Page 38 of No Time for Traditions

Brittany unballed her fist to open the door. It swung shut behind her, metaphorically closing the door to everything she’d held dear in Hillside. Even Greg. Especially Greg. Her family selling the farmhouse didn’t matter nearly as much as finding out he’d had a hand in it from the start. Brittany made a beeline for the parking lot. The sooner she found Scott’s truck, the sooner they could leave.

“Brittany.”

Her ears perked at the familiar male voice coming from behind Greg’s building. She peered around the corner and saw Greg and a woman standing close together. The woman patted Greg’s back, letting her hand linger as it slid away. Then she trotted to a black Mercedes and drove off.

Tears overtook Brittany’s sight. Regardless, she’d seen enough.

* * *

“Brittany, wait.”Greg followed Brittany through the parking lot, even though she didn’t acknowledge him calling after her. “Brittany!”

She had to have heard him that time. Instead of stopping or turning around, she walked faster.

Greg noticed Scott’s truck and jogged toward it. He couldn’t let her leave. Whatever Brittany thought she saw, there was nothing but business between him and Leslie. He loved Brittany and nobody else. She must know that.

Greg made it to the truck the same time as Brittany. His heart racing, he slid between her and the door, grabbed her arms, and turned her toward him.

“Brittany, listen to me. You’ve got to know what you mean to me. That woman—”

“Just stop talking. Why should I believe you? All you do is break your promises to me.” Brittany wiggled loose and began to cry.

“When did I do that?” Greg’s eyes widened, and his chest tightened.

Brittany crossed her arms, and her nostrils flared like a bull seeing red. Greg stepped back and braced himself. Why would seeing him talk with Leslie set her off so bad?

“I found the title. I know about the sale.” Brittany jabbed her finger toward Greg’s chest in accusation. “And it was onyourdesk inyouroffice.” Her bottom lip quivered as she continued to cry.

Greg reached up and cupped a hand around the bill of his cap and sighed. “I was going to tell you about that.” His stomach burned. She wasn’t mad about Leslie. He’d hurt her way worse.

“When? Once I settled back in New York? You and my family had some little game going on, huh? Hey, let’s wait until Brittany’s home, then call her in a few weeks and tell her the house just sold.” Brittany glared at him, rage replacing the joy that once filled her beautiful blue eyes.

“No.” Greg shook his head, tears filling the bottom lids of his eyes. “If you will let me explain, I promise—”

“You don’t get to make promises to me.” Brittany rocked back against the truck door so that she was no longer facing him. “Not now or ever.”

“Why won’t you let me explain?” Greg reached out and stroked her arm. Her body stiffened, refusing his comfort.

Greg rubbed her arm once more, begging her to respond. When she didn’t move, tears escaped his eyes. “Brittany, I love you.” Greg stepped in front of her and lifted her chin with his fingertips.

“No.” Brittany shook her head. “I saw all I needed to see today. The deed, and then that woman...” Brittany’s voice cracked. “You and her.”

“No, she’s the Realtor. It all goes together.”

Brittany rolled her eyes. “Great, so your new girlfriend is in on the lie, too?”

Greg’s shoulders slumped. What could he possibly say or do to calm her down? “No. Please let me explain.”

“Just go, Greg. You’re still the same playboy I knew in high school. I was just your holiday fling until something better came along.”

“Brittany, no. I do love you. And I think I have for a long time.” Greg’s head was spinning. How could he make her listen?

To his disappointment, Brittany opened the door and hopped in Scott’s truck, then turned to face him, her eyes narrow. “No wonder Autumn wouldn’t marry you. Any girl would be a fool to trust some charmer like you.” She slammed the door.

Greg tried the handle, but she’d locked him out. He stood at the window, wishing for her to come to her senses. Instead, she pulled the hood of her jacket up around her ears and closed her eyes. She wasn’t going to give him a chance to talk.

Across the street, Greg saw Scott come out of the bakery. He could wait and use Scott as a buffer between them. Scott would make Brittany listen. But Greg was too proud for that. He didn’t want Scott to see him crying. And he didn’t want tomakeBrittany listen to him. What good would that do? Maybe one day, she’d cool off, and he could explain.

Defeated, he headed back to his office. It took every ounce of willpower he had not to turn around. He wondered if Brittany watched him walk away. Greg slowed his steps, hoping and praying she’d regret what she said and run after him. She didn’t.

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