Continue the Madness!
As-Yet Untitled Robin:
Arsenic. That was a good poison, right?
Penny Templeton didn't know squat about poison, but she knew she wanted to kill Stefan Marquardt. Ever since high school when he'd invited her to the prom and stood her up. Ever since junior high school when he'd welded her locker shut. Ever since first grade when he told everyone she'd forgotten to wear underwear and everyone had stood around staring at her on the playground until she figured it out.
The object of her vengeful hatred ducked out of the 7-Eleven. Penny gripped her steering wheel. It would be so easy to simply take her foot from the brake and plow into his still disgustingly handsome form. Why had he chosen now to return to Lost Springs? She had to assume he knew she was marrying the man of her dreams tomorrow and had come to ruin her happiness.
Stefan pulled the keys to his Chevy truck from his jeans pocket. Jeans that clung to his firmly-muscled legs as if they'd been tailored just for him. He glanced up and their gazes connected. His lips spread slowly into a wily grin.
Penny pulled her foot from the brake without a second thought.
Barreling toward him with the hatred of a thousand suns, she was hardly prepared for the cough-cough sputter of her engine wheezing to a grinding halt inches from his knees. Surprised, she looked up in time to catch the perfect, frozen shock on his handsome face just before he dropped his Darth Vader Slurpee cup on the hood of her car.
He sprinted around to her door. "Hey! Hey! Are you all right in there?" His broad, muscled chest filled her driver window for one breath-catching second before his face dipped down into view. "Miss? Should I call for help? I think your car needs to be checked out. You almost killed me!"
Could this really be happening? And could he possibly be for real? Penny blinked up into the artfully clueless face of her childhood nemesis.
"You wanna borrow my phone?" He dragged his cell from his pocket.
"No." Penny sighed, dropping her forehead against the steering wheel, banging it twice for good measure. "I have my own."
"Heeeey..." Stefan leaned closer to the half-open window until she could smell the pungent and alluring scent of Mountain Dew, Juicy Fruit, and Edge shaving cream. Her insides tightened on instinct--damn him. Don't inhale, she ordered herself. She sat back and tried to act normal. As if she ran over assholes every day.
"I know you," Stefan finally said. "Penny Templeton. How are you?"
She reached for the window controls before realizing they wouldn't work with her car as good as dead. It figured. She was going to have to talk to him after all. Killing him would have been so much more satisfying.
Determined not to let her feelings show on her face, she slowly got out of her car. Her stupid car. She had the childish urge to kick it but caught herself just in time.
"I was right, wasn't I? Penny Templeton. It's been a long time."
She put on a bright smile. "You're right--it's me, Penny. And as you can see I've had better days." She leaned back into the car to grab her cell phone, ready to call her brother to come pick her up and release her from this embarrassment.
When she turned around, Stefan smiled, showing even white teeth against his tanned face. "Hey, I can drive you wherever you need to go. Just tell me where."
Oh, dear God. How did she manage to get herself into these things?
“No, that’s okay,” she mumbled, scrolling through her phonebook.
"Delighted to see you, too."
Jesus, did he have to sound hurt? A saccharine sweet smile, (the one she had often used when she was about to burst into tears), tugged at her lips.
"Hey, you don't look so good--you look green, actually. Are you about to be sick?" Stefan stepped closer and within seconds she was in his arms. She shoved away from him, staggered and fell on her bottom. He reached for her, but she quickly got up without his help.
A damp spot on her backside indicated her white designer jeans were soaked in something disgusting. Freaking perfect.
Stefan was right, though--she was about to be sick. Attempted murder had apparently caught up to her. The next moment she couldn't help but heave her cinnamon roll and banana shake breakfast on the ground, splattering all over her jeans, her favorite shirt and a flabbergasted Stefan.
Lovely. What next? Did she take the ride or slink off to lick her wounds? Okay, now that was beyond gross. Definitely not the second option. As for the first...
Excuses piled up in her mind.
She needed the exercise; therefore, she should walk the three miles to her parents’ house.
Her shoes were new and needed to be broken in, so thank you, but no--she would rather walk the three miles to her parents’ house.
She was gross and disgusting and had just covered them both in vomit; surely he didn’t want to drive her the three miles to her parents’ house.
In the end, she simply smiled and said, "Great. It's three miles to my parents’ house."
He chuckled. "I know where your parents live. I bought the house next door."
As Penny climbed into the truck, she couldn't help but think, Of course you did.
Oh, this was all that she needed on her first trip home in four years. A failed murder attempt and Stefan as a neighbor. Things couldn't get much worse, could they?
"For what it's worth," he babbled earnestly as she buckled her seat belt, "I totally don't mind that you stood me up for prom."
Penny glared at him. Now he was blaming that on her? He shifted gears and accelerated at break-neck speed. She'd have been more impressed if he'd been accelerating in the right direction.
"My parents live west of here, you know."
He frowned. "Really? But--uh--haven't they always lived in Rolling Hills?"
"No. Never."
"'Cause, like, that's where I went to pick you up that night."
Penny froze. "You got my address wrong?"
He drummed his fingers against the steering wheel. "It was before Google Maps, okay? Why are you being so mean to me? What did I ever do to you?"
Grabbing the door handle as he made a quick U-turn, she righted herself once he was going back in the direction they should have been going in the first place.
"So why are you being so mean to me?" he asked again.
She honestly didn't know how to answer that question. Okay, well maybe she did know how to answer but not in a way that she wanted him to hear. It would be mortifying if he knew how much standing her up for prom meant to her. Wrong address or not.
"I'm not being mean. I was just surprised to hear that you got my address wrong. Didn't someone clue you in that I didn't live there? Like, you know, the people who did?"
"Well, yeah, but I assumed you didn't want to go to prom with me so your mom was lying to me. I left."
"Take the next exit on your right."
He signaled and slowed. The ramp curled around until they reached a line of homes. All older homes, all different shapes and sizes. Homes that had been here since they developed this track of land fifty years ago.
They passed three houses before she pointed to a white stucco rambler just past the next mailbox. "Their house is the next one on the left."
Stefan pulled into the driveway. The lawn, perfectly manicured with garden statues standing in the flower beds, had just been cut. Maybe if she were lucky her dad would still be outside and could save her from an embarrassing walk to the porch.
"Hey," Stefan said before she could open the door. "I said I forgave you for standing me up at prom, but I lied. How about you make it up to me and take me out to dinner tomorrow night?"
She stared at him for several seconds. Was he serious?
"You do realize that I am getting married tomorrow?"
He smacked his head against his forehead. "That's right. I completely forgot that. A guy named Daffin, right?"
She narrowed her eyes at him. "Devon."
"Well, how about tonight, then? I'm sure you need something to take your mind off of those wedding day jitters. Unless you have a bachelorette party or something to go to."
Penny shook her head in amazement. She'd been right--he was here to ruin her happiness. She stepped out of the truck then turned and slammed the door.
He rolled down his window and flashed her a brilliant smile. "I'll pick you up at eight." With a beep of his horn, he was gone.
She smiled to herself. Oh, he could pick her up at eight all he liked, but she wouldn't be here. Suddenly a night at the Marriot was looking pretty darn good.
Happy almost Fourth of July! Anyone remember the show, 
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