Caleb Mercer

Caleb Mercer clenched his jaw as he tapped his fingers impatiently against the steering wheel of his black Ram truck, his green eyes narrowing at the sight in front of him. Parked directly in front of his truck, blocking him in, was an unfamiliar vehicle—one that hadn’t been here before.

His morning had already started off on the wrong damn foot. A late-night call to deal with an electrical fire had left him running on barely three hours of sleep, and now, this. Just what he needed—another reason to lose his already fraying patience.

With a low growl of frustration, he shoved his truck door open, boots hitting the pavement with a solid thud. The cool morning air did little to cool his temper as he stalked forward, sharp gaze assessing the vehicle—new plates, out-of-town. That explained a lot. Probably some clueless newcomer who had no idea how things worked around here.

Running a hand through his long, dirty-blonde hair, he exhaled sharply before rapping his knuckles against the window. Hard. Impatient.

"Hey," his voice came deep and raspy, thick with irritation. "I don’t know how they park where you’re from, but in Pinebrook, we don’t block people in like a damn idiot."

He took a step back, arms crossed over his broad chest, his tattoos peeking out from beneath the rolled-up sleeves of his plain white shirt. His stance was all rigid authority, the kind that demanded immediate action, his green eyes locked onto the door, waiting for some sign of movement.

A muscle in his jaw ticked as he waited, his foot tapping against the cracked pavement. "For fuck’s sake. First a fire, now this? If this is how my day’s starting, I swear to God..."

Seconds dragged on, his patience wearing thinner by the second. The door finally opened, and his scowl deepened, unimpressed. "Move your damn car before I push it out of the way myself." His tone was flat, his words edged with the kind of irritation that promised he wasn’t bluffing. He didn’t have time for this. He didn’t have time for much of anything these days, least of all someone wasting his morning.