Page 9 of Playing Hard to Hate

TATUM

PRESENT

I was out of coffee on a Monday morning.

It was officially about to be a bad day.

I had meetings lined up out of town at some luxury jewelry store called Devereaux & Co.

and then with a new swimwear company called Salt and Sirens, so I didn’t have time for this.

I was already late after trying on ten different outfits and deciding I needed a quick workout sesh to get a nice little pump.

I had also decided it was a great idea to blow out my hair. The last time I did that, I burned off a huge chunk of hair and swore never to do it again. I clearly had learned absolutely nothing because not only did I burn the tips of my hair, but there was a nice welt on my hand.

To add to my stress, I was also out of gas. So not only was I desperate for coffee, wishing I had iced my hand, and yelling at the GPS for recalculating two times, but now I had to add a stop and hope there wasn’t a line at the gas station.

After filling up my tank, I merged onto the highway and moved into the express lane, grateful for this new addition because at least it wasn’t crowded like the main lanes.

Millie’s name flashed on my dashboard display, pausing my directions and music, which, of course, added to my already growing irritation.

“This better be important. You know I have those meetings in the city today,” I answered, fighting the urge to yell at her.

“You are not going to fucking believe who just walked into my studio,” she said breathlessly.

“Angelina Jolie.” I deadpanned. This is why she called? Was she freaking serious?

“No, I would be screaming if that happened, you idiot. Try again. Male this time.”

“Brad Pitt. Really, Millie, I don’t have time for this. I am stressed enough right now.”

“Griffin Silver, Tate. Griffin fucking Silver.”

I slammed on the brakes and almost swerved into the car beside me at her scream.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“What the hell is he doing back home?”

“Well, considering I overheard his mom in class mention something about Sunday night dinners, I guess he was home for that and decided to swing by. He was asking about you.”

“Me? He was asking about me?” I screamed in surprise.

“Yes, he was asking if you still lived in town and if I knew how you were.” She squealed. “Oh, girl. He’s still into you, all these years later!”

“He is not. Did you not see the headline? He has a never-ending line of women, Millie. Don’t get confused.”

“Oh, shut up. You should know better than to believe everything you read online.”

“Are you seriously defending him right now? After everything he did to me? You’re going to defend him?” I asked her in surprise. She had never been a fan of Griffin, not until today, apparently.

“Look, all I’m saying is Griffin came by the studio looking for you.

He seemed concerned. He looked absolutely edible, and you two used to be really good friends.

Maybe, just maybe, you can rekindle that friendship?

Use him to build your brand? Could you imagine how you would blow up on Instagram if you were coaching a famous baseball player? ”

I rolled my eyes. There was no way I’d ever use him to build my career. That could only lead to disaster.

“What did you tell him?”

“That you were single, ready to mingle, and very hot,” she said sarcastically. Then she paused and took a deep breath. “Really, Tate, what do you think I told him? I told him you did live in town and then to get the fuck out of my studio before he caused a scene.”

She was a good best friend. Loyal to the fucking core even though we disagreed.

“Thanks, Mills. I know it must have been hard for you.”

“So hard, you have no idea.” She sighed. “Good luck today at your meetings. I’m sure you’ll secure both contracts. I don’t know who wouldn’t want you. Speaking of…when can you model my new line?”

“I’m pretty nervous. I really need both contracts. I want to get out of this condo and into a house now. I’m really tired of the same four walls.”

“I know you’ll get them, and if they don’t work out, something better will come along.

It always does. Remember when you didn’t get that first gig, and you cried for weeks, but the second one had a much better contract?

We went on a vacation to Vegas because of that one.

” She reminded me, and I knew she’s right, but I wasn’t nineteen anymore.

Staying in shape wasn’t as easy as it used to be, and my competition was younger.

“I know, but I worked hard to get these meetings. I went to the gym this morning to make sure I looked perfect.”

“Have you ever heard of a rest day? Oh, wait no, that wouldn’t fit into your schedule.

” She always teased me about never taking a day off from the gym, but honestly, I just didn’t know what to do with myself when I didn’t stick to a routine.

It gave me time, time to think about the past and my mom, and it wasn’t something I even wanted to consider.

“I’ll rest when I don’t have to worry about money anymore.”

“Right. Anyway, I have to go. The next class is walking in. Don’t forget to pencil me into your busy schedule to model the new line. Good luck, bestie!” She hung up, not giving me a chance to say goodbye, but giving me forty minutes to think about Griffin Silver.

I arrived fifteen minutes early for my first meeting, which luckily gave me time to find coffee. Luck was on my side with a coffee shop right next door to the jewelry store in the strip mall I’d been directed to.

Parking my car in between both stores, I quickly entered the coffee shop, amazed at what hid behind the tinted glass door: brick walls, cozy lighting, and tables and chairs scattered about.

The rich aroma of coffee floated through the air, and everyone inside seemed overly happy.

It was my kind of place. I waited in line, gazing over the enormous menu, and settled on a latte with a beef empanada.

While waiting, I scrolled through Instagram, checking the comments on my last post. I replied to a few people who had questions about the routine and which active clothing brand I loved most, ignored the guy who rated how hot my ass was, and completely missed the silence that fell over the coffee shop.

“That thing can’t be real, tell me your secret, what are you hiding?” a deep voice mused over my shoulder, and I jumped. Desire and dread pooled in my stomach at the sound of that overly confident familiar voice. This was not happening.

Looking over my shoulder and clutching my phone to my chest like I could hide the pictures and comments, I glared up at Griffin Silver.

“What are you doing here?” I exclaimed in outrage. I was just trying to get a cup of coffee, not fraternize with old bullies.

He looked around, his eyes glancing at the coffee counter and then falling on me, a cocky little smirk tilting his gorgeous lips.

“Well, you see, Grace, this happens to be a coffee shop, and I happen to like coffee in the mornings. What are you doing here?” he teased, and I rolled my eyes at his know-it-all answer.

“No, Griffin. What are you doing here, in this town, at this coffee shop, in my space?”

“I didn’t know you owned the coffee shop. Shouldn’t you be behind the counter?”

“What on earth are you even saying? Of course I shouldn’t. I’m just here for a damn latte, not this bullshit.”

“You know, Grace, you look really good. You shouldn’t have to deal with comments like that,” he said softly, his gray eyes hypnotizing as they locked on mine. Those same eyes that I used to tell all my secrets to.

“It’s part of the job. You learn to ignore them,” I told him as I stepped up to the counter and ordered my latte.

“You know him?” The young girl behind the counter asked, batting her long fake lashes at Griffin.

“Something like that,” I answered, tapping my card to the reader.

“So…he’s available then?” She didn’t even look my way when she asked, solely focused on the man behind me.

“All yours,” I answered when someone else handed me my coffee and empanada .

Moving away from the counter, I went to the corner of the room where I added my sugar and then exited the store, not bothering to cast Griffin another glance.

He was even more beautiful in person. The magazines, TMZ articles, and news reports had never been able to capture the raw beauty of Griffin, and if I stayed any longer and looked into those eyes for another second, I’d be a goner.