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hopping is for my benefit or his. I think he sees cars a lot like shoes. Like you need to walk around in them a bit to make sure they fit right.
    No one else is here, not even Derek from the looks of it, so I have no problem acting like I own the place when I roll up to in the middle of the driveway and park right out front. Then, my little fantasy comes to a crashing halt when the gate buzzer goes off behind me and I hear some chick’s voice yelling into the intercom.
    “Angel? Baby? Are you home?”
    Annoyed and seriously deflated, I walk up to the gate to see who it is. I want to get a good look at her before I send her packing. Then I regret it. She’s gorgeous. And I’m pretty sure I saw her sprawled out across the pages of the last Victoria Secret Catalog I perused in search of some new underwear I’m never going to fill out the way this chick does.
    “Angel’s not here, sorry.” Not sorry .
    “Are you the maid?”
    “No, I’m not the fucking maid.” I take a deep breath and try to cool my jets. I should have just said yes and taken a message. It would have been easier than trying to explain who I really am.
    “Does Angel know you’re on his property?” That stupid twat has a lot of nerve.
    “I should think so, considering I have the security code to get in the front gate.” I know I’m not being super upfront about my business here, but this chick is unleashing a new mode of beast within me and I’m prepared to imply bad, bad things right now.
    “You do?” I can’t tell if she’s surprised or doubtful.
    “Yeah, I do. And since you don’t, maybe now would be a good time to stop coming around.” And I went and did it. “Good bye!” I don’t ask for her name, let alone a message. At this point I’m planning to deny the whole thing ever even happened if it comes up someday in the future.
    I stomp my way up to the front door again and freeze when I look up. It’s him. Shit .
    “Hello?”
    He’s smirking. “Any reason in particular you yelled at my friend, Mariska?”
    So fucking busted. “Oh, she’s your friend? Sorry, I just assumed she was a stalker.”
    He chuckles. Thank God he’s not mad. Although, he may be laughing at me. “Nope, no stalker. They don’t usually ring the buzzer. Just climb straight over the gate.”
    “Good point. Anyway, you ready to head out?” I do my best to move the conversation along and hope we never have to venture back onto the topic of Mariska, and whether or not I’ve claimed to be his live in girlfriend in front of any other women I assumed were stalkers when I’m so clearly the only psychopath he needs to worry about.
    Thankfully, he’s easily swayed today and we get in his car to tackle our final day of shopping.
    When we finally take a break again, we’re both starving and as usual, it doesn’t take us long to decide on a spot to eat.
    Today, we’re dining at a top of the line fine dining establishment, also known as IHOP. It’s nearly three in the afternoon and aside from two tables in the very front, the place is completely empty. Which makes it pretty much perfect for not getting mobbed. Even better when we wind up in a booth at the very back of the restaurant as per his request.
    “You’re really getting pancakes for lunch?” He’s eyeing me skeptically over his menu.
    “Um, it’s the international house of pancakes. ” I would have ordered them at Denny’s too.
    “Alright, alright. I’m not knockin’ it. It was just a question.” He chuckles and those damn bats roar to life again. They still do it pretty frequently, but with the constant Angel exposure, they seem to be adjusting and now settle down again much faster.
    “I suppose you’re going to eat something super healthy?” I don’t think I’ve ever seen him eat anything I’d deem crap worthy. Outside of the occasional baked good.
    “I have to. All this shopping you’re making me do is seriously cutting into my work out schedule. I start eating like you do and