The Good Groom

by Taylor Hart

  She hesitated. “After my father passed, I … well, I just couldn’t stay in Dallas. As you know, I had a boyfriend at the time. Paul Hawk.” She said his last name with emphasis. “Paul convinced me to go to California with him. He and his band had an opportunity to lay down an album, so I went.”

  Paul Hawk. Dax committed the name to memory; he’d google the guy when they got back to Jorge’s.

  “After things ended with Paul,” she said, a sad look washing over her face, “it … I met Jorge.”

  He leaned forward, eager to know all about this woman. “Okay. How?”

  She sighed.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” She let out a light laugh. “I mean we’re not doing this, right? Like being vulnerable with each other?”

  “Look, we’re talking. I’m just asking how you met Jorge.”

  She let out a long breath. “Jorge found me crying at Oceanside Beach.”

  His pulse rate kicked up a notch. “Why were you crying?”

  “I’d been in California for three months. At first, it was great. Paul and I got an apartment, and I would go watch him and the band lay down tracks. The band was energized because this was their big break.” She glanced at him. “I was trying not to deal with my father’s passing.”

  He nodded, knowing exactly how she felt. “You needed a distraction.”

  “I guess. I knew Paul might be cheating on me. I knew it, but I ignored it until I caught him at our apartment with—” She threw her hand up. “—whoever it was.”

  Dax’s mouth fell open.

  “Dang it.” She turned away from him, but not before he noticed a tear on her cheek. “I hate crying.”

  He wanted to reach out to her, to comfort her, but he didn’t know how.

  “Some therapist I am, right? Jorge kind of saved me.” She turned back to him, sheepish. “I was standing on the pier next to Ruby’s Diner. I was just beside myself, not knowing what to do. I felt lost. I didn’t want to go back to Dallas.”

  “He told you about the project, and you came.”

  “That pretty much sums it up.”

  A light bulb flickered on in his head. “That’s why you thought this would be a good place to bring me.”

  “Yes. Dax, I know that Jon Kincaid wanted me to ‘help you.’” She put air quotes around the words. “The truth is, I don’t even know if I can do that anymore.”

  He didn’t like to hear her doubt her abilities. “What? Be a therapist?”

  She nodded. “I couldn’t even help myself. I couldn’t even see that …”

  “That Paul was a loser,” he said, filling in for her.

  “Yep. I couldn’t even go back to Dallas and admit I had made a stupid choice because of my pride.”

  “So the whole reason, the only reason you went back to Dallas—the whole reason you agreed to do this thing with me, the whole reason you bowed down to Mr. Kincaid—wasn’t just because you wanted your trust money. You want the trust money for this project.”

  She blinked and nodded.

  He let out a disbelieving breath. His ex-fiancée, Sarah, would never have given the money to a charity. “I don’t think I’ve ever dated a woman like you.” The words were out before he realized what he’d said.

  “Dating?”

  “Not that we’re dating. Because we’re not. Clearly.” What was wrong with him?

  “Clearly.” She glanced at him, then turned back to face the ocean.

  The moment stretched out, and he scrambled for words. “Go on and finish. I can bill you for my time later.”

  She sputtered out a laugh and threw her hands into the air. “Right. Man, when did I become the patient?”

  He laughed too, liking what they had going on between them.

  “I’m still mad at myself for putting up with Paul.” She shrugged. “I let him talk me into going to California with him and paying for first and last month’s rent. I paid a couple of grand for his album, too.” She looked at her hands. “Would you believe on the day I was leaving, he told me he’d gotten all the use out of me he could and I could go?”

  Something had shifted had shifted during this conversation. He saw Sky so differently now. She wasn’t a stupid therapist trying to “fix” him so she could get the money. He winced, wishing Paul was here—the guy deserved a fist to the face.

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” he said quickly.

  She laughed. “I’ve seen that look on Kade and Anthony’s face many times. You want to punch the guy for me, don’t you?”

  “Oh yeah. Do you …” He wasn’t sure how much to ask. “Did you have brothers?”

  “Just Kade and Anthony.”

  He nodded. “Tell me about your dad.”

  Sky’s expression evaporated. “My dad was everything to me.” She lifted her other hand to her necklace. “He gave me this. It has a picture of my mom. I didn’t ever get to meet her.”

  The center of his chest pricked with sadness. “I’m sorry.”

  “My dad took me everywhere. That’s part of the reason I’m so close to the Kincaids—work was mixed with home life all the time. I spent countless time around the football stadium.”

  “Thus, your ‘no dating football players’ rule.”

  “Yup.” She sighed. “I miss him so much.”

  They both sat there for a few moments.

  “I don’t think I’ve forgive him, ya know.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “For leaving me.” Her voice sounded small.

  Without thinking about it, he took her hand. “I’m sorry.”

  “Thanks.” She shook her head. “I guess that’s probably why I’m still spinning from Paul.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Dang, as a therapist, I make myself crazy assessing myself.”

  “I imagine you would.”

  “Maybe everyone I love leaves me. My mom. My dad. Paul.” She ticked them off on her fingers.

  “No.” He squeezed her hand. “No. Let me point out, Paul was not a football player.”

