A Player for Christmas: Book 4 The Last Play Series

by Hart, Taylor

  Her attempt at humor relaxed him.

  “How is the ankle?” she asked.

  He stood next to her and waited in line. “Fine.”

  Narrowing her eyes, she gave him a doubtful look. “Would you say it was fine even if it wasn’t?”

  He had to think about it. “Yes.”

  “Really?” She handed her boarding pass over, and a flight attendant scanned it.

  “Really.” He handed his boarding pass over and then walked with her down the little tunnel to the plane.

  “Seems like sometimes you professional athletes push yourselves to the point of no return when you shouldn’t.”

  Irritation wove into the lower part of his gut, but he quickly dismissed it. People didn’t understand what he went through for his training. “Hmm.”

  They found their seats quickly. Brooks took her bag and stowed it before putting his own away. Once they had finally settled into their seats, Ana turned to him. “So, you’re playing on Christmas.”

  A surge of adrenaline passed through him. “You better believe it. Sam Dumont pretty much guaranteed it, too.”

  Understanding dawned on her face. “Oh, that’s how he got you to take Callie out.”

  He nodded. “Yep.”

  “Hmm.” Ana leaned back into her seat and crossed her arms. “But Sam Dumont isn’t making you take me to California. That was your idea?”

  Her question caught him off guard. “Yeah.”

  “Why?”

  He decided to tell her the truth. “I don’t know. I—” As he tried explaining it, emotion warred inside his chest. He looked away from her, unable to believe that he felt his eyes getting watery.

  She wouldn’t let him off the hook. “What, Brooks?”

  He turned back to her. “Callie is … different. She’s not … She looks at me like … like …”

  “A hero?”

  A low laugh came out of him. “Your words, not mine.”

  After considering that for a few minutes, Ana nodded. “You like being a hero.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “That’s why you’re doing this?”

  His thoughts were whirling as he tried to pin down the exact way he felt about it. He stuttered out a breath. “Hey, I definitely don’t suffer from ‘hero syndrome,’ okay? You can ask my PR people. Brooks Stone has never suffered from wanting to help others too much.”

  Ana didn’t speak.

  The directions from the flight attendant scrambled Brooks’s thoughts for a second, but they still ended up focusing on the woman seated next to him.

  He was attracted to her, but it was a different kind of attraction. She was a great mother, everything he’d wanted growing up: responsible, caring, willing to give anything for her daughter. Plus, she’d suffered. A jerk husband, a daughter with cancer ... those were things missing from the women who hung out at football parties. Those women felt entitled. They expected things, expected to be treated like prima donnas. He’d never liked them.

  After the plane took off, he watched Ana. Her head was back on the seat, and her eyes were closed. He saw the resemblance to Callie in the shape of her mouth. He imagined that if Callie had the chance to grow up, she would be as beautiful as her mother. Not in a flashy way, no ... more of a girl-next-door kind of way.

  “Why are you watching me?”

  He jumped. “I’m not.”

  “Are too.”

  He laughed; she sounded like a kid. “Am not.”

  Opening her eyes, the side of her lip turned up.

  “What?”

  “Well,” she said, her look pointed, “your PR people have done a pretty good job this past year.”

  This was not the response he’d anticipated. “You think?”

  “Making you out to be mysterious. Slightly broody.”

  “They would say they want me less broody.”

  “I think broody works for you.”

  “Do you?” He nodded, flagging down a stewardess who seemed like she’d been waiting for him to notice her.

  The stewardess was by his side in four quick steps. “Yes, Mr. Stone?”

  He didn’t look at her right away. Instead, he asked Ana, “Do you want something?”

  “Water.”

  Putting two fingers up, he still didn’t look at the flight attendant. “Two waters, please.”

  The flight attendant quickly nodded. “Right away.” She scurried off.

  Shaking her head, Ana gave him a disbelieving look.

  “What?” he asked, confused.

  “You don’t even notice when people want your attention, do you?”

