Fifteen
“Oh my gosh! This place is cooler than I thought it would be!”
Annabeth looked up from the antique humidor she was repairing, startled to hear Sophie Osbourne’s voice in her shop.
“Sophie! I hadn’t heard from you so I thought you weren’t coming.” Annabeth hurriedly wiped the wood polish off her hands. Sophie hadn’t texted or e-mailed in several days, leaving Annabeth to think either the girl hadn’t been successful in bringing up her grade or she’d just lost interest. She’d hoped it was the latter, not wanting Hank to be right in his perception of his own daughter.
Annabeth had to catch her breath. Not only because Sophie had launched herself into her arms, but also from the sight of the girl’s father standing behind her. Dressed in khaki pants and a Blaze golf shirt, Hank looked more casual then she was used to. More handsome, too. His close-cropped sandy hair was gray at the temples and laugh lines fanned out from his smiling blue eyes, but his body language boasted of youth and vigor. He leaned a hip nonchalantly against one of the glass counters, crossing his arms over a well-muscled chest, a cat-ate-the-canary grin on his face.
“We thought we’d surprise you,” he said.
“Guess what?” Sophie stepped out of Annabeth’s arms and grabbed her hands. “I got a C-plus in physics!” She skipped gleefully in a circle, pulling Annabeth along with her.
“Oh, Soph, that’s wonderful!” Annabeth hugged her again. “I’m so proud of you.”
“And guess what else? Dad is taking me to California next week! Isn’t that great?”
Annabeth dared a look at Hank. “It’s better than great. It’s fabulous.”
“So I really don’t need the job, after all, I guess. I hope you weren’t saving it for me?”
Annabeth shook her head. Truthfully, she would have been paying Sophie out of her own pocket. The shop did okay, but not enough to support more than the one employee she already had. “As long as you keep sending me jewelry. You already will have quite a pocketful of spending money for your trip.”
Sophie’s face lit up. “Ohmigosh! It sold? Really? I brought more, but I didn’t think you would have sold any yet. It’s in my room at the inn. I’m in the Paisley room. It’s sooo cool! We’re staying here for a few days. Would it be okay if I hung out here with you while Dad plays golf? Ohmigosh, Dad, can I go get my box for Annabeth?”
She was out the door before either Annabeth or Hank could answer.
“I think you made her day.” Hank stepped away from the counter and began exploring the shop.
“I’m just so proud she did it.”
“Me, too. I’m giving her a trip to California as an apology for doubting her ability. What boon should I give you?”
She wasn’t sure what to say because she really wasn’t sure what he was asking. “Me? I don’t need anything. I didn’t do anything.”
Hank walked past her, studying the odds and ends lining the counters. He lifted a clock to examine it further. “I wouldn’t call fiercely defending a girl you barely know from her nitwit father nothing. Or encouraging her not only to go after her dream, but to put her nose to the grindstone. That wasn’t nothing. I told you this before: You have a kind heart, Miss Connelly. At least let me take you to dinner to make up for my error in judgment with my daughter.”
“I doubt you’ve ever made an error in judgment.”
“Oh, I’ve made a few.” He moved a step closer. “Have dinner with me, Annabeth.”
She wanted to say yes, but she knew it was a bad idea to get involved with Hank.
“No,” she forced out before she could change her mind.
Hank didn’t flinch. “Golf, then. I’m meeting Greg Norman at his course at Folly Beach. Come with me.”
Annabeth shook her head.
“Fine. Parasailing or a ferry ride to Bald Head. Pick one.”
“I’m afraid I’m going to have to say no.”
Hank reached over and fingered the bracelet she was wearing, one designed by his daughter. The warmth of his finger on her skin sent a shot of desire through her body.
“Are you afraid, Annabeth?” he asked softly. “Because you shouldn’t be.”
She had to work to swallow the lump in her throat. “I’m afraid that you’re offering more than an apology.”
He didn’t deny it. “And what if you deserve more than an apology?”
“I don’t.”
His hand moved from her wrist to her jawline. It was all she could do not to lean into his caress.
“I couldn’t disagree more, Annabeth. I’ll be in town through the holiday weekend if you change your mind.”
