The Game of Love (16 page)

“Hardy har har.” He led her into the kitchen, where she instantly sobered up. This was it. The moment she’d been…well, dreading.

A woman with bright red hair in a pixie cut stood at one side of the L-shaped kitchen counter, mixing something in a stainless steel bowl with a spoon. She wore dark jeans, a lightweight soft green turtleneck. Her feet were bare.

“Hey, Lily.”

“Hey yourself, stranger.” She turned to give Brett a smacking kiss on the lips. Chris guessed she was in her mid-forties.

Brett reached over and snagged Chris’s forearm, dragging her over to his side. “Lily, this is Christina. She’s the girls’ tennis coach at the high school, teaches math too. Chris, this woman had the misfortune of marrying my oldest brother, Scott.”

Lily smiled with warmth and put out a graceful hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Christina. We’ve heard some, erm, interesting stories.” Her smile was mischievous rather than snide, and Chris took it for the good-natured joke that it was, and liked her instantly for not playing the vague
Oh, I’ve never heard a word about you
game.

Taking her hand, Chris smiled back. “Call me Chris, please. And…if any of those stories came from this guy—” she elbowed Brett in the ribs hard enough to make him suck in a breath, “—don’t believe a word of it.”

“So, you
didn’t
dump your coffee on his lap?” Lily leaned in, clearly dying to hear the truth.

Playing along, Chris leaned in and, in a conspiratorial whisper, said, “Nope. I tossed it in his face…and it was an iced coffee.”

Lily’s laugh sounded like wind chimes, light and silvery. “I love her already, Brett. I’ll introduce her to Emily.” She looked at Chris. “That’s Chance’s wife.”

“Speaking of my brothers, where are they?”

“Down in the basement, last I checked, riding herd on the youngins.” She sighed. “Too many Wallace men in this house.”

“Well, looks like I’m headed down to round out the testosterone gathering.” Brett put his arm around Chris’s waist and tugged her close, giving her a hard, quick kiss before heading toward the door off the kitchen. Opening it, he called down, “Brothers, we’re about to have a Come To Jesus moment over key privileges.” He gave her a quick wink and then walked down and shut the door behind him.

“Well, that was fun.” When Chris turned back to Lily, the woman was grinning widely. “So, you and Brett have been dating for a while?”

“Um, you know, mrfphgarb.” She mumbled the last little bit as she turned to see where to put her jacket, hoping Lily wouldn’t ask again. “I just slept with him last night and that’s why I look like something that crawled out of a Dumpster,” just didn’t seem appropriate. Belatedly, she remembered she’d wanted to keep her jacket on. There wasn’t a bra underneath her thin spandex tank top.

“What was that?” Lily asked.

Danger. Deflection required.
“So how many sons do you have?”

“Two of my own. There are nine grandsons altogether. Ah, and here’s momma to four such boys now.” She nodded toward the stairs that led to the second floor. “Em, come meet Chris.”

Chris turned to watch a dead ringer for Angelina Jolie—lips included—walking down the last few steps. Damn it, did every woman in this place have to be a stunner? It was like she’d walked out of adulthood and back into the squalor of inadequacy known as high school. Gritting her teeth, she held out her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Angelina’s doppelganger stopped in front of her, glanced at the hand extended, then looked to Lily. “Chris, as in, Christina, the tennis coach?”

Lily smiled back. “The same.”

She dropped her hand, not sure what she’d done wrong. But before she could get annoyed with them for talking about her, Em snatched her into a warm hug, squeezing once before letting her go. “It’s so great to meet you. I’m glad Brett finally managed to drag you to one of our brunches. I’m just sorry that my moron of a husband scared you so badly this morning.”

“Oh. It was an accident. No hard feelings. But thank you for having me. I know it was last minute but he—wait. Finally?” How long had they been hearing about her?

“Great move, loose lips.” A hand darted out and smacked Emily’s arm, which she rubbed while scowling. During their hug, a third woman had snuck up on them, this one appearing to be in her mid-thirties, though her features were so cherubic it was hard to tell. Tight blond ringlets rioted against the ponytail they were confined to, and her pink-cheeked face was scrubbed of almost any makeup that Chris could see. “I’m Sarah. Jeremiah’s my guy, the third in line if you’re not already confused.”

“Oh, only marginally. You guys hand out family trees to visitors?” When the women laughed, she went on. “Only child, so this is a bit…overwhelming. But good,” she hastened to add. “Family get-togethers were about as fun as wakes with my family and twice as quiet.”

“Quiet is one thing this family is not,” Lily said as she turned back to the counter to pick up stirring whatever was in the bowl.

