* * *

“Jack Hunt,” Shawn said as he got closer to the table at a restaurant he’d told me to meet him at during my flight. He made his way around the booth, reaching down to clasp my hand and slap me on the shoulder. “It’s good to see you, my man.”

I could smell last night’s booze on his breath. Not that I was surprised. I’d talked to him after I got back from having dinner with Samantha, and he was out drinking with his teammates. Hell, if I’d just won the Super Bowl, I’d have been doing the same. He’d worked hard for that championship, and he deserved to party his ass off.

“It’s good to see you, too. You’re doing all right?”

He sat down across from me. “Never better.”

The waitress immediately came to our table, dropping off two coffees and two waters, both which I’d ordered before Shawn arrived. “I’m going to give you guys a minute to look at the menu,” she said. “Can I get you anything in the meantime?”

I shook my head. Shawn did the same.

“Congrats on the win,” she said before she walked away, wearing the biggest goddamn smile on her face.

“Are you getting a lot of attention?” I asked him once we were alone.

“You have no idea.”

I didn’t, and I was thankful for that. There were days when I wondered how Brett did it, constantly getting his picture taken whenever he was with James in LA. That was a life I didn’t want.

He nodded toward the folder that I’d placed next to me on the table. “You’ve got some good numbers for me?”

My assistant had printed out every offer that had come in over the last few days, and I’d reviewed each one along with the terms of the contract, so I could explain them in detail.

He had some serious decisions to make.

Ones that would financially set him up for the rest of his life.

But, before we talked money, I had to get this thing with Samantha off my chest. This conversation had been weighing on me the whole fight here, and I didn’t want to wait any longer.

“There’s something I need to talk to you about first,” I said.

I wasn’t a nervous person. I went into business meetings confident as hell because I knew the industry backward and forward, and I dared anyone to challenge me. I had a law degree, and I considered myself an expert negotiator.

But, as I looked into the face of one of my very first clients, I wasn’t feeling so sure of myself.

This was personal.

This was his fucking sister.

He lifted his coffee and took a sip. “Your walking papers had better not be in that folder because there’s no way I’m letting you quit.”

I wondered if he’d still say that once I told him what was on my mind.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“Then, what’s going on?”

I left the coffee alone, but I filled my mouth with water, and then I cleared my throat. “We need to chat about Samantha.”

“Samantha?” His brows rose. “You mean, my sister? What about her? Is she in trouble or something?”

“We’ve been talking.”

He laughed, and that surprised the hell out of me. “If you’re thinking about making her into an athlete, you’re going after the wrong sister. Samantha didn’t play any sports in school. The girl has no aim and even less coordination. Stacey is the only other athlete in my family. She got a golfing scholarship, and she could have gone pro, had she wanted it badly enough.”

Jesus Christ.

“Shawn, I don’t want to represent your sister. I want to date her.”

As the seconds passed, it looked like my words were finally starting to sink in.

“Oh, shit.” He continued to stare at me. “You want to date my sister.”

“I’d like to, yeah.”

“Have you spent a lot of time with her?”

I couldn’t get a read on him. He wasn’t acting pissed, but he wasn’t acting pleased either.

“Yes,” I answered.

“How long have you guys been talking?”

“Not long.”

That wasn’t a lie since we hadn’t really done much talking eight years ago.

Not that I’d ever mention any of that shit to him.

“I respect you, Shawn. So, before things go any further between Samantha and me, I wanted to discuss it with you.”

It looked like he was still processing the news, still unsure of how he felt about it. “I like that you came to me, and I appreciate it.”

I wanted him to know that Samantha wasn’t just someone I’d talked to at the bar and decided I wanted to hang out with. I was coming to him because I wanted to take things to a deeper level.

“Shawn, your sister is a hell of a girl. She’s patient and sweet; she’s understanding and forgiving. She works as much as I do, and you know how important that is, given how often I travel.”

“I know.”

