The All-Star Antes Up (Wager of Hearts #2) (30 page)

Chapter 28

As the elevator glided upward toward his penthouse, Luke’s cell phone pinged with a text message from Gavin Miller.

You’re an idiot.

Luke slammed his boot into the wall, making the elevator sway slightly. The man was like a wasp.

He slid his phone back into his pocket without answering the text. The elevator doors slid open, and he started down the hall toward his bedroom. He needed a shower, and he needed to stop thinking about Miranda.

“Hey, bro.” Trevor’s voice halted him in his tracks.

Luke muttered a curse under his breath. He rerouted his footsteps into the living room.

Trevor stood in front of the couch, his hands hanging by his sides. He was wearing what Luke thought of as his teaching uniform: a tweed jacket, a white shirt with a funky tie, and jeans. A bottle of water and a half-eaten sandwich sat on the coffee table in front of him.

“I got hungry waiting,” Trevor said. He scanned Luke. “You look like you’ve been in a barn.”

“Nailed it.”

His brother’s expression turned skeptical.

“What do you want, Trevor?”

The other man flinched before he sucked in a breath, his shoulders rising on the inhale. “I came to apologize.”

“This isn’t a good time.” Luke had enough to deal with. He didn’t need more whining self-justification from his brother.

Trevor hesitated a moment. “What’s going on, Luke?”

“I need a shower.”

“Fine. I’ll say my piece and get out of your hair.” Trevor’s hands curled into fists. “I got a job as an adjunct professor on the tenure track at Skidmore.”

Luke frowned, racking his memory. “Skidmore. No one from there called me.”

“I didn’t use your name as a reference.” Trevor lifted his chin. “One of my visiting profs from Harvard ended up there. I reached out to her when I saw the job listing. The final interview was today.”

“That’s real good news, Trev. Congratulations.”

“Jodie’s flying out to look at houses tomorrow.” Trevor dropped his gaze. “I don’t know what the hell I was thinking when I called the concierge the other night. Thank God she wouldn’t accommodate my request.” He met Luke’s eyes. “I know how lucky I am to have Jodie.”

Envy hit Luke like a helmet to the chest. “I’m glad you two straightened things out.”

“What you said to me that night . . . it shook me up. I didn’t want to take responsibility for my failure, so I shifted the blame to you.” Trevor shrugged. “I guess I figured your shoulders were strong enough to carry it.”

Luke sat down and waved toward the sofa behind Trevor.

“I couldn’t believe you threw me out. Cursed you with every foul word I could think of,” Trevor said, seating himself on the edge of the cushion. “Then I woke up the next morning and realized I’d lost my brother.” He looked Luke in the eye. “And that was about the worst feeling I’ve ever had.”

Luke sat back as he absorbed Trevor’s about-face. It was like the spreading warmth of a shot of great tequila. “Hardest thing I ever did.”

“I’ve had my head up my ass for too long.” Trevor stared down at the hands he had clasped on his thighs. “You don’t have to forgive me. I just wanted to tell you that I heard you.”

“It’s not about forgiving. That’s done.” Luke wanted to make sure his brother understood. “It’s about owning your actions. That’s the only way to move forward.”

Trevor raised his head. “I’m headed in the right direction now. I want to include you in the journey.”

“You got it, Trev. I’m with you all the way.” He stood and walked over to his brother with his hand held out. Trevor took his hand and rose to pull him into a brief, hard hug.

As they stepped apart, Trevor grinned. “Man, you even
smell
like a barn. So you weren’t busting my chops. What the hell were you doing?”

“It’s a long story.” The screwed-up mess he’d made crashed into him again.

“I’ve got all night.”

For a split second, Luke was tempted to spill his guts, the way he had years ago when they were close and his brother was the one person he could trust to keep his secrets. But the feelings were too raw, and he’d gotten used to keeping things to himself. “I appreciate it, but about all I have the energy for is a shower and bed.” He gripped Trevor’s shoulder. “You’re welcome to stay here tonight.”

