"Oh, come on," I said, trying to brighten his mood. "Hedidapologize." I paused. "Sort of."
But the guy didn't even glance at me, much less smile. If anything, his expression only darkened as he continued to stare off into the distance. In a tight voice, he said, "I wasn't talking abouthim."
I stiffened. "What do you mean?" He wasn't talking aboutme, was he? I wasnotool, especially since I lacked the basic equipment. I mean, I'd never heard a woman called such a thing before, and heck if I wanted to be the first.
At my question, Mister Tall, Dark, and Difficult didn't even blink.No acknowledgment. No nothing.It was like I wasn't even there.
Fine. Whatever.I could definitely take a hint. And besides, I had plenty of my own troubles without taking on his – troubles that were bigger than a duffel bag and several times more serious.
I was just turning to leave when he muttered, "Who invitedyouhere?"
That did it.I stopped in mid-motion. "Hey! I didn't need to be 'invited.' I live here. And yeah, the whole thing with the bag was probably annoying, but to me, it looked like an honest mistake."
Finally, his gaze returned to mine. "Listen – "
"No,youlisten," I said. "I was only trying to help. I don't know what it's like whereyoucome from, but around here, people actually stop to help one another." I straightened to my full height, which granted, only came up to his shoulders. "So excusemeif you're having a bad day, but that's no reason to take it out on someone you don't even know."
I spoke from experience. My own morning had been full of disappointment, andI'dstill managed to be polite – well, until now, that is.
Now I was glaring like I could skewer him with my eyes – although in my own defense, he was the one who'd started it.
With something like a sigh, he said, "Just chill, will ya?"
"Chill?" I sputtered.Who was being a tool now?"Are you freaking serious?"
"Yeah, chill," he repeated. "I wasn't talking about you."
I glanced around. Already, the tourist had disappeared into the crowd on Main Street, and even the dock workers were long gone. This left only me and him.
I stated the obvious. "Well, I don't see anyone else here, so unless you've got an invisible friend, your story's a load of bunk."
At this, the corners of his mouth actually quirked. "Bunk, huh?"
Oh, sonowhe looked ready to smile?
I wasn't having it, especially because I justknewhe was mocking me and my small-town ways. "You know what? Just forget it." And with that, I turned and did what I should have done earlier. I walked away, leaving himandhis stupid bag alone on the dock.
Did he call out or apologize?
Of course not.
Good.It's not like I'd wanted him to.
I didn't bother looking back – even if a tiny part of me was sorely tempted.But screw that.I knew his type all too well. He was too slick, too impatient, and way too rude for the small-town vibe that made Mackinac Island such a nice, friendly place.
What was he doing here, anyway?
My grandma would've called him a city-slicker. And she wouldnothave meant that as a compliment.
But me? I had a better word for him.
Jerkwad.
No.Totaljerkwad. And that was me being nice.
3
Look What the Jet Dragged In
