Nobody's Prize
Maisie
Two days. That's how long I'd been keeping Griff's secret – that he was only here because he lost a bet.
Not exactly scandalous, right?But still, I hadn't breathed a word – not even to Tessa, the one person who might've helped me make sense of it.
The whole thing was incredibly frustrating, even more so because Griff hadn't told me anything remotely useful. This, of course, made me wonder if the whole story was just a well-rehearsed pile of bunk.
On the upside, my conscience felt at least a little lighter, knowing that I hadtriedto do the right thing in terms of paying him. On the downside, I'd come up with a decent theory to fill in the blanks, and it wasn't exactly flattering to the guy in question.
He was a trust fund baby.
Hehadto be.
Unless he was some sort of fugitive, it was the only thing that made sense. I mentally ran through the checklist.
No job.
Pricy clothes – at least when traveling.
And dipshit friends who made outrageous bets.
His friend Ryder was a prime example. True, I had never met the guy. But Tessa had painted a pretty clear picture. Obviously, the guy had money to burn, tipping with hundred dollar bills and sending raisin pastries that nobody planned on eating.
The way it sounded, the whole lot of them were bored trust-fund types who had never set foot in the real world, Griff included.
Mulling it over, I couldn't help but recall the first time I'd ever laid eyes on him. In my mind's eye, I could still see him, standing on the ferry dock looking like a million bucks.
Forget Wall Street.He was from Easy Street – of the silver spoon variety.
I almost sighed.It must be nice.
Still, I had to give him credit. For a guy who'd grown up on the right side of the tracks, he was a surprisingly hard worker – and not only when it was sunny.
Today it was raining cats and dogs. Even so, Griff had volunteered – no, insisted – on heading to the post office to track down a missing shipment of tire tubes.
As for myself, I was manning the front counter – an easy task considering that the rain had turned Main Street into a ghost town. In the twenty minutes since Griff had ventured out, not a single soul had ventured in, which wasn't terrific for the bottom line – or my sanity.
I'd spent far too many of those minutes thinking of Griff. This wasn't healthy. Or productive. He and I were from two totally different worlds, and I'd be a fool to think we could bridge the gap.
And let's say we did. Probably his mom would call me Marsha or something equally wrong while sneering at me for using a dessert fork to eat my salad.
And that would be that.
The sound of the rain did nothing to drown out these thoughts as the minutes dragged like molasses in January.
But then, the bell on the door gave a promising jingle.
Finally.With a smile, I looked up, only to feel my stomach drop so fast I nearly lost my lunch.
In the open doorway stood Devon, wearing white chinos and a navy hooded rain jacket.
Under the hood, he looked slightly shifty – like a teenager trying to buy booze. As I openly stared, he shoved back the hood and said with a sheepish smile, "Hey."
Hey?
Seriously?