“Thanks, but I’ve got a hotel room already booked.” Trevor’s smile turned wry. “No more mooching off my older brother.”

“It’s not mooching if you’re welcome.”

Trevor gave him a level look. “I know you mean it about staying here, but I need to stand on my own two feet.”

“I hear you.” Luke walked him to the elevator. As the door slid open and his brother stepped in, he said, “Give my love to Jodie. And come back soon.”

He stood, listening to the hum of the elevator as it descended. He wanted to shout at Trevor to come back so he could celebrate the fact that he had a brother again. But Trevor had called the play this time, and Luke couldn’t argue with it.

He pivoted to the photograph of the two cowboys walking side by side. Maybe it did remind him of himself and his brother. Miranda had thought so.

And Miranda had made his reconciliation with his brother possible. She was the one who had told him to push past the guilt to honesty. Her support had given him the courage to tell Trevor the truth about how he felt.

Regret and longing clawed at him as he remembered how her face had lit up when she’d walked into the farmhouse’s kitchen. She hadn’t looked at any of the other people crowding the room, just him. He felt like he’d been sacked in the end zone.

And he’d shut her down. Killed the light because he was afraid of how she made him feel.

He shook his head to stop the pain that pulsed through it. He needed to find a way to get Miranda her job back. Somehow Orin had to go while the rest of the staff kept their jobs. And Luke couldn’t be involved, so he needed a front man. He searched his memory and came up with a client name Miranda had mentioned . . . Anglethorpe. He’d enlist them to lead the campaign. Once he got that taken care of, he could focus on football. Be the Iceman again.

He strode out to the terrace, hoping the razor-sharp wind would blow Miranda out of his mind. The Statue of Liberty stretched her arm upward tirelessly, and the distant lights of the Verrazano Bridge winked like the jewels of a necklace against dark, liquid velvet.

The spectacular view couldn’t stop him from remembering how beautiful Miranda had looked in her jeans and rubber boots, her hair wisping around her face. The smudges of fatigue under her eyes had made him want to scoop her up in his arms and carry her to a bed.

Except if he’d gotten anywhere near a bed with her, he’d have climbed in and made love to her. He’d barely been able to stop himself from ripping the coveralls off her in the cheese cave, with his teammates—and even worse, Gavin Miller—just outside the door.

Once she got her job back, he would run into her every now and then, hear her satin-smooth voice, watch her lips curve into a smile. Maybe even see her with another man, the one she deserved.

His fingers clenched on the stone parapet so hard that tiny bits of grit embedded themselves in his skin.

“I’m an idiot,” he muttered, echoing Miller’s text. If he saw another man touch Miranda, he’d horse-collar the guy and break every bone in the hand that had dared to touch her.

Miranda had told him to be honest with his brother. Now he needed to be honest with himself. As he stared down at the corded tendons of his hands, the truth unfolded in his heart like a perfectly executed play-action pass on the field.

He’d felt the pull of something down deep when Trevor declared how lucky he was to have Jodie. Luke had understood his brother, but he hadn’t known why. Now he did.

You
could
fall in love with someone in only ten days.

He threw back his head and shouted into the wind, “I love her!”

It felt so good, he did it again, the words whirling away on the currents of frigid air. Yet he felt only warmth soaking through him. Every muscle in his body seemed to relax and stretch and bask in the relief of knowing this was right.

But yelling it alone on his penthouse terrace wasn’t enough by a long shot. He owed Miranda the world’s best apology. She deserved to see him grovel, after how he’d treated her.

She might just tell him to go to hell.

He frowned as the wind yanked at his hair. He’d thrown her love back in her face. Maybe she was done with him.

Once again he clamped his hands down on the parapet.

He needed to come up with something really good. Something that would prove to her he was committed 100 percent. As an idea formed, he started to smile.

Sometimes fame could come in handy.