  Checking around, his gaze stopped on the flight attendant, who had already come back to them. Holding out the waters, she smiled, pleased he was looking at her. “Here you go.”

  * * *

  Glancing between Ana and the flight attendant, Brooks took the waters with a forced smile on his lips. “Thanks.”

  She didn’t move.

  Annoyance flashed across his face, and he looked back to her. “Is there something you need?”

  “N-no. I just want you to know I’m here if you need me.”

  He seemed embarrassed. “Thanks.”

  She left.

  Ana actually found herself liking him more. “You’re just being yourself, aren’t you? The press doesn’t portray you as anything you’re not.”

  “Thanks, I guess.” He gave a slight nod and handed Ana a water. He opened his, guzzled it, and then turned back to her. “How would you portray me if I was your client?”

  Relaxing, she leaned back. This was a good topic. This was where she knew her stuff. “Your team has done a good job. I just think they’ve tried too hard to put out stuff that excuses you from being part of the team.”

  “I’ve refused them.”

  “I know, and you’ve gotten a pass because of everything this past year, but if you want to be the guy the ball gets thrown to every time, you’ve got to change your attitude, Stone.”

  The expression on his face didn’t change, but his lip turned up. “Oh, yeah? And what attitude should I have?”

  “I’ve watched you, and don’t get me wrong, you get the job done. But you need to be more likeable.” She knew she wasn’t saying this right, but she couldn’t stop herself now that she’d begun analyzing him. “You give off this like … like …”

  “Get out of my way while I take this ball to the house.” He flashed a smile. “That’s the vibe I’m trying to give off.”

  “Yes, but haven’t you heard you can get a lot further in life if you bring others with you? If your team trusts you, they’ll make sure you get the ball.” She shook her head. “You’re not a team player.”

  His anger boiled. “Your advice is that I need to babysit others to get the ball? That doesn’t even make sense.”

  “No, no, no. In interviews, when you’re standing with the team, I can see it. In your nonverbal cues, you show absolutely no interest in them. It’s palpable in the way you act toward them.”

  He continued to shake his head. “I won’t fake what I don’t feel.” He lifted an eyebrow at her. “I’m not close to my team.”

  “Then pretend you are.”

  An unexpected laugh came out of him. “You can’t spin everything.”

  “You can try.”

  He shook his head. “Whatever.”

  Not understanding why she cared so much, she tried to let it go. But she couldn’t. She shook her finger at him. “That’s the first rule I tell my clients. If you want to take your business to the next level, take your team to the next level.”

  His jaw tightened. “I’m done with this conversation.”

  Slightly offended that he’d shut her down so forcefully, she tried to focus on something else. She picked up the magazine.

  Neither of them spoke for several minutes.

  Her mind raced. All she could do was think about all her unanswered questions. Usually this entailed all the big ones that concerned Callie: why
her? Why me? Why was her mother gone? Why was Ken such an idiot?

  But at the moment, she had different questions. Honestly, it was kind of nice to have different questions. So she decided to ask them. “What happened when your wife died?”

  His jaw flexed.

  “Never mind.” Seriously, what was she doing asking Brooks Stone such personal questions? She didn’t care.

  She could tell he was forcibly trying to relax. He took in a long breath and waved his hand. “Isn’t death enough?”

  His statement stung.

  “I didn’t … I wasn’t …” He trailed off, looking out of sorts.

  Turning to him, she studied him. She knew he hadn’t been implying anything about Callie; death talk was just too close to home at the moment. She tried to refocus, turning on her PR mind.

  The part that was trained as a PR expert found everything about him screamed the opposite of what had been portrayed in the media. Could it be that Callie’s obsession had skewed her? She had spent far too many hours watching his interviews, looking at his Twitter footage. It’d been something she’d consented to do with Callie: stalk him. It helped that he was a bad PR example. It was the only way she’d been able to endure the hours of Callie talking about him. She’d used him as an example of what not to do in her mind. It was obviously getting under her skin.

