to break free at her words.

“Very original,” I said. “But you do realize there’s a whole other name in between my first name and my last, correct?”

“Actually,” she said, saccharine sweet. “I didn’t.”

“Flint Dagus Stone,” I told her.

She frowned. “Dagus? What kind of name is Dagus?”

She had the nerve to talk.

“What kind of name is Camryn Elvis Presley?” I countered.

She gasped.

“How did you know that was my name?” she demanded, irate.

“I know because I know shit.” I shrugged my shoulders. “Now, go get in your car and get going. And watch the traffic. Try not to hit me again.”

Her eyes narrowed, and I wanted to reach out and poke her in the forehead.

Instead, I settled for a tilt of my chin in the direction of her car.

She stomped off in a huff. “I hope you’re happy.”

The moment she got into her car, she threw the ticket in the floorboard and started her car.

Moments later, she pulled out, and flipped me off for good measure.

Grinning, I got back in my car and spoke to my dog. “She’s crazy.”

My dog didn’t answer.