“Could I help?” she offered, not sure what else to do.

Before anyone could answer her, a loud crash came from the basement. It was quickly followed by a howl of either pain or rage, then a deep voice rumbling, “Emily!”

She smiled, quick and bright, then touched Chris’s shoulder “We’ll catch up in a minute. I’m being summoned.” Then she was down the stairs. Before she was five seconds out of sight, she called back up, “Sarah? I could use your megaphone, please.”

Megaphone?

Clearly seeing the confusion on her face, Sarah grinned. “Smartass. She means my mouth. I can raise my voice with the best of ’em, and they find it amusing. Well, I’ll be back up for food.” And with that, she, too, disappeared through the door leading downstairs. A muffled, “What’ve you broken this time!” penetrated the oak door.

“Well. Now that things are calm for a minute, could you reach in that cabinet and grab the muffin cups?”

Chris snapped out of her daze at the question, and scurried to the cabinet indicated by the tilt of Lily’s head, searching for a moment before she found what she needed. Since Lily seemed to have the different pastries and batters under control, they developed a rhythm soon. Lily asked for something, Chris searched until she found it. In between errands, they talked. Chris learned about Lily and Scott’s two sons, Trevor and Anthony. Chris shared funny stories from coaching, gave a tip on how to help Trevor remember math equations.

The warmth of the kitchen’s double ovens, combined with the smell of baked goodies and the pleasant conversation, cocooned her in tranquility. After all the breakfast items were in the oven or cooling on racks, she leaned a hip against the counter and continued her conversation, feeling the same level of comfort as she did when she was talking with Katie.

A sound came from the doorway. Turning, she saw someone who could only be Brett’s mother.

Oh, God. What have I gotten myself into?

Brett’s mother came up to about Chris’s shoulder. She wore dark slacks with perfect creases and a chunky sweater, with a floral apron wrapped around her waist. Her auburn hair sat on top of her head in a messy knot. And she was observing Chris with eyes that looked just like Brett’s.

Before she could even contemplate how to introduce herself to the woman whose son she just had amazing sex with the night before, his mother said, “Lily, could you set the table for me, sweetie? Everything’s already stacked in the dining room.”

“Sure, Anna.” After sending an encouraging smile Chris’s way, Lily glided out of the kitchen.

“So. Christina, right?”

She could only nod.

“Brett has mentioned you a time or two.” Anna swept into the kitchen, calm and confident. She checked the ovens and reset timers, floating from one side to the other, speaking all the while. “He’s tried his best to downplay anything where you’re concerned.”

For reasons she didn’t want to think about, that stung a little.

“Oh, I don’t say that to be harsh, dear.” She waved a dish towel as if to wipe the concern from Chris’s face. “In fact, if you’re interested in Brett, that’s an encouragement. The question is, though, are you?”

“Am I what?”
Oh, God. The first words you speak to the woman who gave Brett life, and they couldn’t be more stupid.

Luckily, Anna didn’t mind the stupidity. She smiled. “Are you interested in Brett?”

Tread carefully.
“I enjoy Brett’s company very much.”

Taking out a box of toothpicks, Anna shut the drawer and leaned against it. “Sweetheart, I can see that after all these years, subtlety is still not a talent I possess. My son is a grown man who makes his own choices in regard to his relationships. This is the twenty-first century and I’m not expecting all my prospective daughters-in-law to wear chastity belts. I’m not asking for details of your love life. What I want to know is whether you are using my son simply for his money or if you are hoping for a relationship.”

Chris’s face felt paralyzed, and she was positive the look it froze in wasn’t flattering. How did someone answer that? Truthfully, she guessed. “I want nothing to do with Brett’s money. He can burn it for all I care.”

Anna nodded once, the knot on the top of her head wobbling precariously. “I suppose we’ll see. Now, if you wouldn’t mind, could you scrub down this cooling rack for me?” She pointed to it on the counter.

The fact that her word didn’t seem to be enough struck Chris hard in the gut. And though years of training and upbringing screamed at her to keep her mouth shut, the culmination of twenty-four hours of madness broke down every social rule she knew to be right. She turned on the hot water, squirted some dish soap in the sink and waited for the suds to rise. Idly, she commented, “Brett is in his thirties now, isn’t he?”

“Thirty-four a few months ago.” His mother arranged a plate of muffins, reached up for another plate.

Stop. Now. Leave it alone.

Her mouth wasn’t listening. “Seems to me a man that age doesn’t need his mother fighting his battles for him.”
Oh, God. You did it. You stepped in it, big time.

A dish clattered onto the counter, and she glanced over to see Anna’s brows raised and her mouth open in shock. “Did you just attempt to put me in my place, dear?”

