Side Hustle: An Opposites Attract Sweet Southern Romantic Comedy (Schooled on Love: Clean Southern Romantic Comedy Book 2) Read online

  “This is he.”

  “Oh.” Why did hearing that make her blush? “This is Angie Andrews. You told me to call you when I got another ride request from Mario.”

  “When will you drive him again?”

  “Tomorrow at five.” Angie listened while he repeated her reply, as if writing it down.

  “Okay. Where?”

  “I’m picking him up from the airport.”

  “Excellent. Could you come by the station, say four o’clock, so I can wire you?”

  “Uh . . . sure.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll follow you from a safe distance.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  After exchanging goodbyes with Trent, she dropped her phone to the floor. It wasn’t driving a criminal while wearing a wire that worried her. It was figuring out how not to hyperventilate while Trent wired her.

  “Hi. I’m here to see Detective Turner.”

  The girl behind the reception desk stood and motioned for Angie to follow. “Right this way. He’s expecting you.” The receptionist led her to an office with Trent’s name displayed on the door.

  “Go on in.”

  Angie carefully opened the door and peered at the bland walls and metal furniture. Opening the door further, she crept inside, not knowing what to expect. However, she did expect to see Trent. Not a voluptuous woman sitting behind the desk. Either he’d recently changed offices, or he was an expert at going undercover.

  “Hi. Angie?”

  Wow. What a melodious and feminine voice. He must’ve changed offices. But, this woman knew her name, so . . .

  “Yes?”

  The mystery woman stood and swayed her way around to the front of the desk, offering a manicured hand for Angie to shake.

  “I’m Delilah Stevenson. Trent will be here in a moment. He asked me to wire you.”

  “Oh, okay.” Angie didn’t know what she found more intimidating, Trent hiding a microphone around her hemlines or a woman who looked like Barbie personified feeling her absence of curves.

  Delilah opened a desk drawer and pulled out a small device. “I have a microphone to pick up your conversations and an earbud for Trent to talk to you.”

  Angie swallowed. She didn’t know how well she could concentrate on driving with Trent in her ear and a drug dealer in her backseat. But she would have to try. Her side job depended on it, her informant pay depended on it, and most of all, Trent depended on it.

  A few minutes later, as Delilah fumbled with fitting the earbud, Trent walked in.

  Angie swallowed as he closed the space between them. Trent’s face softened. Not quite a smile, but a pleasant, reassuring stare. Their eyes locked for a few seconds before he turned to Delilah.

  “Thanks, Delilah.”

  Delilah smiled at him the way most women probably did. The same way she’d smiled at him the day before. Yeah. Just like that . . . except with confidence.

  “I’ve almost got her ready. I’m just having trouble with the earpiece.”

  “Hand it here. Your nails are probably too long.”

  Delilah passed the piece to Trent, taking far too long to move her hand away from his.

  “Thanks, Delilah. I’ve got it.”

  “You’re welcome.” Delilah sashayed to the door, revealing to Angie and anyone else who looked close enough that she indeed wore thongs beneath her too-tight skirt.

  Delila turned. “Oh, and Trent?” She waited for him to give her his full focus. “Let me know if you need anything else at all.”

  Trent nodded but said nothing. He probably heard that a lot.

  As soon as Delilah left, Trent placed a hand under Angie’s chin to steady her head. “Hold still,” he said, then slid in the earpiece. Angie could feel her jaw twitch at the contact of his hand resting beneath it.

  When he pulled back, their faces were dangerously close. Angie held her breath so as to not infiltrate his airspace with her hours-old, lunchroom-food breath.

  “Does that feel okay?”

  Angie nodded. She took a step back and fumbled with the mic, hoping to encourage Trent to change his gaze.

  “Do you need me to adjust that, too?”

  Trent stepped forward, and Angie raised her hands. If holding her chin had caused a stir, she didn’t want to think of what him feeling around her neck and waist might do.

  “It’s good.” She looked down at her blouse to make sure she hadn’t exposed the mouthpiece and noticed blotchy red patches of embarrassment forming across her neck. Traitor.

