Foolish Games (10 page)

Will woke to the sound of a baby crying.
It took him a moment to get his bearings. He glanced at the clock:

2:46

Owen had eaten a little before midnight, not that Will had been allowed to feed him. His mother, who was supposed to be on his side, kicked him out of the house right after interrupting them in Julianne’s bedroom.

“You will not bully that woman,” she’d said, pinching his ear between her fingers, much as she’d done when he was five. He was ashamed to say it still hurt. “You don’t have to trust her. You don’t have to even like her, but you
will
be civil to her.”

She’d shoved him out the back door, telling him to go find Gavin and not to come back until he’d cooled off. What his mother didn’t realize was that with Julianne living under the same roof, it was impossible for him to cool off. He’d accused her of being crazy, but really, it was Will who was nuts. Julianne made him that way. He felt guilty about the way he’d treated her earlier, but it was either bully her or toss her over his shoulder and give her an instant replay of their night on Sea Island—one she
wouldn’t
forget. The fact that she didn’t seem remotely interested frustrated him even more.

Owen was wailing now, and Will could hear Julianne shushing him in the kitchen. Sliding out of bed, he grabbed for a T-shirt to pull on with his gym shorts. He padded down the stairs in bare feet, arriving in the semidark kitchen just as Julianne dropped the plastic bottle on the floor. She unleashed an Italian curse.

Will almost swore himself at the scene before him. Julianne was wearing a long, flowing, sleeveless nightgown, the under-counter lighting leaving nothing to the imagination as to what was—or wasn’t—beneath. Like his, her feet were bare, except her toenails were adorned with bright pink polish. Her hair was wild, curling around her shoulders, Owen’s fist clenching a good chunk of it.

“Oww!” she cried as she tried to retrieve the bottle without dropping him. “Let go!”

Owen only screamed louder. Will bent down and grabbed the bottle, popping it into Owen’s mouth so he’d stop crying. The baby took a few gusty breaths before latching onto the nipple and guzzling. Julianne tried to pry her hair loose from Owen’s grip, but he seemed reluctant to let go of his mother. Will passed her the bottle and tried to work the baby’s fingers free.

“He’s got strong hands. He’ll make a great defensive player one day,” Will joked so as not to fixate on the silkiness of Julianne’s hair as he gently pulled it out of Owen’s now-relaxed hand.

“Thanks.”

The quiet of the house settled over them, the humming refrigerator and Owen’s suckling the only sounds in the night. Will was a bit shaken by the intimacy of the moment. He and Julianne stood, their bare feet nearly touching, with only their son between their bodies. Owen, who would forever link them together, closed his eyes in bliss as he drained the bottle. Will brushed a thumb over the baby’s head, and Owen propped open an eye at him before closing it again. Will looked up into Julianne’s eyes. They were red rimmed and swollen behind her smudged glasses.
Had he done that to her?

Guilt weighed on him as he pulled a chair out from the kitchen table. “You’re dead on your feet. Sit.”

Julianne slid into the chair with a sigh, her body giving a little shake as she shifted Owen to a more comfortable position. Will went into the great room to grab a blanket off the sofa. Julianne’s eyes were drifting shut as he wrapped it around her shoulders. He poured her a glass of water and pulled a lemon bar from the container Gavin’s mom had given him earlier, placing the snack on a paper towel.

“When was the last time you ate or drank anything?” he asked as he set the water and lemon bar on the table beside her.

She glanced up, her eyes struggling to focus.

Will pulled another chair forward with his foot as he reached for Owen. “Gimme. You eat.”

Julianne didn’t resist, carefully transferring the baby into his arms. She picked at a piece of the lemon bar. “All you had to do was ask; you don’t need to bribe me to hold your son.”

“You’ll thank me when you taste it.”

She arched an eyebrow at him before popping the morsel into her mouth. Her eyes slid shut as she swallowed. “Mmmm. Where did you get this?” She tore off a larger piece and put it in her mouth.

“My other mother made them.”

Julianne wrapped the blanket around her more tightly. “You have more than one mother?”

“Uh-huh.” He pulled the bottle from Owen’s mouth and lifted him over his shoulder, gently rubbing his back. “Growing up, I practically lived at my friend Gavin’s house. There are five kids in the McAlister family, so one more wasn’t a stretch for them. My mom worked a lot. It was a place to go when no one was home. Mrs. McAlister, Patricia, is dying to get her hands on this little guy.” Owen burped, and Will returned him to the cradle of his arms, gently prodding the bottle back into his mouth. The baby’s eyes rolled back in his head as he began to suckle again. “I told her to give you a few days first to get acclimated before she descends on us.”

