Page 56 of A Fighting Chance

I roll my eyes, unable to keep my disdain completely capped.

His perfectly combed hair looks so stupid, as though it’s actually been combed with a comb. I thought that was a practice reserved only for five-year-olds and old men.

“Hello, Charles,” I say, impressing myself by using his preferred name and not Chuck.

As if this isn’t terrible enough, Allie steps out of the car—my sister’s best friend since grade school. The person I consider to be even worse than Charles in this scenario.

A woman doesn’t simply sleep with her best friend’s husband, no. That doesn’t just happen. It’s had me wondering just how long she lusted after Chuck before she actually acted on it.

She straightens her shirt and skirt. Despite having worked here in the past and having a good understanding of farm life, the idiot decided wearing high heels was a good idea and now she looks like a wobbly baby deer taking its first steps.

I roll my eyes at her now and know that if she even tries to speak, I won’t be able to contain myself.

“Lyla. Where’s Harper?” Charles asks. He scans the porch and the door, seemingly confused that she isn’t here.

She must not have told him this part.

Well, allow me.

“She won’t be joining us. I’ll be brokering this little deal today,” I say casually, feigning obvious boredom.

“Um, why?” he challenges, bringing his hands to his hips.

“Because I said so.” I keep my voice calm and casual.

He gives me a pointed look, like it might intimidate me into going and getting Harper, but I don’t cave.

“Will you just go get her?” he asks, his tone growing more aggressive.

“No,” I say. “You can either do this with me or not at all.”

Charles looks around, like he’s deciding.

“You should really go get her, sweetie. We don’t have time for these games,”shesays.

Allie’s voice hits me like a bucket of ice. I see red immediately. I clench my hands into fists at my sides and square up.

“You should really shut your mouth,sweetie. Unless you want to get hurt,” I say.

“Excuse me?” she says, exaggerated shock filling her stupid face.

“You heard me,” I tell her.

“Are you going to let her talk to me like that?” she says to Charles, looking at him like he should do something to defend her honor.

“Um,” is all he manages.

“Yes, you are,” a voice cuts in. “Aren’t you, Charles?”

I hear the swinging of the door behind me, but I don’t move or flinch.

Gentry appears beside me then, his arms folded tightly over his chest. “Tell her you’re going to let Lyla talk to her like that because you have no spine.”

Charles gulps. “How about we all just calm down?” He extends his hands to further convey his point.

“How about you cut the bullshit, get your stuff, and get gone?” I ask, pointing to the boxes Harper kindly—and against my advice—packed for him, labeled for him,andneatly stacked on the corner of the porch for him.

He looks at the boxes, even more confused. “That’s it?”

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