Page 26 of Playing Hard to Hate

TATUM

PRESENT

I hadn’t expected Dustin to have a conscience or a personality.

But over the last few days, we had bonded .

You read that right. We bonded. He was trying his hardest to make things work between us.

The man who hated the gym was going with me every day.

He complained bitterly after about some aches and pains, but he got up early with me every morning and did whatever I told him to.

He even went and bought me groceries after I admitted I was afraid to go into the store.

He took a week off of work just to spend time with little ole me.

Millie, of course, kept finding stupid reasons to come over and see him. That stupid crush she’d had on him in high school was still very much real, even after I told her he liked pizza with anchovies on it, which she hated. She still had heart eyes for him.

He didn’t seem to notice, and I wasn’t about to broadcast the news either. I did not want that relationship to happen. Absolutely hell no.

The following Monday after he arrived, he packed his things and left, promising to call and text more than once a week.

He left a nice little check on the kitchen counter, telling me to put it toward a down payment on something nicer, somewhere I could choose to start the next chapter of my life.

This place had been chosen by him after Mom died.

It wasn’t the nicest in town, certainly better than living in my car, but it wasn’t luxurious.

I’d hugged him for the first time in years.

It felt like a step in the right direction. I latched onto him, and he hesitated before wrapping me in his embrace, giving me a sense of peace and comfort I hadn’t felt in forever.

Yesterday, I had gone for my first spray tan session at the local tanning salon.

I wanted to laugh at myself every time I caught my reflection because this did not look natural, but it was required for the swimsuit shoot.

I had absolutely no idea why people did this regularly.

My eyes and cheekbones were more pronounced.

And then I realized why people did this to themselves on a regular basis.

Griffin had been silent since he left a week ago.

We hadn’t bumped into each other for a whole week, and despite the fact I hadn’t seen him for years prior to our accidental coffee shop meeting, it felt strange to go so long without seeing his stupid smile and those enchanting gray eyes I loved so much.

I secretly couldn’t wait for tomorrow because I’d get to see him, and that was all I thought about the whole evening. I guess he’d been thinking about me too because his name appeared on my phone just after I finished eating dinner.

“Hey,” I answered, a little breathless after running from the dishwasher to the dining table where my phone was buzzing. I wanted to shoot myself for sounding like I ran for the damn phone. He didn’t need to know that I was eager to hear his voice.

“You at the gym?” His deep voice sent tingles across my skin.

“Just cleaning the condo,” I lied, sinking into a seat at the table.

“How are you? ”

“Okay, and you?”

“I mean, since everything happened last week?”

I cringed. I couldn’t handle going to the grocery store, so I was going out of town to get my groceries now that Dustin wasn’t here to do it for me.

“I’m fine. You don’t need to worry about me. How are you handling the press?”

“It died down after some golfer made an appearance at some golf course drunk, apparently crashed his golf cart into a fake pond.” He chuckled, and I found relief in someone else’s misery because I didn’t want Griffin to lose everything he’d worked so hard for.

His dad would never let him hear the end of it.

I couldn’t help the giggle that escaped because it was totally insane.

“If that’s all you called for…” I left the sentence hanging, hoping there was more to this conversation because I wasn’t ready to say goodbye.

“No. I, uh…thought we could drive down to Tybee together tomorrow. It’s a four-hour drive from here, but you’re on the way, and I’d hate for you to be on the road all alone.” He hesitated, sounding nervous.

“You think I can’t handle myself?”

“Whoa, kitten. Retract the claws. Just thought it would be fun to talk and catch up on all the time we’ve lost over the years apart.”

“Did they make you get a spray tan too?” I asked, changing the subject, giving myself time to think about his offer. It was tempting. I hated driving long distances, but it also meant I was trapped if something went wrong.

“Unfortunately. Graham and Hunter won’t stop. They keep saying I look like a bagel that was left in the toaster too long.”

“I never really like bagels now that you mention it,” I teased. “You’ll be here at eight in the morning?” They wanted us on set at noon for hair and makeup, as they were going for more of a late afternoon, sunset kind of vibe, and I was all for it.

“Six, sweetheart.”

I choked. He was joking, right?

“You better bring coffee.”

