Worth the Risk(28)

“This has got to stop.”

“Excuse me? Who is this?” I draw eyes from some of the staff as I step into the conference room and shut the door behind me. They’re still leery of me, and I’m sure my answering the phone with the panicked annoyance like I just did isn’t going to do me any favors.

“The man you’re putting articles in the newspaper about to convince him to participate in your silly contest.” Irritation mixed with impatience rakes through his voice.

“It’s hard to catch your attention. Should I gather it’s working now?” I bite the bullet and take ownership of Rissa’s tactics with little guilt. He hadn’t returned a single one of my calls, texts, or emails, and then Rissa plants a story, and voila, he calls. I’ll take progress any way I can at this point, even if it’s underhanded and makes me feel a tad slimy.

His sigh is heavy. “It worked the first time. There was no need to do today’s article as well.”

Today’s article? There’s another one? What am I missing? I scramble to log into my laptop, but it has to power up. “What did I do now?”

“Don’t be coy.”

Outside the conference room glass, Rissa is holding her fist to her mouth and fighting back a laugh. Dear God, I’m scared to know what she did this time.

“I’m not. I’m just simply trying to do my job.”

“The innocent thing doesn’t work for you any more than the damsel-in-distress thing did. And by the way, I fell for it. For your shaking knees and trembling hands and blatant lies that this wasn’t a setup . . . so just stop while you’re ahead. Stop denying. I know you’re the one behind these anonymous articles. I know you’re the one funding the goddamn party.”

“What party?” I cough and squeeze my eyes closed, praying that she did not do what I think she did.

“The one you set up at Hooligan’s to thank me for saving you.”

“I did no such thing!”

“Save it, Princess. I’ve already tried to get out of it, but this damn town has caught wind of it, and there’s no way they’re letting me bow out. If I have to suffer through the damn thing, then so do you.”

The call ends, and I lean back against the wall as Rissa peeks her head through the doorway with a cat-ate-the-canary grin on her face.

“A party? Are you kidding me?”

“No one said we had to play fair.” She gives me a wink. “I’ve got the man where you want him. Now it’s your turn to close the deal.”

“I don’t understand why you’re doing this when you made it clear that it was my job to—”

“Part of my job is to teach you how to do things. How to check those boxes. I wouldn’t be a good boss if I didn’t.” She shrugs. “And because after seeing Braden’s new shots, it isn’t fair to all of the other men left for him not to have any competition. Can you say washboard and hung?”

“Jesus.” I choke over the word and the lift of her eyebrows. “Do you have no shame?”

“None, but you knew that already.” She looks at her watch abruptly. “Look at the time, I have to go pick up my kids. It’s Friday fun day at my house. See you at the pub tomorrow at seven o’clock.”

I stare after her as she walks out and I realize I thoroughly underestimated her.

Thank God she’s on my side.





“Can I have your attention, please?”

A man climbs onto the bar top and spreads his arms wide, and just in case I had any doubts about how genetically gifted Grayson was, this man commanding the bar’s attention just wiped them away. He has brown hair, aqua-colored eyes that are almost clear, and a wedding ring on that left hand that glints against the lights. He’s definitely related to Grayson—someway, somehow—and my money is on him being his brother.

Chants of “Grady! Grady! Grady!” fill the room as he waves his hands to hush everyone. It feels like half of Sunnyville is here to celebrate Grayson and his heroic “rescue” of me. Either that or they’ll take any little reason to celebrate.

Rissa is on one side of me, Cathy on the other, and in the thirty minutes since I’ve been here, I haven’t been able to move much farther into the room because it is definitely at maximum capacity. Regardless, I feel out of place in my designer clothes in this working-class bar. People glance at me sideways, trying to figure out why I look familiar, but after ten years, memories fade and looks change, so they just can’t quite place me anymore.

It’s probably for the better. But at the same time, there’s something about the camaraderie among the citizens that is like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. Neighbors who have known each other since preschool tap the necks of their bottles together. People hug each other as if they are long lost relatives, when in reality, it’s probably only been a week or two since they last saw each other.

It’s a fascinating dynamic, and as I stand here and take it all in while the crowd quiets, I realize that Rissa gets this. Rissa understood that this dynamic was all it was going to take to force Grayson to show up.

“In case some of you didn’t know, my brother, Grayson Malone, has fallen into the hero status as of late.” Hoots and hollers sound off around the bar. I glance over to Rissa, whose smile is smug and brown eyes are alive with mischief, and I shake my head. “Ladies, it seems that if you need saving—or maybe even a little mouth-to-mouth—or to be taken to new heights in his mile-high club”—Grady grins as the crowd shouts another round of comments—“he’s your man.”