Chapter 14

Danny tucked the receiver under his chin and reached for a folder containing recruiting stats as he waited for the call to connect. “Hey, Ma.”

“Danny.”

As always, there was a tremor of relief in his mother’s voice when she greeted him. Like she was afraid she’d never hear from him again, even though he called every Wednesday like clockwork. Eileen McMillan only took calls during the hour between daytime programming and the evening news. Mondays, she caught up with her life-long friend, Grace. She had a standing hair appointment on Tuesdays, just as she had since he was a boy. He was allotted Wednesday, because on Thursday, she checked in on some of the older members of Saint Andrew’s congregation, and Fridays were reserved for her precious whoopsie, his little brother, Tommy.

And heaven help anyone who attempted to deviate from the schedule.

“How are you?”

She inhaled as if she had to brace herself. “I’m just fine, sweetheart. How are you?”

It was only natural that she’d be wary. After all, he’d broken plenty of bad news over these Wednesday afternoon calls. Danny did his best not to let the condescension in her voice piss him off, but he was tired of her acting like he was walking around holding a pair of wire cutters. He’d done what he was supposed to do. Following the longstanding traditions ingrained in college athletic departments and the Mafia, he’d taken the blame and done his time. Now, he wanted a kiss on the forehead and a welcome back home, damn it.

“I’m good, Ma. Great, actually.”

“Oh? You’re settling in okay?”

He caught the hopeful note in her voice and let a smile warm his voice. “Yeah, I’m just fine.”

“Tommy says you’ll have your work cut out for you with that team.”

Just like that, his smile disappeared. Tommy had no right to disparage any part of Danny’s life to their mother. Everything he had, every bit of career success that his younger brother had ever enjoyed, was because of Danny. He had no patience for his brother’s petty disregard. Not when he was the one whose personal life and public reputation were left in tatters. But as always, he did his best to keep their mother out of the middle.

“They need some work, but the administration is primed to rebuild the program.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear that.”

Awkward silence hummed between them. Danny glanced at the time and wondered if they’d even make it to the usual five-minute mark without extra effort on his part.

“So, Ma—” he began.

“Did I tell you—” she started at the same time.

They shared a laugh, then prompted one another to go ahead at the exact same time. That earned them another chuckle followed by Awkward Silence: The Sequel. Finally, Danny decided to break for open ground.

“Ma, I’ve met a woman,” he said, unable to bite back his smile.

“I’m finally going to the podiatrist for that bunion,” she reported, stomping all over his big news.

“You are?”

“You have?” And just like that, the wariness in her tone was back.

He waited a beat, squelching the urge to snap at her. Most mothers would be happy to hear their son say they’d met someone, but not his. The last time he’d said something remotely similar, their family imploded. Rocking back in his chair, he gripped the armrests and dragged in a calming breath.

“Yes, I have.” The pause that followed became Awkward Silence Part III: The Sound of Static. Bracing himself for impact, he plowed ahead. “You may have heard of her, actually. Lord knows you’ve spent enough time watching for me or Tommy on NSN. Her name is Kate Snyder, and she’s the women’s basketball coach here at Wolcott.”

“The coach?”

The quaver was back now too, and the dam Danny had so carefully built around his anger sprang a slow leak. “Yes, Ma, the coach. Did you think I was going to tell you she was a player?”

“No, I just…I’m just surprised, that’s all.”

Oh, he had no doubt about that. He just wasn’t sure what was shocking about her heterosexual son announcing that he’d met a woman who interested him. Suddenly, he wanted her to explain it to him. “Surprised about what exactly?”

“Well, after all that happened…”

She trailed off, leaving the thought dangling like the belt around the monk’s robe he was apparently supposed to put on the minute his last serious girlfriend had decided to marry his baby brother instead.

“After what happened,” he repeated, unable to keep the edge from his voice. “You mean, after your precious Tommy set me up to get shit-canned and then married the woman I loved?”

Okay, so it was the Reader’s Digest version of what went down, but hit all the high points. They just hadn’t unfolded in that order.

“Daniel.”

For once in his life, the use of his full name had little impact on him. “No, Ma, I’m not the one who screwed up. I’m not the one who betrayed his own brother. I’m done taking the flack for what he did.”

“But is dating this coach woman even allowed?”

She stopped him dead in his tracks. It wasn’t that she’d struck the nail on the head regarding his relationship with Kate but the fact that she still insisted on deflecting and denying on her baby boy’s behalf. Ignoring her question, he decided to use a little razzle-dazzle himself.

