“Hey, Briggs,” Devon called. “Nice truck.” A round of laughter followed.
Gray pretended he hadn’t heard, but heat climbed his neck andsettled in his face. He could handle being harassed, but having it happen in front of Shelby amplified the humiliation. Mostly he tried to avoid these situations, but he didn’t see a graceful way out at this point.
“Looks like you got a pretty nasty scratch on it though.”
“You can hardly see it for all the dents.” More laughter rang out.
When he’d left the broken-down truck in town overnight, “someone” had keyed it on both sides. Should’ve known.
They were speaking too quietly now for him to make out their words, but judging by the occasional snickering, it was safe to say they were talking about him.
The couple in front of him moved aside and Gray stepped up and placed his order.
His first run-in with Brendan had been in sixth grade when he’d entered the boys’ restroom to find him dumping Patrick Ballard upside down into the trash can. Gray pushed Brendan away and rescued Patrick. The poor guy, probably dying of humiliation, darted out of the restroom just as the fight ensued. Devon and Drew came to Brendan’s rescue, and Mr. Willard came to see what all the ruckus was about.
Mr. Willard was Devon’s uncle, so when the boys ended up in the principal’s office, he believed the other boys’ story. Despite Gray’s insistence it was a lie. Ever since that fight, Brendan, Devon, and Drew had done their best to make his life miserable, and somehow they always got away with it.
It had been his first realization that he would never overcome his dad’s trashy reputation. Normal kids with upstanding parents and money would always come out ahead here. And that sure hadn’t changed when Dad was sentenced to sixteen years in prison. Even Gray’s grandma’s good name couldn’t save him. She was aware of the challenges he faced, but he tried to downplay them as much as possible. She’d suffered enough with everything his dad put her through.
Drew’s cackle broke into his reverie.
What was Shelby doing with these clowns? She was too good for the likes of Brendan. Not that Gray deserved her either.
At least they’d stopped calling out to him, but that was probably for her benefit. Brendan couldn’t give away what a complete tool he was. Shelby might pretend to dislike Gray, but she wasn’t cruel. She was the type to stand up for the downtrodden.
And let’s face it, that was him right now.
“Chocolate malt, strawberry shake,” the teen called.
“Thanks.” Gray collected his order and headed toward his truck.
“You have a real good evening, Briggs,” Devon called.
Laughter trailed him, making him grit his teeth.
The embarrassment lingered the whole ride home. He had to stop thinking so much about Shelby. He couldn’t rescue her from those idiots any more than she could rescue him from this town. He’d do the latter part himself with that scholarship. For now he’d just finish his work at the bookshop and put all thoughts of Shelby Thatcher behind him.
Shelby resolutely kept her eyes inside the shop even if business was slow today. She’d been unboxing new arrivals, which put her in the front of the store—in sight of where Gray put his final touches on the landscaping.
Last time she checked he’d been dripping with sweat though it wasn’t yet noon. She couldn’t eradicate the image of his back muscles and biceps flexing as he shoveled mulch around the new shrubs.
He’d come into the store early on, but Shelby made herself scarce. She was mortified about the incident at the Dairy Bar yesterday. Brendan’s friends had acted like a bunch of bullies. After she expressed disapproval Brendan made them stop, but initially he’d been laughing right along with them.
It seemed so out of character. He was such a gentleman with her. He saidthe sweetest things and always offered to help Gram or Dad when he came to the house. Sometimes it seemed he was a different person with his friends than he was with her. Which person was the true Brendan Remington?
She finished shelving the new Lisa Wingate novel. She’d had the chance to read the advance copy and was excited to hand sell it to readers. She already had it on hold for several regulars. As she began placing Lee Child’s new release on an endcap, she couldn’t help but remember a couple days ago when Gray had mentioned the author as they discussed Shelby’s romance novel.
“It’s not Lee Child, but I’ll admit it exceeded my expectations.”
Gray might be annoying, but at least he had good taste in literature. She placed the last book. But before she could withdraw her hand, she grabbed the hardcover edition and stared at the cover. Gray would probably love to read the new release.
Would he be able to afford it? As far as she knew he’d never come into the store to purchase books. Even if he couldn’t afford it, his grandma would probably buy it for him—though Gray didn’t seem like the type to ask for much.
There was always the library though. She placed the book back on the shelf.
Although a Lee Child novel would undoubtedly have a waiting list—possibly months long. But waiting wouldn’t kill him, would it?
Her thoughts returned to the Dairy Bar. To the way his neck had flushed as Brendan’s stupid friends poked fun at the old truck everyone knew had been his father’s. He’d been silent and stoic. And even though she didn’t partake in the harassment, she felt guilty by association.
