Batter of Wits (Green Valley Chronicles #22) - Smartypants Romance Page 0,49

say to you, I'm still gonna say it. What happens between me and Magnolia is not anything that I need to explain to you."

"Oh, ho, you wanna bet, boy? You don't get to break Magnolia MacIntyre's heart and not have to answer for it, you little shit."

Much like his daughter, J.T. couldn't fathom a reality where things didn't pan out the way he planned.

"J.T.," I said, "I'm not going to recap our relationship issues with you. She and I talked for a long time today, and while I'm sorry I hurt her feelings, I think that this is for the best, for both of us. And I think Maggie will come to see that too, once the surprise passes."

"You arrogant prick," he whispered. "And here I had big plans for our families coming together." J.T. clucked his tongue, and I had to grit my teeth. "Do you know who you're messing with right now?"

Oh, I was aware. And with the patience of a saint, I listened as he railed into me. As he reminded me of my place in the mental hierarchy that he'd assigned to his worldview. Naturally, he was at the top of the Green Valley food chain, because in J.T.'s mind, he wielded far more power as the chamber of commerce president than he did in reality.

But he was still a client, and it behooved me to keep my mouth shut and not tell him where he could shove my foot. And at the core of it, I knew where this stemmed from. You couldn't be a good lawyer without learning how to ferret out the truth of why people did what they did.

J.T. loved his daughter.

In his eyes—flawed though they may be—she hung the moon and stars, and he'd destroy both without blinking if they did anything to make her unhappy.

Which is why I kept my mouth shut, and let him unload on me.

"Have you ever seen her like that? Huh? Crying. Snot everywhere. Hair a mess. Wouldn't leave the couch."

A pang of guilt lanced through my gut. Yeah, Maggie had been more upset than I anticipated. I thought she'd be sad, a little surprised. But I knew where it was stemming from. It was the out of control feeling that it gave her. It was a life change that happened outside of something they'd planned for. Definitely something she hadn't anticipated.

"Sir," I interrupted when he started in on the loss of our future children. "Have you thought about the fact that maybe Maggie is better off finding someone who'll worship the ground she walks on?" Stunned silence answered me. Probably because J.T. wasn't used to people talking over him. "We both deserve someone who won't simply … tolerate the other. Magnolia should have a man who'd wreck his life for her, who'd flip his world upside down to keep her in it." Grace's face slid effortlessly into my head. I felt the guilt ebb away, replaced with certainty, and unexplainable peace. "And I deserve that too."

I heard him suck in a breath. Maybe it was shock. Maybe he was about to agree with me. Maybe he was reloading his ammo. Either way, I didn't feel like it was my responsibility to be his whipping post.

"I'll see you around, sir."

And I hung up, feeling lighter than I had in years.

Chapter 14

Grace

The Piggly Wiggly in Green Valley had a produce section that rivaled any hipster-perfect farm stand that I'd be able to find in southern California. And my dad didn't want any part of it.

"It won't kill you to try it."

He harrumphed. "I don't like eggplant."

"You don't know if you like it or not. You've never had it before." I set two of the gorgeous aubergine plants in his cart. Immediately, he picked them up and set them back on top of the others. "Dad," I warned, "we're having fresh vegetables with dinner, no matter how many times you put them back."

The rough way he ripped off his hat and scratched the top of his head betrayed his frustration. Thin wisps of salt and pepper hair stuck straight up before he slapped his hat back on and covered them. "Grace Bailey, I am fifty-six years old, and I don't need to eat that damn purple plant if I don't want to."

I rolled my eyes and let him win that round. "Fine, no eggplant. But I'm grilling some zucchini."

My dad groaned, drawing the attention of two ladies pushing a cart next to us.

"Like dealing with a child," I

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