The Long Game (Long Game, #1)(32)

“Christ. I don’t want money.”

That made her pause. “What do you want then?”

“For you to stop being so absolutely exasperating.” She frowned, like she didn’t understand. Jesus bloody Christ, she was going to drive me up the closest hill. “Take the goddamn box. The mattress in your cabin is infested, Adalyn.”

Her chin lifted. “I’m not accepting charity from you. I can handle myself. Unlike everyone thinks, I’m not some pampered brat who can’t survive in this place. I just need you to coach the team.”

“Charity?” I couldn’t help but hiss. Her expression wavered, but there was something in her face. Something that had to be motivating her to act so… proud. Distrustful of me. Thing was, I didn’t care. “This is not goddamn charity, Adalyn. It’s human decency.”

Her face hardened, turning to smooth-looking marble if not for the pink flushing her skin.

Frustration, heavy and thick, solidified inside my chest. “I’m not giving you this out of the goodness of my heart, believe me. I would love nothing more than to see you pack your things, leave town, and never look back.”

“That’s honest,” she deadpanned. “And a little repetitive.”

I heard the sound that snuck up my throat. “You want more honesty?” My eyes roamed all over her face, finding nothing but more of that hardness. “You’ve brought me nothing but trouble since you arrived in this town. You’ve broken every one of my attempts at the peace and normalcy I came looking for. And you haven’t even been here for a goddamn week.” Her lips twisted, urging my next words. “I don’t know you, you’re right. But guess what? You don’t know me either, darling.”

I dropped the box at her feet and something in that fa?ade broke.

I stepped back. “But you’ll soon learn I’m not a very charitable man. I am selfish. Proud. And a little mean when I have to be.” My voice dropped. “So do as you please with the fucking box, but don’t think I’m helping you with shit.”

Turning around, I headed for the driver’s door. I was so done with that woman. I was—

“I’ll tell everyone,” she said from her spot at the rear of my truck. “If you don’t coach the girls. I’ll tell the whole town who you are.”





CHAPTER ELEVEN



Adalyn


“You WHAT?”

I lowered my voice to a whisper. “I blackmailed him. I think.”

“You think?” The pale blue in Josie’s eyes flashed with confusion. “But… How? When? WHY?”

“Let’s see.” I held up a finger. “I threatened to expose him to the whole town.” A second one. “Last night, right after you left with Diane and Gabriel.” And a third. “Because I’m desperate and I…” A shiver crawled down my arms. “I need him, so I panicked. The words came out of my mouth before I could stop them.”

Josie’s eyes remained that full-moon size for a long moment. I was almost sure she’d stopped breathing. That is, until she threw her head back and laughed.

“I just confessed to a crime.” I blinked at her. “The second one I’ve committed in the span of a few days. Maybe even the third, if you count me hitting Cameron with my car.” My throat worked. “That’s it. I’m going to jail.”

“Wait, wait,” she said breaking off the cackling. “You did what to Cam?”

“I… I bumped into Cameron,” I confessed. “With my bumper. Right after I almost murdered his chicken. I also kind of momentarily fainted and he—It doesn’t matter. I didn’t say anything because I thought you’d be horrified.”

Another burst of laughter left the woman in front of me. People scattered around the café turned at the noise. All right, maybe Josie wasn’t horrified.

“Oh God,” she wheezed out, patting her chest like that had been the best joke she’d ever heard. “I wish there was a way I could get Lazy Elk’s security footage of that exact moment.”

I felt myself pale. Not another incriminating video. “There’s a security camera?”

“Oh, I don’t know, but wouldn’t that be great?” She shook her head. “If there is, though, I wouldn’t really have a way to get that tape. The property belongs to a hospitality company of some sort. They were the ones who renovated the big cabin last year.” A shoulder was shrugged. “Ah, how I wish I had the money to make my place look like that.”

“I’ve been trying to get a hold of the owner actually.” I’d gone as far as doing as Cameron suggested—which I’d never admit out loud—and pretended to be his assistant when I called the managing agent. “With no success.”

“Oh, is there something wrong with the cottage? I could try to help if you need me to.”

Words that had been thrown at me by two different men in the last twenty-four hours rang in my ears.

Leaving behind the comfort of the life I’ve provided for you is not easy.

Is the idea of sleeping on the floor not good enough for the princess?

“The cottage is perfect,” I said. “It was about something else. Invoices. I need them for my travel expenses.”