“I put up a hundred, and they put up eighty,” I say, smirking through another drink from my beer.
“Wow, you paid the vig, huh? That confident?”
I tilt my head to the right and pull my lips in as I shrug.
“More like going all in when I want something. Money is money. But making quality conversation with the coolest girl in Sweetwater? No price tag for that.”
I step back, abandoning the rest of my beer and feeling rather pleased with my final shot. I think I may have tilted this entire thing in my favor.
“Tell ya what? Wait for me to lock up this deposit, then I’m off for the night.”
“Yeah?” I raise my eyebrows.
“Yeah,” she says through adorable laughter.
My grin stretches as I nod.
She holds up a finger, then skips into the back room. I turn around and shove my hands in my pockets as I make wide eyes at my doubters. Roddy’s brow lowers with what looks like skepticism, but the other guys punch each other’s shoulders and cover their mouths.
“Let’s go, rookie,” Renleigh says, popping up next to me with her hair down and apron long gone. The black work boots she’s wearing add to her tough girl persona, which I’m beginning to think is rooted in fact.
“You lead the way,” I say, trailing behind her as we head for the table where my teammates are suddenly straightening postures and putting drinks down to appear less like an unruly crew and more like gentlemen.
“That his, Roddy?” Renleigh’s eyes glance toward the pile of cash at the center of the table.
“Yep,” Roddy grunts, his cocky smirk long gone.
“Well, then,” she says, sweeping the cash into one palm as she takes my hand in the other. “You ready to get out of here?”
Her heated stare hits me from over the smooth curve of her shoulder, and I’m not sure which has me more mesmerized—her words or the look in her eyes. Maybe it’s the slight upturn of her top lip. Or the fresh touch of pink she’s put on her cheeks. Or maybe the raspy tone of her voice.
It’s all of it. It’s the whole fucking package.
“Yes, ma’am,” I say, snagging the keys and phone I left on the table just before she rushes me to the exit.
Her hand drops mine the second the door slams shut behind us, and the harsh glow of the afternoon sun warms my face. I stuff my keys and phone into my pocket and hurry to keep up as her feet crunch across the gravel parking lot.
“You live far from here?” I ask, squinting into the sun. The way it lights up the curled tips of her hair as she flings it over one shoulder is almost angelic.
“I don’t. But you’re not coming with me.” She spins and walks backward, looking me in the eyes as my steps slow and eventually stop. “It was nice to meet you, though . . . Hunter Redding.”
“Reddick,” I say, somehow picking that out as the thing to respond to. “It’s Hunter Reddick.”
“Right,” she says, pulling a key fob from her pocket and beeping a nearby ragtop Jeep. “Hunter Reddick, the number one draft pick. Enjoy your short stay in Sweetwater.”
She winks before hoisting herself into the driver’s side of the Jeep, and I stare at her taillights like a damn fool way longer than I should.
Chapter 2
Renleigh Blackwood
A symphony of garlic and peppers assaults my nose the moment I crack open the front door. I love it when my sister, Lindsey, stops in for dinner. She doesn’t only visit me and Dad on these occasions; she cooks. That Dad and I have mastered two-and-a-half recipes between us has made for a fairly repetitive menu over the last year.
“Please say that’s stuffed bell peppers!” I shout my wish from the foyer just before my sister’s twin boys wrap themselves around my legs.
“Mine!”
“No, she’s mine!”
