I hold my head while steadying the woman who apparently is trying to kill me. I look down at the lawnmower with a crumpled front end, the huge dent to the door in my squad car and I feel my face go tight. If I hadn’t jumped out of the way, the crazy woman would have run right over me. And on top of all of that, she swatted a yellow jacket right at me and the damn thing stung the fire out of me. I haven’t been stung in years.

Christ.

“Are you out of your mind?” I growl.

“There was a bee,” she says, like that explains the chaos that just erupted. She puts her shirt on while she responds and some of the words are muffled. If I wasn’t in pain from clanging heads with her and the bee sting, I’d probably take time to enjoy those full breasts that are overflowing in her bra. I don’t even blink as she covers herself up. Women are trouble, I learned that the hard way in Dallas, and it’s clear that this one is even more trouble.

“You can’t tell me you don’t run into bees every day in your line of work,” I chastise, because really that’s no excuse.

“My line of work?” she asks, blinking.

“I assumed you were the Harrington’s gardener.”

She’s silent for a minute.

“It’s 2018,” she says. “The proper term these days is landscaper.”

“Oh…”

“There’s much more to maintaining a healthy lawn and trees than you realize,” she begins to lecture me.

“Like jumping around like a lunatic and stripping naked for the world to see?” I prod her. If she wants to have an issue with me, I’ll just remind her of why we’re even talking in the first place.

“I told you,” she huffs. "There was a bee.”

“What happens when you see a snake?”

She ignores my question. If it wasn’t for the annoyance and a spark of anger that goes over her face, I’d think she didn’t hear me.

“I’m sorry about your car. I’ll just get your info and contact—”

“It belongs to the town of Mason. We can tell the Mayor and he can sort it out, since you are working for him.”

“Oh… Yes, we can do that. Although, he’s probably going to want to kill me.”

“What you did was very foolish,” I tell her honestly. “You could have been seriously injured or injured me. You need to be more aware of your surroundings. You also will have to contact the owner of your company so they can warn their insurance carrier.”

“Oh… I own the lawnmower actually.”

“You own your own landscaping business?”

“Is that so hard to believe?” she asks, her tone sharp. It’s clear she’s going to get pissed off. I know I sounded condescending, but landscaping seems like a job where lots of muscles would come in handy, plus there is the fact that she’s clearly a train wreck. How she can run her own business could possibly be one of life’s greatest mysteries.

“It’s just that most landscapers are…” I trail off because with each word her face gets tighter. The only woman I’ve ever known whose face is so animated that I can read almost every emotion is my mother. I take a step back away from this woman, taking that as a warning more than anything else.

“You can go ahead and say it, you know,” she responds, crossing her arms across her chest, just below her breasts. The stance is like a challenge and it’s a really bad time to notice her tits now. You would have thought earlier they would have caught my eye more when they were just hanging out—but nope. I don’t have the slightest urge to look at them until this moment. When the girl looks pissed as hell at me.

I apparently am still an idiot when it comes to women and the whole mess in Dallas taught me zip. At this point, I’m as angry at myself as she obviously is with me.

“Say what?” I ask, just needing to get the hell out of here.

“That you expected me to be a man,” she almost snarls at me. This is clearly a sore spot with her.

If it were possible there would be a large neon sign over her head at this point flashing, “Danger.” I back away a little more. I didn’t come here for this crap and the last thing I want to do is tangle with Harrington’s gardener—landscaper—crazy as a Bessie bug—don’t call her a woman—person.

“Well I did. Is that so wrong?” I ask, sounding and feeling defensive.

“I run across guys like you all the time in my industry. You think if a man doesn’t do it, it can’t be done. I got news for you buck-o, a woman can do anything a man can do and most times do it a hell of a lot better!”

Now, coming from a single mother, who raised a large family on her own for the most part, I happen to agree with her. That and the fact that my sisters are all strong, loving women, I get it. What I don’t like is the fact that this woman is jamming it down my throat. She clearly has issues and this is not my battle, plus I’m getting really tired of going on the defensive when it was her that tried to kill me and I’m not even mentioning the fact that my head is really starting to kill me. It must have been so long since I’ve been stung that I don’t remember the pain, because right now my face feels hot, tight and it’s pulsing with pain. With that in mind, I just walk away.

I’ve turned away and gone a whole five steps when I hear her calling out behind me.

“What? You don’t have anything to say to the argument? Did you suddenly realize what an ass you sound like?”

“Lady, I don’t have time to fool with you. I’m going to drop these papers off with the Mayor and then I’m getting the hell out of here. You’ve done enough damage trying to kill me, I don’t need to stand around and let you chew my ass out over the injustices of the world on top of that.”

“What a typical male response!” she yells.

“I doubt you know what a typical male response is like,” I mutter. I didn’t think she could hear me, but apparently she decided she wasn’t going to let me walk away because the next thing I know she’s standing beside of me. I do my best to ignore her while walking to the Mayor’s front door.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

I sigh, reaching up to rub my forehead and I can tell that the bee sting has swollen. I’ve got a golf ball size knot on my damn head. Fuck, maybe I should go back to Dallas. At least I knew to watch out for the crazy women back there. Here they just jump out of nowhere—or come riding in on a damn mower.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” I mumble, knocking on the door.

“Oh come on. You expect me to think you didn’t mean anything by that snide remark?” she snorts.

I knock again and there’s still no answer.

“If you’re going to say something, you should at least have the balls to explain what you mean,” she nudges, snidely.

“Lady, you don’t know shit about my balls. I doubt you’ve seen any man’s balls in a hell of a long time—unless you were wearing them around your neck as a trophy.”

“Oh my God! You did not just say that to me!”

“In fact, I did, Ball-Busting-Barbie,” I snarl and bang on the door again. “Where in the hell is the Mayor?” I ask, more to myself—definitely not to her.

“He’s not home!”

“You couldn’t have told me that to begin with?”

“You didn’t ask!”

“Who can ask you anything? You’re too busy trying to kill me or scream me to death with that high-pitched voice of yours.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my voice,” she says, putting her hands on her hips.

“Maybe not if it wasn’t constantly yelling,” I growl. “When the Mayor gets back tell him Sheriff Parrish—”

“I’m not your messenger boy either.”

“Fine. Lady, I swear you take the cake. You think you’d be sorry for trying to kill me.”

“You think you wouldn’t be able to walk because you’re such a caveman!”

“That’s it. I’m out of here. Best of luck in life and in explaining how you nearly demolished a police car.”

“That wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t parked where you did!”

“I parked in the damn driveway!”

“But only so far. If you had parked in front of the garage, it wouldn’t have happened, now would it?”

“You’re unbelievable. For the sake of your business, and every male that gets within ten feet of you, here’s hoping you get laid soon. Maybe it will get the stick out of your ass and put you in a better mood.”

“I… You… Oh. My. God! How dare you say that to me!”

“I bet I’m not the first, I just said it where you can hear me.”

I give my parting shot as I get in my car. I peel out of the Mayor’s drive leaving a trail of burnt, blackened rubber in my wake. The mower turns sideways as I leave, as it disengages with my crumpled passenger side car door.

Luka’s not going to be happy about that. Hell, if the Mayor’s landscaper blabs about what I said to her, I probably won’t have a job anymore.

Fuck it.

I’m not sure I care anymore. Maybe that old saying is true and you really can’t go back home again. It worked for some of my brothers and sisters, but it’s definitely not working for me and I’m getting tired of trying.