Page 65 of Forbidden Game

I hurriedly unpack everything, smiling at the memories of my hometown.

Mrs. Feeney is also the main culprit behind my cherry flavor love. Her brother owns the largest farm in town, and growing up, she would also pop over to our house with food she made from the extra produce.

Knowing my father was a single dad and not the best chef (despite his efforts), she treated my brother and me like long-lost grandchildren. The farm grew the sweetest cherries known to man, and Mrs. Feeney’s cherry pie was heaven wrapped in buttery pastry. While the cherry overload made me obsessed, it made my brother totally hate them.

My chest tightens at the broken memories, but I let them wash away as my dad finally answers on what feels like the millionth ring.

“Hey, Bug.”

“Hey, Dad.”

“The package arrived safely, I’m guessing?”

I laugh. “It did.”

“A nice surprise, I hope?”

“It is. The only kind of surprises I like are the ones from Mrs. Feeney.”

“I know.”

I can hear the eye roll my father is no doubt giving.

I carry the lotions, scrubs, and soaps to my bathroom, hanging my phone around my wrist so I can continue chatting with him.

“How are you?”

“Doing well. Went to the old brewery last night with the rest of town to celebrate Maisy Mae’s engagement, and I’m off on a fishing trip next weekend with Darrell and Ray.”

“Mmm,” I hum, stacking the scrubs perfectly on top of one another. “Maisy Mae’s marrying Tyrell, right?”

“Sure is. High school sweethearts are a dear thing. You know, Vince is still single.”

I snort at the name of my high school boyfriend. “I’m sure that’s of his own volition, Dad. Plus, I’m not interested.”

I have no doubt in my mind that Vince Thompson will marry someone when he is ready. The girls flock to him like bees to honey. I seem to have a tendency to fall for popular men.

“Does any boy have your interest these days?”

Glass-blue eyes and a lopsided smile flash in my vision. My stomach flips.

I force the image of a certain British man out of my head as I shove a lotion under the sink with more force than necessary.

“I’m a little too busy to date,” I dismiss.

“You work too hard,” my dad grumbles.

I laugh as I stack the last of the soaps under my sink and then stand up, padding back to the kitchen.

“You know you can come out here anytime, Bug. Take a little break and use some of that PTO.”

“I know, but it’s hard right now. The guys have crazy schedules.” I grab a magnet from one of the drawers and stick his note to my fridge. It sits there amongst the hundred other notes he’s sent me over the years. “You’ll see me in like two months. I’ll be back for Thanksgiving.”

It is the one holiday that is nonnegotiable when it comes to my work with The System. The boys know that, no matter what, I have to go home for it. Still, I do wish I could go home more often.

There are just too many things that could go wrong at a moment’s notice with the guys. It gives me more anxiety being far from them.

“I know, Bug. Just make sure you are looking after yourself, okay? All work, no play isn’t healthy.”

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