Page 21 of Mr. Risky

“Well, it won’t be me throwing myself tits-out at your husband,” I said coldly.

Was what Granger said true? If I confessed our sins would Pippa even believe me? Or would I get placed in the role of a low-class woman who had thrown herself at Granger, if she even believed me in the first place?

“Have you heard from your boyfriend yet?” she put in.

“No,” I said, realizing guiltily after what had happened last night I hadn’t even thought to call this morning and see why he hadn’t messaged me back.

The service here was just shit, that was all.

“Good,” Pippa said brightly. “I think you and Hayden would go so well together.”

But why would she want an almost penniless flute player as her sister-in-law? I wondered. Or was this just a way to get me out of the way because she really did feel threatened?

“Want to meet up for breakfast? I can have the housekeeper add another spot at the outdoor table?”

“N-not today, thank you. I just want to stock up on a few groceries for the guesthouse.”

“OK! Well, I’ll have the kitchen make you a charcuterie board or something for later. Remember, Sosie, please don’t be embarrassed about making generous use of the kitchens. I know you don’t get stuff like this often.”

“Thank you,” I said stiffly, trying to return her hug as much as I could.

I didn’t know if it was the distance between us, but now that I was back it was clear to me—I was still Pippa’s little charity project, someone to make her feel better about herself. For being so nice to the poor little orphan child.

Since I didn’t have my car, I walked all the way across Oystar Bay to go to the cheaper grocery store for staples like cereal, milk, bread and peanut butter, then began the process of hauling them back.

Hayden met me on the way, eagerly taking the bags from my hands.

“I’ll help you with those.”

He was dressed in a suit and tie, and he did look handsome. If it wasn’t for Jax, maybe it would be good for my career to give him a chance.

But then I’d be just as bad as Granger, marrying someone for money. I couldn’t do that. I wasn’t desperate enough for that. He was just an immoral con man.

“How did you notice the nail in my tire?” I put in.

“Oh—I think I was talking to Granger somewhere over there and noticed it. Why?”

Because anytime I hear his name now I’m suspicious.

“When do you think it’ll be done?” I asked instead.

“Not sure. I think Granger left his number.”

Of course he did. Arrogant, controlling, selfish bastard that he is.

I said nothing else, just thanked Hayden at the door and went inside.

After I had put away the groceries, I sat down at the table with a bowl of cereal and pulled back the curtains so I could watch the sun sparkle over the waves.

Why did the sight of Oystar Bay in the summer make me remember things I didn’t want to. . .

“I’m not like you, Sosie. I’m not an idealist.”

In those days, there seemed to be something softer about Granger, something almost even serious about him sometimes.

I was so madly in love with that man as we sat on the beach together, the fiddle held loosely in his strong fingers.

You wouldn’t think a man who looked like that, like someone out on parole, could coax such beautiful melodies from his instrument, but he could.