his eyes narrow into thin slits.
“There a problem, babe?” His use of the word “babe” trips me up, for only a second, before I snap.
“How cruel can you be? I spent all evening putting those damn flowers in. That was the one nice thing I had. Why would you do that? Why?”
With slow, methodical movements, Roman swings his leg off his bike and sets his helmet on the seat, towering over me. His hands at his sides curl into fists, and the muscles along his jaw jump wildly, as he grinds his teeth together.
“You accusing me of something, Olivia?”
“I know you stomped on my flowers. I want to understand why. I want to know why you’re such a dick, why you hate me so much, and why you feel the need to make my time here in this neighborhood a living hell.”
His gaze flicks toward my now trampled flowers, and he frowns, but the look of anger on his face, from being confronted like this, still lingers.
“I didn’t do that. I couldn’t give a single shit about you and your stupid fucking flowers. Now why don’t you walk yourself on back home and get out of my face.”
Without thinking about it, I shove him in the chest. The man doesn’t even move, which only serves to fuel my frustrations. I’m fuming, my chest is heaving, as I work to control the rage soaring through my veins.
“You’re a coward. You’re a goddamn childish liar,” I seethe, lifting up onto my tiptoes, so I don’t feel so small going up against a man like him.
“Hit me again, Olivia,” he grits in challenge.
I scoff. The sound is ugly and filled with violence. “Or what, Roman? You going to hit me back? Is that it? Gonna hit me for calling you out on your shit?”
His lips thin into a grim line, just before they curl over his teeth in a snarl. He takes threatening steps toward me, bringing us chest to chest. Bending down, he gets in my face, his gaze filled with ire and ice.
“I’d never lay a hand on a woman. Even one as batshit crazy as you. Now get the fuck off my property.”
With those harsh words, he whirls on his heels, throws a leg back over his bike, tosses on his helmet, and peels out of his driveway.
Yeah, real fucking mature, asshole.
My entire body deflates, when I glance at my ruined flowers. When I peer over my shoulder, feeling eyes on me from across the street, I frown. Josie, the nosy older woman, is there standing on her porch, wearing a robe, cigarette dangling from her lips.
She shakes her head at me, pulling the smoke from between her crusty lips. “You’re mental, you realize that, right?”
I roll my eyes, turning my back on her.
Yeah, yeah. I know.
I spend the rest of the day fuming at work. Every little thing seems to piss me off. At the top of that list are Lucy and Travis. I don’t usually make a habit out of inserting myself into anyone’s business, but after the morning I’ve had, I can’t hold my tongue any longer. The one decent guy in the office, Mark, asked Lucy out for dinner, but because she’s so infatuated with Travis, she turned him down. Doesn’t she realize what a huge mistake she’s making? I mean, hell, if I was looking to date, I would’ve said yes to Mark!
During lunch, when I tell Lucy just how foolish I think she is for turning him down, the glare she sends my way is visceral. She’s angry with me for pointing out the obvious, and I also get the sense she’s holding a grudge over Travis and his sudden interest in me. I hope that isn’t the case. That man isn’t worth having anyone hate you over. To make things worse, Travis is still treating me like I’m the problem. He’s acting as if we were in a relationship, and I cheated on him or something.
He’s been short with me during procedures. He is curt and rude when I have questions. The other times, he stands a little too close, and when I try to move away from him, he has the nerve to get snappy with me and have an attitude like a petulant child.
I’m not interested in him. Why can’t he take a hint?
He has plenty of women who throw themselves at him daily, and I don’t want to be another notch on his bedpost. If his attitude is any indication,