Chapter 29

On Friday morning, Miranda’s cell phone started a mad vibrating dance on the barn shelf where she’d left it while cleaning the teat cups. She raced over to check the caller ID and discovered it was Erik, her concierge friend. He must have heard she’d left the Pinnacle. She went back to cleaning the milking equipment when the phone rattled again. This time it was Boyce Schmidt, the Pinnacle’s manager. Probably some kind of exit interview. Her hands were soapy and the water was running, so she went back to work. When the phone buzzed for the third time, she rinsed her hands and turned off the water. This time the missed call was from her office mate, Sofia Nunez.

What the heck was going on at the Pinnacle?

Erik usually had the best gossip grapevine, so she called him back first.

“Miranda, sweetie, why didn’t you tell me about sleazoid Spindle?” he asked.

“You mean that he fired me?” Miranda plunked down on a hay bale. “It’s not the kind of thing I wanted to shout from the rooftops.”

There was a fraught silence. “You mean I get to deliver the news?” Erik said, his voice throbbing with excitement. “Your scumbag boss has gotten the sack.”

“What!” Luke wouldn’t have done this after what she’d told him, would he? Although he always warned her that she underestimated his ruthlessness.

“Not only that.” Erik’s words tumbled out at high speed. “He got sacked for firing you.”

It was sounding more and more like Luke had had something to do with Orin’s departure. But she couldn’t believe that he would jeopardize all the other concierges’ jobs.

“
And
they offered all the people who worked for your scurvy boss the opportunity to stay on at the Pinnacle. Sebastian got promoted to head concierge.”

“Sebastian will be great.” Relief surged through Miranda. No one had lost their job except the one man who deserved it. How had Luke engineered the coup? “How did you hear all this? Never mind.”

“Exactly, sweetie. I protect my sources,” Erik said. “You need to get on the phone to Sebastian right now. He’ll hire you back in a millisecond. And, Miranda, karma’s my kind of bitch.”

Miranda thanked Erik and disconnected. She needed to return Boyce Schmidt’s call first. She hit the number and waited, hope bubbling up in her throat like the fizz of champagne.

“Miranda, thanks for getting back to me.” The building manager’s lightly accented voice boomed through the phone. “I hope you haven’t found another position already, because all of us at the Pinnacle would like to have you back here.”

Her brain was having a hard time processing the sudden turnaround, so she hesitated.

Boyce jumped into the silence. “And we’d like to offer you a raise.”

“A raise?” She’d be able to make the next payment on the loan for Dennis, no problem.

“You have quite the supporters in the Anglethorpes.” Boyce’s voice held a humorously rueful tone. “They insist that you are worth your weight in gold. However, we can’t pay you quite that much.”

Miranda chuckled politely when she wanted to scream with joy. “I’m very grateful to you and to them.” The Anglethorpes had done this?

“And you will be reporting to Sebastian Wyndham, our new head concierge. Orin Spindle has left our employ.” Boyce’s voice was tense with distaste. “We are sorry for any distress he may have caused you.”

“No apology necessary. I’m happy to return to the Pinnacle. It’s a pleasure to work there.”

“Excellent. Please take whatever family time you need, and let Sebastian know when you wish to return. We’re delighted to have you with us.”

Miranda put down the phone in a daze. The Anglethorpes had swooped down like guardian angels and set her world right. Almost.

Orin’s firing would have been enough to make her happy, but getting rehired—with a raise—was beyond amazing.

She couldn’t celebrate with Patty and Dennis because they had no idea she’d lost her job. Instead, she leaped off the hay bale and did a crazed victory dance in front of a few startled cows.

Cheers erupted from the family room as Miranda took the bag of popcorn out of the microwave oven and dumped it in a wooden bowl. She’d volunteered for snack duty to get away from the concerned glances Patty and Dennis kept sliding toward her when they thought she wasn’t looking. Patty must have told Dennis about her broken-off relationship with Luke.

