Riley Grazer Novels & Stories

The memory faded. Back to the present. Riley showed up while I was fixing Jordan's collar. She stormed straight in, her heels clicking sharp and grating against the floor. She'd ditched the glasses by now, shed all that small-town plainness—dressed to kill, every detail polished. But as a photographer, I could see the exhaustion caked under all that heavy foundation. Her eyes landed on my hands—the ones currently undoing Jordan's shirt buttons. It was for a shoot. Ad campaign. Cold, restrained aesthetic.

“I’m Warren Blake. I run the Blake Foundation in Colorado. This is my wife, Evelyn.” Jax grinned, it was his usual sharp and practiced smile. “I remember you both,” he nodded, smiling brighter, “it’s so good to see you again, Warren. Evelyn, you look stunning.” I smiled and extended my right hand. “Riley. It’s a pleasure to meet you both.”

“But I wanted to see you speak. To see if the woman in the articles was real.” “And?” He studied her for a moment, and Riley found herself standing taller under his gaze. “You’re more.” The word hung in the air between them. Riley felt the heat rise to her cheeks but refused to look away. “I read about you too,” she said. “Your grandfather was a farmer. Before the war.” Something flickered in his eyes—surprise, perhaps, or recognition. “You did your homework.” “I don’t go into meetings unprepared.” She stepped closer, leaning against the windowsill beside him. “He lost his land, didn’t he? When the city expanded. They paved over the fields he’d worked his whole life.”

“Approach is a strong word.” “You kissed her.” “She kissed me.” He said quickly. “Did she?” He grinned. “Are you implying I’m not kissable? Because that would be deeply offensive.” Why will Chloe tell you that?” I let my gaze travel over him deliberately. He did not look like someone who spent nights buried in a line of code. Riley has broad shoulders, athletic build. Dark hair that never stayed where he combed it. A jawline too sharp for someone his age. Eyes that looked lazy until they focused and then nothing escaped them.

But I’m not going to stop at my limits every time that I got the chance to make Claire feel uneasy. I stopped for a moment when the speaker announced something that caught my full attention. A name that will surely brought an unbearable tension to Claire specially now that Darren is with him. “Please welcome, our guest of honor and speaker tonight, our class valedictorian, Gabriel Elizar! A round of applause, please.” The crowd gone wild at the name of that guy. I looked at Claire, only seeing her surprised face. After a few moments, I saw a man right there, standing arrogantly in front of all of us while staring directly at one person... That is no other than Claire.

Every parent, every student, every guest standing there in silk and jewels and expensive smiles suddenly looked a lot smaller. “You want the truth?” he said, his voice carrying over the whole entrance. “Then here it is. Riley Monroe is one of the best healers in this school. She kept her team alive through traps, sabotage, and direct attacks that would have eliminated weaker competitors on the first day. I was there the whole time to witness it.” His words hit me so hard I almost forgot how to breathe. He was praising me. Openly. In front of everyone. “I have absolutely no problem,” Ezra continued, “with her standing at the top. If any of you still do, you have a word with me.”

“They’ve got it. Thanks, though.” Riley raised an eyebrow at the two men in black. “Okay, that’s… intense. Bodyguards?” “Family thing,” I said vaguely. “They’ll be gone soon.” She nodded like that made perfect sense. “Cool. I’m from Seattle. Pre-med. You?” “California native. Business… maybe? Still figuring it out.” Riley laughed. “Same. I wanted to be a surgeon until I realized I faint at blood. Now I’m thinking public health. Or marine biology. Or just dropping out to become a barista.”

Lia hissed, advancing menacingly toward the new girl, but the boy I had poured coffee on gripped her hand, halting her. "I'm Riley Bakers, the girl who whooped your ass last summer. Did you forget that so easily? I didn't because I have a medal to remind me of how funny you looked." Riley declared, wearing a wide, proud smile. "Perhaps we can do this another time, but right now, I need to jet," she added. With that, she gripped my hand, tugging me away from Lia, the mysterious boy, and the crowd. When we reached a considerable distance, I turned back to see the crowd had dispersed. "Thank you back there. I mean, I don't know what I would have done if it weren't for you."

Riley looked stunning in a kind of dark grey asymmetrical shirt, where part barely covered her stomach while the rest flowed down to her hips. She wore a pair of faded short jean shorts accompanied by the cowboy hat and boots that she was the day they first met. Jackson’s heart thundered when he saw her, just like it always did.

"Probably with someone from your office. That Taylor guy, maybe? Is that where you've been tonight, spreading your legs for your boss?" The absurdity of the accusation would have made her laugh if not for the dangerous glint in Riley's eye. Grayson Taylor was the last man she'd ever sleep with, arrogant, demanding, and utterly unaware of her existence beyond her financial expertise. "You don't know what you're talking about," she said. "Don't I?" Riley's eyes narrowed. "You're the one coming home at two in the morning looking like you've been ridden hard. Wearing that slutty dress." He gestured with his glass. "Red. Like a goddamn signal flag."