Free No Sunshine When She's Gone by Kate Angell

Trace. “When did you get the Triumph?” he asked. “Vintage fuckin’ A.”
    Shaye touched her fingers to her lips, shushed him. “Lower your voice. I don’t want Olive picking up profanity.”
    “She’s inside,” said Mike.
    “She can hear a pin drop on the other side of town.”
    “Sorry,” he whispered.
    Trace looked up from the grill. “It’s not my car,” he said. “It must belong to Jill or Carrie.”
    Mike rubbed his chin. “It’s Jill’s,” he assumed. “Carrie is more Cube, square and boxy.”
    “That is what I drive,” she quietly confessed.
    “No surprises there,” Mike said. “Bet you keep both hands on the steering wheel, stick to the speed limit, and have never gotten a ticket, am I right?”
    Carrie dipped her head; didn’t respond.
    Jill looked ready to flatten the man.
    “Safety first,” Aidan said, smoothing over Mike’s comment. Mike was being a dick. Aidan had no idea why he’d singled out Carrie. His jabs were sharp; uncalled for.
    Aidan eased the conversation with, “I test-drove a Cube last year.” He stretched the truth, just a little. In actuality, he’d sat in one at the dealership, but found it didn’t have the leg room he needed. Still, he complimented, “It’s a solid vehicle with lots of cargo space.”
    Jill eyed him curiously. A smile tipped her lips. She knew he was fibbing. “The Cube is Carrie’s second car,” she informed them. “She also has a Corvette.”
    Carrie tilted her head, as if to hear Jill better. Her eyes rounded, and there was a heartbeat of uncertainty before she said, “My red Corvette.”
    Mike’s jaw shifted. “You wrap your ass in fiberglass? No way in hell, babe.”
    Aidan had his own doubts, too. He had a gut feeling Jill was fabricating to get back at Mike for his rudeness. She was quite the storyteller. Her life was a work of fiction, a real page-turner.
    “Mike, I’m warning you,” Shaye called to him a second time. “Clean up your language.”
    “That’s crap,” Mike corrected.
    “Not good enough,” said Shaye.
    “Dubious then.”
    “Better,” Shaye said as she began setting out the food. A plate of deviled eggs joined a bowl of steaming baked beans. Dinner was being served.
    “I’ll help you.” Carrie chose to duck under Mike’s radar.
    She took pleasure in simple tasks, Aidan observed. Carrie’s smile was soft when she retrieved the layered salad from the small refrigerator, removed the saran wrap, and set it on the table. She hummed as she fussed with the condiments. She brought out pitchers of tea and lemonade, then iced a metal bucket for the cans of beer. She seemed content and capable; a gentle soul. Mike preferred lusty, uninhibited women, those who broke sexual rules.
    Aidan noticed Jill hadn’t moved; she’d remained with the group. She turned on Mike, kept her voice low. “What’s with you?” she asked. “Do you work at being a jerk or does it come naturally?”
    “What you see is what you get.”
    “I don’t like what I see,” she stated. “Stop messing with my friend.”
    “Or you’ll what?” Mike pushed back.
    Her eyes glinted in a way that told Mike she’d dealt with assholes much of her life, and could handle one more. “You’ve been warned.”
    Mike’s mouth pinched. “That I have,” he said once she’d walked off. He jammed his hands in the pockets of his jeans, and the tips of two fingers broke through the worn denim. He scuffed the heel of his boot on the slate patio. Then shifted his stance.
    Aidan pursed his lips and asked, “What’s with the attitude, man? Why Carrie?”
    “She likes devil’s food cupcakes.”
    “That’s definitely a reason to be a shit.”
    “I’ve acted worse.”
    “You better play nice,” Aidan said. “I think Jill could take you.”
    “Yeah, I think she could, too.”

Four
    A idan kept a close eye on Mike the remainder of the evening. Mike separated himself from Carrie, staying on his own side of the patio. That didn’t stop him