Page 5 of My Hotshot

“Get your goddamn ass to the clubhouse NOW,” Yarder barked.

Shit.

I turned, and my eyes went to the door Lainey had disappeared behind.

Whatever was waiting for me at the clubhouse… it sure as hell wasn’t going to be as sweet as the woman I’d just seen for the first time in sixteen years.

And if I had anything to say about it, it wouldn’t be the last.

Chapter Two

Lainey

I bumped the button to shut the garage door and hauled the last three grocery bags into the house with a huff as the plastic handles bit into my wrists. My arms were sore, my back ached, and I was pretty sure the shocks on my car might not recover from all the groceries.

I set the bags on the kitchen island and blew a stray strand of hair out of my face. “We might have enough food to feed an army, Lainey,” I muttered to myself and tossed my keys into the little ceramic bowl by the sink.

That might’ve had something to do with the fact that I’d spent the last two hours doing everything in my power not to think about the fact that I had just come face to face with Duane.

Or Dice, I guess. That’s what he called himself now.

Didn’t matter what name he went by. I still knew that voice, still remembered the way his eyes had burned into mine. That crooked grin and stupid, cocky shrug. All of it.

I was great at avoiding things. Denial was my oldest and dearest friend. Buying pretty much one of everything at the store had been my way of not thinking about Duane.

And now I was home, alone, and my mind was doing the exact opposite of avoiding him.

“Get out of my head,” I snapped, grabbed a bag of apples, and yanked open the fridge. The crisper drawer stuck. “Stupid drawer,” I mumbled as I jerked it open harder than necessary.

Good thing no one was around. I probably sounded like a crazy person, talking to myself and wrestling produce into the drawer.

I didn’t want to think about Duane. It had taken me years to get over him. Years and an entire marriage. And now, somehow, I’d managed to move to the exact town where he lived.

“Excellent work, Lainey,” I muttered, grabbed three giant cereal boxes, and moved toward the pantry.

The pantry was still mostly empty, save for a container of salt, two bottles of ketchup, and one rogue bag of dried lentils I was pretty sure had come with the house. I stared at it for a moment like it might have advice for me.

“Yeah, I don’t know what to do either,” I sighed.

The new house was cute in a basic kind of way. A ranch-style, all on one floor with a big living room that opened into the kitchen. The kitchen had nice granite counters, a decent-sized island, and cabinets that closed with soft hinges—a luxury I hadn’t realized I needed until I had them.

Three bedrooms, two baths, an attached garage, and walls so beige they made white look exciting.

I had already asked the landlord if I could paint. Hadn’t heard back yet, but that hadn’t stopped me from taping paint swatches to the hallway wall. This new chapter of my life was going to be colorful and fun. At least, that’s what I’d been telling myself.

I shoved the cereal boxes into the pantry with more force than necessary and moved back to the island to start on the next bag. Pasta, tomato sauce, canned soup. My hand hovered over four jars of pickles.

“Why did I even buy these?” I wondered. Did I really need sweet, spicy, horseradish, and kimchi pickles?

Distraction. That’s why.

Because thinking about Duane brought up more than I was ready for.

I had just gotten out of my marriage, and I wasn’t looking to shack up with someone else. My ex had been enough for a lifetime.

Lee.

Fifteen years of being married to a man I had never truly loved. Not like I had loved Duane.

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