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What the fuck?
“Why is he here and why is he talking to Bo and Lola?”
Greer inhales and seems to ground herself, putting on a smile when the entire group turns our way. “He’s also a philanthropist and is always trying to get celebrities to join his causes,” she mutters under her breath. “But don’t let him fool you. It’s just so he looks good to the public and they don’t pay attention to how much he pads his pockets.”
“Greer,” the man says, walking toward my date. He’s every bit of six-foot-four and could be mistaken for an athlete. His slicked back, blond hair and blue eyes aren’t exactly how I had pictured him. “I’m so happy to see you.”
When he leans in and kisses her cheek, the cheek I had my lips on just moments ago, makes me want to toss Greer over my shoulder and carry her out of here caveman style.
Hands off, mother fucker.
Greer, ever the polite and well put together person she is, smiles. But when she says, “Miles, I didn’t expect to see you here,” it’s obvious she isn’t as excited as he is. “And who is this?” Greer asks, directing her attention to the woman behind him.
“This is Sarah Matthews,” Miles says, like he just remembered he had someone attached to his side.
“Nice to meet you, Sarah,” Greer says, commandeering the situation and offering her hand for the woman to shake. “I’m Greer Bradley. And this is my boyfriend, Mack Granger.” Her possessive hand on my arm makes my chest puff out all on its own.
Miles looks down at me, eyebrows pulled together.
“Nice to meet you,” I say, then turn my attention to Bo and Lola. “Please tell me they sat us at the same table.”
“Yes, they did,” Charlotte says. “I was prepared to swap name plates.”
I catch Miles still looking at Greer as she and Charlotte talk, and I don’t like it, not just because he’s looking at her, but because something about him doesn’t sit right with me. Maybe it’s all the shit Greer has told me about him, but all I know is I don’t like him. Actually, I’d like to punch him in the face just for being a dick to Greer, but this isn’t the place.
“I think we’ll make the rounds,” I announce, Bo and I having a silent conversation where we both agree this guy is bad news. “We’ll meet y’all back at the table in a few.”
“It was great seeing you, Greer,” Miles says. “Hopefully, we can get a chance to talk tonight.”
Over my dead body.
“We don’t have anything to talk about,” Greer says matter-of-factly. Turning to his date, she says, “It was lovely meeting you.”
I can tell she wants to say more, but she doesn’t because we’re in a very public place with a lot of important eyes on us.
“See you in a few minutes,” she says, when she turns back to Bo and Lola.
Taking my offered hand, she joins me at my side and once we’re a good distance away, she lets out an exhale. “I can’t stand him.” Her hand goes to her stomach and she takes a few deep breaths. “I wanted to tell that poor girl to run for the fucking hills.”
As we continue to walk, I lean over and place a kiss on her cheek. “I needed my lips to be the last thing that was on this skin.”
I watch as her eyes shutter and she shakes her head, like she’s trying to come to her senses.
Oh, Greer, I know exactly how you feel.
Quickly, those thoughts fall dormant as the owner of the Revelers appears in front of us and he has me in his sights.
“Mack Granger,” the older man says, reaching a hand toward me in greeting.
“Mr. LeBlanc.” I take his offered hand and he grips it in his right and grasps my forearm with his left, giving it a hardy squeeze. “So great to see you, sir.”
He’s in his eighties, but has always seemed so spry and he’s always been active with the team, not only in decision making, but in support.
“I know we don’t talk about winning this close to the playoffs, but I have to say I couldn’t be happier with how the season is shaking out,” he says, pride radiating from him. Turning to the man beside him, he asks, “Have you met my grandson, Cohen?”
“No, I don’t think so.” Giving him the same respect as his grandfather, I reach out and shake his hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Likewise,” he says.
