Foolish Games (An Out of Bounds Novel) Page 10

  “There’s a second set of stairs leading up from the foyer,” Will explained as they came to a large landing. A leather chair and ottoman sat in front of a picture window, comprising a cozy reading nook, complete with baskets of magazines and a cashmere throw blanket. The entire house looked like it had swallowed a Pottery Barn catalog. “The back of the house is the master suite. You and Owen will be up front. The two guest rooms share a bath.”

  Julianne did some quick reconnaissance; if her bearings were correct, the master suite would face the ocean. With luck, her and Owen’s rooms would overlook green terra firma. Will opened the door to the nursery, and Julianne had to bite back a gasp. Not only had Will gotten the crib, but he’d bought every piece of furniture and accessory on the two-page spread she’d given him as a guide. The room looked like it had taken five weeks to put together as opposed to five days.

  “How . . . how did you do this?” Julianne whispered as she laid Owen in the crib, covering him with a flannel blanket one of the nurses in the hospital had made for him.

  Will shrugged his shoulders as if to say, I’m rich, famous, and a good-looking athlete, need I say more? She understood the situation quite well because, up until a few months ago, she was one of those people who kowtowed to that clientele.

  She walked over to the window to draw the shade, relief gripping her as she peered out to see grass and two live oak trees below. Will picked up the monitor and headed through a spacious bathroom into another bedroom. Julianne followed. The room featured a dormer window with another comfortable chair and ottoman. Julianne felt herself relaxing further as she envisioned feeding Owen in the cozy spot each afternoon. If she had to marry a stranger and spend three months living with him, she could do a lot worse. This home was perfect, providing she could avoid the front yard.

  Antiques in complementing warm woods were situated throughout the room. A queen-sized iron bed took up the rest of the space, an eclectic mix of throw pillows making it look comfortable and inviting. Julianne suddenly realized how tired she was. Nap when the baby naps, the nurses had advised her. A perfect idea. Unfortunately, there was two hundred pounds of NFL badass standing between her and forty winks.

  “These are the toys I ordered.” Will pointed to a box near the closet. “They are all rated as the top toys for enhancing an infant’s learning ability.”

  Julianne flopped down backward on the bed. “Oh God! You can’t be serious? Owen is just over a month old and you’re already buying him toys? You have some serious daddy issues.”

  Will nudged her foot with his sneaker as he stepped closer to the bed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You know exactly what it means.” Julianne pushed herself up off the bed; she didn’t like the way her body reacted to him looming over her. “You grew up poor, without a father, in a town that supposedly treated you badly for it. Now you do whatever it takes to flaunt how you’ve made something of yourself, with new cars”—she spread her hands out wide—“this house, and, apparently, whatever Owen needs, whether he wants it or not.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with wanting the best for my son.” Will stepped closer, his eyes hard.

  “No, there isn’t.” Julianne trod carefully. “Owen will love you for who you are. You don’t have to prove anything to him with toys or a fancy nursery. He’s the one person in this world who doesn’t care about your crappy past.”

  “You know what?” Will moved in closer so that only inches separated their bodies now. “You weren’t lying before; you aren’t on drugs. You’re just bat-shit crazy!”

  “Shh!” Julianne pointed to the nursery.

  “Oh no, Princess, you had your turn at psychoanalyzing me, now I get my shot. You gave yourself away when you looked at the window back there. You’ve got a bad case of thalassophobia.”

  “Thala . . . lasso . . . what?”

  “Fear of the ocean!”

  Julianne tried to laugh, but it came out sounding brittle. “Wow, no wonder your head is so big; you’ve got a lot of useless knowledge up there if you can pull that word out. Really, when your football career dries up, you should seriously consider a stint on Jeopardy.”

  “Oh, no. The more I consider this theory, the more it makes sense. You fainted when you looked out front—”

  “I was hungry!”

  “—and you were pretty out of it on Sea Island, where there’s an ocean right outside the hotel. It’s all starting to come together.”

  “You really should consider wearing a helmet when you go out on the football field.”

  Will snarled at her. “Oh yeah, that’s right. You don’t remember that evening on Sea Island.”

  “That part really jacks up your ego, doesn’t it? There’s actually a woman who exists who can’t remember having sex with the great William the Conqueror.” Julianne knew she was taking a risk taunting him, but she’d rather he kiss her than delve into her fears.

  He grabbed her arms and pulled her against his body. “Admit it, you’re afraid of the sea,” he demanded.

  “Save your brute strength for another patient, Dr. Phil, because you’re way off base here.”

  He seemed to be warring with something in his mind, and Julianne suddenly realized how vulnerable she was. “Will,” she breathed.

  Will’s lips moved closer. “Say it, or I’ll make you say it.”

  Julianne tried to pull back. She wasn’t frightened of Will, just scared of where they both might end up if this continued.

  “Don’t.” She shook her head. “Please!”

  “William!”

  Annabeth’s voice cut through the heated air in the room. Will shook himself before quickly releasing Julianne. She took a step back, rubbing her arms as she did so.

  Will’s face was once again unreadable. Annabeth’s, on the other hand, was horrified.

  Julianne needed to get away from these people before she fainted again. Will wasn’t the type to let it go, though, so she decided to just come clean. It wasn’t a state secret, anyway.

  “I’m not afraid of the ocean,” she hissed. “My mother drowned at sea. It makes me uncomfortable to be near one, that’s all. I’m not afraid of anything. Especially not you!”

  She stepped through the bathroom into the nursery, closing and locking the door behind her.

  Eleven

  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, flowin
g, 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 Sop
hie 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.