GRIT: A Spartan Riders Novel Read Online Free PDF

a half in a place she’d normally be in and out of in a quarter the time.
    Despite being a woman and the general consensus dictating that women were born shoppers, Gabby, in fact, hated it. Every last minute, which was why she did the bulk of her shopping online. It eliminated the hassle and freed up a ton of time.
    This moment just solidified her distaste for it even more.
    “Mom, please, just pick one.”
    “Don’t rush me, Gabriella,” her mother said in her eternally calm voice. “Your father is very particular about his toothpaste.”
    Gabby glanced at the shelving, noting the dozens upon dozens of boxes in all varying shapes, sizes, and designs, and groaned. They were going to die in this aisle. She could already feel the gray hairs sprouting.
    “Didn’t you bring a list?” 
    Tapping her snow white, poodle perm hair with one arthritic finger, her mother replied, “The only list I need is right here.”
    Which was why they’d circled the store from front to back three times already. There had to be a way to speed this snail race along. Stepping away from the cart, Gabby went to her mother’s side. “What are we looking for?”
    “I can’t remember the name, but I’ll know it when I see it.”
    Which would happen around the end of never. “Describe it to me.”
    After a bit of complaining, she finally managed to drag out a few key details and plucked a package of Aquafresh from the shelf, dropping it in the cart. “Is that it? Are we ready to head out?”
    Casting her eyes to the ceiling, her mother scraped her brain for the “only list she needed” before telling her, “Ice cream. I promised your father I’d make peach cobbler for dessert tonight.”
    Okay, well, she couldn’t really complain about that. Her mother made a mean cobbler and what was cobbler without a little—or a lot—of ice cream.
    Ten minutes later, Gabby blew her warm breath into her hands in a vain attempt to ward off frostbite from handling too many cartons of frozen milk product that weren’t the “right” one. She was ready to tear her hair out, strand by strand, when she heard a familiar voice call her name.
    “Miss Gabby!”
    Turning on her heel, Gabby spotted Ash charging toward her, his head of dark hair just barely peeking over the cart’s handlebar as he maneuvered it with practiced ease. Her gaze traveled just beyond his shoulders to Blake, who followed along, his expression blank.
    When Gabby met his frosty stare, something inside her shivered as if there were more lurking behind it than simple animosity. Which was ridiculous, considering the only interaction they’d had to date was chock-full of the stuff.
    For the second time that week, she couldn’t ignore the fuzzy feeling in her belly, nor could she pretend that she didn’t find him somewhat intriguing, if not a lot handsome. There was just something about Blake Mahone that sparked something in her, which was troublesome, considering the man was the epitome of irresponsible and had bad news written all over every inch of his solid form. What was he, six-two? Six-three? Removed from his bike, wearing a pair of snug-fitting, well-worn jeans in place of his leathers, and a basic white cotton t-shirt, he was somehow even more forbidding than the picture he presented roaring down the road on his bike.
    Either way, he warranted a second look.
    Or a third.
    The man was positively mouth-watering.
    “…wanna come?”
    Ash’s voice came at her as if from a distance, followed up by a tug of her shirt sleeve, drawing her attention down to the little boy who now stood directly in front of her, looking up through hopeful gray eyes.
    Crouching down to his level, Gabby summoned a shaky smile. “What was that, sweetie? Come where?”
    Blake’s cocky chuckle, though held under his breath, shot through her like a plague of bullets through flimsy tissue paper, renewing her irritation. She kept her attention focused on Ash, blatantly ignoring his father as if he