  Trent half-smiled and put his hands on his hips. “Okay, let me grab my body armor, and we’ll be on our way.”

  Body armor? Dear Lord, what had she gotten herself into?

  At the airport, Trent parked a safe distance from Angie’s car. He’d staked out plenty of informant interactions with drug dealers before, but this time was different. In less than twenty-four hours, this woman had gotten under his skin. And not in the annoying way most women did.

  “Checking. One, two, three.”

  “I can hear you.” Angie’s voice came through with a panicky scratch.

  “I can hear you, too. And, Angie, try to stay calm. I’ve got your back. Mario has no reason to suspect you.”

  “Okay.”

  Her response was a little calmer this time. Trent smiled as he adjusted his recording knobs and waited for Mario to make an appearance.

  Just as Angie predicted, a stubby Mexican man carrying a briefcase waddled across the parking lot twenty minutes after his flight landed. He looked like Danny DeVito cast as a used car salesman.

  “Okay, Angie, you’ve got this. Just act natural.”

  Trent’s earpiece vibrated as Angie blew out a large puff of air before Mario opened her back door. Thanks to the tracking device he’d placed on her car, he could leave a little later and find their exact location. Instead of driving his police vehicle, Trent had borrowed a car confiscated during a drug bust on Fifth Street the week before. It reeked of weed and cheap cologne, but it wouldn’t announce “cop car” in the least.

  Angie’s Accord led them to a part of town void of major crime. Many of the homes were mid-century builds occupied by middle-class families. Odd landing place for a drug deal. Perhaps Mario hid his drug affiliations from his peers as well.

  Trent parked a block back from the house where Angie stopped. An Eva Mendes-caliber woman wearing a red pantsuit sauntered down the block steps of a lean, three-story pink house. She bent her lengthy legs to kiss Mario on the lips. Was she in on the deal or just a trophy wife? Maybe both.

  Either way, money was the only explanation for Eva to kiss Danny that way.

  Once Mario headed up the steps with Miss Mexico, Angie pulled away and turned on the next street. Trent waited until she passed him going the other way before talking again.

  “I’m going to follow you home.”

  Wait. Did he just say he was going to follow her home? He hadn’t planned on it, but something about this woman made him want to protect her.

  “What? Why?”

  “Just to be safe.”

  “Okay.”

  They drove through the heart of downtown, where most of the wealthier families lived. Past all the mansions with meticulous lawns and waterfall-adorned swimming pools. Past the schools given high ratings by Realtor sites.

  “That’s where I work.”

  “Looks nice.” Trent glanced at the tall brick building on the left, which could easily pass for a small college rather than a middle school. Angie talked about how much she liked her school until they made it up a steep hill, where older, well-kept homes were tucked behind a vast wooded area.

  Angie pulled into the driveway of a small, painted brick house and parked on the side of the carport closest to the house. Trent pulled up beside her and opened his door. He stood and hung his arms over the door, watching her as she climbed out.

  “Thanks.” Angie walked over to his car, fumbling with the wiring on her mic.

  “Need any help?” r />
  “No, no. I got it.” Angie’s voice cracked a little.

  Trent rubbed his forehead. He hadn’t meant to embarrass her. She pulled the cord out the bottom of her shirt and then dug the earpiece from her ear. “Here’s your earpiece.” She winced and held it for him to take. “Sorry about all the wax.”

  Trent fought back a laugh. “That’s fine. Why don’t you hang on to it so you don’t have to come by the station before every ride?”

  Angie shrugged. “It’s the wax, isn’t it?”

  Trent laughed this time. “No, I just know I wouldn’t want Delilah pulling on me like that all the time.”

  “Really?”

  “You sound surprised.” Sure, there was a time when he would’ve wanted Delilah to wire him or frisk him or put any move on him she wanted. But that ship had sailed long ago.

  “Well . . .” Angie walked to the side door of the house and unlocked it, then turned to him. “I assumed someone like you would like someone like her.”

