Travis had been honorable about what he’d done. He had to have been.
If Greer was right, he’d been a mercenary who’d sold his soul and been willing to kill an innocent woman and her boyfriend. Greer had said it all so nonjudgmentally, matter-of-factly, exactly the way her Greer would.
Dang it, Greer. Why couldn’t he just be some normal guy she’d met out on her morning walk or at the sandwich shop? Maybe a fellow teacher or a firefighter who had come to school to do a presentation?
They could’ve been so happy together. Emery didn’t know if she’d ever recover from falling in love so quickly and deeply and thinking Greer was the best man in the world to then having it all ripped out from under her.
She had to stop thinking about it. Now.
She pushed the button to turn the radio on. Of course it was on a country song. She liked the guy’s voice, and it was catchy. She’d learned to love country music over the past nine days with Greer.
“God made her, so I will make sure he didn’t waste an angel on me.”
The singer paused, and she was intrigued about the sweetness of this cowboy calling his girl an angel. Would Greer call her an angel?
“When he made five-feet nine, brown eyes, and a sundress.”
“No!” she screamed, pushing the button off, but the lyrics still bounced in her head and worst of all, she could see Greer singing them, and he looked as appealing as ever.
Ah, crap. She didn’t dare turn the station back on and risk hearing more. She’d have to deal with silence until she got to her own car. Every station of Greer’s SiriusXM radio was bound to be set to some country song that would remind her of him.
Dang Greer Delta. Dang him all to purgatory.
She loathed him.
And she wished she could hear him sing again, and that she could wear a sundress for him.