  She shook her head. “Sorry, I overstepped. It’s … Callie has just been so obsessed with you. I guess I’ve watched way too many things about you, and they don’t seem to add up.” She remembered thinking that he seemed sad, but it was more than that. He was angry, had been for a long time.

  “It’s fine.” He dismissed her. “But if we’re giving each other advice, you need to eat more.”

  Blindsided by the turn in the conversation, she felt instantly attacked. “What?”

  He focused on the magazine he’d pulled from the seat in front of him. “You heard me. You need to eat more.”

  Most women would have taken it as a compliment. The flight attendant walking past every few minutes surely would have. But the icy tone in his voice made it clear that his comment was far from flattering.

  She let it be, choosing to just lie back in the seat and close her eyes. She reminded herself that they weren’t friends. They weren’t … anything.

  Chapter 11

  Brooks pulled out his credit card to check into their hotel. The rest of the plane ride and the cab ride had been littered with stilted conversation. For some reason, he felt bad about that. Which was ludicrous. Whatever. Why should he feel bad? Ana had overstepped. He didn’t need or want her advice.

  “I don’t think we should stay here,” she whispered to him.

  Confused, he turned to her. “Why?”

  Her worried eyes were focused on a large, crystal chandelier hanging above the main desk. It matched the even bigger one in the center of the lobby and the flock of smaller ones throughout. “It’s—”

  “What, it’s not good enough for you?” he asked gruffly.

  Glaring at him, she bit off the words. “I can’t afford it.” She turned away from him. “I’ll stay somewhere else. We can meet up later.”

  “You’re being stubborn.”

  “Stubborn?” She stopped.

  “And asinine. I have plenty of money.”

  She shook her head. “Don’t throw your money in my face.”

  He threw his hands up. “You’re just being irritating.”

  Fury filled her eyes.

  He jerked his thumb back. “It goes without saying that I’m paying on this trip.”

  She turned back. “Not for me.” Then she took off again.

  Without thinking, he grabbed her shoulder. “Wait.”

  Stopping, she looked at his hand. He pulled it back, mentally berating himself. He should have thought about how she wouldn’t like him paying for everything. How hard it would be for her.

  Both of them stood facing each other, eyes narrowed.

  He shifted back. “What was that little speech you gave me back there, ‘lift up your team’? We’re a team to find Callie’s dad, so let me do this.” He sighed. “Please.”

  She exhaled and bit her lip, looking away from him. “Fine.”

  Feeling like he’d won a sparring match, he couldn’t help but grin. “Okay, then.” He moved back to the front desk.

  “Sir, we welcome you to Bonte Vista. How can I be of service?” the attendant asked.

  Ana’s whisper barely reached Brooks’s ear. “But I don’t need a fancy suite. Just get me a regular room.”

  Handing his card to the attendant, Brooks ignored Ana. “I need to check in—”

  Before he could say his name, recognition lit the attendant’s face. “Mr. Stone.” He smiled nervously. “Right.” He moved for a door next to the desk. “Let me get my manager. He wanted to be notified when you got here.”

  “But …” Brooks didn’t get to argue. The attendant was already gone.

  Ana cleared her throat. Looking exasperated, she shook her head. “Maybe you should wear a hat or something.”

  Unwillingly, he laughed.

  “I’ll wait over there.” She nodded to the center of the lobby.

  He watched as she approached the largest chandelier, wide and extravagant and hanging low. She slowly reached up on her tiptoes and tried to touch it, but it was just out of her reach. Then she walked to the huge Christmas tree filled with blue and silver ornaments, and a slow grin crossed her face.

  Seeing her smile made him smile. Unable to tear his eyes from her, he thought about how good she looked. Really good, despite the fact that she was too thin. He didn’t blame her for it. He could only imagine the stress she’d been under the past couple of months. After his wife had died, he had felt sick. He’d easily dropped fifteen pounds, and his trainer had been on him about it. He’d had to force himself to eat. To put weight back on. To train. Honestly, it’d been his lifeline.