  She let out a light laugh. “No, he wasn’t.”

  The attraction that was always between them ratcheted. The side of his lip tugged up. “I like the vulnerable you. It makes me think that maybe you’re as pathetic as I am.”

  She yanked her hand back. “Man, quarterback, you are good with the compliments.”

  “Sorry. That didn’t come out right.”

  As the moon shone down on her and her face lit up with laughter, he realized she was truly beautiful. And he liked her as a person. A lot.

  The moment hung suspended in time. After a while, she lightly pushed him in the shoulder. “Thanks for listening.”

  He nodded, feeling like he was under a spell.

  “You know, as a therapist, we are supposed to tell people that vulnerability is a good thing. That having vulnerability helps you connect to people. But I don’t think I like it.”

  He grunted. “I don’t like it either.”

  “I can’t believe I slapped you the other night, but you just made me so … so …”

  He lay back on his board. “I have that effect on people. Ask my brothers.”

  She smiled. “Tell me about them.”

  He put his hand beneath his head, turning onto his side. “What do you want to know?” This felt different from someone just asking about his brothers for an article or because he was famous. She actually wanted to know him better.

  “Whatever you want to tell me. Or we can just enjoy the view.” She rolled onto her back.

  He lay back too and stared up at the sky, unable to recall the last time he’d simply stared at the stars and enjoyed a night.

  “Were you close to your dad?” she asked.

  Of course she’d ask that. “Yes.” The emotion hit him in the center of the chest. He felt like he couldn’t breathe for a second, but then he recovered.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s fine.” He glanced at her, and she was
looking at him. “I’ve learned that grief just kinda hits sometimes.”

  “Yeah.”

  He liked that she knew exactly what he was talking about. “Dad was definitely the kind of dad that should have been on a television show. He was a big personality, loved having five boys. Called us the Brady Five.”

  “Like the Jackson Five.” She chuckled.

  “Yeah.” Emotion clogged his throat, halting his voice. “Loved my mom something fierce. I think the only time he got upset with us was if we disrespected my mother.”

  “He raised four pro athletes and a country music star. That’s pretty cool.”

  “Yeah. My dad taught us that hard work paid off, and he taught us to stick together when times were tough.”

  She smiled. “Did Ty feel bad he wasn’t an athlete like the rest of you?”

  Dax sat up, putting his hands behind him. “Ty always knew he wanted to sing. Man, that kid wouldn’t stop. He would follow us around saying, ‘C’mon, like Michael Jackson and his family. Let’s sing.’” His dad had been proud of Ty.

  She let out a light laugh. “I actually saw a YouTube video of you guys singing together last night.”

  “No.” His mouth fell open.

  She grinned. “I think Ziggy posted it in preparation for the fundraiser.”

  All of his energy drained out of him. He turned back to the ocean.

  “Are you okay?”

  He didn’t know how to talk about that. It wasn’t explainable, but he liked this woman. Whether he should or not. Heck, he wasn’t sure trusting her wasn’t a mistake. He wasn’t sure about most things these days.

  “You and Ziggy don’t get along, right?”

  He hesitated, then admitted, “I caught Sarah and Ziggy kissing the night before the wedding.”

  Her face turned to concern. “That sucks.”

  They sat in silence for a moment. He sighed. “It does suck. Ziggy vehemently denied that he had kissed her. He said she was throwing herself at him, and now, a year later, I think he might have been telling the truth. But I didn’t want to believe Sarah would cheat on me.”

  She looked at him with understanding and compassion.

  “Say something.”

  “What do you want me to say?”

  “Say that I had a right to be angry. Say that I had a right to alienate my twin brother for this past year.”

  Without missing a beat, she asked, “Is that what you want me to say?”

  He pointed at her. “You’re doing it.”

  “What?”

  “Your therapy thing.”

  She scowled. “No, I’m not.”

  Frustration coursed through him. “I fought with Sarah all night. At every turn, she brought up the fact that I had told her one time I thought Ziggy was jealous of me. She used that, saying Ziggy had told her he was the better brother.” His voice broke, and he cursed.

  Still, she didn’t say anything, just sat quietly.

  “I was going to go through with the wedding, but I just had that feeling, ya know?”

  A small smile played at her lips. “The feeling that you’re not sure if you need to vomit or pass out?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Yep.”

  He felt like they were connecting. “I called it off and went fishing instead.”

  “The infamous fishing trip.”

  “Yup.”

  They stared at each other, sharing the moment.

  He cocked an eyebrow at her. “I see your therapist mind working.”

  “No.”

  “Liar.”

  She sighed. “Okay, I was actually thinking that I didn’t know you and Ziggy were at odds. And I’ve kind of been stalking you.” She pointed at him. “Only because I needed to find out stuff about you.”

  He grunted. “We keep family business tight. My mom and dad taught us that a long time ago.”

  “So all your other brothers will be at that Masquerade Ball?”

  “Yep.”

  “Not you?”

  He shook his head. “I have a fishing trip.”

  “Right.” She adopted a detached curiosity as if she were his therapist. “Do you really think he initiated the kiss with Sarah?”

