Page 18 of Trust No One

Ken. Raine’s husband. Soon-to-be ex-husband.

I’d known Gabe and Ken since high school. We’d played on the offensive line. Gabe was a natural athlete, easygoing, but he’d missed a lot of practice. Always offered a good explanation. I knew the real one: Maria.

Ken was a wide receiver. He’d partied more than he’d trained. I played guard, kept my mouth shut, and dumped all my rage, grief, and frustration into the brutal practices.

Ken and Gabe were happy to be small-town heroes. I wasn’t. I had my eye on college ball. Maybe even the pros.

Football and living in Crozet had been the glue that held us together. Once that was gone, so were we.

With Raine, I’d told myself the glue was sex—a cheap fix for belonging. Truth was, my feelings had veered too close to obsession—tight, suffocating, impossible to shake. Made me question my goals. But ties that had felt solid crumbled for her under pressure. I’d figured whatever we had was long dead. But this morning, the old pull had clawed its way back.

I’d met Raine when I was working for a delivery company. I’d been on a run to Hale House.

She was on a riding lawn mower cutting a massive tract of grass stretching from the gates to the manor’s front door. Sweat darkened her cropped, soaked tee. Her skin glowed.

She waved, but she kept driving her mower. I dropped the package on the front porch and paused. She cut the engine.

“Thanks for the delivery.”

“Sure.” I held her gaze. “Can you tell the people who own the house?”

“I am those people.”

I smiled. “Seriously.”

She grabbed a holstered water bottle and drank. “I’ll take it inside when I’m finished.”

Something in her gaze told me not to argue. “You’re a Hale?”

“Yep.”

“You don’t look like a princess.”

She replaced the water bottle in its holder. “What gave it away? The sweat or the grass stains?”

A glance at the shirt, and all I saw were nipples pressing against the damp fabric. My concentration shattered. “What’s your name?”

“Raine. Hale.”

I went on offense. “You’re really sticking with that?”

She pushed back a lock of blond hair. “I sure am. Who are you?”

“Judson Blackwood.”

“Ah, the new football star.”

I raised a brow. “Raine Hale doesn’t go to public high school.”

“She does now. And she cuts the grass when her land manager doesn’t show.” Blue eyes held my gaze. “I hear the coach is expecting big things of you.”

That’s what everyone was saying. “I’ll bring the heat.”

She nodded. “Time to finish the yard before the heat of the day hits.”

“Right. Nice to meet you. Raine.”

A smile flickered on her lips. “Back at you, Judson.”