“She’s amazing, Ma. Smart, funny, and totally down to earth. A great coach. Her interaction with the players is amazing. Instinctive. And you’ve seen her, right? Six foot two and beautiful. You know, a natural kind of beauty,” he added, knowing that his mother never approved of the overblown women that flocked to men who made their living in professional athletics. “Dark hair and really pretty, brownish-gold eyes. Like the color of good Irish whiskey, you know?” And because it never hurt to play on patriotism, he dangled the shiniest bit of background. “Has an Olympic gold medal too.”

“But if she works for the school—”

“Ma, don’t.”

“I worry. You just got your job back.”

Catapulting from his chair, he pressed his knuckles into the desk as he leaned over the phone and spoke directly into the receiver. “I’ve had a job all along. Maybe not at this level, but I’ve always been the head coach, no matter where I went. I’m no one’s assistant. And believe me, no one called in any favors to get those jobs for me,” he growled.

“I’m only saying—”

“I know what you’re saying, but I’m tired of playing the fuckup. I’m not the one who did all this.”

“Don’t you use that language with me,” she huffed.

“Stop acting like I’m the screwup,” he barked. “I did everything right. I did everything I was supposed to do. I took the fall, but now I’m back up, and all I’m asking is for you to be happy for me, for once in your life. Just me. Not because I can do something to help you or Tommy, but because, right or wrong, I’m doing something for myself.”

He hung his head, letting his gaze go unfocused as he listened to his mother’s quiet crying on the other end of the line. A sound he’d heard too many times. One he shouldn’t be listening to now, when he’d been trying to tell her he finally found someone who made him happy.

“I’m sorry,” he said. After a lifetime of conditioning, the words came automatically. What he wasn’t used to hearing was the rasp of tears in his own voice. He cleared his throat. “I am. Don’t cry. Please don’t cry, Ma.”

Sinking back into his chair, he fanned the pages of the open file with the pad of his thumb. Each sheet featured a meticulously kept record of every attempt at player contact. He wasn’t taking any hits he didn’t deserve. Not from anyone.

“No, it’s not allowed, Ma, but I don’t care.” Certainty settled deep in his gut. “You see? That’s why I had to tell you. It’s not allowed, and I don’t care. That’s how much I care about her. I just wanted you to know.”

* * *

Calhoun’s was quiet. The students were gone, and the summer crowd wasn’t big on spending gorgeous, warm evenings in dank, dark bars. That made it the perfect spot for this particular meeting of the minds. Kate smiled as Avery glanced over her shoulder, pushed aside the scotch she’d ordered, and reached for one of the tall straws protruding from Millie’s unguarded hurricane glass.

“Why don’t you just order one for yourself?” Kate asked as Avery used the tip of her finger to siphon off a hit of strawberry daiquiri.

“I refuse to subscribe to society’s preordained notions of what a woman should drink.” With a shrug, Avery drew the straw from the glass, positioned the business end over her open mouth, and lifted her finger.

Kate grimaced as the sticky, sweet drink trickled from the straw into her friend’s mouth. Reaching for the pint she’d ordered, she held it up for inspection. “I’m drinking beer. What does that say about me?”

Avery grinned and dropped the straw back into the daiquiri glass just as Millie returned from her sojourn to the ladies’ room. “It says your taste buds are dead.” The second their trio was complete, she lifted the whisky she’d ordered on convoluted principle in a toast. “May they rest in peace.”

“Amen,” Millie said as she repositioned her straws.

Kate rolled her eyes. “You do realize we look like the start of a bad joke, don’t you? A jock, a priss, and a feminist walk into a bar. Who orders the umbrella drink?”

Avery’s brow puckered. “How is that humorous?”

“It’s not. That’s why it’s a bad joke.” Kate reached over and gave Avery’s hand a condescending pat. “No matter how hard you try, we’re still a cliché.”

“Well, you are,” Millie said, her pointed gaze traveling from the tracksuit Kate wore to her half-drunk glass of beer. “And Betty Friedan over there fights it so hard she’s turned herself into one.” She pressed one perfectly manicured hand to her breast. “Me? I’m an original.”

Avery snorted. “Are there any parts on you that are still original?”

“One nip,” Millie shot back, referring to the eyelift she’d had the previous year. “I had one little nip, and it was medically necessary. My vision was compromised.”

