Page 21 of A Whole New Game

I frown, uncertain of what causes the sudden change. Then, someone behind me says, “Looking good as always, Carlee Jones.”

I look over my shoulder and see Augie Olsen, the man who’d asked me to his senior prom, standing behind me. I’d forgotten his family owns the Christmas Tree Farm.

Southern politeness forces me to give him my attention. “Hi, Augie.” I rotate my body to face him. “How are you doing?”

“I’m great.” His eyes trail over me. “You look good, Carlee.”

“You already said that,” Morgan says, crossing her arms. She’s never been a fan of Augie. When I told her he asked me to prom, she’d called him a pretty-boy poser who cared more about his reflection than other people.

She wasn’t wrong. Prom was the first and last time Augie and I ever went out, and it had nothing to do with my kiss with Corey.

Okay…maybe it hadsomethingto do with it.

Augie’s smile falls into a frown when he glances at my best friend. “Morgan.”

“Augie,” she mimics his tone. “You’re pretty dressed up to be working on a farm.”

“Thank you.”

“It wasn’t a compliment.”

“Your family has a lot of good trees this year,” I interject before things get ugly. I love Morgan’s penchant for speaking her mind, but it wouldn’t kill her to keep some thoughts to herself. “And the decorations are so fun. Everything is so festive!”

Augie tears his icy glare off Morgan and gives me a tight smile. “Thanks. We worked hard on it.”

“I doubt you worked on anything,” Morgan mutters.

“Well, it shows!” I say with too much enthusiasm to be believable. I clear my throat. “Are your parents around? I’d love to see them.” The Olsens are nice people and supportive members of the community. I’ve worked with them a few times over the years to help build their social media accounts for their farm, highlighting the various events they offer, including their autumn pumpkin patch and spring strawberry picking festival.

“I’ll go find them,” Augie replies. “They want your advice on their latest advertising campaigns anyway.”

“Sure.” I bob my head. “No problem. I’ll be here when you find them.”

“Be right back.” Augie turns and walks down the aisle of tall pine trees to our left.

Morgan snorts when he’s out of sight. “I don’t know why you bother being nice to that guy. He’s a snake.”

I don’t respond. I couldn’t care less what she thinks of Augie. He’s nothing to me. I return my attention to Corey, back to wondering how I should approach him, only to realize he’s gone.

I spin around and scan the area, looking to see if he’s talking to one of the other players, but he’s nowhere to be seen.

Disappointment fills me when I look towards the makeshift parking lot just outside the farm’s entrance and see his broad back. He walks to a black Range Rover.

“Look at me,” I murmur under my breath. “Please look at me.”

It felt like we were on the cusp of a breakthrough just a few minutes ago. I’d put the insulting remark from Thanksgiving aside, and he’d looked ready to apologize for his behavior. I don’t want him to leave when we were so close to… whatever was about to happen.

I need Corey to turn around and look at me.

He doesn’t.

With a disappointed sigh, I watch as he climbs into his expensive SUV and drives away, feeling like an idiot for once again letting myself get my hopes up when it comes to Corey Johnson.

8

COREY

A beadof sweat rolls down my forehead. It travels between my eyes and down my nose before dripping onto the gym floor. I grip the barbell with both hands, brace my abdominal muscles, and lift the bar in a clean pull. I stare at my reflection, check my form, then drop the bar. The weights send a loud clatter echoing throughout the Lonestars’ weight room.

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