Page 5 of Falling for the Bad Boy
“This is bullshit, Hopkins and you know it.” Wyatt clenched his teeth as he shook his head back and forth.
“Ms. Ryan, I think you’ll find that Mr. Kerns is a reliable tenant. Despite”—he shot a grimace Wyatt’s way—“your initial impression.”
“I’m sure he is.” I forced the lie through a pasted-on smile. “I probably ought to go. Early morning and all.”
Mr. Hopkins lifted his hand in a slight wave. “I’ll see you tomorrow at closing.”
“You’ll both be hearing from my lawyer,” Wyatt growled.
I didn’t have the fortitude to stick around and listen to his threats. I gave Mr. Hopkins a worried smile, then sidestepped my new tenant and made my way down the sidewalk to the end of the block. I hadn’t had a chance to call a cab. The bus would have to do. Feeling around in my purse, I pulled out a wrinkled ticket. Should be enough to get me close to where I’d been staying.
As I waited at the covered bus stop, I ran through the events of the evening. Owning a piece of Newbridge’s history wasn’t exactly an item on my bucket list. Swim with the dolphins? Absolutely. Hike part of the Appalachian Trail? For sure. Tangle with a pissed-off tenant? Not in my wildest dreams.
I’d had the chance to check dozens of items off my list over the years. As the youngest of seven, I didn’t suffer from the high expectations placed on my siblings. And thank goodness for that. My three older brothers were a doctor, a lawyer, and a CFO. My sisters were a veterinarian, an anesthesiologist, and a bank vice president. Although I often questioned if I’d been born into the right family, my grandmother had always been there to assure me I was exactly where I was supposed to be.
As I waited for the bus, my cell rang. My sister Julie’s number lit up the screen. She must have heard I was back in town.
“Hello?” I faked breathlessness in case I needed an excuse to get off the phone.
“Trinity?” At the sound of Julie’s voice, my chest tightened. How long had it been since I’d seen my siblings?
“Jules, hey. What’s going on?”
“That’s it? You disappear for two years, and we’re going to play it like that?”
I rolled my head to one shoulder, then the other, trying to release some of the tension in my neck. “I didn’t realize we were playing at all.”
“Fine. We’ll skip the pleasantries. I heard you’re back in town. Mom knows. She’s having dinner at the house on Saturday. You’re expected.”
Not “you’re invited.” Not “we’d love to see you.” But “you’re expected.” That pretty much summed it up.
“What time?” I asked.
Julie sputtered. “What?”
“I asked what time? You said Saturday, but you didn’t provide a time.” Julie had a reason to be surprised. In the past, I would have already made up an excuse. But I hadn’t come back to town to hide out. I’d come back to make something out of myself. To fulfill the promise I’d made to my grandmother all those years ago.
“Six,” Julie finally muttered.
“Great, see you then.” I disconnected. My siblings would fight me with everything they had when they found out what I was up to. I wasn’t ready to take them all on, especially Juliw. We’d been tight growing up since we were the closest in age. But even with a four-year gap, I felt like the odd kid out. My oldest brother had been graduating college by the time I entered Kindergarten. I’d never felt like I belonged.
But that was all about to change. As the bus lumbered around the corner and came to a stop at the curb, I caught movement out of the corner of my eye.
“Hey, wait up.” Oliver barreled down the sidewalk.
“What?” I asked as I stepped onto the bottom step of the bus.
He held out my scarf, the one I’d had on at the bar. My grandmother’s scarf.
“On or off,” the bus driver grumbled.
“Can you give me a second?” I turned toward Oliver. Less than fifty feet separated us. I could grab the scarf and still catch the ride.
But as I jogged toward him, the wind caught the scarf and blew it up. It floated on the breeze for a few feet before a burst from a vent sent it straight into the air.
Oliver jumped for it but couldn’t catch it. I raced toward him, ignoring the sound of the bus doors closing behind me—the scarf was more important. Even if it meant I’d be hoofing the ten miles back to my friend’s place.
The scarf caught on the limb of one of the trees edging the greenway up ahead. I reached the tree just as the bus lumbered by. So long ride home.
