27

“Don’t get smart with me, bitch.”

I start to stand up, but before I can even register movement, her platformed heel hits my shoulder. Hard. I tumble down, my butt landing in the water. A sharp pain radiates up my arm. A breath stills in my throat as I pull my hand up, cradling my wrist.

Great. Now I’m soaking wet and my wrist is sprained.

“What the fuck, bitch?” I snarl, pulling myself out of the ditch. She’s shorter than me by a couple inches, and I’ve got at least twenty pounds of muscle on her. She doesn’t look as intimidating now. Her blue eyes, still haughty, flash with momentary fear. “What’s your problem?”

“Vivian and I are just needing to clean up the white trash in the street,” she snaps. “So next time you go running, make sure to watch where you’re going.”

She turns on a heel, stalking back to her car.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” I call after her. My wrist throbs. Goddammit. I’d just gotten over a thigh strain, and I was looking forward to running without pain for o