The Mischievous Mrs. Maxfield

Chapter Seventeen: Love and Thunderstorms

A/N: Hello everyone! I know this one came quickly. 

This will make me contradict what I said in the last chapter but this is the part of their love story where there’s going to be a major shift, and the new obstacles they will face are going to be at a whole new level. I hope you enjoy this though. =)

I hope this will get you by in the month that I will not be writing. 

I know some might be horrified by this news—I’m sorry. I’ve not been doing well in the last few weeks and I’ve been told I have extreme fatigue. Considering I’ve been sleeping an average of 3-4 hours a night, that might not be too far-fetched.

I’m taking a break from writing to get healthy again. It also happens to be nice now where I am so I’d like to be able to go for walks or do things in the weekends other than sit in my office and write for hours on end.

I hope you all understand. 

I will still be posting updates on some of my current projects, and Brandon’s Notebook will continue in Facebook. 

Thank you again and I hope you’re still all here when I return.

As for this chapter, vote and comment! =)

***

“Don’t honk at the old lady!”

Brandon paused from glaring at the old Volvo in front of us and turned my way. “How do you know it’s an old lady?”

It was late next morning and Brandon was driving his shiny new SUV down Route 3 South. I’d asked him why he just didn’t decide to go with an RV since he was already blowing money on a new vehicle anyway, and he told me that he wanted us to go tent camping so that I got the full experience, sleeping bags and all.

When he’d shown me the car, he went to showcase every award-winning safety feature in it—including the straps and hooks for child car seats that he insisted were top-notch in reliability. I didn’t say anything as he went on to say that this was more practical if we needed a bigger car running about town because it had room in the back for a cooler chest, expandable seating, as well as compartments for kids’ sports gears and such. I almost blurted out why he didn’t just get a minivan along with half a dozen children since he seemed to be investing in this car as if we were going to have a mini soccer team for a brood. After our tiff at the parking lot yesterday afternoon though, I learned to be more sensitive about Brandon’s feelings. Despite our constant banter, I didn’t want to truly hurt him. If the idea of being a soccer Dad made him smile, I wasn’t going to say anything about it.

I lowered the digital camera I’d been fiddling with and gestured toward the Volvo that was slowly crawling along the road in front of us. “Just look at the bumper sticker. It says ‘Drive safe. Don’t make me call your mother.’ No frat boy would say that to you.”

“Well, she’s not driving safely herself if she’s driving ten miles below the speed limit,” Brandon grumbled as he shoulder-checked before pulling out to the left lane and passing the car quickly. 

I peered through the window just as the old woman with gleaming silver hair looked up while our car sped up past hers. Even loaded practically to the ceiling with a large cooler chest and camping gear, Brandon’s monster SUV had a lot of power. 

I smiled and waved at the woman before turning back to Brandon. “She’s not that bad. At least she’s driving on the right lane. Besides, I love old ladies.”