She also needed to take a break from the Sunday afternoon football game in which, according to her brother, Luke was moving better than he had before his injury.

“He’s playing like the old days, like he’s enjoying it. He must have needed the week’s rest,” Dennis said before Patty glared at him and he threw Miranda an apologetic look.

Theo had gone back to school on Thursday, the hired hand had returned to work on Saturday, and Dennis had helped with today’s early milking. So Miranda was headed back to New York tomorrow morning to restart her job on the evening shift. Sebastian had been thrilled to hear she was returning, and she’d written the Anglethorpes a heartfelt letter of thanks.

However, even her good fortune on the work front couldn’t dull the pain of Luke’s rejection. She still suspected he’d been involved in Orin’s disgrace in some way, but she would never know for sure.

This was supposed to be her time to relax and unwind, but she’d forgotten about her family’s devotion to the Empire. She couldn’t ruin their pleasure by refusing to watch the game. They might feel guilty enough to turn it off.

After Luke and his all-star crew left on Tuesday, Patty had turned to Miranda and said, “Well, I was sure wrong. You weren’t just entertainment for him.”

Miranda had shaken her head. “He came up to make it clear that our relationship is over. He milked the cows so he wouldn’t feel too guilty about it.”

“He didn’t look at you like it was over.”

He hadn’t kissed her like it was over, either. But then he’d pushed her away and into the arms of an imaginary lover, even when she’d made a fool of herself and told him she loved him. She swallowed to clear the clot of desolation that was stuck in her throat. “Honestly, I don’t know why he went to all that trouble. All I can tell you is that he was very definite about ending it. So I really don’t want to discuss it anymore.”

“I understand, honey. Topic closed.” And Patty had kept her promise.

Miranda puttered in the kitchen, refolding the dish towel, refilling the napkin holder, and wiping up a scattering of crumbs from some earlier sandwich making. Then she just stared out the window as the aroma of fresh popcorn wafted by her nostrils. She should take it into the family room before it got cold, but she was having a hard time not watching for the blue jersey with the number nine on it. And when she saw it, despair would fill her up like cold tears.

“Miranda! Get in here! Quick!” Dennis and Patty’s voices mingled, their urgency unmistakable.

Abandoning the popcorn bowl, Miranda bolted for the family room, sure that Luke had been injured in some horrible way.

She skidded to a stop, her gaze skittering from the broad grins on her family’s faces to the television screen.

Luke’s face was front and center, surrounded by a forest of microphones with colorful network logos on them. His damp hair was slicked back from his face, and his pads made his shoulders look so broad he could carry the world on them.

“Thanks for helping me out,” he said with a nod to the offscreen reporters surrounding him. “Miranda Tate, I hope someone has fetched you so you’re watching this broadcast by now.” He paused, his face solemn. “Sugar, I’ve made some bad calls in my life, but walking away from you was the worst fumble ever. Maybe I don’t deserve it, but I’m asking you to forgive me and give me a chance to make it up to you.”

A bleak shadow darkened his eyes. “But I’ll understand if you can’t see your way to doing that.” He nodded again. “That’s all.”

There was a cacophony of questions with Miranda’s name repeating throughout them, but Luke reiterated his thanks and vanished into the dressing room, where the reporters weren’t allowed at halftime.

Miranda stood staring at the screen. She felt as though she’d been picked up, turned upside down, shaken, and then set back on her feet by a large, blond quarterback. Her head spun, and her heart felt as though it would pound itself right out of her chest.

“You record all the games, right?” she said to Dennis. “Play that again.”

She listened to the incredible, unbelievable words, but she also caught the tension in his jaw and the uncertainty in his eyes. Was it because he thought she wouldn’t respond, or because he wasn’t sure he should say this?

But Patty was whooping and hugging her. “I knew it!” Her sister-in-law pulled away, still holding Miranda’s shoulders. “We have to get you there. Dennis, you stay here with Theo while I drive Miranda to the stadium.”

