Page 3 of Mr. Infuriating (Mister #1)

Gretchen

Instead of grading the papers I’d stayed after school to work on, I found myself pacing my classroom floor, absent-mindedly straightening students’ desks and picking up the stray trash on the floor as I fumed.

The nerve of that man!

I mean, obviously he hadn’t known I was listening, but still! I didn’t want his stupid misogynistic cabinets in my house.

Screw that guy.

Surely his rude comment was grounds to cancel the contract. I’d have to call my brother, Andrew, and see what he thought. He was an attorney of whom I’d asked way too many favors in recent months.

Even though family law wasn’t his specialty, he’d had someone from his fancy law firm represent me in the divorce, yet I still received the discounted family rate.

I was positive it was because of my lawyer that I’d managed to get the house outright, although in hindsight, Troy might have thought it was a small price to pay to walk away from his responsibilities to his wife and son.

I guess Cora’s vagina must be magical. Or maybe mine was just that bad after having Jake.

I decided not to bother my brother until our monthly family dinner and casually mention it then.

Realizing I was not in the right frame of mind to grade my seventh grader’s essays—right now they’d probably all get Ds— I decided to pack up and take the papers home to hopefully work on later that night.

My phone dinged with an incoming text, and I cringed internally, thinking it was Laura, my BFF, asking me again to go to happy hour and “celebrate” my divorce. I suspected “celebrate” meant get me drunk and try to find me a one-night stand.

I wasn’t ready to celebrate yet. And one-night stands had never really been my thing, even when I was young and carefree. I was a mom now; they definitely couldn’t be my thing.

My vibrator had been scratching my itch for quite a while, it could continue doing the job until I figured things out.

Reluctantly, I opened my text app and found an unread message from an unknown number.

Unknown numbers weren’t unusual—I gave my students’ parents my number at the beginning of the year with directions to use it if they had questions or concerns.

Clicking on it, I scowled at the words.

Unknown number: Ms. Wainwright—it’s Gabe Mitchell. I owe you an apology for my crude response to my foreman, Rick, when he asked a question on your behalf. Please know I’m embarrassed and never meant any disrespect .

Never meant any disrespect?

I wasn’t letting him off the hook that easily.

Me: So, suggesting I ride your dick was meant to be respectful ?

The bubbles that indicated he was replying started and stopped and didn’t restart again, so I put my phone in my purse, grabbed my satchel with my students’ papers and walked out my door.

On my way to the parking lot, I felt the phone’s vibration. Part of me wanted to make the asshole wait before I read his reply, but the worrier in me wanted to get this cabinet situation resolved or I knew I’d fret until it was.

Gabe Mitchell: What I said was crude and out of line. In my defense, I was sweaty and grumpy, and I thought I was only talking to my foreman. I would never knowingly speak that way in front of any woman. Please accept my apologies.

Me: I’ll accept your apology if you’ll cancel my order.

Gabe Mitchell: You know I can’t do that, ma’am. I’ve spent the last ten weeks working on your cabinets—made specifically for your kitchen. Not to mention the expense of your specialized wood choice.

Did he seriously drop a ma’am on me? I was disliking this guy more and more.

Me: I have a hard time believing my kitchen is so unique that those cabinets wouldn’t work somewhere else.

Gabe Mitchell: They probably would. If someone came in with a similar layout to your kitchen and wanted that exact wood.

But the chances of that happening are slim.

And I’m sorry to have to remind you, we have a contract, which I’ve upheld my end of.

Now I need you to uphold yours, so I don’t have to take legal action. When can we schedule an installation?

Ugh.

I wasn’t sure how long I could avoid Mitchell Cabinets and Woodworking, but I knew I could get away with it at least until next week.

I shoved my phone back in my purse without replying and started my little Honda Accord—I’d decided against getting a minivan until I had Kid Number Two, and it didn’t look promising that was ever going to happen.

