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)
“Suit yourself, sweetheart.” No time is wasted. He turns away from me and starts walking again.
I’m left standing in the tunnel with my mouth gaping open. What the hell was that? Brushing his chin against his shoulder, he dares to look back at me before turning the corner. Who the hell does he think he is?
He clearly doesn’t realize who I am . . .
My gast is too flabbered to bite back because I have never met a more arrogant man in my life. I’ve met a lot of jerks and dated plenty of assholes, and Griffin Greene is king of them all. If the rest of the Greenes act even an iota as jerky as he does, the ongoing feud between our families makes a whole lot more sense.
I stomp toward the lot again, but as soon as I reach the edge, the sky splits in half, rumbling above my head. The rain falls so hard that I teeter on the edge of the curb to keep from getting soaked. The roar of a Ford pickup races by, doing the job instead. I didn’t even have time to react before I was splashed from the neck down. I throw my arms in front of me as if that will stop the water from soaking me. With my eyes clamped shut, I gasp.
The engine fades under the splattering of rain, leaving me pissed. I open my eyes, looking down at my drenched shirt and jeans. My flats are filled with water, and my leather purse has spots from the puddle.
Fisting my hands at my sides, I want to scream in anger. I don’t because I can’t lose my cool on the job, but I’m so close to doing it anyway. I peek out from under the concrete awning and spy my car—one of two vehicles remaining. I recognize the other as Coach’s truck.
When I look up at the sky, there’s no break in the dark clouds from what I can see. With no option but to run for it, and no reason not to since I’m already wet, I take off toward my vehicle. Popping the locks on approach, I duck inside and slide onto the leather of my dark blue SUV and look around for anything I can use to dry myself off with. Typically, I’d have a discarded shirt or even a towel available in the back seat. No luck today. That’s what I get for having my car cleaned yesterday. It’s also probably the reason it rained today. Mother Nature loves a good karma moment.
Checking my face in the rearview mirror, I find my mascara already running under my eyes. I grab a napkin from the console, which I got from the Sonic up the road, where I stopped on the way in for a soda. I pat my face and swipe the dark makeup away.
I start the car. And with irritation running through my veins as I drive home to change into dry clothes, I realize I made two errors in judgment today.
One—I allowed Coach Barth to send out the invites without checking the list for contemptibly rude and Dover family enemies first. My dad will not be happy when he hears about this. I’m not going to be the one to tell him.
Two—I let my guard down when talking to a man, a baseball player, and a Greene, of all things.
If I were being rational, I could blow this off under the guise that it’s only a charitable game, a one-off event to raise money. How bad could dealing with that man over the next week really be?
I’m not in the mood to give him the benefit of the doubt, though. Not yet. Not when he just treated me like a fan and then wet me to my core. Oh no. I’m not in the forgiving mood at all.
Griffin Greene considers himself big stuff over where he lives, but in this stadium and in Dover County, my family reigns. So I’m not sure who he thinks he is to rudely assume I was a Dillo fangirl coming onto him, but I can guarantee that he just assured my generation of Dovers will uphold this feud with the Greenes if it’s the last thing I do.
CHAPTER 2
Griffin
Crossing into Greene County brings back many memories. The fields and large oak trees, the shops that make up the little downtown of Peachtree Pass— “What is going on here?”
I slow the truck and lean over the middle of the cab to get a better look at the construction, the progress this small town hasn’t seen in decades, if not a century. I knew my brother was investing in the future growth of the area, but I had no idea he was building a metropolis in the middle of the hill country.