Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Sawyer leaves me in the vineyard twice as long as last time. I suppose he’s giving me enough time to fill up both buckets, but I’ve worked myself into quite a rage by the time he gets back.
The buckets are filled. He can do whatever he wants with them. I’m standing cross-armed when he reaches me. If he looked at my face, he’d be able to tell how mad I am, but he’s going straight for the buckets.
Oh my god. He’s going to just ignore me again!
“Is this your idea of a joke?” I ask bitterly.
He reaches down to grab the buckets and, with a flat tone, replies, “Sorry the date didn’t live up to your expectations.”
Oh no. Not happening.
I take ahold of one of the buckets before he can leave me out here again. For a second, we struggle for ownership. Then he lets go and leaves me with its full weight; I have no choice but to let it slam back into the mud. UGH! Mud splatters onto my arms and neck. Some gets onto my face. “What’s wrong with you?!” I explode.
“What do you mean?” he asks, and his calm tone only infuriates me more.
Then he cocks his brow and props his hands on his hips like he’s oblivious to the problem. “Tell me. What were you hoping would happen here tonight? Another picnic? More flirting? Haven’t you succeeded?”
“Succeeded? What in the world are you talking about?”
He responds with a booming, sarcastic laugh. “God, you’re a good actress. Is this fake? That look in your eyes.” He points at me. “Did you practice it earlier in front of your mirror?”
A foreboding shiver of fear rolls down my spine. It’s a tingling, like every one of my body’s alarm bells are going off. “What are you talking about?” I repeat, my voice level again.
His jaw clenches, his eyes hard as steel. He comes toward me, but only one step.
“I know what you’ve been doing, Madison. You were fucking around with me for the fun of it, right? What did you and Kendra call it?” He looks off as if trying to come up with something he’s forgotten. Then he snaps. “Take Sawyer Down. Wasn’t that your plan?”
His glare is so menacing I’m tempted to cower. I’m too shocked to answer him, so he shrugs and shakes his head.
“Have a nice life, Madison.”
He leaves the two buckets of grapes forgotten at my feet and turns back in the direction he came.
“You have it all wrong!” I call after him.
His long strides don’t slow down.
“It’s not what you think!”
Then finally, just before he disappears altogether: “What am I supposed to do with these grapes?!”
It’s obvious Ms. Pink Ballet Flats has come back to haunt me. That’s the only way Sawyer would have heard about Kendra’s stupid plan. Kendra would have never blabbed about it, and I certainly didn’t.
I made a mistake not hunting Pink Flats down at The Black Door when I had the chance. I could have explained the situation, and if that didn’t work, I could have blackmailed her. Sure, okay, I’ve never blackmailed anyone and I’m not certain I know exactly how to do it. What’s the difference between blackmail and extortion? Is there a difference?
It doesn’t matter; I would have figured it out on the fly. Anything would have been better than this slow trudge back to my car through the vineyard, muddy and dejected.
Sawyer’s truck is still parked where it was earlier, but he’s nowhere to be found. For a second, I debate searching the area so we can talk, but you know what? I don’t really feel like it! I’ve spent the last thirty minutes winding my way through grapevines, completely lost. It was like a freaking corn maze out there. Left turn, right turn, left, right. Twice I found myself right back where I started, and now I’m seeing red.
I’ve got twin blisters on my heels, a parched mouth, and mud caked in my hair. My cheeks feel tight from an impending sunburn, and if I saw Sawyer in this state, I know we’d get into a huge fight. I don’t feel like explaining whatever he’s been told. I want to lay into him for trying to punish me.
How childish!
Never mind that I was also being childish.
How cruel!
Again, pot calling the kettle black…
He thinks I was messing around with him for the fun of it? Obviously we’re even now.
Back at the house, Queenie takes one look at me and cracks up.
“What in the world have you been doing?”
I clench my jaw. “I don’t really feel like talking about it.”
“Weren’t you supposed to be on a date with—”
“DO NOT say his name.”
My tone is deadly, and Queenie’s eyes go round as saucers.
“From this point forward, Sawyer Garnett is dead to me and to everyone else in this family. Got it?”