Playing for Keeps (Texas Scoundrels) (3 page)

She turned on her iPad and made a list of things she needed to do the following day. First would be contacting the realtor in town to list her house. She’d contact an auctioneer and sell off her inventory from the shop which should raise some cash. Just unload it all. A clean break. If she could manage to sell the boat, jet skis and the other off-road toys to a private party, she’d make a lot more money. But time was at issue, almost as much as the cash, and she was short on both.
 

An hour later, she’d added updating her resume to the bottom of the list just as Austin walked into the family room. He stood in front of her desk. From the distressed look on his face, she figured he’d read Dani’s journal.

“Who is he?” he demanded, a catch in his voice.

She set her iPad aside and looked over the Queen Anne desk to her son. His eyes were bright with unshed tears and his hand trembled as he set the letter and journal from Dani on the polished wood in front of her. “It doesn’t matter,” she said, keeping her tone even as she leaned back in her chair. “Your mother loved you. I love you.”

Austin balled his hands into fists at his sides and gave her an angry frown. “Dad didn’t. And neither did my real father.”

What could she say about Ross to ease her son’s pain over the rejection by the only father he’d ever known? Since he’d left, the two-timing bastard hadn’t even bothered to call and talk to Austin. “Your Dad—”

“Is a jerk.” He wiped at the tears sliding down his face.

Her heart broke. She wanted to hold him, to rock him as she had when he was little, to tell him that it didn’t matter. But she sensed he didn’t want her comfort now. He needed to be angry, to face the emotions so he could deal with them and begin to heal.
 

She wrapped her arms around her middle. “That’s not fair.”

“What he did to us wasn’t fair.” Austin dropped onto the sofa and gave her an intense stare, revealing a hardness she’d never seen from him before. “Who is he?”

“He doesn’t know about you. He...” She couldn’t lie to him and tell him the man who fathered him might have a family of his own like she wanted to. Things would be less complicated if she could lead him to believe that contacting his father could hurt others, but she couldn’t do it. Instead, she opted for a fragment of the truth and hoped it was enough to satisfy him.
 

“It was your mother’s choice and I think we should respect her decision.”

“You know and you won’t tell me.” He didn’t question, he accused, and that hurt. She wanted to protect him, but she couldn’t deny the truth. The best she could hope for was convincing him the identity of his father held little importance. “What good will it do if you know?”

He shrugged. “I have a right to know who my own father is.”

She crossed the room to sit beside him on the sofa. Almost afraid that he’d pull away from her, she reached for his hands. They were strong, even for a boy so young, but she squeezed them between her own anyway. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“How will knowing who my father is hurt me?” he asked, his voice a hoarse whisper as he fought back more tears.

He didn’t know what he was asking. He didn’t understand that his knowing the truth scared the life out of her. “Austin, leave it alone. Please.”
 

He jerked away and stood. “No.” He stepped around the square table and stopped in the center of the large family room. “Who is he?” he demanded. “Do you know him? Have you met him?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Tell me. Please, Mom.”

“Austin, I can’t do that.”

He glared at her, and she felt his anger as if it were a tangible thing. Gone was the sweet boy she loved. He’d been replaced by a young man who could end up hating her if she didn’t make the right decision.

“You can. You just won’t,” he said. “I’m not a baby.”

She stood and came to stand in front of him, taking hold of his shoulders. “And you’re not all grown up yet, either. I don’t think—”

He shrugged away from her. “You don’t want to tell me cuz you’re afraid I’ll want to leave you and go with him.”

She sucked in a sharp breath at his accusation, at the direct hit to her heart. He was only thirteen. How could he know losing him was her greatest fear? What if Maitland wasn’t really the creep the press made him out to be, but the gentle caring man her sister had loved? What if he wanted to take Austin away from her? She had adoption papers, she had a birth certificate that said “father unknown,” but she also had a letter from her sister that told her the truth. And she had a son who could hate her if she kept that truth from him.

Austin took a tentative step toward her. “I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean it.”

She held up a hand to stop him. “No, you’re right. That is something that I’m afraid of. But that’s not why I don’t want to tell you.”

“Then why?”

“He’s not a very nice person.”

“But you said you don’t know him.”

“I know
of
him.”

Confusion filled his dark eyes. “I don’t understand.”
 

She pushed a lock of thick, dark hair off his forehead and kissed his cheek. “I love you, Austin. Very much.”

“I know, Mom. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, honey.” They’d been through so much together. They would weather this dust storm, as well. She hoped.

She took his hand and led him upstairs, stopping outside his bedroom door. “You really want to know who he is?”

He was quiet for a moment, as if weighing the consequences to the knowledge she was so reluctant to impart. “Yeah, I want to know.”

She opened the door and stepped inside. A twin bed he’d just about outgrown was covered with a black and red Texas Wranglers comforter, school books and a sweatshirt were scattered over the top. On the wall above his bookcase was a poster of Jed Maitland in full gear, arm drawn back, ready to send the ball sailing across the field into the hands of a waiting receiver. The caption read
Maitland the Maniac, Four Thousand Yards to Glory
. Resting atop the bookcase was a series of framed sports magazine covers. Austin’s prized Jed Maitland collection.
 

“Look around you, Austin.”

His dark brows pulled together in a frown as he glanced around his room. “I don’t get it.”

She drew in a deep breath, then lifted one of the frames from the bookcase and handed it to him. “
This
is your father.”

Austin stared at the
Sports Illustrated
cover. Disbelief danced across his features, chased by awe as he traced his finger over the protective glass.