Annabeth gripped the countertop as he slipped past her. She didn’t dare move until she heard the chime of the doorbell indicating he’d left the shop.
• • •
“I’m not talking to anyone, Roscoe,” Will barked into his cell phone. “I’ve got nothing to say.”
Roscoe sighed on the other end of the line. “We both know that’s a lie, Will. And they have ways of compelling you to talk.”
“You’re my agent, damn it. Can’t you do something? I don’t want to be involved in this.”
“Yeah, I’m guessing no one wants to be involved in this. Look, let me make a few discreet inquiries on your behalf. We need to find out what they’ve got so we can plan a strategy before this all blows up.”
Will paced the wide verandah, the breeze from the ocean ruffling his hair. Roscoe was right, they needed information. “Okay, sure. But discreet is the operative word here. I really don’t want to get dragged into this.”
“Your name’s already being mentioned, Will. I think now we’re looking at damage control.”
He wanted to throw the phone through a wall. It was guilt by association, just as Brody had feared. After seven years in the pros with a sterling reputation, he was going to be tarnished by someone else’s mistake.
“How are things going down there?” Roscoe asked. “Are you and your baby mama getting along?”
Will flinched at Roscoe’s nickname for Julianne. His agent had been opposed to the marriage, believing it would leave his client more exposed to potential financial claims. Roscoe would blow a gasket if he knew Julianne no longer had an income coming in from her company.
He peered in the kitchen window. Julianne stood on a step stool, reaching into one of the cabinets for something. Her long shirt wrapped around her body, accentuating her fine backside. She was having a conversation with Owen, who was strapped into his swing, seemingly chattering back to her. The kitchen was, not surprisingly, a mess. Julianne was a one-woman wrecking crew who’d in two weeks destroyed his neat, orderly home. She stepped from the stool, her bare feet padding across the room, and began mashing bananas in a bowl. Will licked his lips as her pink tank top showed off her well-toned arms to perfection. Her hair was done up in a messy knot but one strand came loose, forcing her to blow on it to keep it out of her face. The action was so sensual, Will was hard in an instant. Knowing that he was married to the woman but couldn’t act on it made him angry.
“She’s a mess,” he growled into the phone. “And freaking moody. It’s like living with a bipolar tropical storm.”
Roscoe laughed. “It isn’t any easier to live with a woman when you’re crazy in love with them, either. It’s only temporary. Hurricane Julianne will be out of your house in a couple of months. The separation papers take effect the week before training camp. I should have the custody details worked out by then, too.”
Will leaned up against one of the columns and watched as Julianne laughed at Owen, suddenly uncomfortable that this would be over so soon. This morning, in the gym, when she’d touched him, pretending they were a happy family, he’d wanted nothing more than for it to be real. But that meant trusting her and Will wasn’t ready to take that leap.
“I don’t think it’ll be a problem working out custody. Julianne’s been reasonable so far.”
“So far being the key words, Will. Don’t forget, her brother is on the committee investigating this whole Bountygate mess. I don’t trust her, and neither should you.”
“Hey, he promised to keep me out of it if I gave Owen my blood,” Will argued. “I did more. I married his little princess of a sister. If I get anything out of this mess, it should be immunity.”
“Never trust the word of a politician, Will. And don’t think you can hide behind the shield of being family.”
Roscoe’s words hung ominously in the air even after he’d hung up. Both Will’s agent and his brain told him he couldn’t trust Julianne. But his gut was telling him something else. She was a flighty artist who rode the crazy bus wherever life took her. Formulating a complicated plot to trap him into marriage was beyond her scope of planning. Roscoe’s theory of her being in cahoots with her senator brother seemed even more far-fetched—until he watched through the window and saw Brody stroll into the kitchen and kiss Julianne on the cheek before handing her an envelope. One that looked suspiciously like the one he’d opened in Brody’s room the other day. Will bolted for the door.
“Oh, Brody, this one is perfect!” Julianne reached up to hug Brody as Will charged through the door.
“What is going on here?” he shouted.
Owen laughed, his legs and arms flailing at the sight of his father.
“Jeez, dude, will you stop doing that?” Brody stepped away from Julianne, his hands poised to defend himself. “Relax. I’m just giving her a picture.”
“A picture of what?”
