Eighteen months later…
Chapter One
Cage
“Thanks for giving me a ride,” I said, reaching for my duffle bag holding my entire summer wardrobe.
“I did it for Low,” Marcus Hardy reminded me for the second time. My
best friend was a chick— a smoking hot chick. Marcus, her fiancé, was an
elitist ass at times but I dealt with him; had to if I wanted to keep
Low in my life. All that mattered was that he understood that Low walked
on fucking water. As long as he kept that in mind and treated her as
such, I could live with the prick.
“I never questioned that,” I replied with a smirk, pulling the straps
of my bag up on my shoulder. Turning my attention from Marcus, I looked
at the large white and tan farmhouse in front of me. It was surrounded
by miles and miles of green grass and a helluva lot of cows— my
purgatory for the entire summer. Glancing back at Marcus I nodded and
started to close the door. I knew he was ready to get back to Sea Breeze
where Low was waiting on him. No one wanted to be stuck in this fucking
cow town.
“Cage. Wait,” Marcus called out before I could completely close the
truck door. Slowly, I opened it back up and arched an eyebrow in
question. What else could Marcus want with me? He’d barely spoken to me
on the hour ride up here.
“Don’t screw this up, okay. Stay sober. Don’t drive a car until you get
your license back and try not to piss off your coach’s brother. Your
future is riding on this summer and you’re upsetting Low. I don’t want
her worried about you. Think about someone other than yourself for a
change.” Well hell, I’d just got a parental lecture from Marcus fucking
Hardy. Wasn’t that sweet?
“I know what happens if I screw things up, Marcus. Thanks for the
reminder though.” I let the sarcasm drip from my voice.
Marcus frowned and started to say something more before just shaking
his head and putting his truck in reverse. Conversation over. Good. The
guy should learn to mind his own damn business.
I slammed the door and turned my attention back to the house while
Marcus’s tires spun out of the gravel drive. Guess I’d better go meet my
warden for the rest of the summer and get this party started. All I
had to do was make this guy happy. I’d take care of his cows and do
manual labor for two and a half months then my coach wouldn’t kick my
ass off the baseball team. The DUI, he’d had to bail me out of jail for,
would be forgotten and my baseball scholarship would remain intact. I
only had three problems with this plan:
1. No girls.
2. I hated manual labor
3. No girls.
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