Chapter 4
CHAPTER
FOUR
Markie
“So, yeah, it should all go pretty quickly,” Gianna says, plucking a cherry tomato from her salad. “We sign papers next week, and then the lake house is ours.”
If it were possible to have hearts as irises, Gianna would be sporting them.
The best thing to come from Mira marrying Hartley Adler is that her new friend group became mine.
Gianna, Astrid, and Audrey are kick-ass women who love fiercely, honestly, and completely.
They even love Nettie, too, although she’s slower to grow close to new people.
You have to pass her FBI-level background check and survive a probationary period before she decides whether she’ll let you into her world. Most people don’t get the invite.
The lunch rush passed an hour ago, and Piper’s Pizza is fairly quiet.
A couple of men in business suits talk shop in the corner, and a lone farmer remains at the circular table in the center of the room that was packed when we first arrived.
It gives Lisa, everyone’s favorite server, a moment to breathe.
“I love that property,” I say, biting the end off a slice of sausage pizza. “And it’s in the perfect spot with how it sits back from the road, hidden by all the trees. You could probably just live in a hammock and be happy.”
“Let’s not get crazy.” She grins. “But the privacy was one of the biggest selling points. Drake grew up in the country and didn’t want to live in town. I wanted to be able to have chickens and maybe a pig if I can get Drake on board.”
I laugh, imagining Gianna with a pig. It’s not a vision that comes together easily—girly Gianna with a muddy oinker—but ever since she saw my sister’s piglet, Pigasso, she’s talked about it nonstop. At first, I thought she did it just to mess with Drake. But now, I don’t think she’s joking.
“You should see the plans I have for my art studio,” she says. “And there’s a small building that used to be a woodworking shop, I think, where we’re going to set up our podcast. It’s really great.”
“Are you itching to get back to the podcasts?”
She sighs, sitting back in her seat. “We are. Quitting Canoodle Media and walking away from our podcasts was pretty jarring. While I’m glad that we took some time to ourselves to put together a game plan, it’s time to get back to work.”
“Speaking of work, the high school called and offered me a job. I guess the calculus teacher resigned and they wanted to know if I wanted the position.”
“That’s amazing. Congrats.”
I snort. “Thanks, but hold off on the congratulations because I didn’t take it.”
“Oh. Why?”
“Do you remember high school?” I make a face that earns a giggle from Gianna. “I don’t know what your experience was for those four years, but I hated it. I can’t imagine willingly doing it again. No thanks.”
“Then why did you get a teaching license if you don’t want to teach?”
“Because I was young and wayward, and college seemed a whole hell of a lot better than getting a job.” I take another bite of my food. “The only classes I loved were math, and the only job I could think of was teaching.”
“Have you ever taught?”
I pause to take a drink. “I filled in for someone during their maternity leave. And by the end of the first day, I was dumbstruck that the teacher was willing to have her own kid after sitting in a classroom of twenty-five rug rats all day. It’s not for me.”
“When you say it like that, I totally understand.” She brushes a strand of hair out of her face.
“You’d have to really love kids to be surrounded by them every hour of your life.
And other people’s kids, to boot. I don’t know if I’ve ever actually liked a kid before. ” Her nose wrinkles. “Is that weird?”
A small smile tickles my lips as I think of one kid I like … and then his father.
“I’m a professional athlete, and unless I’m reading this all wrong, we have excellent chemistry.”
What a line. I chuckle softly, trying to erase his cheeky grin from my mind.
“What?” Gianna asks, eyeing me skeptically. “What’s that all about?”
“You’re imagining things.”
“No, I’m not, and we both know it. What were you—or who were you thinking about?”
I drop my gaze to my plate and pick at a hunk of cheese that slipped off my pizza.
My desire to talk about Jory Plath with Gianna is nil.
There’s nothing really to talk about, aside from the fact that he’s beyond good-looking and can hold a conversation in public—two things that rarely go together.
But if I’m going to talk about it with anyone, Gianna would be my pick.
After all, she had an entire podcast about relationships and dating. She gets it. She gets me.
“We were talking about kids,” I say. “And it reminded me of a kid that I met at the farmers’ market last weekend. And that reminded me of his father.”
She leans forward, grinning. “Spill.”
“There’s nothing to spill.” I take a bite of pizza as casually as I can to try to drive home my point.
“This boy came up to my table talking shit, basically.” I laugh as I remember Gus trying to pawn his dad off on me.