“No way,” he said. “Jed Maitland is
my
dad?”

“I’m afraid so.” She moved to the bed, dodging his basketball uniform and a pair of grungy sneakers with dirty socks sticking out of the tops. She sat, not certain her legs would hold her much longer.

“Wow,” he whispered. Excitement mingled with the wonder in voice. “I want to meet him.”

Dread and panic filled her. “Uh-uh.” She shook her head. “Not going to happen, Slick.”

“Mom, I have to meet him.” He looked back down at the picture in his hands. “Jed Maitland is
so
cool.”

She came up off the bed and took the frame from him and set it back on the pine bookcase. “He’s
not
cool, Austin. The public image may be, but in reality the man is a jerk.”

“That’s just stuff his publicity people make up. He’s epic, Mom.”

Yeah, he was epic, all right. An epic screw-up. Fast cars and even faster women flocking around him, anxious for any scrap of attention the hot shot jock would pay them. There was the paternity suit, which he’d settled out of court. And the time he’d been in an accident, wrapping his Ferrari around a telephone pole. He’d been charged with driving while intoxicated. A concussion had been the cover up, and miraculously, the charges were dropped amid a flurry of press coverage.
 

No. Jed Maitland was
not
the type of man she wanted influencing her son.
 

“He doesn’t even know you exist,” she said, trying to remain calm. All she wanted to do was rant and rave, especially if it would keep Austin away from his natural father.

Austin shrugged and grinned. That killer
Maitland
grin. Her heart nearly stopped.
 

“So. We’ll tell him.”

She gaped at her son. “No,
we
won’t.” She’d had enough of this conversation and headed for the door. “I wouldn’t even know how to get in touch with him.”

Hoping that was the end of the discussion, she left the room. She needed tea. Something soothing, something to take away the fear and the panic. How could Austin even ask such a thing?

Easy. His father was a hero, a legend. Of course he’d want to meet him.

Screw tea. She needed vodka.

“I do,” Austin said from behind her.

She stopped and gripped the railing. Slowly, she turned. “You do, what?”
 

“I know how to get in touch with him,” Austin clarified, then ran back to his room.
 

She couldn’t move. Her feet wouldn’t carry her another inch. Slowly, she sank down until she was sitting on the top step. Austin’s wanting to meet his father was one thing, but it was another matter altogether if he actually knew how to find him. How could she plead ignorance? How could she tell him it was simply too difficult for her to talk to the man, to tell him that she had adopted his son? An adoption Maitland could easily contest considering he'd never been informed he even had a son, let alone one who was given up for adoption without his consent.

A wave of defeat washed over her as she stared down the carpeted stairs to the imported marble-tiled entry. She mentally outlined the design, trying not to think. Crossing her arms, she settled them on top of her knees, then rested her chin on her forearms. Defeat. She’d been doing nothing but admitting defeat all day and she was tired. Tired of fighting, tired of losing, and too worn out emotionally to deal with this latest turn of events. How could she compete with the hero worship of a man who wasn’t even worthy of the adoration?

She tilted her head as Austin rushed toward her, a dog-eared sports magazine in his hands. He skidded to a stop and plopped down beside her on the top step, shoving the magazine in front of her. “He has a spread out at Possum Kingdom Lake. They did this article on him with pictures and everything.”
 

To emphasize his point, he tapped the picture of Maitland leaning nonchalantly against the railing on the deck of a monstrous home. The heather-gray
Property of Ole Miss Athletic Department
t-shirt he wore emphasized a finely tuned body she couldn’t help but admire. The faded, ripped at the knee jeans hugging muscular thighs didn’t hurt, either. Wind tousled dark hair and a killer smile softened his rough, angular features making him look almost boyishly innocent.
 

She knew better. There wasn’t an innocent bone in Maitland’s deliciously hot body.

“He’s got this really awesome gym and everything in his basement. Nice, huh?”
 

The word “no” hovered on her lips, but she bit it back and instead took the magazine from Austin.
The Making of a Legend
. What would a legend want with a thirteen-year-old boy with stars in his eyes? “Do you realize what you’re asking?”

“Yeah.” He flashed her that smile again. “And I still want to meet him.”

Griffen could just picture
that
meeting. Maitland would threaten to have them arrested for trespassing, toss them off his property, probably with the business end of a shotgun. Austin would be crushed.
 

She couldn’t do it. Somehow she had to make him realize this would lead to nothing but heartache for him.
 

“It’s not a good idea. Think about it, Slick. He doesn’t even know about you. Do you know what kind of shock this would be to him? To any man?”

“But if he knew...” He shrugged.

If he knew he’d probably tell her to call his lawyer and get in line.
 

“What if you tell him first?” he asked, hopeful.

“Me?”

“Yeah. You tell him and then when I see him it won’t be such a shock. He’ll be...” He hesitated, then snapped his fingers. “Forewarned.”

She couldn’t answer him. Hell, she couldn’t look at him, so she kept her gaze on the imported tiles below, instead of the hope in her son’s eyes.

He slipped his arm around her shoulders. “Please, Mom.”
 

Oh God. “Let me think about it,” she finally said. “I won’t make you any promises, but I will think about it.”

“Yes.” He kissed her cheek, then wrapped both arms around her, nearly squeezing the life from her. “You could go Saturday when I’m fishing with Jim and Mr. Packard.”

She headed down the stairs. “I’ll think about it,” she warned, but Austin had already disappeared into his room.
 

“That’s all I’ll be thinking about.” That, and the heartbreak her son would suffer when Maitland told her to get lost.
 

Three