Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 89503 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89503 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
“That’s … something,” I say, grimacing. “I’m not really sure what to say. Gus is okay, right?”
“Yup. He’s fine. We got through all of that.” He smiles down at me. “It sucks. I missed out on so much, and it took me a long time to make peace with that. But what am I going to do? Be pissed about it forever? I can’t turn back time. And it’s not like Deidre set out to screw me over. I can’t blame her.”
“That’s incredibly mature of you. I think I’d carry a chip on my shoulder.”
He chuckles. “I don’t know you that well, but that feels like something you’d do.”
“Touché.” I unlock my car and toss my bag into the back seat. “Thank you for answering my very impolite question. I can hear my grandma Lolly in my head chastising me for being rude.”
“It’s fine. I’d rather you ask than assume.”
He leans against my car as if he expects me to stick around and talk to him. And while I should climb in and take off, I don’t reach for the handle. There’s something about being in his presence that I don’t hate. I even kind of like it. That’s not a good thing, but I’d be lying to myself if I said otherwise.
“Anything else you wanna know?” he asks, crossing his arms over his barrel chest.
“Well, since you asked,” I say, batting my lashes. He chuckles. “What’s your relationship like with Gus’s mom and her husband? How does that situation play out? I can only imagine there are a hundred emotions involved that could go so many different ways.”
“We’re good. Her husband passed away five or six years ago. But, yeah, Deidre and I get along just fine. She’s a fantastic mom. I mean, look at Gus. That’s all her doing. I can’t take credit for that.” The smile on his lips softens. “She’s been great at facilitating a relationship between Gus and me. I mean, she has let me have him this summer and last, and I’ve either seen him or had him with me for just about every holiday.” He runs a hand through his hair again. “I really appreciate her in a lot of ways, you know?”
“That’s nice.”
He sighs. “I just have to figure out how life will look once I retire next year.” He peeks at me out of the corner of his eye. “But that’s a problem for another day.”
The sun creeps along the edge of the distant treetops, lighting the sky in a cascade of beautiful pinks and purples. It feels like the world has formed a little cocoon around us.
I stare up at Jory, processing how respectfully he speaks about Deidre. Despite everything that happened, he’s so kind. And maybe it’s a ruse—maybe it’s just another handsome, disarming man using his charm to fleece me. Surely, he’s working an angle. But if that’s true, I don’t want to find out. I want to keep him far enough away that I don’t ever have to know.
“What about you, Miss Markie St. James?” he asks. “What else is there to know about you?”
I snort. If he thinks I’m filleting myself for a shirtless hottie that I’ve known for two whole minutes, he’s mistaken.
“I’m just a small-town girl,” I say, shrugging. “There’s not a lot to know about me.”
His eyes narrow playfully. “Somehow, I don’t believe that.”
“Suit yourself.” I reach for the door handle and pull it open. “But I need to get going. I have to run by my sister’s house tonight, and I desperately need a shower first.”
He steps away from my car, giving me plenty of room to maneuver. What a gentleman.
“Guess you know where to find me if your pickleball boy flakes out on you,” he says, teasing me.
“Thanks, but I wouldn’t hold my breath.” I drop into the driver’s seat and start the engine. “Tell Gus that I said hi. And tell him that the jam had nothing to do with it.”
“I will. See ya around.”
“Bye, Jory.”
I shut the door and leave the park before I can change my mind.
CHAPTER
SIX
Jory
“Look who it is,” Gray says from the porch of the farmhouse. He waves before trotting down the steps toward the driveway.
Gray Adler is a beast and the fiercest scrum half I’ve ever played with or against. I’m used to seeing him battered and worn down from the season, held together by muscle cream, tape, and the will of a champion. But there’s an air about him this evening that’s different. Lighter, maybe.
“Hey, Adler,” I say, pulling him into a one-armed hug. “Gray, this is my son, Gus. Gus, this is the legend, Gray Adler.”
“Legend, my ass.” Gray chuckles. “Nice to meet ya, Gus.”
Gus smiles. “I’m happy to meet you, too. Nice place you got here.”
I bite back a laugh. This kid.
“Well, thanks,” Gray says, amused, too. “This is my brother Hartley’s house. I live down there.” He points toward a gravel lane extending up and over a small hill.