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Herstomach grumbled once more.Shefound her car keys on her desk and headed out to find some food.
* * *
Wyattwasbehind the wheel of his truck heading to the market, the wipers working furiously.Aheavy rain shower was his cue to go get lunch.Hedidn’t have time to stop at a café.Heneeded a quick fix of food before heading back to work.Especiallyafter the revelation.
Wyatt’shead was still spinning.Thoughthe nameGalindowasn’t especially common, he never once suspectedLou, the cheeky, unassuming man, was the former owner of theColoradoRockies, his favorite baseball team.
Hewas also an oil magnate.
TheminuteLoudrove away,WyattandJoeyGoogledthe man.
TheGalindobrothers,LouandArnold, had made their fortune inTexasoil.
Wyattread aloud fromWikipedia,Joeylooking eagerly over his shoulder. “Hesold the baseball team for?—”
Joeyshouted in his ear, “Onepoint three billion dollars!That’sbillionwith a capitalB!”
“Insane!”Wyattsaid, nearly as animated as his little brother.
Hedidn’t know how it began but over the last decadeBreckenridgehad becometheplace for uber wealthy residents ofHoustonandDallasto purchase second homes inBreckenridge.Thosehigh-end projects wereWyatt’sbread-and-butter.
Nowthat he andJoeyknew the identity of who owned the house they were building, it would be a monumental task for theSomersbrothers, diehardRockiesfans, not to ask a million questions about their favorite players, behind-the-scenes negotiations, and anything and everything baseball.
Wyattpulled into the lot across the street fromCityMarketand cut the engine, the rain coming down in buckets.That’swhen he spotted a woman running into the store, her sweater held over her head, her skirt sticking to her legs.
“Itcan’t be,” he said softly to himself.
Wyattpulled his sweatshirt hood over his head and bolted from the truck.
ChapterTwenty-One
Lilydashed through the automatic sliding doors, her soggy sneakers squeaking on the polished floor.Theoverhead fluorescent lights cast a bright, artificial glow over the wide aisles and neatly stacked shelves, creating a stark contrast to the gloomy weather outside.
CityMarketwas a bustling hub of activity.Apparently, this is where locals went during a deluge.Lily’shair was matted and dripping as she grabbed the last remaining cart and headed for the produce section.
“Gonefor another unexpected swim?”
Lilyturned to seeWyattrushing in behind her, his sweatshirt hood over his head, his tall frame and amused smile making her heart flutter.
Sheglanced down at herself, keeping the mental groan from escaping her lips.Sincearriving in town she’d spent most of the time sopping wet.Shefelt—and surely looked—like a drowned rat.
Again.
“Maybeit’s you,” she said. “Wheneveryou’re around,Iend up water-logged.”
Hegrinned, coming alongside her. “Sure, blame it on me.”Hepulled something from his pocket. “Tissue?”
Givenher state, the offer was ridiculous.Shecouldn’t help but laugh. “Onlyif you’re hiding the rest of the box in your pants.”
Hechuckled.Shebegan to shiver.
Wyattfrowned. “Youmust be freezing.”
Ina second, his sweatshirt was over his head, leaving him in hisSomersBrotherst-shirt, his muscular arms once again on display.
“Here,” he said, handing her the damp garment. “It’sa lot dryer than . . . you.”
“Thankyou,Wyatt.Iappreciate it.”Sheput it on.Itreached her knees.Lilywondered if she had already worn half the guy’s wardrobe.