Kate rolled her eyes but made certain she opened them just a little wider. The truth was, she understood Millie’s decision to have surgery better than she liked to let on. When a woman spent half her life defying gravity, it was hard to give in gracefully to signs of time.

Leaning in, Avery folded her hands on the sticky tabletop. “Yeah, well, you’re old news. What I want to know is how many times our Katie here has been compromised.”

The shift in topic startled her, but the change wasn’t nearly as disconcerting as their probing gazes. “What?” she managed to blurt.

“You’re fucking Danny McMillan,” Millie stated bluntly. “A lot, I’d say.” She turned to Avery for confirmation on her diagnosis.

Lips pursed, Avery surveyed her carefully. “I concur. Well and often, judging by the size of those bags under your eyes.”

“What? How?” Kate sputtered. “Why would you—”

“Oh, please,” Avery said, waving away her protests. “We’re not judging you. I, for one, am proud. And more than a little jealous.”

“And I’m a little pissed that you didn’t tell me,” Millie said with an arch look. “But I can get past it—”

“As long as you give us all the salacious details,” Avery injected.

“Exactly.” Millie stirred her drink, then plucked a wedge of orange from the rim of her glass. “Tell us everything.”

Kate’s cheeks burned. She wrapped one hand around her beer glass, hoping the condensation might help her keep her cool, but it was no good. Exhaling slowly, she caved to peer pressure. Oddly enough, making the decision to spill her guts felt good. Like someone finally stuck a needle into her release valve. Little by little, the weight of keeping her relationship with Danny a secret from her best friends lifted. She let go of her glass and pressed her damp hand to the scarred table. The fire under her skin died down to a warm glow. “Oh God, he’s so perfect,” she gushed at last.

Avery gave up all her pretenses and squealed like a teenager.

Millie clapped a stunned hand to her throat. “I swear, I never thought I’d hear those words come out of your mouth. I mean, I know the two of you are combustible—that’s why I put you together—but dear Lord.”

“She’s in love!” Avery cooed. “Completely deluded and utterly cursed. Willing to sacrifice her personal autonomy for patriarchal approval. How sweet is that?”

This time, Millie handled the eye rolling. “She’s got the hots for a stud muffin, that’s all.”

Offended by her friend’s dismissive tone, Kate sat up straighter. “I’m not deluded, and it’s not the hots.”

“Notice she didn’t deny the stud-muffin part,” Avery said with a sage nod.

Fighting the urge to snarl, Kate fixed them both with her most intimidating stare. “And I’m not giving up any autonomy.”

“Puh-leeze,” Millie murmured, taking a draw from her straw. “I’m just looking at you, and I can tell that you’d work here for free if McStud Muffin’s services were part of your contract.”

Avery jerked up tall on her stool and narrowed her eyes. “It’s a ploy. Mike Samlin brought the stud muffin in to distract you from contract negotiations.”

Kate scoffed and reached for her beer. After taking a bracing gulp, she tossed the idea aside. “Y’all are forgetting that I’m not negotiating my contract. Jonas is.”

“Doesn’t matter. You’ll agree to anything as long as you keep getting some,” Avery said with a nod.

“Oh, she’s not that far gone,” Millie insisted.

“Not that far gone?” Avery turned her incredulous gaze on Millie. “Didn’t you hear her? He’s so perrrrrrfect.”

“Our personal relationship has nothing to do with our professional ambitions,” Kate said stiffly.

“Maybe not yours, but you aren’t the one who has nothing to lose,” Millie pointed out.

Dead silence blanketed the table. An excruciating minute passed. Then Avery sighed and sagged. “This isn’t at all how I wanted this conversation to go,” she muttered, lifting her glass of scotch to her lips.

Millie blew out a gusty sigh and planted an elbow on the table. “I just wanted to know how big a piece he’s packing.” Her chin dropped into her open palm, and she cast an apologetic look in Kate’s direction. “And if he knew what to do with it.”

Kate felt a little of her indignation ebb away as she studied her friends. They really did mean well, even if they were both shit stirrers.

“Why do we always say that? There’s not much to knowing what to do with the actual piece,” Avery mused, stirring her scotch with her fingertip. “The only thing to do with that is to stick it into an orifice.” A devilish twinkle lit her eyes as she sucked the booze from her skin. “I mean, a guy’s cock is a one-trick pony. More important they know what to do with their hands, or tongue, or—”

“We’ve got it.” Millie cut Avery off before she could ramp up to lecture mode. Turning her full attention to Kate, she smiled benignly. “You can tell by looking at her that he knows what he’s doing with…everything.”

