Page 2 of Wicked Proposal

I’m lactose intolerant, but I’d still take a bite out of him.

Or at least, I would—if I had time for that kind of thing.

Which I don’t. My son needs his bedtime story, dammit.

I march over, duffel bag bouncing against my hip. “Hey! You the genius who parked in my spot?”

The man doesn’t look up. Just holds up a finger.

Wait,it says.I’m doing important things.

That’s strike one.

“Excuse me? Sir?” I step into his path.

He side-steps me, still talking. “—said to fuckingfind her.What part of that was unclear?”

There’s strike two.

I plant myself in front of him, arms crossed. “Listen, Prince Charming. You’re blocking my car, and I’ve got twenty minutes to kiss my kid goodnight before I’m late for work. Move. Your.Shit.”

For the first time, he actually deigns to glance at me. Those light eyes rake over my scrubs, my frizz-popping ponytail, the sweat stain blooming on my collar.

His mouth twitches.

Not a smile—adismissal.

He turns away.

Oh,hellno.

Strike three.

“Cool. Cool, cool, cool.” I yank my phone out, dial the number on the tow yard sticker plastered to the nearest hydrant, and unleash my sweetest customer service voice. “Hi! There’s a massive, illegally parked car blocking my driveway on Sutter and Rockaway. A Maybach. Uh-huh. You can’t miss it. You’ll be here in five minutes? Perfect. You just made my day.”

I hang up and stride into my building. I don’t bother looking back.

Eli’s laughter hits me the second I open the door—high, bright, the sound of ice cream trucks and sidewalk chalk.

He launches off the couch in a blur of Spider-Man pajamas and hugs me around the middle. “Mommy!”

Just like that, my day gets better.

“Whoa, bud!” I catch him mid-leap, staggering back. “Since when do you weigh a thousand pounds?”

“I do not!”

“Could’ve fooled me.” I nuzzle his neck, breathing in baby shampoo and Cheez-It dust. No perfume has ever smelled so good. “You’re turning into a dinosaur. ATyrannosaurus flex.”

“Rex,” Eli corrects, pulling back to frown at me. “And I’m not a dinosaur—I’m a boy.”

“Could’ve fooledme,” my best friend Kallie chimes in from the kitchenette, where she’s microwaving popcorn. “I found scales in your bed this morning.”

“They were Goldfish!” Eli yelps in horror. But he still starts checking his forearms for signs of scaliness.

I set him down. But as I do, something snags my attention: dirty scuff marks on his shoes. And, now that I’m looking, there’s a rip on the side that wasn’t there this morning.

My smile curdles. These were new Jordans—well, relatively new. Thrifted last month in something close to mint-ish condition.