  But he didn’t have a Callie.

  Something unfamiliar tugged inside of him. He wondered what it would feel like to have someone like Callie. A daughter. He grinned, thinking of the way she’d snorted when she’d laughed at dinner the night before. Thinking of the way she’d smeared chocolate pudding on him and then giggled made him grin even more.

  “Sir.”

  Spinning back to the counter, Brooks saw a large man with a bald head and a mustache.

  “Mr. Stone, we’re honored to have you stay with us. We wanted to upgrade you to the suites on the top floor.” His eyes flicked past him to Ana. “For you and your friend.”

  “She’s not …” He watched as she retraced her steps. “It’s not like that.”

  “Well, we’d still like to upgrade you and encourage you stay with us in the future.”

  He nodded. “You haven’t told anyone, have you?” He really didn’t need to deal with the press on this trip.

  The mustached man scrunched up his face. “We were hoping to …”

  He shook his head. “I’ll give you a photo op on the last day if you keep it quiet until then.” He negotiated, knowing that was the only power he really had over this.

  The mustached man was smart. “I’ll take it.”

  After they settled into the upgraded rooms, Ana knocked on his door. When he opened it, she was tapping her foot anxiously. “What time are we meeting with this private investigator?”

  She looked ticked off, but he recognized it for what it really was now—vulnerability. “Four.”

  Hesitating, she asked, “Can we go search a spot I wanted to check out?”

  “Only if we can get lunch first.”

  “Are you going to give me a lecture about eating?”

  “Maybe.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Fine, we’ll get something on the way.”

  Chapter 12

  Reluctantly, Ana took another bite of the cheese burrito that Brooks had insisted on buying for her at the drive-through. After another bite, she noticed that she actually was a bit hungry. Food
had been a luxury as of late. It wasn’t that she didn’t have enough; food just wasn’t appealing. Not when she was watching Callie practically wasting away in front of her.

  “Is it good?” Brooks asked, swallowing the last bite of the burrito he’d inhaled.

  Even though the hotel was on the beach, this part of the beach was public. It wasn’t as nice, but plenty of people visited even though it was December.

  “It is. Thank you.” She watched for the signs to the beach. Signs from that last time she and Callie had flown out to Santa Monica for a week so Callie could see Ken. Callie had only been six then, and Ken had wanted to play pretend father. His board shop had been doing well then. He’d also been clean and sober for over a year. “Wait. Can you pull over here?”

  The cab driver pulled the car over, and she saw the shop. It was abandoned, and half of the sign above it had been ripped down.

  “What are you looking for?”

  Knowing she had to tell him didn’t make it any easier. “Callie doesn’t know her father is an addict.”

  Silence. Brooks crumpled up his burrito wrapper. “Okay.”

  She swiveled to look at him. She knew it was stupid, but she felt embarrassed. It hurt her pride that she’d been so fooled by Ken all those years ago.

  “Say what you gotta say.” Brooks met her gaze and seemed to be holding his breath.

  Not wanting to go into everything yet, she sighed and wadded up her wrapper. “Let’s get out here.”

  After Brooks paid the cab driver, she hated how stupid she felt that he was paying for everything. She had to stay angry about it because she didn’t want him to think he could sweep her off of her feet. Not that he was trying. She shook her head, trying to get those thoughts out of her mind.

  Brooks stayed next to her, and she led him across the bike path and the patch of park before coming to the beach. She headed for the little board shop, hoping that somehow Ken would be here. Somehow, through what Callie would say was God’s help, he would just be here.

  But he wasn’t.

  Brooks moved around the shop with her. “Talk to me, Ana.”

  Ana turned away from the pathetic board shop and looked at the beach. The sun was getting lower in the sky, and even though it was December and the beach wasn’t as crowded as the last time she’d been here, it was beautiful. The sky was orange, pink, and deep blue, and felt like it would go on forever.