I turned around to find a very tall, handsome man with a gorgeous mane of brown hair scrutinizing me. I now wished I’d worn anything but the Goofy scrubs today.
“Aspyn, this is my grandson, Troy.”
Troy.
I squinted. Those eyes. This was no first-time meeting.
No.
It’s him.
This is a nightmare.
Troy Serrano.
Good God.
Troy.
Serrano.
Somehow I’d never connected Mr. Serrano’s last name to that guy from high school. It had been eleven years, which was why I hadn’t immediately recognized him. His hair was a bit longer. But not only had Troy Serrano been one of the most popular guys at Meadowbrook High, he was also the ex-boyfriend of my best friend senior year. He’d cheated on her, and let’s just say I…went a little apeshit on him. And after that, we became enemies.
This was not good.
He looked me up and down. “Aspyn Dumont. I almost didn’t recognize you.”
Mr. Serrano looked between us. “You know the lovely Aspyn?”
Troy’s eyes narrowed. “Lovely? That’s not exactly how I remember her.”
Mr. Serrano smiled, seeming amused. “How do you two know each other?”
I cleared my throat. “We went to high school together.”
“Get out of town!” Mr. Serrano smacked his hand on the arm of his wheelchair.
I wished I could have. This very second. Far out of town.
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.”