  “I’ve asked myself that question a million times. I feel like I’m so close to it, I don’t know what the truth is.”

  “Pride.”

  “What?” This caught him by surprise.

  “Your pride doesn’t want to let you admit you might have been wrong.” She shrugged. “My pride wouldn’t let me go back to Dallas when I first suspected Paul was cheating on me.”

  Anger surged within him. “He flat out stole this girl I liked in high school. He was a real jerk about it too.”

  “Still pride,” she asserted.

  Dax’s anger cooled to bitter annoyance. Never mind—maybe he didn’t feel a connection with this woman.

  She held her hands up in the air. “I promise I’m not trying to be rude. I just know because I’ve been there.”

  He grunted and watched the ocean waves. “Sure.”

  They sat there, staring at the ocean. For a long time, they didn’t speak. He didn’t want this night to end this way.

  “Tell me about Boston and Ocean.”

  Dax wasn’t sure he wanted to tell her, but something about this woman coaxed the words from him. “We are all tight. Boston has a major chip on his shoulder, but he tells it like it is. Ocean is a media prima donna, but he’s always telling us to get over ourselves.” Once again, he got stuck on Ziggy, but he pushed those thoughts away.

  “You miss Ziggy.”

  He sighed. “I guess I do. Being twins, for most of my life it felt like we could read each other’s thoughts. The past year … it’s been different.”

  “Then go to Denver. Be there at the Masquerade Ball. Be there for your brothers and your mom.”

  He coughed nervously. “You sound like them.”

  Her face held sympathy. “That’s tough.”

  “Anyway.” He snorted, hating that he couldn’t stop talking. “They all think I’m being a ridiculous, and I guess maybe I am.” His phone buzzed, and he tugged it out of the bag he’d put it in while surfing. “My mom just texted me a Bible verse.”

  “Which one?” she asked.

  He cocked an eyebrow at her. “I wouldn’t think you would care about Bible verses.”

  She looked offended. “Hey, I have issues, but my father read the Bible to me every night after prayers.”

  He found this confession interesting. “First Corinthians, thirteen eight,” he said.

  After a quick intake of breath, she turned to him, her eyes wild.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She stared at him, locking him in the kind of Wild West standoff he’d watched countless times with his father growing up. “Charity never faileth.”

  Goose bumps rippled over his skin. “How did you know?”

  “I …” She blinked and turned away. “That verse was the last thing my father said to me before he passed.”

  Stunned, he didn’t know what to say.

  She stood. “I think I’d like to go back now.”

  Chapter 10

  The next day, Dax put laser-like focus on the construction project. For six hours, it took all of his willpower to ignore what was happening between him and Sky.

  Even though everything had felt different last night, he’d reminded himself he had a lot going on. He needed to get his head straight and secure his spot as number one quarterback, and he needed to figure out how to help Ty without going to that stupid Masquerade Ball. Dax tried to focus and pounded another nail into the board. Unfortunately, all he could think about was sitting on that beach with Sky and the sad look on her face when she’d confessed her dad’s last words.

  His heart raced. His mother had texted him that, right before he’d gone to hang out with Sky. How could that be a coincidence?

  “Dax!” Ron called from down on the lower floor of the house they were building.r />
  “Yeah.”

  “I need ya to go next door and see what the lady who lives there needs. I have to explain something to these kids.”

  Marissa gave Dax a little wave and flashed him a somewhat seductive smile. “Or Dax could come explain it to us.”

  “Knock it off, Marissa.” Her brother, Steve, glowered at her.

  Dax turned away, smiling. “Good job, Steve,” he whispered to himself.

  The door to the house was open. An old Puerto Rican woman sat in a wheelchair, beckoning him to come closer, and he jumped off the roof and went to her.

  She spoke rapidly in Spanish and then motioned behind her.

  He’d seen the woman talking with Ron earlier. Ron spoke some Spanish, but Dax didn’t.

  It was at moments like this that Dax wished he knew a foreign language. “I’m sorry. No habla español.”

  She waved her hand from side to side and shook her head. “No, no, you come.” She pressed a button, and her wheelchair backed up. “You come.”

  Uncertain, but figuring the woman looked frail and needed help, he entered the house.

  She continued to back up, stopping at a table in the small kitchen. “You drink.”

  He was still confused. “What?”

  She pointed to cups and a pitcher filled with juice. “You drink. You take. It hot.” She put her hand to her head. “You take. They drink.”

  He was touched that this woman, who lived in near poverty as far as he could tell, cared so much about them as they worked on the other house. He hesitated.

  “You drink,” she insisted.

  He filled up a paper cup and gulped the juice down. It was delicious—cold and a bit sour, with a lime flavor.

  “Drink more,” said the lady.

  He smiled and took a little more.

  “Good. You take.” She gestured to the door. “To those.”

  He did what he was ordered to. Taking the pitcher and the cups and going out to the volunteers, he announced that the kind woman wanted them all to have some juice.

  Marissa, Heidi, Steve, and Shane rushed over, each taking a cup, and Dax poured some juice for everyone.

  Heidi grinned at him. “You’re so kind,” she said a bit dramatically.

  “Not me,” Dax corrected her. “The nice lady.”