“Hey, if she has more of these, she can come over at seven in the morning.”

Will stared down at Owen so Julianne wouldn’t see the smile on his face.

“So you
do
have fond memories of growing up in this town.”

He did have some, but they were mostly of the few people in Chances Inlet who’d accepted him unconditionally, like the McAlister family and his friend Chase Jordan’s family. They were often his refuge from his world at the Seaside Vista Trailer Park. Unfortunately, the Jordans had only been summer and weekend residents, the rest of the time living in Charlotte. Still, neither family treated Will as some charity case like the rest of the town did. He was often the special project of the town’s do-gooders, and he hated that he couldn’t do without their largesse because he and his mother needed it to survive.

“We don’t have to stay here. If it bothers you too much to live near the ocean, we can go someplace else. I just need to be within an hour’s flight to Baltimore for mini-camps, but we could work something out.”

Julianne had pulled her feet up, her chin tucked to her knees and the blanket wrapped securely around her. She turned toward the sound of the ocean ebbing against the dock. “No,” she finally said, her eyes meeting his. “You have something you need to prove here, misguided as I may think it is. And this is your hometown, so it’ll be Owen’s, too. He’ll grow up here at least part of the year with you. And with your mom. I need to get a grip on my emotions and stop letting them rule my life. Besides, it’s only temporary. For me at least.”

Will had to admire Julianne’s determination. It seemed there was nothing she wouldn’t do for Owen: live by an ocean that constantly brought on panic attacks, put her career on hold, or marry a man she didn’t love. He was relieved that she seemed resigned to the fact that Owen would live with each of them separately and that they’d make it work. For his part, Will would make concessions, too—keeping his raging libido in check, for a start. Like she said, their situation was only temporary.

 • • • 

“Enjoy the rest of your day,” Annabeth called to the mother and daughter who’d just purchased matching batik scarves. The door chimes jangled as they left the store. She recorded the sale on her iPad, making sure to include Janel’s commission. Annabeth sold the scarves to tourists for her friend who operated a mission on the island of St. Martin. Women and children at the mission made the scarves, dresses, and bracelets, carefully dyeing the fabric themselves. The money raised helped to fund education initiatives for the children.

Annabeth loved that she could use her grandmother’s shop to help other women in need. Her son clearly didn’t understand the situation at all. Will insisted she no longer work. He wanted her to travel or run some charity for him. Or go to college. Annabeth had no intention of doing any of those things. She was happy in Chances Inlet, a town where she knew who she was, what she was. Will wanted her to be someone else. Someone he could be proud of. Annabeth sighed. She’d raised a smart, successful son. Why couldn’t that be enough? Her cell phone rang, interrupting the downward spiral of her thoughts.

“Annabeth Connelly,” she answered.

“Ah,
Miz
Connelly. Mystery solved.”

It took her only a second to identify the voice as belonging to Hank Osbourne. It had been a week since their encounter at Will and Julianne’s wedding. His parting words still played out in her head nightly, though.

“And what mystery might that be, Mr. Osbourne?”

“Hank.”

Hank.
She liked that his name was ordinary, not complicated, unsophisticated. Unfortunately, Hank Osbourne the man was none of those things. Eventually, he’d find out that she was.

“Hank,” she breathed. “What mystery can I solve for you?”

He was silent for a moment. “Well, Annabeth, that’s a loaded question. One I hope we can address in the near future.” His challenge was issued in a seductive purr, one that caused her to visibly tremble. Thankfully, there weren’t any customers in the store to notice.

Hank cleared his throat. “Today’s mystery involves Sophie and her texting. Elizabeth noticed she’d been texting this number a lot and, as usual, rather than confront Sophie about it, she has me deal with it.”

“Elizabeth?”

Hank sighed. “Sophie’s mother. My ex-wife.”

“Ahh. She likes to make you the bad guy?”

“Not always, no. She and Sophie are going through a bit of a phase where she doesn’t want to intrude too much in Sophie’s privacy. It keeps the peace in their household.”

“But at what cost to your relationship with Sophie?” It was really none of Annabeth’s business, but she liked Sophie. She also didn’t want to admit that she hated that Hank’s ex-wife used him in such a way.

Hank chuckled. “Don’t worry. I get my turn at good cop enough. So, do you mind telling me why she’s texting you so often? You aren’t by chance a physicist, are you?”

It was Annabeth’s turn to laugh. “Not a chance. I admire her for even attempting the class.” She fingered the earrings dangling on the display by the register. “She’s been sending me photos of her jewelry. And I’ve been sending her texts of encouragement.”