Will saw the moment that realization dawned on Brody’s face. His posture immediately went from defensive to aggressor. Will instantly regretted doubting his teammate. If Brody had wanted to out him, he had the means to do so days ago. He didn’t need Julianne to make it happen. This whole Bountygate situation had him wound up tight as a drum.
“It’s a picture of his sister, for heaven’s sake.” Julianne waved the photo in front of Will’s face. “I need it to work on . . . something.”
Will rubbed the back of his neck. He glanced at the picture of Brody’s sister in a bridesmaid gown. Suddenly, the situation all made sense. “You’re designing?” He wasn’t sure why the prospect excited him so much.
Julianne laid the photo on the desk and began pouring the batter into a loaf pan. “Well, I wouldn’t call it designing yet. More like doodling. And”—she pointed the spatula at Brody—“no telling your sister until I know I can do this.”
“I already promised not to,” Brody said, his mouth a tight line. “And I keep my promises.”
“Okay, if you two are going to show off your muscles again, save it for the locker room. All this macho posturing is really nauseating.” She covered the pan with a lid and stuck it in the fridge, presumably to bake it later, before lifting Owen out of his swing. “Speaking of nauseating, someone needs a diaper change.”
The baby cooed at his mother, grabbing for that lone strand of hair as she carried him upstairs. Will looked over at Brody, who stood grim faced, arms crossed over his chest as he rocked back on his heels.
“Sorry, man,” Will offered. “This whole thing’s got me jumpy.”
Brody didn’t answer for a minute, silently rocking on his heels. “Yeah,” he finally said. “Well, then you’re probably not going to like this. Hank Osbourne checked into the inn this morning.”
He was right; Will didn’t like it. The Blaze front office had been trying to pin him down on his involvement in Bountygate for several weeks now. If what Roscoe said was true and things were heating up, Hank was probably getting anxious about how the scandal would affect the team. If he’d bothered to track Will down in Chances Inlet, the team had to be thinking about its options and where exactly he fit in the future.
Will swore. He loved playing for the Blaze. And he’d never do anything to jeopardize his position or the respect of his teammates. Head coach Matt Richardson was a former NFL player who understood not only the intricacies of the game but a player’s mind. A rare find, especially since the man had been a quarterback during his playing days.
Will needed to think. He wandered over to the desk and picked up the picture of Brody’s sister. “When did she tell you she would design the gown?”
If Brody knew he was stalling, he was wise enough to let it alone.
“She came into the gym today to tell me. She wanted a picture to help spur her imagination.” Brody sat on one of the bar stools. “I already told Tricia it was a no-go, but if Julianne can come up with something, I’m sure she’ll be ecstatic.”
“They both will,” Will muttered.
“Hank invited me to dinner tonight. He’s here with his daughter. Something about her selling some handmade jewelry in town this weekend. Anyway, he wanted me to invite your family to join us. Although I think it might be more summons than invitation.”
“Not happening.”
“Dude, think about it; how much can he grill you with his daughter and your wife and kid at the table?”
“No. Besides, I have the perfect excuse. Owen is too young to be out in public yet. Not after being so sick. You’ll just have to tell him we can’t make dinner.”
“Tell who we can’t make dinner?” Julianne asked as she appeared in the doorway. She handed a drooling Owen to Will and went to wash her hands.
“No one.” Will replied.
“Hank Osbourne, the GM,” Brody said at the same time.
“Oh, the man whose house we were . . . married at?” Julianne began preparing a bottle for Owen. “I thought I saw him in town this morning.”
“You what?” Will knew Hank would see that wheedling information out of Julianne was useless. The GM was aware of the circumstances of their marriage, after all. But he didn’t want Hank filling her head with all the rumors surrounding the allegations.
Julianne stared at him. “He was out walking in town after I left you two at the gym. He didn’t see me, though; he looked like he was on a mission.” She smiled to herself, one of those I’ve-got-a-secret smiles that always made him nervous when he saw one on a woman. “What’s so horrible about going out to dinner with him?”
“He wants the three of us to go with him and his daughter. Owen could be exposed to too much in a public restaurant. It’s too risky.”
“You’ve got a point.” She shook up the bottle.
Will smiled smugly at Brody as if to say, She bought it hook, line, and sinker.
