had just happened.
“ That sounded very intense,” Margery said, making Emmy jump.
Emmy hadn ’t heard her come back over. She stared up her sister in a kind of horror, still clutching her phone while panic pounded through her. Had she lost her mind? She had rent to pay! She’d had that job for years! Could she call Stephanie back and get her job again before any of this was made permanent? That was obviously the smart thing to do. What had she been thinking ?
“ Emmy, what’s the matter with you?” Margery asked, frowning down at her. “You look pale.”
“ I have no idea what just happened or why or if I’ve been taken over by a body snatcher,” Emmy said after a moment, and her throat was so dry that her voice was raspy and sounded like someone else’s, “but I just quit my job. For absolutely no reason.”
Margery gazed down at her for a beat, as if waiting for more. “That’s not why you’re upset, is it?”
“ I can’t tell how upsetting it is yet,” Emmy gritted out, “because I’m too busy having a full scale panic attack.”
Her sister only shook her head, visibly unmoved. “Did you ever even like that job?”
Emmy blinked at her. “I’m good at it!”
“ I’m good at being a bitch,” Margery said, her mouth moving into one of her cat-like smiles, “but that doesn’t mean I should make it my life’s work.” Her smile deepened as Emmy only stared back at her in disbelief. “And it’s time for your massage. Try not to get snippy with the massage therapist, if you don’t mind. I can only tip so much.”
The realtor was a tool.
Griffin had hated him on sight, but that wasn’t a good enough reason to punch him. So he refrained, slumped there in the passenger seat of the idiot’s Bronco listening to a thousand things he didn’t need to know about Marietta’s retail market because he had eyes, thank you. He could see the empty storefronts and the For Sale signs, although there were far fewer of those today than there had been last fall.
“ Stay there,” he ordered the other man when they stopped in front of the space he’d gone into the realty office to ask about, a few doors down from the rowdier bar in town. The perfect place to collect the kind of clients he’d want to attract. A little walk on the wild side for the more conservative types and an easy stroll for people like him who hadn’t seen their skin without some bold color on it in too many years to count.
He watched the realtor ’s too-red cheeks get even brighter with a certain fascination, but then forced himself to smile politely, to take the sting out of the order. Because this was Marietta, not the big city, and his grandmother would tear a piece out of his hide if he growled at her friends.
Not that he thought Gran Martha would give this guy the time of day, but he ’d lived in Marietta long enough now to understand that small town politics were like tangled roots. He might not see them beneath the pretty trees that graced the parks and would be that deep, lush green all summer long, but they were always there beneath the surface, interconnected and overlapping in a thousand ways an outsider could never hope to understand.
“ I’ll check it out myself, if that’s okay,” he said, forcing another smile, and he wasn’t surprised when the realtor—why couldn’t he remember the guy’s name?—dropped a set of keys in his hand and waved him toward the front door, swallowing hard like Griffin was as disreputable as the pair of bikers who stumbled out of the front door of the Wolf Den a few doors down and stood there on the sidewalk, looking ornery.
If he was honest with himself, he thought as he opened the front door of the little shop and stepped through the doorway, he didn’t particularly mind what the realtor thought about him.
Inside, he took a deep breath and looked around, soaking it in. It was only a shop, like any other. A glass window in front and a narrow space within. Brick walls
“ That sounded very intense,” Margery said, making Emmy jump.
Emmy hadn ’t heard her come back over. She stared up her sister in a kind of horror, still clutching her phone while panic pounded through her. Had she lost her mind? She had rent to pay! She’d had that job for years! Could she call Stephanie back and get her job again before any of this was made permanent? That was obviously the smart thing to do. What had she been thinking ?
“ Emmy, what’s the matter with you?” Margery asked, frowning down at her. “You look pale.”
“ I have no idea what just happened or why or if I’ve been taken over by a body snatcher,” Emmy said after a moment, and her throat was so dry that her voice was raspy and sounded like someone else’s, “but I just quit my job. For absolutely no reason.”
Margery gazed down at her for a beat, as if waiting for more. “That’s not why you’re upset, is it?”
“ I can’t tell how upsetting it is yet,” Emmy gritted out, “because I’m too busy having a full scale panic attack.”
Her sister only shook her head, visibly unmoved. “Did you ever even like that job?”
Emmy blinked at her. “I’m good at it!”
“ I’m good at being a bitch,” Margery said, her mouth moving into one of her cat-like smiles, “but that doesn’t mean I should make it my life’s work.” Her smile deepened as Emmy only stared back at her in disbelief. “And it’s time for your massage. Try not to get snippy with the massage therapist, if you don’t mind. I can only tip so much.”
The realtor was a tool.
Griffin had hated him on sight, but that wasn’t a good enough reason to punch him. So he refrained, slumped there in the passenger seat of the idiot’s Bronco listening to a thousand things he didn’t need to know about Marietta’s retail market because he had eyes, thank you. He could see the empty storefronts and the For Sale signs, although there were far fewer of those today than there had been last fall.
“ Stay there,” he ordered the other man when they stopped in front of the space he’d gone into the realty office to ask about, a few doors down from the rowdier bar in town. The perfect place to collect the kind of clients he’d want to attract. A little walk on the wild side for the more conservative types and an easy stroll for people like him who hadn’t seen their skin without some bold color on it in too many years to count.
He watched the realtor ’s too-red cheeks get even brighter with a certain fascination, but then forced himself to smile politely, to take the sting out of the order. Because this was Marietta, not the big city, and his grandmother would tear a piece out of his hide if he growled at her friends.
Not that he thought Gran Martha would give this guy the time of day, but he ’d lived in Marietta long enough now to understand that small town politics were like tangled roots. He might not see them beneath the pretty trees that graced the parks and would be that deep, lush green all summer long, but they were always there beneath the surface, interconnected and overlapping in a thousand ways an outsider could never hope to understand.
“ I’ll check it out myself, if that’s okay,” he said, forcing another smile, and he wasn’t surprised when the realtor—why couldn’t he remember the guy’s name?—dropped a set of keys in his hand and waved him toward the front door, swallowing hard like Griffin was as disreputable as the pair of bikers who stumbled out of the front door of the Wolf Den a few doors down and stood there on the sidewalk, looking ornery.
If he was honest with himself, he thought as he opened the front door of the little shop and stepped through the doorway, he didn’t particularly mind what the realtor thought about him.
Inside, he took a deep breath and looked around, soaking it in. It was only a shop, like any other. A glass window in front and a narrow space within. Brick walls
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