The phone got so quiet, she thought he’d hung up on her until finally he spoke, his voice husky. “You are a very kind woman, Annabeth Connelly.”

She pulled the phone away so she could clear her throat. “Well, it isn’t easy finding reliable help these days. I need her to succeed.”

“I do, too.” He covered the phone so he could speak with someone else.

“Well,” she said. “If that’s all you need . . .”

“No! Don’t hang up! I’m sorry. Despite it being the off-season, things are a little crazy around here. How are things down there? With the newlyweds? They haven’t killed one another yet, have they? I’d hate to have to go out and find another All-Pro linebacker with training camp only a couple of months away.”

Annabeth smiled. “They’re both still alive. Just sleep deprived. They’re finding out it’s a lot harder taking care of a newborn without the help of a medical staff.”

“And the baby, he’s better, right?”

“Oh, yes. My grandson is perfect.”

Hank was quiet on the phone again as Annabeth realized her mistake.

“I forgot about that,” he finally said. “You’re Owen’s grandmother.”

Yes
, she wanted to scream,
I’m a grandmother! I’m also an undereducated, socially inept woman who you’d eventually find lacking after sleeping with me.
It was better Hank find out now, before she succumbed to his flirting and eventually ended up where she always did with men: with her heart broken.

“He’s a lucky kid.”

She didn’t like the predatory way that sounded, and suddenly she was wishing poor Sophie didn’t raise her physics grade just so she didn’t have to see Hank Osbourne again. It made her feel awful.

“I should be going. I’ve got customers,” she lied.

“Oh, sure. Just one more thing. Will’s doing okay with all this scrutiny of his former college coach, isn’t he? Things are starting to get a little ugly. Names are going to come out. I just need Will to keep us informed if any issues arise so the front office can keep ahead of it.”

Annabeth paused in restacking the scarves. She was grateful Will had been given the opportunity to get into Yale and play on their football team. It had been his escape from Chances Inlet, a town Will hated. Coach Zevalos had literally provided her son a one-way ticket out. But the man wasn’t a saint. He’d been just like all the other men who’d paraded through town, assuming Annabeth would be grateful enough to do whatever he asked.

“That’s something you should speak with Will about. Please tell Sophie I said hello. Good-bye, Mr. Osbourne.” She hung up before she heard his response.

“Sources close to the investigation indicate that more names will be released in connection with the alleged Bountygate masterminded by former Yale and New Jersey Generals coach Paul Zevalos.
According to these unnamed sources, while defensive coordinator with the Generals, Zevalos maintained a secret fund to pay his players rewards if they inflicted an injury on an opponent. Twelve players have filed suit against the Generals, the NFL, and Zevalos, alleging they were injured as part of that scheme. A Senate committee has also been convened to look into how the league has handled the investigation and the ensuing lawsuits from the players injured. That’s
SportsCenter
in a minute. Now, back to Major League Baseball.”

“Jeez, this bounty hunt is getting pretty intense,” Gavin said before taking a swallow of his beer.

He and Will were sitting in Will’s study watching the Atlanta Braves pummel the Mets. Owen was scarfing down another bottle; his son was perpetually hungry.

“It’s nothing.”

“Really?” Gavin asked. “Because it sounds like they’ve got a lot of nothing to warrant an NFL investigation. Not to mention one in the Senate.”

“What a waste of taxpayer dollars.” Will shifted a fussy Owen to his shoulder to try to get him to burp.

“You know Zevalos pretty well, and you were with the Generals for a training camp and preseason. You mean to tell me this is all a bunch of bullshit?”

Owen cried a little harder, refusing the bottle when Will tried to give it to him.

“Come on, Owen, give Daddy a break here.” Will stood and walked around the room, grateful that Owen’s tears provided a quick distraction from the subject. Gavin was perceptive, and Will didn’t want to have this conversation with his best friend right now. “What’s the matter, little man, huh?”

Apparently, Gavin realized Will was done with the subject of his former coach because he let out a resigned sigh. “Maybe you should get Julianne.”

“No, she’s trying to nap. He’s had us both up multiple times these past few nights. She needs a rest.”

“Well, well, not just a doting father, but a doting husband.”

“Shut up, Gavin,” Will said over Owen’s screams.
Doting husband
was a stretch, but he did have a newfound respect for Julianne. That first night home had been a paradigm shift for both of them. Since then, they’d settled into an easy camaraderie, each of them taking turns caring for Owen. It also helped that he avoided touching her and looking at her for extended periods of time. “You have younger siblings and a niece; what should I do here?”

“I don’t know nothin’ ’bout burping no babies.” Gavin took another swallow of beer.

