J. Valentine - Surrender to Love

Moving past him, she made her way to the back of the car and cringed as she got a load of the damage. “What did you do to my baby?” she screeched.

It was horrific. Worse than anything she had ever seen. The bumper was buckled in on itself and the paint job was completely trashed. Okay, maybe not the worse damage she’d ever witnessed, but it was a fucking tragedy to her.

“Damn shame,” Jon said, his eyes sweeping over its sleek body appreciatively. “But it could always be worse.” His mouth turned down in a frown as his eyes fell on his own car. “Besides, you’re not the one calling a tow truck.”

Patti glanced at his car and the smoke and various fluids leaking from under the hood. “Well, that’s what happens when you drive foreign pieces of shit.” Logically, she knew she was one to talk since she owned a Toyota, but from her point of view, that was her crap car. Nothing beat good old American-made muscle.

“Piece of shit?” Jon’s face screwed up in offense. “Lady, that’s a BMW. Do you have any idea what that car costs?”

“More than I could hope to make in a lifetime, I’m sure,” she complained. “But even if I had the funds, I’d never waste them on something like that.” With a sad shake of her head, she went back around to the driver’s side and leaned inside. David Coverdale was still going strong, but his ability to soothe her had faded for the moment, so she twisted the volume all the way down before reaching across the console to open the glove compartment.

“Is that…Is that a disposable camera?” Jon stood back, observing her as she moved around the joined vehicles and snapped picture after picture with a small smirk on his face.

“I’m glad you find this so funny.” Kneeling down, Patti took several pictures of the fender bender, and then backed up to get a few from a distance so there couldn’t be any confusion over who was at fault. “By the way,” she said as she peered down the lens. “How did you manage to plow into me in the first place?” She lifted her head to take his measure. “You don’t look high or drunk. Are you blind or just plain stupid?”

Jon’s eyebrows lifted and he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his slacks, mulling over her words. “Wow.” He huffed a disbelieving laugh and his tongue poked out to swipe across his bottom lip. “I got a completely different impression of you the other night.”

Camera in hand, Patti crossed her arms over her chest and popped her hip out. She narrowed her eyes dangerously. “And what impression would that be exactly?”

He opened his mouth to say something, and then closed it as if thinking better of it. He dropped his head to mask his smile. “Just forget it. Forget I said anything.” Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out his wallet. “We should exchange information. For insurance purposes,” he clarified when she continued to stand there, staring holes through him. “Unless you don’t want your car fixed?”

Grudgingly, Patti skirted by him to dig into her purse for her information. As she rummaged around in the old saddlebag, her phone went off. She grabbed her wallet and made her way back to where Jon stood waiting for her as she answered the call.

“What do you want, asshole?” she barked as she held out her insurance card. Jon’s blue eyes lifted to hers quizzically as he took it. She ignored him.

“I’m coming by later to get my stuff,” Kyle told her.

“Yeah, that’s not going to work for me,” Patti said as she jotted down the license plate and insurance I.D. on a piece of scrap paper. Kyle had wisely left her alone the first couple of days after they broke up, but he’d been blowing up her phone since late last night. She hadn’t bothered to listen to any of the twenty-seven messages he’d left, figuring she didn’t owe him a damn thing. Now, she was in a hellish mood, and who better to direct it at than the ex-boyfriend.

“Why not? I got a key. You don’t even need to be there.”

“Because I don’t want you in my house, that’s why,” Patti snapped, and then cursed, scribbling out the mistake that he’d caused her to make and started rewriting the numbers. “Look, give me a day or two and I’ll box your stuff up and drop it by your place while you’re at work.”

“Sorry, that won’t work for me,” Kyle said, tossing her words back at her.

All he accomplished was inciting her rage. “You know what doesn’t work for me? Seeing my boyfriend screwing some bitch with mile-fucking-long legs!” Jon was staring at her now. Shifting enough to keep him in her peripherals, she leashed what she could of her anger and spoke cheerily through clenched teeth.

“Fine, I changed my mind. Go ahead and come over later.” And that’s when the leash snapped and she lost her tether on sanity. “You can pick out what’s left of your shit from the burning pile of rubble on my front lawn!” She ended the call and squeezed her eyes shut, taking several deep, cleansing breaths to calm herself. She really wasn’t an angry person. She was actually quite nice, docile, even. It wasn’t her fault that the men in her life always seemed to draw out her inner bitch.

“Boyfriend?” Jon asked warily as she stuffed her phone in her jeans pocket and thrust his card back at him.

“ Ex- boyfriend,” she growled, returning her card back to her wallet.

“I feel sorry for him,” he said, his eyes dancing with mirth.

“You would,” Patti said in disgust. She pivoted on her heel and marched back to her car.

“Whoa, what did I say?”

Patti chose to ignore him. “You’ll be hearing from my lawyer,” she called over her shoulder as she slid into the driver’s seat, snapped the door closed and cranked the engine. She didn’t have a lawyer, and without a job, there was no chance of her ever having one. Still, making the idle threat was a knee-jerk reaction and at the very least, it made her feel marginally better.

“Are you all right to drive?”

Patti’s head snapped up, surprise coloring her cheeks red when she suddenly found herself looking into Jon’s brilliant blue eyes. “Excuse me?” She leaned to the side, disturbed by his proximity. He had one arm propped on the roof while the other rested comfortably against the window frame. If he tried to pull anything, she figured she had about two point five seconds to roll the window up. She might not snap his neck, but he’d develop one hell of a kink while they waited for the cops to arrive.

“I asked if you’re okay to drive.”

“I’m fine,” she said sharply.

He flashed that sexy smile of his that twisted her insides, and extended his hand. “You know, I think we got off on somewhat of a bad foot the other night.” Patti thought back to the slutty women who’d shown up at her table and couldn’t disagree. “Hi, I’m Jon Bradshaw.”

On reflex, Patti placed her hand in his, momentarily distracted by its warmth and strength as it enveloped hers. “Patti Jacobs,” she said in what may or may not have been a breathy voice.

“Is Patti short for Patricia?” Jon inquired. Patti nodded. “Well, then, Patricia, it was nice meeting you, again. I only wish it could have been under better circumstances. Sorry about your car.”

She shrugged, some of her earlier anger dissipating. “Yeah, well, I should probably be apologizing to you. I’m pretty sure my car won the battle.”

Jon glanced back at his mangled vehicle, his expression darkening. “Well, that’s what insurance is for. I’m just glad we’re both okay.”

“Mm, silver lining,” Patti said, bobbing her head in agreement. She hadn’t missed the haunted look that passed over his face. She was curious what it meant, but she wasn’t about to ask him about it.