The Bookworm's Guide to Faking It (The Bookworm's Guide 2)

“I’ll do nothing of the sort! Get out of my bedroom, Rosie!”

I blinked between them. Grandpa was not in the mood for further company, evidently. I went over to him and kissed his leathery cheek, ignoring yet another grunt from him. “I’ll speak to you soon, Grandpa.”

Another grunt.

“Mrs. Stuart, I’m on my way out. Why don’t I join you on your way downstairs?” I swept her out of Grandpa’s room before she could argue.

It was no mean feat, let me tell you.

I offered her my arm, and she took it. I assumed it was gratefully, but you never could tell with the elderly.

At least not the elderly in White Peak.

I didn’t know if they were grateful for anything at all.

“Oh, Mabel is at those darn ducks again,” Rosie said as we stepped out of the elevator. “Stupid noisy things. Always waking me up from my nap.”

“Should I ask about the ducks?”

“Nobody should,” said another voice from behind.

Rosie wrinkled her face up. “Go away, Hagatha.”

“Who’s this?” the other woman asked, sizing me up as I turned around. “He’s handsome.”

“Amos’ grandson,” Rosie answered, somewhat reluctantly.

“He has a nice backside.”

And I was done here for today.

“Well, Mrs. Stuart,” I said, extracting Rosie’s hand from the crook of my arm. “Thank you for helping me find my way out. You ladies have a nice day.”

I inclined my head in their direction and removed myself from the situation before it went any further. I didn’t know who ‘Hagatha’ was but being eyed up by a pensioner wasn’t exactly in my plans for the day.

What was in my plans was finding a way to make Holley talk to me again.

I couldn’t fucking believe she was still mad at me. Yes, what I’d done was a shitty thing, but I hadn’t meant to do it.

And I would have told her that yesterday if she’d let me finish before she’d gone on her tirade about my usage of the word ‘but.’ However correct she was about it.

I blew out a breath and stepped out into the cooler air. The retirement home was about fifteen degrees too hot for my liking—yet another reason I couldn’t live with my grandfather—so the colder November air was a relief.

I got into my truck and started the engine. I’d only been cleared to drive for around a week, but I was so glad to have my freedom back. To have it back in my hometown was a blessing.

My entire life had been turned upside down thanks to my injury. Coming home had made this more bearable for me.

It was just a shame I’d come home ten years sooner than I’d planned.

I pulled away from the retirement home and headed in the direction of town. Since I’d seen my doctor this morning then had an appointment with my physical therapist, I was dressed in clothes fit for a workout and needed a walk to clear my head.

I wasn’t sure I’d think about much except for the mess that was my life or Holley Stuart, but a walk up to Peak Place was called for.

I pulled up behind the ice cream place and grabbed a beanie from the passenger seat. It was emblazoned with the logo of my team, and I pulled it over my head so it covered my ears, then got out.

There was only one other car in the parking lot. I gave it a glance as I headed for the trail that would lead me up to Peak Place, then quickly checked my phone. I only had a message from my sister reminding me that I had my final suit fitting at four-thirty this afternoon, but it was barely after lunch, so I had plenty of time to take my walk, shower, and head to the tailor to get it done.

I responded that I wouldn’t forget and made my way to the trail start. Her wedding was one week today, and my entire family was walking on eggshells. She’d been planning this day officially for two years, unofficially for the last twenty-five, and the only person she hadn’t yelled at was me.

That was what happened when you paid for your sister’s dream wedding venue.

A venue I knew would be dusted in snow this weekend since it was halfway up a mountain.

I shivered just thinking about it.

Not to mention that I was in desperate need of a date.

It wasn’t like I was short of options. I was, by all accounts, pretty damn good looking. I was also a rich baseball player, and that apparently worked in my favor.

The only problem was that all the options saw that.

The rich baseball player.

That, and I didn’t want to take any of those women to my sister’s wedding.

And the one woman I wanted to ask had, twenty-four hours ago, threatened to tear my rotator cuff again.

I was also pretty certain she never wanted to see me again.