Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 131345 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131345 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Greyson was ready to leave when Spencer approached him again.
“Football match Saturday night. After seven. We need players.”
“I’ll think about it,” Greyson said noncommittally. It really depended on whether Olivia needed him to babysit or not. “If your friend wants to spar, tell him I’ll be here in the morning.”
“Hmm.”
Greyson was at the kitchen table that afternoon, checking his correspondence, when Harris strode into the house. He slammed the door behind him and glared at Greyson, clearly in a mood.
“Your wife’s looking for you,” he said, sounding even more pissed off than he looked. Olivia hadn’t seemed too pleased with Harris after her chat with Martine yesterday, and that must have carried over to today. He couldn’t remember Olivia and Harris ever being at odds before, and it wasn’t as satisfying as he had once thought it would be.
Harris looked distressed, and Greyson didn’t like that. He knew that Olivia probably felt equally distressed, and that bothered him. A lot.
“Does she know about the bet?” Greyson asked.
“Not according to Tina.”
“Then why is she so upset?”
“I don’t know. She says I used Tina, but she should know me better than that. I think they’re hiding something from me. Something that gives Tina nightmares and makes Libby look at me like I’m some fucking monster.”
“What do you think it is?”
Harris shook his head, looking lost. “Your guess is as good as mine at this point.” His voice was heavy with misery.
“I’m sorry, Harris,” Greyson said.
“Yeah, well, maybe I deserve this.”
“You don’t,” Greyson said matter of factly. “You were as blameless as Tina that first night, and you’ve been trying to make things right since then. You don’t deserve this at all.”
Harris blinked rapidly and cleared his hoarse throat before ducking his head self-consciously. “Thank you.” He lifted his head again and met Greyson’s gaze unflinchingly. “Seriously, Greyson. Thanks for that. I . . . it means a lot.”
Greyson cleared his throat, too, and flushed at the sincerity he could see gleaming in his brother’s bright eyes. “Anytime, Harris.”
There was an awkward pause before both men looked away abruptly.
“Uh . . . so you said Olivia’s looking for me?” Greyson changed the subject, and Harris looked relieved.
“I assume so,” Harris said. “She asked me if I’d seen you today.”
Greyson frowned and dug his phone out of his jeans pocket. “Shit, the battery died,” he said. He put the device on charge.
“I’m going to make a few phone calls and do some work in my room,” Harris said. Greyson nodded absently, waiting for the phone to charge. He hoped Olivia didn’t have an emergency. It had been careless of him not to check his phone. What if Clara was ill or Olivia wanted to talk? What if he’d blown an opportunity to spend time with them today?
Harris retreated to his room, and Greyson barely noticed. When the phone finally had enough battery power to make a call, he contacted Olivia, not bothering to check his messages.
She answered almost immediately, and she sounded fine, thank God. And not at all upset.
“Olivia, Harris said you were looking for me.”
“Greyson, hey. Thanks for calling. You didn’t have to—I would have been okay with just a reply to my message.”
“I’m sorry, my battery died. I called as soon as it was charged.”
“Oh. Okay. Well, I was hoping you could start watching Clara an hour earlier tonight. At my house. Tina wants to have an important meeting before dinner service tonight, and I thought it would be best if Clara stayed home.”
“Yes. Of course,” Greyson said eagerly. “I’ll be there by five thirty.”
“Thank you.”
Greyson felt optimistic after that phone call, excited to be spending extra time with Clara and heartened that Olivia seemed to trust him a little more every day. He couldn’t focus on work after that. He dug the childcare book he had bought before coming to Riversend out of his briefcase and made himself a cup of tea before retreating to the sofa and finding the chapter on weaning.
He was totally engrossed in his reading when the front door slammed open and Martine walked in. She didn’t appear to notice Greyson on the sofa, and before he could open his mouth to greet her, she stalked purposefully to Harris’s door and opened it.
“We don’t have much time,” Greyson heard her say before she slammed the door shut behind her. Greyson’s jaw had fallen to his chest, and he was still staring at the closed door when the groaning started.
A little horrified and a lot amused, Greyson wasn’t sure what the hell to do. This was a bit awkward, to say the least. But at the same time, considering how miserable Harris had been an hour earlier, he was happy for his brother.
The moaning and groaning were starting up in earnest now. The walls in this place were way too thin. Greyson considered his options. He could stay and hear his brother and a woman he had known for most of his life getting it on in the other room, or he could head out to the porch in the icy cold, or . . .