“Can you?” Kate asked, genuinely curious. “Can you really tell just by looking at me?”

“Well, maybe not everyone,” Avery conceded with a shrug. “But we know you.”

Millie nodded. “And we know what you looked like when you were with Jeff.”

Kate frowned. “How did I look with Jeff?”

She flinched when Millie poked her in the forehead with one vermillion-tipped nail. “Like that.”

“Quick, stop furrowing, or she’ll whip a syringe of botulism out of her bag,” Avery urged.

Game face in place, Kate settled an impassive stare on the other two women. “Better?”

Avery’s lips curved into an affectionate smile. “Actually, I liked the grin you wore when you gushed about how perrrrfect he is.”

“I did too,” Millie agreed.

“Yet you both jumped me about it.” Kate picked up her beer and saluted her friends with it. She took a healthy slurp, then gave her head a sad shake. “Sheesh, women.”

“We’re a pain, but we’re still easier to deal with than men,” Avery asserted.

Millie shot her an exasperated look. “Some of us are more of a pain than others.”

Unperturbed by Millie’s jab, Avery shrugged. “I’m low maintenance. I’m happy with a drawer full of double-A batteries and my collection of rubber dicks. They don’t make a mess or any demands.”

“Speaking of messy…” Millie ran her hand over her blouse, then fiddled with her necklace. Curious, Kate watched as her normally confident friend fidgeted and fussed. “Something has come to my attention, and I wanted to get your take on it.”

“Is it about the football coach doing the basketball coach? If so, old news.” Avery blinked. “Oh, wow. I totally just pictured Coach McStud Muffin getting down and dirty with Ty Ransom instead of you, Katie, and I have to confess, I’ll be taking that image to my bunk with me tonight.”

Kate gaped at her friend, but even she had to admit the image Avery conjured wasn’t exactly repugnant. “Nice thought, but it would never happen in a million years.”

“In my mind, it’s already happening.” Avery grinned. “That’s it, just move your right hand a little, Danny Boy.”

“Stop,” Millie ordered in a voice stern enough that they instantly obeyed. “Leave Katie’s boy toy alone.”

“Yes. Please.” Kate added the last as an afterthought. Ready to escape the hot seat, she focused on Millie. “What’s going on?”

“Well, it does involve Ty Ransom,” she admitted with uncharacteristic caution.

“If I’m not allowed to picture them both, I’ll take one of two,” Avery allowed with a magnanimous wave. Settling her chin on her palm, she gazed at Millie with rapt attention. “Tell us what’s going on with Tasty Ty.”

Despite Avery’s guffaw, Millie’s expression remained grim. “I don’t know anything for sure, but I need some advice.”

Kate blinked, taken aback. Millie gave advice; she didn’t ask for it. “Advice?”

Avery raised both eyebrows. “Well, this is a first.”

“Hush,” Kate hissed, concerned by Millie’s unchecked frown.

“Well, you know I spend a lot of time poking around the various social media platforms,” Millie began. “I have to tell you, I hate PicturSpam. There are some things a person just wishes she could unsee, you know?”

“Oh, I know,” Avery agreed wholeheartedly.

Kate said nothing but gave an encouraging nod.

“I’m not certain, but I think Ty’s wife might be fooling around on him.”

Kate’s stomach dropped to her feet. “You think this because of something you saw on PicturSpam?”

Millie pressed the heel of her hand to the center of her forehead, smoothing the wrinkles away. “God, don’t these idiots realize that once you press post, things are out there for everyone to see? Forever?”

“And you saw Ty’s wife with another guy?” Avery prompted.

Heaving a sigh, Millie picked up her glass. “I saw Ty’s wife in ways I never wanted to see anyone whose spouse I have to face on a regular basis.”

“Shit.”

Kate muttered the word, but the heartfelt sentiment cut through the ambient noise of clinking glasses, piped-in rock and roll, and the groans of a few baseball fans with their eyes glued to a wall-mounted television.

Millie looked up, her blue eyes sad and troubled. “Do I say something?”

The three of them fell silent as they contemplated the question. On the television, the batter stepped out of the box to take a couple of practice swings. He was facing down a full count of balls and strikes. Kate stared at the screen, riveted by the man’s expression as he stepped up to the plate to await the next pitch, his bat swaying over his shoulder, moved by barely contained anticipation.

