Small Town Frenzy



I’m not afraid of confronting a Greene and feel more emboldened to do it. If I can raise Jacob on my own, run a winery, and manage operations of a regional baseball team, I can deal with a ball player.

I march down the stairs and wait inside the tunnel for Mr. Greene with the allegedly gorgeous blue eyes. A few of the players walk by, saying hi as they pass.

It’s been a while, so I check to make sure his truck is still parked out front. Is he the last to leave or what? Since I’ll never forget the sight of it coming toward me yesterday, it’s hard to miss. When I turn back, I run into that wall of muscle that’s quickly becoming too familiar, considering we’ve never actually met.

“Are you stalking me?”

“You wish.” I shove off him, backing up just enough to get caught in his gaze. Oh . . . My heart stops with a hard thud in my chest.

Jaco Beach.
Costa Rica.
Those unforgettable blue eyes.
There’s no way . . . I even remember asking him where he was from that night.

“I’m not sure we should travel down that road when we know it leads to a dead end,” he replied.

It was a dead end, but I’d know his face anywhere. I still see it in my dreams sometimes.

But being in his presence now, a man I never thought I would see again, words elude me as my mind scrambles through different scenarios of how this could play out. And knowing that I walked away with more than his cowboy hat as a souvenir that night.

Jacob.
My sweet boy.

I back up to a nearby railing, clinging to it as the foundation of the life I’ve built begins to crumble beneath me. A night I’ll never forget is a nightmare four years later. There is no mistaking that face, or the man standing in front of me.

Griffin Greene wasn’t just a good time in paradise. He’s the father of my son.

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