“Bagels and coffee it is. See you in the morning, kitten.”

“Good night, friend.”

“Night.”

I woke up the next morning before my alarm out of pure giddiness.

I showered and primped myself for the shoot, making sure there wasn’t a hair out of place.

Then I got dressed in a pair of soft, tight yoga pants I had gotten at Walmart on sale and then one of Millie’s light pink special BBL jackets.

It was tight around the torso, giving the effect of a BBL.

I thought she was crazy when she suggested it a year ago, but when she launched them, girls went absolutely nuts over them.

She sold out on TikTok in the first week.

I packed an overnight bag in case the shoot ran late, and we were going to continue in the morning. The owners of the shop had suggested this could be a possibility, so I packed a few essentials and then headed for my living room.

I had been telling myself all morning not to let him in. I could be excited for a road trip with an old friend, but it wasn’t more than that. We could not be more.

Protecting myself was all that mattered, even though Millie had argued otherwise last night. We’d had an in-depth conversation about this road trip. She told me to throw caution to the wind and jump his bones at any given opportunity .

I reminded her I had only been kissed once. There was no chance I was jumping his bones or jumping anything of the sort. Hell, I would demand separate rooms if we had to stay the night. There would be no shenanigans.

I would not survive to live another day if he was actually good in bed, god-like, as some fans had described.

I wouldn’t survive because it would be a one-time thing— another notch on his stupid, never-ending belt —and I wasn’t a one-time kind of girl.

I was every time or never at all. And Griffin Silver couldn’t offer me what I wanted.

A knock on my door broke me from my own mental scolding to remain cold and stonewalled, and that, of course, all went to absolute shit when I opened my door.

Standing there, cocky grin tugging at those pink lips, dark hair a mess, skin far too tan so that his teeth were practically shining at me, and gray eyes darker than usual, he looked me over. Not once, not twice, but thrice.

I couldn’t say I hadn’t done the same. In fact, I couldn’t stop staring.

Thank God for whoever invented gray sweatpants.

Standing there in a pair of black Nike 270s, gray sweatpants, and a matching gray hoodie, he looked absolutely fucking edible. Brad Pitt in Mr. and Mrs. Smith kind of yummy.

“Morning, sweetheart.” His low voice was music to my ears.

Stop it, Tate. Stop it. Not music. Nails on a chalkboard. Nails on a fucking chalkboard. You can’t fall for him!

“You’re early,” I stupidly said because it was all I could think of at the moment. In fact, he was lucky my jaw wasn’t hanging on the ground because I could see his little buddy, who was, in fact, not little at all .

“Forgot you aren’t a morning person. I guess some things never change.

” He stepped into my condo, grabbed my overnight bag, and then nodded for me to head out.

I locked up while he watched me, and then we both quietly went to the elevator and then down to the main floor where his Escalade was running.

“Not scared of it getting stolen?”

“It was locked,” he said, popping the trunk and putting my bag inside and then heading around to the passenger side and holding open the door for me. I blushed. I, Tatum Grace, blushed at having a door held open for her.

“You didn’t need to do that,” I told him once he got into the car.

“’Cause you can do it yourself?”

My cheeks had to be on fire. “No, because we aren’t dating.”

“A man should always open the door for a young woman.”

“Your mother is old school.” I laughed, remembering her training him at a young age to be the perfect gentleman.

“It’s not a bad thing,” he admitted, pulling onto the road, and that’s when I noticed the two steaming cups of coffee.

“You brought coffee!” I picked up the cup on my side and took a generous sip. “Oh, ouch, too hot, but so, so good.” I moaned, and he laughed.

The first hour we went over our childhood memories. I was surprised to find out his favorite was the day he gave me his bike for my birthday. It came as quite a shock actually because it was mine too.

He’d made one of the worst birthdays of my life something to cherish, and I’d never forgotten the way my little heart had leaped to my throat when he rolled over his bike, now painted pink with the little streamers.

His mom bought him a new bike, and we spent the next couple of weeks riding every single minute we could—until I had to move.

Then I rode alone, and I stopped loving the bike.

The second hour we spoke about college. Well, he did because I’d never gone. And the third, I told him how I became a fitness influencer, and he told me how he got drafted to the Atlanta Braves.