  Trent narrowed his eyes. What did she think of him to assume Delilah was his type? Sure, Delilah was hot. And she made sure to put that on display every day. But Angie had this sweet Princess Jasmine thing going on. The real one, not the cartoon version. Of course, he could never tell her that, or she’d know he’d gone to see Aladdin.

  “Delilah’s not my type.”

  “Ha!”

  “What?” Trent pushed his glasses up his nose and cocked his head.

  “I didn’t say anything.” Angie stood in the doorway with a satisfied smirk planted on her full pink lips.

  “You ha’d.”

  “Come on. She’s every man’s type.” She crossed her arms.

  Trent shook his head. What was it about this woman that made him so vibrant and yet so infuriated, all at the same time? He should say goodbye. Ignore the comment, get in his car, and drive away. The last thing he needed was to fall for a witness.

  “So, what is your type?”

  Trent knew better. He really did. But she made the game impossible to resist.

  He grinned. “You are.”

  Shock registered on Angie’s face. He winked for the win, and she quickly backed inside the house and closed the door. But not before he saw the rush of red over her face and neck.

  As Trent backed down the driveway, a tingle of satisfaction coursed through his veins.

  Chapter Three

  “Hot plate!”

  Angie leaned back as the waiter set a plate of piping-hot fajitas on the table in front of her best friend, Raven. With the other hand, he slid a non-hazardous plate of fish tacos in front of her. Raven muttered a “thank you” between bites of chips and salsa, unfazed that her meal could easily send up a smoke signal if correctly harnessed. Angie never understood why her friend ordered the most impractical foods everywhere they went.

  Angie took a small plate and poured herself some more salsa. She never cared for dipping from the same bowl as others, nor for having her salsa run into her other food.

  “So, Doug and I were thinking of going on a cruise for our anniversary.” Raven continued to eat chips while her actual meal sizzled between them.

  “To where?”

  Raven shrugged. “Someplace tropical with good excursions. Maybe Cancun.”

  Angie coughed to keep from choking on her sweet tea. “That’s in Mexico.”

  “Yeah, I know. It’s beautiful.”

  “And dangerous.” Geography wasn’t one of Angie’s strengths, but she hated to think her friends would vacation anywhere near Mario’s boss man.

  Raven rolled her eyes. “We’d be staying in paradise. Not some slums ruled by drug lords.”

  This time, Angie did choke.

  “Are you okay?”

  Angie cleared her throat. “Yeah, I must’ve gotten a chip hung in my throat.”

  Raven nodded and continued talking about their trip, then grabbed a fajita and piled toppings on it. Angie glanced over Raven’s petite head toward the artful orange entryway. Beneath the arched entrance adorned with oversized sombreros, a group of men dressed in workout clothes stood talking with the hostess. Right before Angie looked away, she spotted Trent.

  Angie turned her focus back to Raven, or at least her eyes. It worked fine until the hostess led the men to a table near them. Her gaze sneaked toward Trent once more, as did Raven’s.

  “OMG, did that cute blond guy just smile at you?”

  “What?” Angie jerked her eyes to meet Raven’s. Her words caught Angie off guard because, yes, he was smiling at her. And she was smiling back.

  “Why don’t you go introduce yourself?”

  “No. I couldn’t.” Angie picked at her taco, giving her a reason to avoid Raven’s stare (and Trent).

  “Don’t chicken out this time. Why shouldn’t you talk to him? You’re single, and he looks interested.”

  Why not? How about because she was an accomplice to his drug investigation? And, plus, they’d already met . . . when he frisked her behind the airport. Of course, she could say none of this to anyone, especially to no-filter Raven. Raven might’ve been Angie’s best friend, but Angie had learned in the first year of Raven teaching across the hall from her that you didn’t tell Raven anything you wouldn’t freely advertise on social media.

  “I’m not going to introduce myself to some random guy at Taco Town. You know me better than that. Besides, what would I say anyway? ‘Hey, I think you smiled at me. I’m Angie.’”

  Raven cocked her eyebrow. “That’s actually a good start. And he did smile at you. I saw it.”