I don’t want a minivan anyway.

My phone buzzed again, and I pulled it out of my purse. Only this time it was from Laura.

Laura: Happy hour tonight?

Me: I don’t think so.

Laura: Come on; Thursday night is ladies’ night! You need to get out and embrace your new found freedom! You’re officially single! It’s time to start acting like it!

Me: Um, I have a *child*. I can’t just go to a bar on a whim.

Laura: I know for a fact Carrie would love to watch him.

Me: How do you know “for a fact” my sister would love to watch him?

Laura: I already asked her for you. She’ll be at your house in 30 minutes.

Of course she had.

I never thought I’d find myself single again at the age of thirty-one. It hardly felt like something I wanted to embrace. Although, “marry a cheater who abandoned his family” hadn’t exactly been on my bingo card, either. Yet here I was .

Maybe Laura was right—I should welcome my new marital status.

Yet the second I thought it, it still didn’t sound appealing.

Power through, Gretchen ! my inner voice chided. You’re lucky to have people who love you and are willing to support you!

I decided to compromise.

Me: I’ll come for one drink.

Laura: I’ll meet you at Flannigan’s in an hour.

With a sigh I put my car in drive. If I hurried, I could pick up Jake, go home and help Carrie with dinner, change out of my teacher clothes and into something more bar-worthy, freshen up my makeup, and only be a few minutes late.

I could at least look the part of an available woman. Maybe I’d even get a free drink because, thanks to Gabe Mitchell, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to afford anything more than water or maybe a soda.

Screw you, Troy.

And screw you, too, Gabe Mitchell.

And while I was at it—screw the asshole at the electric company who charged me a setup fee to remove my ex’s name from my utility bill.

I was still sore about that one, too.

Getting divorced wasn’t for the weak. Or poor, as I was quickly finding out.

*** *

Gabe

I thought about Gretchen as I drove to Brayden’s game. I didn’t want her to think I was a creep.

I mean, I had been crude—no doubt. And I was embarrassed as fuck about it. But I’d apologized, dammit. She should have accepted my apology.

Why should she? my inner voice asked.

Because I really was sorry!

I was also sorry we were going to have to sue her if she didn’t pay up.

I didn’t want to do that—especially if she was tight on money like she’d told Rick. Going to court was going to double her bill. Not to mention I was going to have to charge her for a storage unit if she didn’t schedule the installation soon.

Hopefully, she had someone in her corner who would help her realize it was in her best interest to just have the cabinets installed.

While I waited at one of the few stoplights in town, I noticed a sign announcing the opening of a new clothing store and decided to stop. Maybe if I showed up with a sweatshirt, that would placate my ex-wife.

I doubted it, but I might as well try. Get back into one woman’s good graces at least.

~~

I approached where Britt was sitting next to her mom and tossed her a yellow bag containing the new sweatshirt.

“What’s this?” she asked with furrowed brows as she peeked inside .

“Your mom said you left your sweatshirt at my house, and I figured you might be cold today.”

She pulled out the pink hoodie with some logo I wasn’t familiar with, and I held my breath. I didn’t know if this brand was fashionable, or if I’d be taking it back on my drive to work tomorrow.

“Dad!” she shrieked before quickly pulling it over her head. “I love it! Thank you!”

Becky, on the other hand, glared at me.

Nope. Not placated .

Apparently, I was supposed to go home and get the one she’d specifically asked for.

“If you had time to stop at the store, why didn’t you have time to go home?”

“Because the store was on my way. My house would have been another thirty minutes round trip.”

She rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“ Thirty minutes, Gabriel? Exaggerate much?”

There she went with my government name again. She’d never once called me Gabriel during our ten years of marriage.

I didn’t have the energy to argue with her, so I just gave her a fuck you smile, kissed Britt on her forehead, and walked to the opposite end of the field to find a space next to the parents of some of Brayden’s friends.

