Page 102 of Calling the Shots

The man is freaking gorgeous, in his tailored button down and navy blazer, the luxe fabric stretching over his broad shoulders. The soft waves of his hair feather in the breeze, stubble shading his square jaw. He could pass for a GQ model posing at an outdoor photo shoot. My pussy flutters as he shoves his strong hands into his pockets. Hands that play my body like a finely tuned instrument, pulling out all the right notes. Those full lips that kiss my insecurities away, leaving behind sweet, sweet pleasure.

How the hell did I manage to land Mack?

I’m not rich or beautiful, polished or pedigreed. I didn’t attend a prep school with uniforms and a sprawling wide-open campus. I don’t have a fancy car or boat and I sure as hell don’t belong to any membership-only clubs, unless you count the local beauty supply store.

All I have to offer Mack is my heart. Why would he settle for that?

Not when he could have all this.

An expansive estate with a thin, beautiful wife, a few cute babies sometime down the line. Running around on the lawn, laughing, his parents bursting with pride. And his wife and Emma Kate could be besties, spending spa days together and going on couple vacations.

That’s never going to be me.

I take a deep, shuddery breath and pull myself together. Tinsley may be right about some things, but I have to set the record straight. I’m not a gold digger.

“I’m not after Mack for his money. I didn’t even know he had money until we came here.”

“Uh-huh, right.” Tinsley rolls her eyes, pursing her full lips together.

“I swear. He never breathed a word about it.”

“You expect me to believe you didn’t know my brother has a trust fund?” Emma Kate chimes in, hand on hip.

“Believe whatever you want.” I spit out the words, crossing my arms over my chest. “But I had no idea. Not sure if either of you’ve ever visited your brother in Thunder Creek in all the years he’s lived there. But if you had, you’d know I’m telling the truth. Mack lives next door to my mom. It’s a nice house, but it’s nothing like this. He drives an old aqua pickup truck—he prefers you call it vintage—the same one his grandfather left him. He runs a successful carpentry business out of his garage. This—” I gesture at the lawn, the striking outdoor fireplace, the massive main house. “All of this is not the Mack I know.”

Emma Kate and Tinsley both stare at me dumbfounded, mouths slightly open like two stunned goldfish.

“Now if you’ll excuse me.” I set my champagne glass down on the table and walk toward the house. I need to duck into a bathroom and compose myself before facing Mack’s parents at the dinner table.

Stepping into the safe haven of the main house, I run straight into his mother.

“Hello there, Grace. Everything okay?” Her eyes flick over me, sizing me up and surely noticing my blotchy neck. Confrontation always mottles my skin, giving me away.

“Yes, I’m fine, thank you.”

Mrs. McIntire wraps her arm around my shoulders. “I’m glad I ran into you. I’ve been meaning to get you alone.”

Oh shit. Now what?

I gulp, but force a smile onto my face. “Oh?”

“Come.” She leads me down the hallway, past room after room. I swear I could spend a month here and still get lost in this maze of untouched spaces.

Finally, she ushers me into a quiet, jewel-toned room, with forest green wallpaper and twin matching brocade sofas. Oak shelves line the walls, filled with books I’m certain no one currently alive and in residence has ever read. At the far end of the room, illuminated with soft gallery lighting, is a full wall of trophies, ribbons, and photographs.

An homage to Ulysses Fauntleroy McIntire III.

“Oh wow.” I survey the bronze trophies, each engraved with Mack’s name.

All-state champion.

Defensive Player of the Year.

MVP.

College all-star

A photo of a young high school Mack in a suit and tie on college signing day, giddy as he commits to Georgia. Mack in his college jersey, holding a football and grinning at the camera. Mack and his team after winning the rivalry game against Florida, trophy raised high above his head.

---