Isaiah stared at her.
Then glanced toward the beautiful Mustang.
"You're telling me my car violates the neighborhood rules because it's parked inside my garage?"
Pamela's expression tightened.
"Don't play games with me."
He crossed his arms.
"I'm asking a question."
She stepped closer.
"And I'm telling you that the board has authority to address violations."
Isaiah looked toward the clipboard.
"Then send me the notice through the process in the governing documents. You don't need to sneak behind my vehicle."
Pamela's cheeks reddened.
Before she could answer, Dylan approached from the driveway.
He pointed toward the Mustang.
"Mom, stop wasting time. Just tell him what we agreed."
Isaiah turned.
"What you agreed?"
Dylan smiled arrogantly.
"That car is going to be part of the neighborhood heritage show."
Isaiah frowned.
"No, it isn't."
The young man laughed.
"Come on. You barely drive it."
"That's my decision."
Dylan stepped closer.
"I've already got people expecting to see it."
Isaiah studied him.
"Then you should tell those people you made a mistake."
The smile disappeared from Dylan's face.
Pamela intervened.
"The association has certain powers when homeowners refuse reasonable community requests."
Isaiah looked from mother to son.
Then back toward the notice still attached to his car.
For a moment, he couldn't believe what he was hearing.
"Are you demanding that I hand over my Mustang?"
Dylan extended his hand.
"Keys. I'll bring it back after the show."
Isaiah let out one short, incredulous laugh.
"No."
Dylan stepped closer.
"I'm serious."
"So am I."
Pamela moved between them.
"Mr. Reed, I strongly suggest you reconsider."
Isaiah's expression hardened.
"Get out of my garage."
The HOA president's mouth fell open.
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me. You're on my property, touching my car, and demanding my keys. Leave."
Pamela shoved his forearm aside as she reached for the clipboard he'd begun examining.
"Don't you dare speak to me like that!"
Isaiah stepped back rather than escalate the contact.
His expression remained controlled.
"You just put your hands on me."
Pamela raised her chin.
"I am the HOA president."
"And I'm the homeowner."
Dylan laughed.
"Not for much longer if you keep ignoring the board."
Isaiah looked directly at him.
"What does that mean?"
For a split second, Dylan's smile vanished.
Then Pamela grabbed her phone.
"That's it. I'm calling the police."
Isaiah nodded.
"Go ahead."
She seemed surprised.
He reached toward the workbench and picked up his own phone.