Brayden’s best friend’s mom stood and greeted me with a hug. “Hey, Gabe! How have you been?”

“Hi, Missy. You look as beautiful as ever.” I shook her husband’s hand. “Good to see you, Bryan.”

“You too, Gabe. Pull up a chair. ”

I unfolded my camping chair just as Missy said, “So, Brayden told Will you’re still not dating anyone...”

I only faltered a little as I set the chair up. Here we go …

“Whoever you know who would be perfect for me, I’m not interested.”

“I told you to leave it alone, Miss,” Bryan grumbled.

“But she really would be perfect!”

“Oh yeah?” I said with a mischievous smile as I plopped into my chair. “Why’s that.”

I was dying to hear what Missy thought made a woman perfect for me.

“Well, she’s newly divorced.”

“That’s good. I would hate to think you wanted to set me up with a married woman. Hopefully she’s straight, too.”

“Of course, silly.”

My teasing was lost on the woman.

“So, single and straight… I’m not sure that qualifies as ‘perfect for me’.”

“She’s funny and smart… and she wants to have children.”

I choked out a laugh.

“I’m afraid that instantly disqualifies her. Britt and Brayden keep me plenty busy. I have no interest in having more kids.”

It’d taken a while to come to terms with that, but now that I had, I embraced it.

Missy waved a hand at me. “Oh, you say that now.”

“And I’ll keep saying it.”

“Just meet her. I know you’d really like her.”

“I appreciate you thinking of me, but really, I’m not interested in being set up. ”

She let out a dramatic sigh.

“You won’t even think about it?”

“Nope. Thank you, though.”

With pursed lips, she grumbled, “You’re no fun.”

I burst out laughing. “Then why would you want to set me up with your friend?”

“It’s not her friend,” Bryan chimed in. “It’s her sister.”

“Who’s also my friend,” Missy shot back.

“Again, thank you for thinking of me. I’m honored you think I’m worthy to date your sister, but I really don’t want to date anyone right now.”

Although I wouldn’t mind a roll in the hay with someone.

Definitely not with Missy’s sister though. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that wouldn’t end well. Not to mention me fucking my son’s best friend’s aunt once and not going back for a second date would be a disaster for Brayden.

Maybe I’d visit my little brother’s bar soon and see what that scene had to offer.

Derrick seemed to get laid a lot without any strings; he said it was a benefit of being an owner of not one, but two Flannigan’s.

He’d just opened one in Lancastle, our little coastal town in Massachusetts, and decided to name it after the original one he and Maverick owned in Boston.

But just having a brother who owned a bar appeared to do the trick when it came to getting women.

Every time any of us stopped by, we usually ended the night with a proposition from a woman wearing beer goggles.

Beau was only a year older than Derrick and visited him often, taking full advantage of the brother/bar owner angle.

I’d only left with someone once. And the one-time Mav had taken a woman home from the bar, he ended up marrying her nine months later when he found out she’d had his baby.

The idea made me shudder. Which, I had to admit, was ironic.

My kids were now thirteen, eleven, and forever two. While I’d once been devastated at the idea of not having more, I couldn’t comprehend starting over now. Maverick’s boys had already graduated high school, with Nick in college and Nash in the Navy when little Sawyer was born.

Fuck. That.

Again, the irony wasn’t lost on me.

Although, I had to admit, I’d never seen Maverick happier, and my nephew was a pretty damn cute baby. I enjoyed spending time with him. But I was always glad that I could hand him back when he got fussy or needed a new diaper.

Still, Missy was not going to be deterred.

“Well, if you change your mind…”

The whistle blew to start play, so thankfully she let it go when I told her again, “I appreciate it, but I’m really not interested in dating right now.”

If you know anyone who’d be up for one night, however, give her my name.

Obviously, I kept that to myself.

But now that the idea was in my head, I made a mental note to visit Derrick at the bar soon. Maybe even tonight after the game.