“Are you kidding me?” Dennis jumped up from the couch. “Theo and I are coming, too. I want to see my little sis looking happy again.”

“Wait, we don’t have tickets,” Miranda said. “So we can’t even get into the stadium. I can’t call Luke during the game.”

“Why not? He was willing to go on national TV to ask you to forgive him. Leave a message. Someone will answer it.” Patty did a little jig before heading for the hallway where the coats hung.

“Didn’t that PR lady give you her cell-phone number?” Dennis asked, taking her by the elbow and towing her toward the front door. “Call her from the car. We don’t have time to mess around here.”

Theo trotted along behind them. “Is Aunt Miranda going to kiss Luke Archer?”

“I sure hope so,” Patty said.

“Ew! Football players shouldn’t kiss people.” Theo shrugged into the jacket his mother held out as they all trundled out the door.

Once in the Subaru, Dennis tuned the radio to the game. The Empire were winning seventeen to seven. Miranda sat in the back alongside Theo, feeling little sparkles of delight every time the announcer said Luke’s name.

“He’s relentless,” Dennis said as the Empire collected first down after first down in their drive toward the goal line.

“Touchdown, Empire!” the announcer shouted.

Patty turned to grin at Miranda. “He’s working off the pressure of waiting to find out what you’ll say. I predict the Empire win this game big.”

Her family took it up as a mantra. When Luke connected on a long pass, Dennis cheered, “He threw that one for Miranda.”

When he ran the ball, Patty gave her teasing look. “He was imagining it was you at the forty-yard line.”

Even Theo joined in. When the Empire scored again, her nephew shrugged his skinny shoulders. “I guess he scored that touchdown for Aunt Miranda.”

Laughter bubbled up in her throat and spilled out with each absurd claim. Beneath her happiness, she knew there were no guarantees that she and Luke could find a way to make things work between them. Despite sharing a building, there was a vast gulf between the world-class athlete and the assistant concierge.

She shoved those thoughts away, refusing to let anything cast a shadow on this moment of pure elation.

By some miracle they hit very little traffic, and soon Dennis was following the instructions Heather had given Miranda when she called. “I hoped you’d get in touch with me,” the young PR representative had said. “This is the most romantic thing I’ve ever seen.”

She’d done her job well, because all Miranda had to do was flash her driver’s license at the various security guards and they were directed into VIP parking, ushered through the players’ entrance, and escorted to a private lounge outfitted with a giant flat-screen television and big cushy chairs and sofas.

Heather joined them there, her face beaming with excitement. She threw her arms around Miranda. “The press has inundated our office with inquiries about you. Everyone wants to know about the mystery woman who got Luke Archer to apologize on national television.”

Nerves took Miranda by the throat. She’d been so focused on getting to Luke that she’d forgotten about the difficulties of dating a celebrity, especially one who claimed you in front of millions. “I—what did you tell them?”

“Nothing,” Heather said. “It’s not our policy to comment on our players’ personal lives. This time it was easy, since we didn’t know anything about you.”

“Touchdown!” Dennis leaped up from the sofa where he and Theo had settled. “That makes the score thirty-seven to thirteen. I call that a rout.”

Miranda and Heather turned toward the screen as the Empire kicked the extra point and the clock ran out. Luke headed off the field, unsnapping his helmet as he walked. A blonde reporter in high heels raced out to meet him, but he kept going, disappearing into the swirl of players congratulating one another on the win.

She ignored the chatter of the commentators dissecting the game until she heard her name. “So we have to wonder if Archer’s rejuvenated play is the result of a week’s rest, or the influence of the mystery woman, Miranda Tate. Or maybe both.”

Miranda buried her face in her hands with a groan.

“Don’t mind them,” Heather said. “They don’t really want to talk about anything but football, so they’ll get back to the game stats soon. It’s just a concession to the ratings, which went through the roof after Mr. Archer’s speech.” The young woman looked at Miranda. “I guess you know that he’s never talked to the press at halftime before.”