Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 74227 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74227 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Harold shrugged.
“Not my problem, Ms. Lawrence.”
Lark Lawrence. Nice.
Catchy.
Fuck.
“Harold,” I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. “You need to get off your HOA high horse and back the fuck off. The board meets next week, and I have no problem in the freakin’ world asking for a vote to replace your ass.”
Harold’s eyes narrowed. “I’m the president. You can’t kick me off the board.”
“Actually,” I paused, wiping sweat from my brow. “I’m pretty sure you’ve pissed off a lot of people lately with your fines. If there’s a petition of more than sixty neighbor signatures, an emergency election can be held for someone more suitable for the position.”
Harold looked like he’d swallowed a roach.
“Fine.” His eyes turned to Lark. “Go ahead and leave the trash can out. You and only you can do this. If anyone else tries to put it out early, though, you will be finding an alternate solution.”
Bullshit.
If he tried to fine her again for this, I’d hire my own fucking lawyer and sue his ass for harassment.
I had the money, after all. Why the fuck not?
“Don’t.”
I looked over at the woman.
“I can tell that you’re pissed, but trust me on this. I have this man as my neighbor. He’s also my landlord and someone who pretty much controls my life. Don’t do whatever it is that I can see you’re thinking about doing.”
Before I could question her even more about what she was talking about—why would Harold control her life—she walked away without another word.
“Hey!” I called to her.
She turned and looked at me.
“You’re wearing my hat.”
She touched the brim with her hand.
“What…” She shook her head. “No, it’s not.”
I nodded my head. “Yes, it is. I lost it in a rainstorm. Near this house, I might add.”
She looked over at her yard and tilted her head.
“I found it in my bushes. I washed it, and I was going to donate it to Goodwill along with some of the extras that were left in this house, but when I was planting the flowers, my cheeks were burning…”
She took it off and offered it to me.
I shook my head. “Nah.”
Then I started back down the street, not bothering to turn and see if she was watching.
I didn’t need to, after all. I could practically feel her eyes burning a hole in my back.
Chapter 5
Some girls are Malibu Barbie. I’m that weird knock-off, store-brand ‘Barbie’ that looks like she’s from the hood and has gone a few rounds with life.
-Lark’s secret thoughts
Lark
I looked at my car in dismay.
I had a parking ticket.
Dammit.
Hell.
Shit.
Piss.
I took the ticket off of the windshield, opened the door of my car, and sat down on the most uncomfortable seat in the world.
It, however, was being loaned to me by my new friend, Krisney.
Apparently, it was her spare. She’d explained to me when she’d given me the keys that it had a tendency to break down at the worst possible minute. That it had an oil leak that meant I would have to put a bottle in once a week, and a faulty taillight that worked only when it wanted to work.
The inside was almost as bad as the outside, but not by much.
Oh, and did I mention I couldn’t afford insurance?
Yeah, I was driving on the Texas roads, illegal as fuck.
Awesome.
I thrust this ticket into the glovebox with the others and slammed it closed.
Then I stuck the key in the ignition, turned it, and winced.
Nothing. Not a crank. Not a dink. Not even a turn of the motor.
Not a goddamn thing.
“Dammit!” I cried out. “Can my life get any worse?”
Yes, yes it could.
Which I found out moments later when a tow truck pulled up across the street from me, started backing up, and stopped a few short inches away from my neighbor’s truck’s front bumper.
Then none other than the sexiest man alive got out, dressed the same way he had been the day he’d repossessed my car.
Baylor Hail.
God, he was so sexy.
So sexy it practically hurt.
He was tall, well over six feet two inches—I knew this based off of looking up at him. The same crick that was in my neck when I looked at my ex, was also present when I looked at Baylor. My guess was that he was at least six foot three or more based on my increased level of crickiness.
He had brown hair that was shaved on the sides, and a little longer than finger length on top.
He’d cut it.
My heart almost broke.
Those curling ends had been adorable when he’d repossessed my car.
My mind wandered to who cut his hair. Which woman got the privilege of sifting her fingers through the hair that looked so freakin’ soft.
I wondered if she kept his hair as a memento until the next time he came in.
I used to cut my friend’s hair like that…I could totally cut his if he wanted.