“What I’m trying to say is, I care about her. Enough that I’m coming to you, my client and my friend, and I’m putting our professional relationship on the line because your sister’s worth it.”

His lids narrowed, his stare intensifying. “All right, I can see it now.”

“You can?”

“Yeah, man. It took me a second, which is probably due to all the shit I drank last night, but yes, I can see the two of you together. She’s a great girl; you’re a nice guy. You both live in Miami. The fit makes sense.”

Motherfucker.

All that buildup for nothing.

“I want her to be happy,” he said. “So, I’ve got no problem with it.”

I shook my head, sighing, relieved that we’d made it through that conversation.

“But, Jack, I’m going to warn you about something right now.”

I’d thought I was in the clear.

Sounded like I’d thought wrong.

“If you hurt Samantha or Lucy, you’ll have to answer to me.”

Lucy?

I stared at him, waiting for an explanation to follow. When one didn’t come, I said, “Who’s Lucy?”

“Who’s Lucy?” He laughed much harder this time. “You’re serious?”

“Yeah, I’m serious. Who is she?”

“Lucy is Samantha’s daughter.”

Samantha’s daughter?

No way.

It wasn’t even fucking possible.

I’d heard him wrong.

“What did you say?” I asked.

He leaned his elbows on the table. “Lucy’s her baby girl and my niece.” As he stared at me, his expression began to change. “Shit, she didn’t tell you.”

I couldn’t believe he was talking about the same fucking woman I had fingered in my car last night. About the woman I had texted before I went to bed. About the woman I hadn’t been able to get out of my mind since I saw her at his Super Bowl.

I shook my head.

“I didn’t mean to be the one to break the news,” he said. “I’m shocked she didn’t tell you. That little girl is her whole world.”

I tried to calm my voice, masking the anger that wanted to come through. “I’m sure she is. What about the dad? Is he still in the picture?”

Shawn shook his head. “Nah.”

I didn’t even know what the fuck to say.

I didn’t understand why Samantha hadn’t told me or why she was keeping her daughter a secret.

Or if this news was going to change the possibility of us having a future.

“My niece is a massive part of my life,” he said. “I’d do anything for either of those girls, and I’m extremely protective of them. So, you’d better be good to them, Jack.”

I looked at the mug of coffee and at the half-empty glass of water, wishing like hell they were full of something stronger.

And then I finally glanced at him. “I hear your message, Shawn. Loud and clear.”

* * *

* * *

I left the hotel bar and stumbled up to my room. I’d spent the last few hours there, drinking scotch and watching the Rangers destroy the Bruins. I represented New York’s starting right wing, and during the second period, he had been taken in the locker room for a lower body injury. I’d already put a call in to the team doctor, both trainers, and the player’s wife. I didn’t expect to hear anything until after they got the results of the X-rays, which would be within the hour.

I wouldn’t have a problem with staying up to wait for that call.

Sleep wasn’t going to come anytime soon.

Not when the thought of Samantha and her little girl was running through my head like a fucking song on repeat.

When I got inside my suite, I stripped out of my suit and hung it across one of the chairs. I climbed into bed, staring at my phone.

Brett had told me not to call her. He’d told me not to bring up the kid until I got back to Miami.

It was good advice.

Especially because I was in no condition to have that conversation right now. Not after how much scotch I’d shot back at the bar.

Still, Samantha knew I was in Nashville, she knew I was meeting with her brother today, and she knew I was going to mention something to him. It would be fucked up if I didn’t at least reach out.

So, I opened her last text, and I began to type.

My thumbs hovered over the screen as I stared at her words.

I touched a letter on my keyboard and a second one.

But I couldn’t do it.

I couldn’t say anything.

I had to listen to Brett.

I deleted what I had typed and put my phone on the nightstand, replacing it with the remote, my thumb tapping the button that changed the channel.

That button was safer.

That button I wouldn’t regret pushing in the morning.