Chris thought about it for a moment. “I guess I just did.”
And now I’ll probably have to walk home. I doubt Brett will give a ride to a woman who insulted his mother.

A charged moment passed, neither spoke. Then Anna tipped her head back and roared with laughter in a gesture so Brett-like it pinched Chris’s heart. Not sure what to do while Anna carried on cackling and hooting, Chris went back to washing the cooling racks.

This has got to be the strangest conversation I’ve ever had.

Finally, the laughter died down, and Anna knuckled away a few tears. “Oh, sweetheart, I was almost positive after I heard about you tossing a drink in my son’s face, but after that, now I’m sure. You are about as perfect for that son of mine as it gets.”

She wasn’t sure she could have been more surprised if Anna had announced that Brett was actually a woman. “What?”

Anna was back to her task of arranging food on platters and chose to ignore the question. “Could you grab the syrup, dear? Third cabinet on the left.”

She was one of them.

The thought froze him to the spot as he watched Chris lounge with his sisters-in-law on the back porch while the nephews and brothers played touch football in the yard, just like every week.

Brunch had been its usual loud affair, lacking grace and most table manners. Chris sat across from him, wedged between Jeremiah and Trevor and looking scared to say the wrong thing. But after his brothers asked her to give them a play-by-play of when she gave him the coffee shower, she loosened up. She handed out memory pointers to a nephew struggling to memorize multiplication tables, told an amusing story about an unnamed student from her job last year and rolled her eyes with a fake shudder when Trevor told her he liked Maria Sharapova the best because she was “hot.”

And he watched as his family took her into the fold. Something they had never done with Lilith.

She gave a token protest when the family inevitably rolled out into the backyard for its weekly football scrimmage, saying she’d imposed on them long enough. Of course, they all protested, the nephews begging her to stay so they could show off their athletic prowess. Pointing out she wasn’t really dressed for the day’s crisp temperature, his mother had produced a few blankets for the womenfolk to huddle under as they cheered and jeered their men.

That’s where she sat, between two sisters, huddled under some ratty plaid blanket with a mug of chocolate in her hands. As she listened to a story Sarah wove, she nodded and smiled along with the others.

He could have stared at her all day, and might have too, if he hadn’t been nailed in the gut with the football. His grunt of surprise started a ripple of laughter from the boys and snorts of knowing humor from his brothers.

The ladies all turned to look, laughing at the scene. Chris, however, raised one saucy eyebrow in silent question. When he gave her a bashful “aww shucks” smile and raised his hands to say, “What can ya do?” she rolled her eyes and shook her head. But before he turned around to face the makeshift gridiron he saw her smile.

Walking back to his motley crew of a team, Scott came up behind and clapped a hand on his shoulder.

“Got it bad, little bro,” he said with good cheer.

Brett knew he was right, but in the spirit of brotherly affection, he couldn’t just admit it. That would be cheating the man code. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Bullshit.”

“Mom! Dad owes a quarter for the swear jar!” Anthony yelled.

“Tattletale.” Scott growled at his youngest son, making a fake lunge at him, which the nine-year-old quickly evaded with a giggle.

“Swears on the field don’t count,” Brett added with a grin, mostly just to goad the situation. Deflection…not just useful in sports.

“Don’t encourage him,” Scott warned.

“Bullshit! Bullshit! Bully bully bullshit!” Anthony sang in a high voice, racing around the yard, leading his cousins on a merry chase, the younger ones joining in on the new song. Before long, young voices filled the air with whatever curse words they could think of, including some inventive ones that sounded suspiciously like they were stolen from a Harry Potter novel.

“Scott Wallace.” Lily’s voice carried over the jumble. “What have you done?”

“Chance, stop them before they get the wrong idea!” Emily added.

“Boys! Knock it off!” Sarah rumbled, with no success.

“Better put a stop to it,” Brett’s mother called out mildly, a smile on her lips. Probably laughing at the payback. After all the years of hell raising the brothers, payback was certainly due.

Before long the yard was full of shrieking, cursing, muddy boys, fathers giving chase, and annoyed mothers who only got in the way. Brett didn’t even bother to hide his delight in his brothers’ problems as he backed out of the danger zone toward the porch, laughing so hard his sides hurt.

A sudden weight jarred him into staggering forward a few steps before realizing it was Chris, clinging to his back like a baby monkey. Her arms wrapped around his neck, her legs clung around his torso, and her chin rested on his shoulder so they were cheek to cheek.

“Do you see what you started?” Her voice sounded raspy, like she’d been outside for too long breathing in the cool air.

