“He played tennis every Thursday after work, usually with one of the Mallory VPs. But tonight, for the first time in months, it was Chet Berglund’s turn. Now that he wasn’t riding, Christian ran on a treadmill or lifted weights at the club most nights. Sitting at a desk all day got him nowhere—except another trip down memory lane—and after Sunday he was still worried about Grace. She hadn’t wanted to talk about the barn. And as for Emma...hard exercise tended to clear his head for a while. ... Unfortunately, tonight’s match hadn’t occupied his mind enough to break the usual cycle. Sweating, he ran a towel over the back of his neck and shook his head. “Sorry, Chet. My game just wasn’t there.” Chet put a hand on Christian’s shoulder. They’d been friends before Chet’s barely-under-the-surface competitive streak had taken over. Christian supposed the game had helped to work out some aggression for both of them.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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