  Angie rolled her eyes, blushing at the memory of Trent saying she was his type. Since his confession a few nights ago, her mind had bungee jumped between hoping she’d never have to sweat through another ride with Mario and driving Salvador Senior himself if it meant having Trent come to her rescue.

  “Don’t roll your eyes, Ang. You’re a catch.”

  “Thanks.” Angie gave Raven a closed-mouth smile as she chewed a bite of taco.

  “I’m serious. You just need to be bolder. I’m half your height without any exotic features, and I still landed Doug. Just think what kind of hunk you can land with your long, tan legs.”

  Angie laughed. Raven made her sound like a racehorse.

  “I appreciate the compliments, Raven, really. But tonight, let’s just enjoy our delicious Tex-Mex without any guys.”

  Raven nodded. “Agreed.” A pepper fell from her lips when she answered.

  Angie laughed and tried to pretend she didn’t care where Trent went or who he was with. Truth was, she wished she didn’t care. Luckily, she found it easy to listen to Raven while checking out Trent now and again. As long as Angie continued with questions about Raven’s impending trip with Doug, her friend suspected nothing. Angie might make a good undercover informant after all. She took mental notes on how to carry out this casual ignorance of her surroundings for the next time she drove Mario.

  Raven trailed off about how Doug had always wanted to fish in Mexico, making it easy for Angie to focus on Trent. For the first time, she saw him in clothing other than slacks and a white button-down shirt. A worn t-shirt fit snugly across the muscular chest she’d imagined him having under his dress shirt. And his shorts showed off sculpted calf muscles. She caught her eyes migrating toward his table more than she wanted. A few times, her eyes met his, proving he looked her way as well.

  After six glances Trent’s way, the waiter brought their checks, along with Angie’s to-go box. Angie opened the lid and smiled at the slotted partitions. She could easily transport her remaining taco and leftover rice without having them slide together in the car.

  Raven’s blue eyes widened like marbles when Angie pulled a hundred-dollar bill from her wallet. “Whoa, Ang. Where’d you get that?”

  Angie’s cheeks flushed. She should’ve used her debit card, but she needed to keep the balance in the black before payday next week. Instead, she’d grabbed the only cash she had on hand. A bill that possibly had tracings of drug
droppings on its skin. Not that Angie would know. The closest she’d come to drugs was when the cops brought a drug dog to school once. It sniffed some marijuana at a locker, and they expelled the kid. She’d walked by that locker every day for months without any suspicion.

  “It was a gift.” Angie’s shoulders lowered with guilt from lying to her best friend’s face.

  Angie bit her bottom lip. She was a terrible liar, particularly when it came to people who knew her best. Raven half-smiled, her eyes fixated on the money. Angie could smell her curiosity brewing. Thankfully, the waiter came back before Raven prodded her further.

  Trent leaned back in his recliner, pulling his legs up with him. He closed his eyes and tried to visualize anything other than a map with red string and pins across it.

  Part of him regretted offering a civilian the informant gig now that he’d learned Mario played such a major role in underground drug trafficking. That was the professional part of him. The hormonal man part of him was excited by her sweet Southern voice and laid-back attitude.

  His phone rang, and, as if his mind had willed it, Angie’s number popped on the screen. He answered and relaxed to the cadence of her speech.

  “Hey, Trent.”

  “Yes?”

  “Mario wants me to drive him again tomorrow. I’m picking him up at the downtown Walmart, of all places, and driving him to the airport again.”

  “Okay, what time?”

  “Eight.” She sighed. “And, you know, I never thought about it until now, but other than the airport, the destinations change each time. Is that odd?”

  “Not at all. These guys don’t want to establish a pattern. On the bright side, new places mean potential new witnesses.”

  Trent neglected to add that Mario may be on to something since he chose a place as public as Walmart instead of a house or office building. He didn’t want to scare Angie.

  “I’ll be in the parking lot a little before then to scope things out. I’ll be in a different car again, so you probably won’t see me. But don’t worry. I can read your tracker and will touch base with you once he’s gone.”