Samantha’s POV

Desperation burned through me, and before I could stop myself, the words flew out as my gaze raked over him. “Wow. I guess chivalry really is dead.”

That finally made him stop. His jaw tightened, shoulders going rigid as he turned just enough to look at me. A long, tense silence stretched between us before he muttered a curse under his breath and slammed his door shut again.

He then shot me a hard glare before heading to the trunk of his car and retrieving what looked like a tool kit.

When he stalked back toward me, toolkit in hand, he looked annoyed and displeased as hell. “Lucky for you, I don’t feel like being dragged into a murder report when they find your body here in the morning.”

I crossed my arms, my heart racing, but I forced myself to lift my chin. “Yeah, heroics. Or maybe just basic human decency—but I guess that’s asking too much.”

The silence he gave me was heavier than any comeback.

Who would have thought that the Almighty Caveman was such a cocky mannerless jackass? I can see why he gave himself that name now. He truly was a Caveman.

I just stood there by the side watching as he crouched by the hood again, muttering something sharp under his breath as the metal clinked and rattled. Every twist of the wrench felt like it carried the weight of his irritation, like I was the biggest nuisance to ever exist.

I hugged my arms tighter against my chest, biting back every sarcastic comeback bubbling up. Fine. If he wanted to act like the world’s biggest martyr over a stupid car, then so be it. I wasn’t about to stroke his ego with gratitude he didn’t even deserve.

A couple minutes later, the engine sputtered, coughed, then roared back to life. He didn’t even glance at me—he just slammed the hood down so hard it rattled through the frame, dusted his hands against each other like he couldn’t wait to be rid of me, and tossed the rag onto my windshield.

“There. Not my problem anymore,” he muttered, voice flat, final. “Not that you ever were.”

My jaw clenched, words gathering like fire at the back of my throat, but I swallowed them down. What was the freaking point? He was already walking away, toolkit swinging at his side, shoulders stiff like he couldn’t put enough distance between us fast enough.

And of course this time, I didn’t chase him.

I didn’t need his help anymore.

I slid back into my car, my hands gripping the steering wheel tighter than I needed to. The engine hummed steady under me now, but all I could hear was the echo of his voice—cold, dismissive, like I was worth less than the gravel crunching beneath his shoes.

Let him leave, Sam. Let him go crawl back into his cave or his suit or whatever life he thought was too important for common decency.

One thing was for sure: the Caveman I had idolized was dead. What stood before me now was just a man—a vile, arrogant man.

And to be honest, I had no problem if he hated me now. I can’t even believe I was fussing over the whole damn thing.

Because after today, it was safe to say that the feeling was incredibly mutual.

~~~~~~~~~

Life went on with or without the caveman. And honestly? Without him, it was a hell of a lot easier. No more late-night arenas, no more chasing after something who clearly thought the world of himself. Just me, my job and the full comfort of routine.

Weeks went by in a rush and thankfully I started getting used to the chaos here in the Roasted Owl. I started getting along with the other workers and customers I didn’t exactly like when I started this job. I also got used to Mr. Edward’s prickly attitude, so I guess everything was going well for me.

At least, that’s what I thought. Until Chloe dropped the biggest bomb on me while we were working our shift at the cafe.

I was wiping down a table when Chloe came strutting over with her tray balanced on one hand, a smirk already tugging at her lips.

“You know,” she said, leaning her hip against the edge of the table, “you’d look a lot less scary if you smiled at customers once in a while.”

I shot her a confused look, my brows furrowing slightly. “What? I do smile.”

“Uh-huh.” She arched a brow, clearly not buying it. “I see that grimace you flash when someone tips you with loose change. That is not professional.”

Rolling my eyes, I stacked the menus back into place. “What do you want, Chloe?” I hadn’t told her about my encounter with the caveman again. I mean everytime I thought about it, I just got incredibly annoyed. Besides, talking to Chloe about it will just make it seem like he had affected me that much.

And he didn’t.

So there was no need telling her.

I just hope he never comes back to the arena though, then I’ll have to be coming up with lies about why I can’t follow her to see some jackass who had no problem leaving me stranded on the road.

Chloe shrugged like it was nothing, twirling her pen between her fingers. “Just wondering… what are you doing Friday night?”

That made me pause. I glanced up at her, narrowing my eyes because I already knew that tone. “Why are you asking?”

The corners of her mouth twitched like she was trying not to laugh. “You wanna hang out or something?” I probed further when she didn’t explain.

“Something like that.” Her smile never left her lips.

I stared at her, trying to see if I could read that scheming little mind of hers. But it didn’t work. “What do you mean something like that?” I lifted a brow, the task at hand completely forgotten now.

“What?” She raised her hands in mock innocence. “It means what it means.”

I straightened, crossing my arms. “…Chloe. What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything.” She said defensively, her voice dropping as her gaze darted around like she didn’t want anyone to overhear us.

Just then, the bell above the door jingled and a couple walked in, their laughter spilling into the air before they slid into a booth. The sound barely registered—I was too busy pinning Chloe with a look.

“Chloe, if you don’t speak now…” I lowered my voice, leaning in with narrowed eyes, “…I’m going to post that picture of you in your avocado face mask and crocs for the whole world to see. Now tell me—what did you do?”

She hesitated, the playful smirk on her face faltering. My patience stretched thin as the silence dragged, and I crossed my arms tighter, waiting.

Her gaze then darted around the café—toward the counter, the new arrivals, anywhere but at me—before she finally let out a breath, her words tumbling out like she was ripping off a band-aid

“I… set you up on a blind date,”