Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 102185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
I look back toward the shore, though we’re a long way from where we pushed off. I didn’t see a house or area marked off for a garden. There was a rusted tractor with flat tires and the boat that Griffin dusted the cobwebs before grabbing a vest from it and squeezing me into it. We didn’t spend any time exploring the property for me to get a look at anything much prior to boarding the boat. “So what you’re saying is we’re trespassing?” I quirk a grin at him, not wanting to hold any competitive nature for the time being despite him typically bringing it out in me.
His chuckle sends birds’ wings flapping nearby, the frogs to quieten, and the boat to gently rock. “I’m allowed out here anytime I like. One of the perks of helping Riggins back in the day.”
“What’s another?” I ask, staring off into the darker parts of the river.
“Owning it.”
My gaze darts back to him. “What does that mean?”
When his eyes slide to mine, he stops paddling, and replies, “He left it to me in his will.”
“The house?”
“All of it. The house, the acreage, even this shoreline is still a part of it.” He starts paddling again as if this wouldn’t be news to anyone else. I find it incredible.
“He left you his property because you used to help him with his garden? That’s quite a gift.”
His smile is small, but I can still spy the upturned corners. “Twice a week every week, sometimes more, I helped him until I left for college. He had no kids. No wife.” He shrugs. “Guess he felt like leaving it to someone who had tended the land.”
“Weren’t you busy at your family’s ranch? You also had baseball. I know that keeps kids busy.”
“Sure, but neighbors help neighbors when they need it. He needed someone steady he could rely on, especially in his later years.”
He makes it sound so easy to fit in all those obligations and even has it sounding like it’s common every day to give that much of himself. I’m left wondering how he fit it in, and he’s sitting there as if it was nothing. He adds, “He came to every one of my home games. I’d see him sitting in the stands, proud as if he were part of the family. He was in a lot of aspects. My mom would invite him over on holidays, or I’d bring him a plate she’d made if he wanted to stay home.”
Hearing about his life growing up, even just this small glimpse of what it was like, has my chest aching. I swallow, not wanting to project my emotions onto him. It doesn’t sound easy, but I hear no complaints either. The anomaly of him returns, leaving me conflicted. Is he a good man in disguise?
“At what point did the cockiness take over? And why did you decide to bury this side of yourself? Which, by the way, is much more attractive.”
“Attractive, huh?” A glimmer of arrogance dances in his eyes, but maybe it’s just the moonlight playing tricks on me.
“I misspoke. It’s the alcohol.”
“You sure about that?”
Sighing, I knew I had messed up as soon as the word left my mouth. This is him. Griffin Greene, not Savvy. The slip might have been of the Freudian kind, but he’s the last person who needs to be told he’s good looking. He’s already well aware of that fact. “What do you want me to say? You’re unattractive?” I laugh, glancing away briefly before returning to see him still staring at me. “What? Just say whatever it is you want to say and let’s get it over with.”
“I think you’re beautiful.”
You would have thought the compliment came on the point of a sword by how it hit. I’m left searching for a reply that’s not coming and throw in the towel. “What am I supposed to do with that?”
Laughing, he rows a little faster. I’m sure he’s ready to escape this awkward moment that I’m certain neither of us intended to be a part of. “You don’t have to do anything with it, Cricket. Just enjoy.”
My head juts back on my neck. Enjoy? The man just told me I’m beautiful, and I’m supposed to sit here and just take it like he really might have meant it.
“Hey,” he says, nabbing my attention. “You don’t have to overthink it. It’s not that deep.”
“I don’t know, Greene. Sounded kind of deep to me.” I rest my hands back again, feeling like myself when bantering with him. “Next thing you know, you’ll be proposing marriage or something ludicrous like that.”
“Don’t worry. I’m not the marrying kind.”
I eye him while his gaze dips away and returns quickly like a yo-yo back to me. “Not surprised.”
“Why is that?”
“Because you’re not even a relationship guy, much less the marrying kind.” I shake my head, remembering how it felt to be left in that bed the following morning. Doubt ran deep as if I should have gotten something from him—a name, number, social media handle, or anything that would allow me to find him again in the future. It would have come in handy when I was giving birth to his child. “Because I had to talk you into staying the night—” I gasp, covering my mouth.