“He was telling me how he was new to town and how his dad was smothering him, and he needed someone to date his dad so he could have some alone time.”
“I think I like this kid.”
“I liked him, too,” I say, shrugging. “He was funny. Anyway, his dad comes up behind him and …” I grin, feeling a stir in my belly. “I think it’s safe to say that this man is the most attractive man I’ve ever seen with my own eyes. Like holy shit kind of attractive.”
Gianna falls back in her seat. “Wow.”
You have no idea.
I’ve been unable to shake Jory from my mind.
I keep telling myself that it’s just because he’s so hot and I’m in such a dry spell—that I’m just a girl with unmet needs.
It’s science at its most basic level. But the slightly concerning part of it is that I’m not only fantasizing about his shoulders and those freaking lips.
I’m remembering the playfulness of his tone and how tender he was with Gus.
That could be a problem if I let it.
Good thing I won’t.
“But it gets wilder,” I say, blowing out a breath. “My brother called to see if I could call the water department today to have the meter read at his rental house because God forbid he call without wanting something.” I roll my eyes. “And guess who his new tenant is.”
Her eyes grow wide. “No.”
“Yup. The guy. Jory Plath.”
“No!” She sits up in her seat. “I know him. He’s Drake’s friend. They lived near each other in Nashville and played basketball sometimes.” Her arms cross over her chest as she sits back again, looking like the cat that ate the canary. “Oh, Markie. He’s hot.”
My brain short-circuits. “Okay, so you know Jory because he and Drake are friends. My brother knows him from college. They’re like best friends, apparently, which is something I just learned because Miles refuses to be a normal human and talk about his life with me.
And Gray knows him because they played on the Royals together.
And here we are—except Miles. All in the same small town. What are the odds?”
“If I believed in fate, I’d say it was fate.”
“It’s a cosmic prank dipped into a vat of temptation to see if I’m dumb enough to take the bait. That’s all it is.”
She smirks. “So, are you taking it?”
“No.” I grimace. “While I may have thought about him bending me over every possible surface of my house, I’m uninterested in actually following through with that fantasy.”
My insistence that I’m uninterested might as well have been said to the table because if Gianna heard it, she didn’t listen. Mischief lifts the corners of her lips as her smirk deepens.
“I know he hit on you,” she says, narrowing her eyes.
“Yeah. He asked me to dinner.” I should leave it here—drop the dinner invite and move on. But where’s the fun in that? “And he might’ve volunteered to be my partner in the tournament.”
Her eyes shine with excitement.
“I said no, obviously,” I say, lifting my glass to my lips.
“Why? He’s beautiful, Markie. Do it for me. Think of it like taking one for the team, because I’ve always wondered what that man was like in bed.”
I choke on my drink, grabbing a napkin and dotting my eyes with it. Gianna watches me with an almost morbid humor.
“That’s exactly what I imagine,” she says, teasing me. “I know he’s so big that you’d choke on it.”
“Stop it.” My eyes and throat burn as I try to breathe normally. I point at her. “Don’t say another word.”
Lisa swings by to check on us. Thankfully, Gianna doesn’t share why I’m nearly dying across from her and makes small talk with our server as I try to get my wits together. Just as I gather myself, the chimes on the door ring, and we all look up.
“Speaking of dicks,” I say as my sights land on Jasper.
He scans the room until his gaze meets mine. A small, I’m just a good guy smile touches his lips. He watches me for a long moment before he tucks his chin, heading for a barstool at the front of the building. All the while, a hot, bitter wave of resentment rises and settles beneath my ribs.
That motherfucker.
I rip my gaze from the back of his head. “Do you know what pisses me off the most?”
“The options are endless, but I have an inkling,” Gianna says, clearly irritated about Jasper’s appearance, too.
“It’s the fact that he comes across as this nice, sweet guy.
Harmless. Good,” I say, spitting the word.
“That’s the worst part. Not that he cheated on me.
Not that he thinks he can compete against me in the tournament.
” I lean forward until my chest digs into the table’s edge.
“It’s that he has the audacity to wear that sweet smile like some kind of saint.
” My jaw clenches. “If you’re going to be an asshole, have the balls to be an asshole. ”
That’s the toughest part to swallow. I bought into his bullshit.
I believed him.
Jasper was supposed to be the exception, the one who made me believe that not all men were bad. Instead, he proved me right. And that’s what sucks.
I wanted to be wrong.