When Presley Ann left the Sunday Haus a little later it was with a lighter heart. Possibilities lay before her. A way she could make ends meet, fulfill a need, and be home with her son more than she’d previously thought possible.
Mrs. Finch needed a supplier for handmade baby slings, waterproof diaper covers, and flannel burp cloths. She’d needed a little help from Leah with the math and the business plan, but Presley Ann already knew how many of the slings she needed to make in a week, and how many she had to sell in order to recover the cost of the sewing machine and go part-time at Stigall’s. With the extra income plus the commission sales she’d soon be making at Stigall’s, she could build her savings back up and get on solid financial footing.
That meant she could provide her son with more than just the basics. She couldn’t buy a house or anything, but she could make them more comfortable. A shoestring budget had been her reality and seeing a little light at the end of the tunnel was both exhilarating and intimidating.
Whit made a burbling sound and she smiled down at him.
“You’re awesome, peanut.” He showed his dimples before blinking sleepily.
After giving him a quick diaper change and getting him set in his car seat, she draped a blanket around his legs and set out on the drive home. The visit in the store had consumed time she’d originally planned on spending on the drive so she was getting a later start than she’d intended.
Traffic slowed as a messy drizzle started falling. All was quiet in the backseat as Whit snoozed contentedly. It was a little late for a nap, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.
Cars swerved in and out of traffic on the interstate and her nerves were taut as she kept to her lane and headed west. Sure enough, traffic suddenly came to a dead halt. It was start and stop for an hour as an accident was cleared from the congested roadway and the afternoon had dwindled into evening before she finally left San Antonio behind and still had the long drive to Divine in front of her. She was tired of being in the car, and when Whit woke up she could tell he felt the same.
She had to turn on her headlights as she took her exit from the interstate and doubled back to connect with the state highway that would take her closer to home. The rain started coming down heavier, and she wasn’t surprised when Jared’s phone began ringing.
She swiped her thumb over the screen and kept her eyes on the road, promising herself she’d keep it brief. “Hello?” She expected to hear one of the men in an agitated state.
“Who is this? Did I just call…” the female caller babbled out a rapid series of numerals. Presley Ann glanced at the screen and groaned. There was a selfie of a senorita making a sexy kissy face. It was probably too much to hope that this was one of his old neighbors.
Sounding even more irritated, the voice shouted over the line. “Hello! I know you’re there. I can hear your breathing.”
Here we go. “This is Jared McCulloch’s phone. Can I help you?”
Long pause and then a growl. “Is he fucking you?”
“What?”
“You fucking heard me! Is he fucking you? You know what? Never mind. You tell that cocksucking bastard that his girlfriend Jasmine called. You tell that sack of dog shit that I’m sending my brothers after him! You tell him—”
“Hold up,” Presley Ann said firmly, but the woman had lapsed into a combination of rapidly spoken English and Spanish and probably couldn’t hear her over her own yelling.
In a time before the baby, she would’ve given as good as she got, and probably enjoyed it, just for the entertainment of stirring up trouble. But the woman she wanted to be couldn’t hold her head up with pride if she participated in that kind of drama.
“Hello? Jasmine? Put a cork in it!”
That got Jasmine’s attention and she practically snarled. “What?”
The rain had increased, and a glance at the temperature display told her that ice on the road was a possibility. Impatient to be done with something that was none of her business in the first place, she said, “Jared loaned me his phone for the day. He’s not fucking me. But if he was, I’d fuck him well enough that he’d never want to move away. When I see him tonight I’ll pass on your message. Have a lovely day.” Click.
“I knew better than to answer that call,” she muttered to herself, thinking she needed to mind her tongue better from now on, with impressionable ears so close. And Jared was a young, good-looking guy in his prime. She’d known him a short time and didn’t have any claim to him, so she had no right to feel possessive of him. She wasn’t jealous, she just didn’t like the way that Jasmine had insulted him to her. She knew firsthand that men could be players, but the way Jasmine talked about Jared didn’t jive with the guy she knew.