Page 34 of Really Truly Yours

She reemerges. “The groceries came to $34.31. I thought I had more cash. Sorry.”

I stare at the even thirty she holds out to me. Am I insulted or irritated?

Both. Thanks for the mood kill.

I flash my palms. “Nope.”

“You said I could pay you back.”

“I lied.”

Steam gathers around her pretty head. “You’re not buying my groceries, Grayson Smith.”

“I’m not taking your money, Sydnee Carson.” I bobble my head like a snot-nosed kid.

“Take the money, Grayson.”

“Can’t make me.”

“You…ugh!” The woman throws a mean curveball. She’s got the fold of cash halfway into my shirt pocket quicker than I can duck a line drive hit.

But I’m still fast, stalling her wrist before the deed is complete. The ten flutters to the floor. “I said no.”

She tries again, this time, her palm flattening against my chest.

“Look at you getting all handsy. Now I just feel violated.”

“Grayson!”

Is that a smile peeking out? “It’s Gray. Say it, Sydnee. Graaay.” I soften the tone and drag out the word.

For some reason, my name gets stuck on her tongue. Seems she can’t decide whether to cuss or spit.

Hey, we could exchange some spit. I’m game.

Man, she’s super pretty up close, and her hair smells like a garden or something. A flower garden. Heck, I don’t know fragrances. My fingers skim to her elbow. I didn’t intend for the motion to draw her, but I’m not arguing. “Sydnee…”

Talk about evasive maneuvers, she ducks out of range and flies across the room in less than a blink. With the bulky chair between us, she folds her arms and glares. “Get your money and go, Grayson.”

Our stares barrel into each other. Her cheeks look warm to the touch. Her pretty eyes simmer, with irritation, sure, but my senses register a vastly more intriguing vibe zinging about the cosmos, as well.

I only lose a stare down when I choose to. I sigh. “Have it your way.” I bend for the dropped ten and pair it with the twenty dangling precariously from my pocket. I smooth the bills together, refold, and slip the duo into the pocket of my shorts. “It’s been fun, Sydnee Lou.” I whistle a tune asI scrape the warped door across the carpet. “See you around.”

The door slams like a swift kick in the hind end. The click of a lock makes me grin.

On the porch, I turn and eye the chipped gray siding.

Ah-ha. I ease open the defunct, rusty old mail drop made obsolete by the mailbox at the curb. I slide the money down the hatch.

Some say I’m a great baseball player. What they don’t know is that I’m also awesome at chess.

Chapter 8

Sydnee

“You didn’t tell him, did you?” I perch onto the end of Donny’s sofa.

“He took out o’ here like a crazy person. I didn’t have a chance!”