Page 78 of Own the Eights
“Oh, sorry! I didn’t see you there!” a perky young woman she remembered meeting at Deacon CrossFit said, before glancing down the hall and spotting the men. “Deac, I’m not wearing underwear.” The young woman giggled.
The men turned at the sound, and Jordan caught her gaze as his tanned skin went ghost white.
Deacon threw her an arrogant glance as the bubbly blonde hooked her arm with his.
“Isn’t this so fancy, Jordan?” the woman said with another giggle.
“Good talk, son,” Deacon said, eyeing Jordan one last time before escorting his date back toward the ballroom.
“Georgie,” Jordan said, taking several steps forward, but she put up her hands defensively.
She steadied herself. “You lied to me. I thought that I was the one you were talking about when you said only one person’s opinion mattered.”
With his shoulders slumped, he shook his head. “I’m sorry, but it’s complicated with Deacon. I owe him everything. He’s been my mentor for over a decade, and he could make things very difficult for me in the CrossFit community.”
How could he not see it?
She barked out a laugh. “That’s not a mentor. That’s a monster. A mentor supports you. What I just overheard might as well have been blackmail.”
“That’s just how Deacon talks,” he murmured.
She shook her head. “No, that’s how a mob boss talks. Do you actually want to be like that man?”
Jordan lifted his chin. “In some respects, yes. He put his own blood, sweat, and tears into making Deacon CrossFit the most profitable fitness chain in the state. And when I was nothing, he taught me how to be the best.”
Anger surged through her veins. “Don’t you see? You were never nothing! Skinny or ripped, that doesn’t define who you are.”
He glanced away. “It does to me.”
Those four words cut like a dagger to her heart.
“Then you really are a ten, Jordan Marks,” she shot back.
He met her gaze full-on. “Whatever made you think I wasn’t, Georgiana?”
She stared into his cold eyes and bristled at his stony exterior. Who the hell was this? It certainly wasn’t the man who’d just bid a grand on her. And it most definitely wasn’t the man who’d made love to her and kissed her every night until she fell asleep in his arms.
A loud crash from behind caught her attention, and she whirled around to find Barry standing in the same spot she’d occupied when she’d overheard Jordan’s conversation with Deacon.
The man opened and closed his mouth like a confused flounder. “Um, Georgie, Hector and Bobby wanted me to get your reaction to Jordan making the winning bid, but…”
But Jordan had reclaimed his title of the Emperor of Asshattery.
She glanced at the man she’d sworn she was falling in love with, then turned to Barry and schooled her features. “Here’s a reaction. I’m leaving, and I never want to see Jordan Marks ever again.”
12
Georgie
“You haven’t heard from him?”
Georgie set down a stack of books, then wiped the back of her hand across her forehead. “No, Becca, and that’s the way I want it. I’m fine. I’m totally fine.”
Her trifecta nodded. Yep, totally fine. Could not be finer. The finest of the fine.
Becca crossed her arms and leaned against the counter. “You’ve been carrying around that same stack of books and muttering to yourself all afternoon. I don’t know if that constitutes as being fine?”
Georgie stared at the books. “I just want to find the right spot for them,” she said as Mr. Tuesday came to her side and whimpered.
