“A lot can happen in half a block,” Stacey chides, and I have to roll my lips inward to keep from laughing.
I rest my hand over my heart. “I’ll make sure she gets there safely. You have my word.”
Scarlet’s mom practically swoons as she reaches out to pat my cheek. “Such a good boy.”
“Bye, Mama.”
I cut my eyes to Scarlet, silently signaling for her to cut her shit.
But in true Stacey fashion, she simply rolls her eyes and huffs out an amused laugh. “I’ll take lots of pictures. Love you.”
“All right, hurry it up, I don’t have all day,” I say once her mom's out of sight… and earshot.
She rolls her pretty, dark eyes. “You don't have to walk me to my car. I assure you, I can manage all on my own.”
I smirk, knowing my next words are going to get under her skin. “Your mama wasn't wrong. A lot can happen in half a block. Plus, I gave her my word.”
“Yeah, ’cause your word means so much.”
I bristle. “The fuck? My worddoesmean a lot.”
“Right.” She nods, running her hands through her long hair.
“I may be a lot of things, Princess, but I'm not a fucking liar.”
She regards me for a moment and shrugs. “Okay, Ellis, whatever makes you feel better about yourself.”
She turns and sets off toward her car, and I fall into step next to her. “You know, not everything has to be a fight between us,” I tell her.
She snorts. “Sure.” She glances my way from the side of her eyes. “If you really feel that way, stop picking fights with me about every little thing.”
“Right, because it’s always me.” I cross my arms over my chest.
“Not always.” She smirks. “Just ninety percent of the time.”
“You’re such a fucking pain,” I mutter.
“And proud of it.”
I swallow back any retort, determined to escort her to her car so I can get back to my run. Except when her car comes into view, she freezes, a small gasp escaping her glossy, pink lips.
“What?” I ask, instantly on high alert.
“Are those…” She trails off squinting into the distance. “Flowers?”
There’s something off about her, but I can’t put my finger on it.
I grab her hand and tug her behind me, not hating the way her soft skin feels against mine—not that I’d ever admit that out lout.
Sure enough, when we get to her car, there's a bouquet of pink roses on her windshield.
“Huh.” She stares at the flowers like they’re a ticking time bomb on the verge of exploding. “I wonder if there's a note.”
“Do flowers usually come with one?” I ask. I’ve only ever sent my mother flowers, and obviously I include one to her. But I have no clue if it isexpected.
“Typically.”
“So go check.” But she doesn’t move. “Damn, Scarlet, I have shit to do.”