Playing for Keeps (Texas Scoundrels) (18 page)

“Jed? Where the hell are you?” Steve barked in a familiar, sandpapery voice. “Everyone has been looking for you.”

He didn’t doubt that for a second. “I’ve got some business I need you to take care of for me.”
 

“Tell me where you are first.”

The last thing he wanted was for the hounds to come sniffing around Hart, Texas. “Later.” Jed clicked the remote and the flat screen flickered to life. He hit the mute button. “I want a trust fund set up. I also want an initial payment and a separate monthly stipend sent to Griffen Somerfield.”

Steve sighed, the sound long and drawn. “What have you done now?”

“It’s complicated.”

“With you it usually is,” Steve said dryly. “Why should this time be any different?”

“I’ve got a kid.”

“Another one?” Steve didn’t sound the least surprised by the news.

“Cut the crap, Rafferty,” Jed growled. He pulled in a deep breath and counted to ten. Ripping his attorney a new one wouldn’t accomplish anything. The guy loved a good fight, but tonight Jed wasn’t in the mood. “This time it’s legit. He’s mine.”

Silence. Jed waited for the declaration to settle. Steve knew the truth about Linc Monroe. While he’d advised Jed against it, Jed had been adamant that Linc’s unborn child be taken care of for the rest of her life, even if the cost had been his reputation over a phony paternity action.

“You’re kidding,” the attorney finally said.

His grip on his cell phone tightened. “Do I sound like I’m kidding?” He was fed up with everyone always trying to second guess him. Why couldn’t the people he was paying to take care of his interests do it without giving him shit? So what if he was generous? He could afford to be. If he never threw another pass, the interest alone from his investment portfolio could keep him living the lifestyle he’d grown accustomed to. What was it Griffen had said, fresh lobster and five hundred dollar a bottle champagne? She’d pop a cork if she knew what he really paid.

“You gonna do this or not?” he snapped, dishing Steve the brunt of his irritation.
 

“Sure, Jed. Calm down. Give me the details.” Steve’s tone turned efficient and businesslike.

Jed gave him as many of the details he knew, receiving non-committal responses from the attorney. “And keep it away from the press.” The last thing he wanted was to wake up in the morning to find ESPN
or some other cable network running a lead story about Jed Maitland’s latest love child.

“I’ll do my best,” Steve assured him. “Jed, as your attorney, I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t advise you—”

“Save your breath. The kid is mine.” Then he took the time to explain the situation to Steve.
 

When Jed finished his explanation, Steve sighed again. “I’ve known you a long time, Jed. What else is going on? No one has heard from you in over a week.”

“Leave it alone.” He wasn’t prepared to answer that question. How could he when he didn’t know the answer himself?

He’d wanted a break. Needed to get away, sober up and clear his head. He’d been mad as hell over the team’s offer to come back next season as an assistant offensive coordinator. Because it hadn’t been an offer. Not really. It’d been an ultimatum. Either come back as a coach or sit the bench as a third string loser.
 

He was thirty-five years old. Montana hadn’t retired until he was thirty-eight. Len Dawson hadn’t turned in his shoulder pads until forty-one. Okay, so maybe the past two seasons he had spent more time on the sidelines. He’d nursed bruised ribs, a busted hand, a pulled hamstring, and then finally, the shoulder injury that had ended the season for him two games away from the playoffs. Maybe it
was
time to quit.
 

And do what?
 

“We’ve got a problem, Jed,” Steve said. “Your agent called two days ago. The owners are pissed. The BMW people are threatening to sue you for breach of contract because you missed another commercial shoot. Adidas catches wind you’re blowing shit off, and your product endorsements are going to start disappearing.”

Jed chucked the remote across the room, then dragged his hand down his face. He wasn’t ready to make a decision. At least not one as important, or as life altering, as his career. Or lack of one. “Bob Yorke is a fucking mother hen.”

“Get your head out of your ass, Jed. It’s going to cost you if you don’t.”

“Fuck off.”

Steve was quiet for a moment. “You have a lot to lose.”

“Let me worry about that.”

“Talk to me, buddy,” Steve pleaded. “We’ve been friends a long time.”

“It’s late. I’ve gotta run.”

“You can’t keep running.”

Jed swore again. He didn’t need this shit. All he’d wanted was to make sure his son was provided for financially, not receive a lecture from his lawyer. “You’re my attorney, not my mother. Get off my goddamn back,” he shouted, then sent the phone sailing across the room where it crashed against the wall and shattered.

*

Jed turned off the trashy excuse for a talk show he hadn’t really been watching for the past forty minutes, wondering what on earth he was going to do to keep himself occupied. He had no clue where Griffen had disappeared to for the day. She wasn’t home and her antique store was closed up tight. A phone call to her father had turned up nothing because the doctor hadn’t been home, either.
 

He was going fucking stir crazy.

School would let out soon for the day. He supposed he could pick Austin up after classes. And do what?
 

Maybe get to know each other.

That thought didn’t spook him half as much as he’d expected. After all, wasn’t that why he was sticking around? To get to know his son? He should spend some time with the kid, without Griffen’s interference. Without her hovering, they might even have a decent conversation. And it was better than hiding out in a cheap motel room wondering what he was going to do with the rest of his life.
 

After driving to the next town to buy himself a new smart phone, he called Steve to apologize for being a prick. He’d also purchased an elaborate gaming system for Austin, he pulled into the visitor parking lot of Hart High School. He killed the engine, and before he could change his mind, the dismissal bell rang. A few moments later, he spied his son’s lanky body and honked. Austin waved and loped toward him, then slipped inside the SUV without so much as a greeting. He chucked his backpack onto the floor board.
 