He looked out into the yard, seeing a full-on dog-pile of men, women and children wrestling and laughing. Felt the warm, comfortable weight of Chris pressed against his back. And he felt a lightness he hadn’t known in years.

“Yeah. But I like what I started.”

Chris unlocked her front door feeling more energized than she had in months, despite the fact that she’d gotten less than five hours of sleep.

Brett had dropped her off, and after begging him to not walk her to the door—because God only knew how she would resist him if he kissed her on her front porch—she told him she had a million papers to grade and really had to get inside. But she’d see him later.

The thought of later made her shiver, and it was a struggle to repeat the mantra she’d developed during brunch.

I will not make more of this than what it is. Good sex, good company, good times. The buck stops there.

Unfortunately for her, after time spent with a family exactly like what she’d always wanted growing up, her resistance was five shades of pathetic. And instead of remaining firm on the “this is just convenient sex” theory, she found herself imagining the Wallace brunch next week. She had to repeat the mantra—again—and remember that this was her fault to begin with.

The problem was, though it might break her heart to lose the illusion of a future with the Wallace family—Brett included—she just couldn’t regret spending the day with them.

The “million papers” was only a slight exaggeration, so as much as she wanted a bubble bath, she gritted her teeth and resigned herself. She tossed her keys on the entryway table and was about to head upstairs to change clothes when a beeping sound made her double back to the kitchen.

Her cell phone. Battery must be dying. She’d left it on the kitchen table yesterday, thinking she’d only be gone an hour or two, and it was about to bite the big one. She grabbed it and headed upstairs to charge it on her nightstand. Slipping out of her day-old clothes, she hopped in the shower to clean off. Then she threw on a pair of old jeans so worn they were as comfortable as sweatpants and tossed on one of her many hooded sweatshirts. Grading papers was torture enough. Might as well be comfortable.

She glanced at her phone and saw there was a voice mail. Probably Katie calling to check how yesterday’s surprise turned out. She’d return the call later.

She managed to eat a light snack and knock out about half her to-be-graded stack of papers before she surfaced for air and to stretch. Figuring now was as good a time as any for a break, and knowing her cell would be charged by now, she headed back upstairs. But before she could press the button to bring up her voice mail, Katie’s name flashed in the display screen, accompanied by the familiar
Pink Panther
song. She smiled and flipped her phone open, deciding to play the injured party for a minute before admitting she was glad for the trickery.

“You brat. How could you trick me like that?”

“Not now. Have you turned the TV on?” The hint of breathlessness in Katie’s voice stopped her prank cold.

“Katie, what’s wrong? Is it the baby? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. I’m fine. I asked if you’ve had the TV on lately,” she repeated, annoyance clear in her tone.

“Uh, no. Just finished grading some papers. Haven’t had the TV on all day. Why?”

“Turn it on. Now. ESPN.”

ESPN? Chris obediently walked downstairs to do as she was asked. Katie, despite her husband’s job as an athletic director, was not a huge sports fan herself. She could get through a high school football game with no problem, but she was more of a reality show junkie.

Chris clicked the TV on, waited for the screen to pop up, then pressed the channel she wanted. Instead of football or basketball, she was treated to a family sitting down to a dinner, applauding the joys of canned chili.

“Commercial.”

“Just give it a second.”

“No hint? Come on, Katie. Why the hell are you watching ESPN anyway?”

“I wasn’t. Jared was and I heard something from the next room. Something you might wanna see for yourself. So keep your pants on.”

“My pants are on,” Chris grumbled, sitting down on the edge of the coffee table.

“Um, speaking of pants,” Katie started, “did someone get in them last night?”

“Jeez, Katie. Subtle much?”

“Oh please, this is me you’re talking to. You’re not in Sunday school.”

“Yeah, I know. And we’re gonna have a nice chat about you pulling that stunt—” Chris dropped off as she saw the first image flash as the channel came back from commercial, her mind unable to form a complete sentence.

Dax’s NHL team was leaving the ice. Dax’s goalie gear made him easy to spot. The crowd roared and jeered. And then Dax stopped, turned to his left and launched himself over the banister into the crowd. His weight took down a fan and Dax landed a hard right hook. Popcorn flew, women screamed, and there was a flurry of security and teammates pulling him off.

The sound was a buzz in her ears. “What happened?” she croaked out.

“His team’s been on a losing streak, and apparently everyone from the fans to commentators to his own teammates blame Dax for not doing his job. The crowd was heckling him and I guess he snapped. He got a three-game suspension and a hefty fine. I guess the fan isn’t pressing charges.”

Chris stood still and watched the clip replayed over again. Time after time she saw Dax rip off his helmet and fling himself into the crowd.