Page 47 of Own the Eights
He blew out a frustrated breath. “Don’t you see? Doing the real work to make yourself the best is what matters to a ten. Consistency and commitment are crucial. People can try to fake it, but it takes real dedication to be a ten in every facet of your life.”
“You think the Dannies are fakes?” she asked.
“I think the Dannies are full of shit. That’s why whatever the next challenge is, we’ve got to crush it.”
We.
Why did that word send a flood of warmth crashing through her body?
She reached up and plucked a leaf and a few other pieces of greenery from his shoulder. “You’ve got a little grass on your shirt.”
His expression softened. “You’ve got it all in your bun.”
Her hands flew to her head. “I do?”
“Stop, let me,” he said and combed his fingers through her hair.
For such a big guy, his touch was tender, just like when he’d kissed her.
He twisted a wisp of her hair between his fingers. “I know you hate everything about the Marks Perfect Ten Mindset, Georgie. But we need to work together to beat the Dannies. Whatever you think of me, they’re ten times worse.”
And what did she think of him? He was an asshat who poked fun at her shoes and clothing. But he was also the same asshat who had rocked her world with the best kiss and the best sex she’d ever had, which she wasn’t about to ever disclose.
She stared up at his perfect face. “Deal. Whatever the next challenge event is, we crush it.”
8
Georgie
“This is not the kind of crushing it I was talking about,” Jordan said under his breath as they drove up the bumpy gravel road. “Are you sure this is the right place?”
Georgie glanced out the windshield at the sprawling fields. They’d left the city and headed east where they’d traded high-rises for hay bales.
She checked her phone’s navigation app. “Yes, this is the right way. Maybe we’re volunteering on a farm.”
“Doing what?” he asked with a slight shake to his voice.
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Whatever people do on farms. Maybe we’ll milk cows.”
“Do you see any cows?”
She didn’t see much of anything until a house caught her eye.
“Hold on. There’s something up there.”
She leaned forward as a barn and a weathered farmhouse with a few cars parked haphazardly in a clearing came into view.
“We’re probably doing a Habitat for Humanity thing, fixing up that old house. That would be in line with my Own the Eights philosophy for supporting the community. But I could be wrong. Don’t forget, the CityBeat founders are known for doing publicity stunts.”
Jordan frowned. “I’m getting a bad feeling.”
“It’s a farm. How bad can it be?” she threw back.
“Fucking hell,” he muttered as he parked his BMW next to a Subaru splashed with the CityBeat logo.
Holy Farmer Fred! CityBeat was here!
“Look,” she said and pointed to where Daniel stood, gesturing wildly, with a man and a woman she didn’t recognize. She glanced around for Danielle and found her planted in the passenger seat of a giant black Escalade on the other side of the gravel lot. The other half of the Danny duo sported large dark sunglasses and sulked in her seat like a super diva.