Kate watched, unblinking. She hated baseball, but God, she loved that feeling. The pressure. Tension humming in her blood. Sweat beading on her forehead and upper lip. Unlike most people, she thrived on make or break moments. She often made it, but only because she knew better than to force a shot. A true player knew to run the route, let the ball roll off their fingertips, or wait for the right pitch to come. They trusted their instincts above everything else. And they refused to admit defeat until the last buzzer sounded.

There was no way anyone could have made her see her ex-husband for the parasite he was, no matter what proof they had. She had to find that out on her own. And though she had known deep down that her marriage to Jeff was over long before Ty Ransom was named men’s basketball coach, she hadn’t wanted to admit it. She’d signed a contract based on sentiment when she took the coaching job at Wolcott. That was her mistake. Not Mike’s or Danny’s or even her agent’s. After all, Jonas had advised her to hold out longer. Not just ask for more but flat-out demand they pay her what she was worth.

But she didn’t listen. Ty Ransom wouldn’t listen either.

Poor Ty. He’d have to wait until his instincts kicked in. Millie wasn’t entirely certain, and even if she were, it wasn’t her place to say anything. No one wants to admit they made a huge mistake on something as fundamental as choosing the right person to love.

“No,” Kate said at last. As if snapping from a trance, she jerked her head to look at her friend. “You can’t say anything that’ll make any difference. They’ll just have to let things play out.”

* * *

She came home to find Danny’s ball cap on her end table and the man himself propped against her headboard. He was mostly naked, or at least stripped to the waist, and propped on both pillows as if he owned the place. She tried to work up what Avery would think was an appropriate amount of ire at finding him in her space without invitation once again, but she couldn’t. She liked coming home to him, as cheesy as that sounded.

Spotting her in the doorway, he muted the television. “Hey. How was your night?”

“Better now,” she said, refusing to feel even a hint of shame at the confession.

A slow smile spread across his handsome features. He dropped the remote on the nightstand and gestured for her to come closer. Not even taking a moment to toe off her shoes, Kate dove onto the bed and into his arms. The skin stretched over his biceps was warm and smooth. Kate turned her head and pressed her lips to the tender flesh on the inside. Though he was ticklish, he didn’t flinch or shy away. He just let her kiss him.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice raspy and rough around the edges.

“Long day.”

He tucked his chin to his chest and peered down at her, blue eyes wary and watchful. “But this is okay? Me being here?”

She chuckled, then caught a little of that oh-so-tempting skin between her teeth. “Now you ask.”

He squirmed a bit but mostly let her have her way. For that, she rewarded him with a slow, swirling flick of her tongue over the afflicted flesh. “I can go if you want,” he said.

“I don’t want.” She turned into him and pressed her cheek to his chest. Crisp hair tickled her nose. She burrowed deeper into his embrace, not in the mood to implement strategies or play games. “I like having you here.”

He kissed the top of her head, then smoothed her hair with an awkward pat of his hand. “I like being here.”

“Millie and Avery think you’re a hooker Mike hired to distract me from my contract negotiations.”

He chuckled. “How many million do you think I’m worth?”

She barked a laugh. “Million? I was thinking I’d offer to swap the country club membership for you. After all, I get to see you swing your club in the comfort of my own bedroom. Why bother with the culottes and saddle shoes?”

“Nice.”

She giggled and nuzzled his flat nipple. “They doubt my ability to keep my head in the game.”

“Typical mathletes.”

His unabashed jock snobbishness tickled her. Running her hand down his chest, she stroked the line of soft hair that bisected his abs. “I know, right?” She kissed his throat, enjoying the bob of his Adam’s apple against her lips as she let her fingertips slide a few centimeters lower. “They have no respect for my…drive.”

“Fools.”

He exhaled the word in a rush that ruffled the hair he’d just smoothed. His chest rose and fell with gratifying quickness as her hand drifted lower still. His cock was hot and more than half-aroused by the time she wrapped her fingers around him. She pressed a tender kiss to his pec, delighted by the tremor she felt ripple through him.

“Kate?”

“Hm?”

“Don’t give up the country club membership.”

“No?” She released him long enough to push the covers down past his knees. “How come?” she asked, resuming her grip.

He answered with a low, strangled groan that made her smile. “Don’t say come.”

“Sorry,” she whispered, but she didn’t mean it.

“You can’t quit the club.” Danny pressed his head into the pillows and arched into her touch. “It’d be a damn shame to waste a strong backhand like that.”