Will swore at his friend.

“Hey, not in front of the baby.” Gavin laughed.

The door leading into the house from the verandah burst open, and Will expected to see a wild-eyed, frantic Julianne. Instead, Brody Janik stood on the threshold.

“Dude, are you sticking pins in that baby?” Brody shoved his sunglasses onto his head as he waltzed into the room, infuriatingly cool, impeccably dressed, a wrapped gift in his hand.

Will stood with a screaming baby in his own hands, spit-up decorating his Yale T-shirt, and a two-day growth of beard on his face. He was used to Brody’s unexpected appearances, but today his jarring perfection pissed him off. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“You’ve been married a week and I haven’t given you a wedding gift,” Brody said as he gingerly tossed the gift onto the sofa. “Apparently, I got here in the nick of time. Let me have that baby.”

Will pulled Owen in closer to his body. It only made the baby scream louder.

Brody held his hands out. “Dude, I can fix this. Trust me.”

The last thing Will wanted was Brody Janik in his house, much less holding his kid.

“Give him the damn baby!” Gavin yelled over Owen’s cries.

Reluctantly, Will handed his son to Brody, who sat down on the sofa and immediately plopped Owen facedown over his knees. He firmly rubbed the baby’s back, then patted, followed by more rubbing. After a few minutes, Owen released a belch that would make a locker room blush, his crying subsiding almost immediately.

“Damn!” Gavin raised his beer in salute. “Where’d you learn to do that?”

“Two nephews and a niece.” Brody rolled a delirious Owen up into his arms and gently rocked him. “Hey, little dude. Lucky for you that you don’t have your daddy’s ugly mug.”

Will ran his fingers through his hair, relieved that Owen had calmed down. “Thanks. Now tell me again why you’re here. And skip the crap about a gift because you know it wasn’t that kind of wedding.”

Brody looked shrewdly at Gavin before turning back to gaze at a sleeping Owen. “Your wife. I’m here to see her.”

Something in Will’s gut clenched, but he kept his expression cool. He didn’t like the way Brody looked at Gavin, as if he didn’t want to reveal the real reason for his sudden appearance. “What could you possibly want with my wife?” The words came out in more of a growl than he would have liked. Let Brody think what he wanted.

“I need a wedding gown.”

Gavin chuckled. “You’re a pretty boy, Brody, but I never pictured you in a wedding gown.”

“Funny.” Brody shot a lazy grin at Gavin. “You didn’t tell me your wife was a wedding gown designer to the stars, Will.”

“I don’t recall telling you anything about her at all, Brody.”

“Yeah, well my sister Tricia is getting married and she’s desperate for a gown designed by JV Designs. Tricia’s been calling the London office for several months, but they keep saying the designer is not taking any new commissions. When the story leaked that you two were married, I’ve been bombarded by all the women in my family to ask your wife personally if she’ll do this.”

What a load of crap. Brody never bowed to pressure from his sisters. He generally just made himself scarce, which might explain his appearance in North Carolina, but Will didn’t think so. More likely, there was more chatter in the locker room about Bountygate and Coach Zevalos’s involvement. Media and players were beginning to connect the dots and—if ESPN could be believed—names were being whispered. Brody was a smart kid and could connect the dots faster than most.

The tight end was also under the misguided delusion that he was Will’s self-appointed wingman and could somehow help. But Will kept his own counsel. He didn’t need anybody’s help. Especially not Brody’s. All he wanted was his teammate out of his house before he started prattling to Gavin about the situation. His best friend was already asking too many questions.

“I’ll be sure to ask her.” Will scooped Owen up from Brody’s arms and placed the baby into the portable crib in the corner of the room. “Thanks for the help with the baby. I’ll call you and let you know what Julianne says.”

Brody casually stood. One thing about the kid, he wasn’t slow; he got the hint the first time.

“Yeah, sure. Thanks.” He strolled toward the door leading out to the verandah. “I’m actually in town for a few days.” He gave Will a pointed look. “Deep-sea fishing and stuff. I’m staying at your mother’s B and B, Gavin. Maybe I’ll see you around there.”

“No doubt,” Gavin said as Brody walked out the door.

Will sat in the chair Brody had just vacated and grabbed his beer, taking a long pull at the bottle. Brody’s gift was still on the seat beside him.

“I forgot all about it being your one-week anniversary. I wonder what the gift for that is?” Gavin mused.

Will said nothing, staring at the television screen as the Braves turned a double play to end the inning.

“You’d probably be off the hook with sex, seeing as most couples would still be on their honeymoon,” Gavin continued. “Too bad you two aren’t having sex. It would really take the pressure off a gift.”