Jed started the Escalade, but didn’t pull out of the parking lot. “Problems?” he asked, wondering at the cause of Austin’s sullen expression.

The boy slid down until his head rested against the seat. “I got suspended for kicking Vic Krueger’s sorry ass.”

So his kid was a trouble maker. A skill he obviously came by naturally. “What’s your mom gonna say about that?” he asked, seriously doubting this was a common occurrence.

Austin kicked at the backpack. “She’ll probably ground me.”

“I imagine she will. You want me to talk to her?”

Austin sat up and grinned. “You’d do that?”

“Sure.” He didn’t see a problem with telling Griffen the boy had been suspended. “I doubt she’ll go any easier on you though.”

Austin sighed. “Not Mom,” he admitted. “She hates fighting.”

“Most women do,” he said, then pulled out of the parking lot. He drove to the center of town toward Goldie’s. If Austin was going to end up on restriction, the least he could do was soften the blow with junk food. Maybe he’d even tell him what had caused the fight.

Goldie looked over her shoulder at them when they walked into the local diner. Jed waved, but she didn’t wave back, she just kept staring at the two of them over the rim of her bifocals.

Jed led them to a booth while Goldie continued to stare. He knew the resemblance between him and Austin was obvious, but he hadn’t expected an open-mouthed stare from the gruff diner owner.
 

“Are you mad at me because I got suspended?” Austin asked climbing into the booth.

“No.” Jed took his seat opposite Austin. “But I’d like you to tell me about it.”

“No cobbler today,” Goldie said to Jed when she approached their booth. “You want coffee?” She continued to look back and forth between the two of them, as if she couldn’t quite believe what her eyes were telling her.

“Just a couple of banana splits,” Jed said.

“With extra whipped cream,” Austin added.

Goldie lowered her bifocals. “Austin Somerfield, you know your mama don’t like you loading up on sweets before supper.”

The grin Austin flashed at Goldie made Jed chuckle. The old saying about apples and trees sprang to mind.

“Yes, ma’am,” Austin said. “No extra whipped cream.”

Goldie nodded. She gave them both another curious glance before moving on behind the counter.

Jed leaned back into the booth and looked at his son. Austin tapped his spoon on the napkin and wouldn’t look at him. “So what was the fight about?” he asked again.

Austin shrugged. “Nothing. Vic Krueger is a jackass.”

“He probably is, but I think you’re smarter than you showed everyone today.”

Austin’s head snapped up. “How would you know?”

Jed ignored the hostility in his son’s voice. “I’m a pretty good judge of character.” A skill that had kept him from getting screwed over or taken advantage of when he’d started making serious bank playing football.

Austin looked back down at the table and started tapping his spoon on the napkin again. “You don’t know me.”

“Isn’t that what we’re supposed to be doing? Getting to know each other?”

Austin shrugged and continued his tapping. Something was bugging the kid and it went beyond his fight or being suspended. A part of him wished Griffen were there so she could intervene. If anyone knew Austin and his moods, it would be his mother, but he tossed that thought aside. He and Austin needed to forge a relationship.
 

Austin set the spoon aside and looked at him, wariness evident in his eyes. “When are you leaving?”

Jed scrambled to find the right answer. “I don’t know.” How long could he stick it out before the vultures tracked him down? He hadn’t done much to get his shoulder back in shape, but for what? Now that the bulk of his anger had dissipated, he could admit that his options were definitely limited.

“You gonna be here for the tournament this coming weekend?” Austin asked.

“Probably.”

Austin crossed his arms over his chest and lifted his chin. “What about when training camp starts in a few months? How you gonna be around then?”

Jed let out a sigh. “I’m not sure.” Since the day Dani left him, he’d answered to no one but himself. He did what he pleased, when he pleased. And he sure as hell didn’t appreciate being interrogated, even if it was from his own kid.

Austin’s frown deepened. “You don’t know much, do you?”

Jed’s temper spiked, but he fought to keep it under control. Leaning forward, he braced his arms on the table and gave the kid a level stare. “Listen, pal,” he said, keeping his voice low so Goldie couldn’t hear them. “You’ve got a chip on your shoulder. What’s this all about?”

Austin glanced around the diner, then turned back to Jed. “How come you didn’t marry my mom?” he asked.

He didn’t need a clarification as to which mom Austin was referring to—the answer was simple. His birth mother. “She left me. I didn’t know she was pregnant, either. She never told me.”

Austin’s eyes narrowed and the hostility in them set Jed’s teeth on edge. If this was anyone but his own kid, he wouldn’t have hesitated to tell them to fuck off and mind their own business.
 

“Would you have married her if you had known?” There was a brave front to Austin’s voice, a poor attempt at masking the pain beneath the question.
 

“I wanted to marry her even when I didn’t know about you.” But Dani had had other plans.

After a moment, Austin nodded, seemingly satisfied with the answer. There was no telling how much the kid knew about his relationship with Dani. He supposed the answers were in the journal copies he’d burned when Griffen had first come to see him. He should probably ask her about it because chances were pretty good that Austin would have more questions the more time they spent together.

Goldie returned to their table, two banana splits in hand, one overflowing with whipped cream. “You be sure you eat all your supper, or your mama’s gonna be after you.”

Austin grinned at Goldie. “Yes, ma’am.”

The boy dug into the banana split and Jed didn’t bother to question him on the fight since it was obvious Austin wasn’t interested in providing answers. By the time Austin pushed the empty dessert dish aside, their conversation had shifted to sports.

“So what are we gonna to do now?” Austin asked.

Jed dug his wallet out of his hip pocket, then tossed a few bills on the table. “We shouldn’t do anything that’s too much fun or your mom will skin us both alive.” Hopefully that didn’t include the video game unit and games he’d picked up along with his new cell phone.