The sun had started setting, casting golden streaks across the grocery store parking lot when I stepped outside. Anger simmered beneath the surface as I clutched the neatly packed paper bags in both arms.

And then I stopped dead in my tracks.

The black Aston Martin was gone.

My jaw dropped slightly. I spun in a slow, disbelieving circle. Maybe. Just maybe, he was parked in a different spot.

He wasn’t.

“Are you kidding me?” I muttered.

A sharp breeze tugged at my dress as I stood ...