“So we should invite them here for dinner. You, too, Brody. And Annabeth, of course.”
It was Brody’s turn to smile at her words. Gotcha, his grin proclaimed.
“No!”
“Why not?” Julianne fisted her hands on her hips. “I’m a very good cook. And I love dinner parties.”
“You don’t cook for other people, remember?” Will arched an eyebrow at her.
“No,” she reminded him. “I clarified this before, I don’t cook for you. But for tonight, I’m willing to make an exception and let you eat with the grown-ups.”
Will shoved Owen into Brody’s arms. “Here, keep him busy for a moment.” He grabbed Julianne by the wrist and pulled her into the large pantry, slamming the door behind him.
“We are not having a dinner party here, Princess.”
Julianne surveyed the shelves. “Well, not with what you have here. I’ll need to make you a grocery list. We can have caprese tomatoes, chicken marsala, Caesar salad, and maybe a fruit torte for dessert. You’ll have to do the shopping, because I need to give Owen a bath if we’re having company.”
Will pinched the bridge of his nose. She had to be the most infuriatingly bullheaded woman.
“Will, it’s part of the charade. I’m the dutiful wife, we’re the happy family. Don’t you see?”
He stared at her, totally baffled by her thought process. “Hank knows we’re not an actual couple. We don’t have to pretend anything in front of him.”
Julianne muttered in Italian. “Not for him, for whomever else in this town it was so important you impress. Hank is your boss. He’s visiting. They’d think it would be odd if you didn’t invite him. People have already noticed him in town.”
Will pressed his hands to his head and squeezed. She was right. Likely everyone was already trying to glad-hand it with Hank. They’d assume the two would show up together somewhere. “Look, Julianne, Hank is not in town to socialize. He’s here because there’s some stuff going on.”
“Stuff? That’s the best you can come up with using that overloaded brain of yours?”
His jaw was clenched so hard he could barely get the words out. “Football stuff. Xs and Os. Stuff you wouldn’t be interested in and that doesn’t require a dinner party to discuss. I’ll have lunch with him tomorrow at the marina. That should be a public enough place to satisfy everyone. You included.”
“Huh.” Julianne pulled her hair down from her messy knot, shaking her head out to free it. “I didn’t get the impression he was in town to discuss football stuff.”
Will was fixated on the flow of her hair and the shimmy of her breasts as she shook her silky tresses out. It took him a moment to comprehend what she was saying. He crossed his arms in front of his chest. “And you know this, how?”
“Well”—she rolled the hair band between her fingers—“to tell you the truth, he seemed a lot more interested in your mom. They were having a very . . . intimate-looking conversation in her shop when I saw them.”
A vein throbbed in his head and Will thought it might detonate any second. “What?” he croaked out.
“See? A dinner party is a wonderful idea. It will give Hank and your mom an opportunity to see each other. They make a really cute couple.”
Little specks of red dotted his vision and Will was sure his brain had exploded. His mother and Hank? Jesus, that could be a disaster! And the crazy woman in front of him wanted to throw them together.
“This isn’t middle school! We aren’t having a party so our friends can make out.” His stomach rolled at the thought.
She roared right back at him. “We are having the party to reinforce this farce of a marriage you forced me in to, jock brain! Your mom and Hank are just the part that actually makes it worthwhile.”
Owen wailed in the background. Julianne moved toward the door. She paused briefly before leaving, her head bowed. “It’s lonely here at night, Will. You go to dinner with Gavin and I’m here with Owen,” she whispered.
He stopped her as she tried to pass. “That was your choice, Princess.”
“None of this was my choice,” she said as she slipped out the door.
Will felt her sucker punch all the way to his knees. Damn it! He stormed out of the pantry and grabbed Owen from Brody’s arms, shoving the bottle into the baby’s mouth. “Fine,” he bit out. “You’ve got your damn party.”
She was gracious enough not to gloat. “I’ll make a list of groceries I’ll need from the store.”
He pulled the car keys off a rack by the back door and tossed them onto the counter.
“Oh no, Princess. If you want this party, you’re doing the shopping.” He started up the stairs with Owen.
“But, Will . . .”
“The GPS will get you there.” He called down before shutting the door to the nursery.