Will tossed a football at his friend’s head. Laughing, Gavin ducked, catching the ball with the ease borne of having been on the receiving end of football passes most of his life. But Will wasn’t laughing. He’d managed to avoid thinking about sex with his wife, who wasn’t really his wife, for the past several days. Now he couldn’t get the thought out of his mind again. Not only that, but he also had to worry about Brody Janik. What was he really doing in town? More importantly, whose side was he on?

 • • • 

“I’m really not taking on any new clients right now.”

Julianne stared into the annoyingly handsome face of Brody Janik. If Will was a Viking god, this man was all Hollywood glamour boy: sparkling blue eyes, perfect teeth, and a ripped body that he wore with ease. Brody was one of those dangerous men who looked like sin and knew it. What his perfect physique didn’t get him, his charm likely did. Julianne normally loathed men like him, but it was not hard to make an exception for Brody. Something about him was irresistibly likable.

“Did I mention her future husband is a veteran?”

Julianne sighed. He had mentioned that fact, several times. Brody’s sister was marrying a young doctor who’d served as a military reservist on the USS
Comfort
for eight months. While that didn’t actually qualify as combat duty, he was performing a service for those men and women who had seen combat and paid a price for it. It was a nice emotional touch, and Brody used it to his advantage.

They were sitting in the bright kitchen, Julianne sipping coffee while Brody guzzled a mineral water. He’d arrived at the house twenty minutes after Will had left for his daily workout at the gym in town. Dressed in running shorts, a sweaty Baltimore Orioles T-shirt, and a well-worn baseball cap from a Boston bar, he’d seemed only mildly chagrined at having missed Will. Instead, he made himself at home in the kitchen, insisting that he’d come to see her anyway.

Owen chortled from the other room. He was lying on a quilt on the floor, swatting at a mobile held over his head by a colorful stand that straddled his body. Will was right; their son’s dexterity was awe-inspiring.

Brody pulled his iPhone from his pocket. “Here, let me show you a picture of them. You’ll see that Tricia deserves a special gown.”

She tried to protest, but it was too late. An image of an adoring couple flashed on the screen before she could stop him.

“They make a beautiful couple,” Julianne remarked. “And lucky for your sister, several of my gowns will be affordably mass-produced later this year and she can get one then.”

Information about the sale of JV Designs had not been made public yet, but she needed to shake Brody loose. Aside from the quick image of the christening gown on the plane, she hadn’t had an additional epiphany since. What was once as easy as closing her eyes and seeing a design was now a gift locked away in the far recesses of her brain. She had only three months to unlock her muse and begin making money again.

“She doesn’t want a store-bought gown. She wants an original. And money isn’t the problem. I’m paying.” Brody reached over and grabbed her hand, gently squeezing it. “Whatever it costs. Just please say you’ll do it.”

Julianne wanted to cry. She was touched by the sweet gesture of Brody buying his sister a wedding gown, but she couldn’t design one for him. It was impossible.

“Get your paws off my wife!”

She jumped out of her chair, pulling her hand out of Brody’s as Owen let out a startled shriek. Will stormed into the kitchen, making a beeline for Brody.

“Dude, is that all the time you defensive types spend working out? No wonder we keep getting scored on.” Brody leaned on the back two legs of his chair, clearly unfazed by the menacing wall of muscle descending on him. Of course, she figured he wouldn’t be in the NFL if he couldn’t stare down a linebacker.

“I swear, Janik, I’ve had enough of that pretty mouth of yours,” Will snarled.

“Stop it!” Julianne picked up a crying Owen. “You’re scaring the baby.”

She watched as Will took a moment to physically dial back his temper, but when he finally looked over at Julianne, his face was a grim line. Stuffing a pacifier in the baby’s mouth, she stepped between the two sparring mountains of testosterone. “Brody just wants me to design his sister a gown.”

“I told you I’d talk to her about it, Brody.”

“Obviously you haven’t, because it’s been three days since I mentioned it to you and she didn’t know a thing about it.” Brody’s shine was wearing off; he was starting to annoy Julianne with his taunting of Will.

“It doesn’t matter! I’m not making the gown!” She practically had to shout to get the two men to hear her.

Brody slammed the chair down and stood. “Don’t let him tell you what to do! You can do it if you really want to.”

Will was chest to chest with him in an instant. “Don’t you dare talk to her like that!”

Owen started crying again, the pacifier dropping to the ground.

“No!” Julianne cried. “I can’t! I
can’t
design gowns anymore!”

She turned on her heel and bolted up the stairs, a screaming Owen on her shoulder.