Troy flashed a smug grin. “Yeah. We go way back. But we didn’t exactly get along.” His eyes met mine. “Isn’t that right, Aspyn?”
Without even knowing the extent of my misbehavior, his poor grandfather tried to defend me. “How is that possible? Aspyn is a sweetheart.”
“A sweetheart who keyed my car and put laxatives in my team’s donuts,” Troy scoffed.
“Not the entire team’s donuts,” I clarified. “Just the Boston cream one we knew you’d take.”
He glared. “Oh, right. Forgive me. You only tried to kill me.”
Mortification washed over me. If only I could sink into the floor and disappear. I cleared my throat. “It was a very immature thing to do. And I’m not proud of it. But at the time, I felt you deserved it for hurting my friend.” I let out a long breath. “Anyway, it’s been over a decade. No sense dwelling on something that happened forever ago when we were practically kids.”
“What did he do to deserve it?” Mr. Serrano asked.
“I cheated on my high school girlfriend,” Troy answered.
“Well, then she’s right. You did deserve it.”
Love you, Mr. Serrano. My stomach twisted. “Like I said, it’s ancient history. I’d ask management to assign someone else to chaperone your outings, but we don’t have the staff to accommodate an alternate.”
“Are we taking separate cars?” Troy asked.
“No, I was told to ride with you.”
“They don’t trust me?”
I raised my brow. “Should they?”
“You don’t have any keys on you, do you? If so, I’m not letting you anywhere near my car.”
I rolled my eyes. “Okay, I deserved that. And my keys are staying behind.”
“I guess you can come, then.” He smirked.
Troy wheeled Mr. Serrano out of the room. I followed to start what would undoubtedly be the longest two hours of my life.
I focused on Troy’s broad shoulders. He’d always been attractive, with an incredible body despite his ugly personality. But now he was like the boy I remembered, only better-looking—a full-grown man. I could only imagine the damage he’d done to poor, unsuspecting women over the past decade.
The August sun was nearly blinding as we walked through the parking lot. Troy drove a black Range Rover. Clearly he was doing well for himself. That didn’t surprise me. Men with the arrogant confidence he’d always exhibited typically went on to become successful—probably because they walked all over people to get there.
I helped Mr. Serrano into the passenger side before Troy collapsed the wheelchair and placed it in his trunk. I then situated myself in the back while Troy got into the driver’s seat.
The car reeked of his cologne. It was overbearing, just like him. His striking, bluish-green eyes locked with mine for a moment through the rearview mirror. I immediately looked away.
Troy turned to his grandfather. “Where do you want to go, Nonno?”
Nonno. Italian for grandfather.
“McDonald’s.”
“I can take you literally anywhere, and you always choose the same place. Let’s change it up.”
“I like their ice cream. Sue me. And it’s where your grandmother and I used to go on Sundays after church. It reminds me of her.”
Who can argue with that?
Troy sighed. “Okay, old man. Whatever you want.” He turned down the road toward the plaza where the McDonald’s was located.
A bit of awkward silence passed before Troy put on some music. Frank Sinatra’s “Come Fly with Me” started playing.
“Well, at least you have good taste in music,” I said.
“Sinatra is cool…” He pointed his thumb toward his grandfather. “I play it for this guy.”
I smiled, leaning toward the front seat. “You like Sinatra, Mr. Serrano?”
“What’s not to like? He was the best. Nobody better than Old Blue Eyes.”
“I agree. They don’t make ’em like that anymore.”
When we pulled up to the drive-thru, Mr. Serrano hollered back at me. “You want a frosty, Aspyn?”
Frosty? I had to think for a second. He must have meant ice cream cone. “No, thank you.”
“She’s frosty enough,” Troy quipped, flashing me a mischievous grin through the rearview mirror.
Damn that smile. As evil as I’d always thought him to be, he was annoyingly handsome, even more so now than in high school.
Troy ordered an ice cream for his grandfather and a large fry for himself. Of course, he could eat whatever the hell he wanted and still look that good.
“You sure you don’t want anything?” Troy asked. “My treat.”
As of the last fifteen minutes or so, I had a splitting headache. Some caffeine would really hit the spot. I decided to take advantage of his offer.
“Actually, I’ll have a black coffee, but I can pay for it myself.”
His brow lifted. “No cream or sugar?”
“No.”
“Figures.”
My eyes narrowed as he ordered me a coffee.
As he drove around, I said, “What was that supposed to mean…figures?”
“You seem like a black-coffee type of person.”
After he stopped at the pay window, I asked, “How so?”
“You know…plain, bitter. But a lot of time’s passed since high school, so maybe you’ve changed. If you’d like to prove me wrong, I’m open to that.”
“You don’t know crap about me—then or now,” I said, anger heating my face. “You’re basing your judgment on things I did in defense of my friend. Things I did because of your actions.” I shoved three dollars in his face, but he wouldn’t take it.
He placed his hand briefly around mine and pushed it back. “Put your money away. You’re here because of me. You shouldn’t have to pay for anything.”
I crossed my arms and huffed in the back seat as Troy paid the cashier.
He pulled up to the pick-up window and a few seconds later passed a soft-serve cone to his grandfather. He placed the fries in his lap, and grabbed my coffee from the attendant.
Troy turned and handed it to me. “Are you seriously still mad because of something I did in high school?” he asked. “We’re pushing thirty. There are worse things to worry about in the world, you know?”
I shrugged. “You’re giving me an attitude and calling me plain and bitter. Sounds like you’re the one who needs to get over it.”
“Well, maybe I’ve been on defense because you’ve been looking at me like you want to kill me from the moment you recognized me.”
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t aware it was that obvious.”
He flashed his sparkling white teeth. “So, you do want to kill me…”
“No. That’s not what I meant. I just…” I let out a breath and stopped talking.
He pulled into a spot and put the car in park. Then he popped a fry into his mouth before turning to me and holding out his hand. “Let’s have a truce, okay? Might as well, since we have to spend four hours a week together.”
God. That sounded like a lot of time to have to deal with him. But I could certainly pretend to be cordial for my sweet client’s sake. I would do it for Mr. Serrano.
I finally took Troy’s hand and shook on it. “Fine.”