CHAPTER 9
OH, WHY DID I pick that moment to hop up on my high horse? I’d barely got fifty yards when I began to regret throwing Oliver’s offer of a flight back in his face, but I’d eat snails before I set foot in that office again. No, I’d rather walk to Georgia than grovel, and my shoes already pinched.
“Damn asshole,” I muttered as I dragged my case towards the bus station, mentally counting the dollars left in my purse.
Just a single bus ticket would be a stretch. A fine drizzle misted the air, and I tugged my overcoat around myself, grateful for its warmth, even if it had prevented me from flouncing out of Oliver’s building in style. Having to wait for the receptionist to find my belongings and give them back had spoiled the effect somewhat.
My phone rang as I debated spending a co
