Page 91 of The Renegade Billionaire
“Careful there, Uncle Grey. We don’t want the town thinking you’re some kind of rich asshole or anything.”
Grey snaps his mouth closed, buttons his suit jacket, because I can’t get him to wear anything we bought at Walmart, walks into Betty’s Diner, and stops with one foot inside when every head in the place turns to stare at him.
“Not so big in your britches now, are ya, kid?” Pops shimmies under Grey’s arm and enters to a chorus ofhelloandhow ya been, Pops?
“Breathe, Grey. He’s just messing with you.” I chuckle and walk past him too.
“If my head explodes from being in Happiness fucking Georgia for too long, I will haunt you by singing every NSYNC song ever recorded,” Grey hisses to the back of my head.
“Promise?” I say, waggling my brows to get a rise out of him.
He reaches into his pocket and retrieves his lucky coin. It rolls through his fingers and back again.
“Betty said we can have the booth in the back,” Pops says smugly, and in all fairness, it is the best seat in the house. “Even your big bucks couldn’t get you that.”
He saunters past us, stopping to chat at each table he passes. By the time he makes it to the table, we’re already seated.
“That’s my seat.” Pops scowls at Grey, who makes a point of looking behind him and between his legs.
“I don’t see your name on it, old man.” I don’t think Grey even acted like a child when he was a child, so this is a new side of him, and it’s a lot of fun to see.
“This is war, Greyson. You’re going down.”
Grey picks up all his cutlery and like a spoiled child, licks it all, places it back on the table, then gets out and allows Pops to slide into the booth.
Sage and I stare at him with matching expressions of shock.
“What the hell was that?” Sage asks before I can.
“It was the most un-Greyson Reyes thing I’ve ever seen you do,” I say.
“If you boys start a food fight in here, you’ll be cleaning my floors with your tongues,” Betty says as she drops some menus on the table.
That snaps Grey out of whatever childish hole Pops managed to drag him into, while Pops stares at the side of his head, hooting with laughter.
“How’s it feel, kid?”
Grey slowly turns toward Pops. “How’s what feel?”
“Getting that stick outta your ass and having a little fun.”
Sage and I wait for Grey’s reaction. I honestly have no idea what he’ll do.
“You’re quite possibly the most immature man I’ve ever met.” Grey stares at Pops with a look of…astonishment?
“Why, thank you. You’re forgiven for being an unbearable asshole.”
Grey’s right eyebrow twitches as he stares at me, silently begging me to tell him this is all one giant joke, but all I can do is chuckle and shrug.
“Welcome to Happiness, Greyson.”
Pops picks up every item in the condiment tray and shakes it to make sure he has enough for whatever he’s going to order, but when he gets to the ketchup, all hell breaks loose. He shakes it, listens to it, then shakes it again.
“We’re going to need more of this,” he says. “See?” He opens the top so Greyson can see whatever Pops thinks is inside and ketchup sprays all over Greyson’s white button-down.
“It looks like someone stabbed you.” Sage laughs so hard he snorts, and Grey’s face turns as red as the ketchup on his shirt.
“Well now, that was an accident,” Pops says with humor lacing his tone. He attempts to wipe it off, but Grey simply sighs and removes Pops’ hand.
