Angel paled at the mention of her parents. Gracie flinched at the tears popping into her niece’s eyes before she ducked her head once more. Wanting nothing more than to race over the wide plank floor and wipe the starkness from Angel’s eyes, Gracie remained where she was. Enough was enough. They had to find a way to live together civilly.
“Angel?” She prompted softly.
“I’m sorry,” Angel muttered without looking up. She pretended to color, though the crayon in her hand never touched the page.
Gracie cleared her throat. “If you don’t mind, Jake, the girls need baths before they go to bed.”
Beside a watchful Jake, Charlie’s lips puckered in a stubborn pout. “But we didn’t have our snack yet.”
“Okay, you can go downstairs, but don’t be too long. Fifteen minutes, tops.”
“How many Spongebobs is fifteen minutes?”
Jake’s brow wrinkled comically, and Gracie squelched a smile. He had a lot to learn, including the intricacies of a six year old’s time clock. “Fifteen minutes is half of one SpongeBob.”
Charlie nodded and bolted from the chair to race toward the door.
“Maybe Jake wants a snack,” Gracie called after her.
Charlie’s sneakers squeaked on the hardwood when she skidded to a stop and spun around. “Do you want a snack, Jake?”
Gracie lifted a brow at him, hoping he’d take the hint and give her some time with Angel, who pretended to ignore them all.
He closed the book and stood. “What kind of snack?”
Charlie fiddled with the hem of her sweatshirt. She shot a glance at Angel and a worried crease marred her brow. Her nose wrinkled in distaste. “Miss Mary likes us to have fruit, but Angel and I prefer ice cream.”
He cleared his throat. From the way his lips twitched, he was fighting a smile. “I prefer ice cream, too. It’s my favorite.” He winked. “Especially when you add a few chocolate chip cookies.”
Charlie beamed a smile and rushed forward to grab his hand. She blinked up at Gracie. “Can Angel have a snack, too?”
“I’ll see to Angel. You go on and have yours.”
“She didn’t mean to be bad.”
Gracie’s heart squeezed at the worry in her eyes. She ruffled her hair. “I know she didn’t.”
Charlie nodded. Satisfied her twin would be okay, she tugged at Jake’s hand.
Regret flickered in the glance he sent in Angel’s direction, and butterflies fluttered in Gracie’s stomach. He might claim to know nothing about little girls, but he wasn’t a complete novice at understanding human nature. Or maybe feminine nature was what he understood. He let Charlie lead him from the room. Murphy bounded from the bed to trot after them.
Their footfalls quieted as they descended the stairs. Sighing, Gracie crossed the room and eased down to lie next to Angel. The crayon suddenly skidded across the page of her coloring book, leaving a streak of blue behind.
Gracie bumped Angel’s shoulder with hers. “So, you mad at me?”
Inky curls danced when Angel shook her head.
“But you are mad at Jake?”
Tiny shoulders shrugged and, though she kept her face averted, there was no hiding the teardrop splashing onto the page. Gracie’s eyes stung. She wrapped an arm around Angel’s shoulders and tucked her tight.
Crayon abandoned, Angel turned and burrowed closer, darting her skinny arms around Gracie’s neck. She held on as if her world were spinning out of control. Her small body jerked once, twice, and the dam broke. Wrenching sobs wracked her tiny frame, reminding Gracie of the days and weeks after she lost her own mother.
Sarah had been there to soothe the worst of her fears, all those years ago. Life had come full circle. Losing her own battle with tears, Gracie tightened her arms around her sister’s daughter and held on.
Angel’s storm raged for long minutes, her small body bucking in time to her pitiful sobs. When she eventually quieted to an occasional hiccup, Gracie pulled back to brush the damp curls from her cheeks.
Crystal blue orbs, still shiny with tears, met Gracie’s watchful gaze. “I’m sorry I was mean to him.”
“I know you are, baby.”
Silence stretched out. “Miss Mary says people won’t like you if you’re mean.”
“Miss Mary is right.”
Bright white baby teeth worried at Angel’s lower lip. “Do you think he’ll like me now, even though I was mean?”
“Well,” she pretended to consider the question. “I don’t know Jake well, but he seems excited to be here.”
Angel nodded in hopeful agreement.
“Maybe if you apologized again? For real, this time. If he knows you mean it…”
Angel seemed to consider the possibility and her brow furrowed on a slight frown. “He likes Charlie better.”
She fought back a smile. “Because Charlie talks to him. You’ve been awfully quiet since he got here, don’t you think? He’s your brother, Angel. Give him a chance. Once he gets to know you, he’ll like you as much as your sister.”
Angel dropped her gaze and picked at a thread on the quilt. “My belly hurts when he talks.”
“Oh, baby, why?”
“He sounds like Daddy.”
Oh. Well, crap. The cadence of Jake’s speech was similar to her brother-in-law’s and, to a six-year-old’s ears, Jake’s Texas twang would resemble the southern accent Pete carried from childhood.
She brushed at the fringe of Angel’s dark bangs. “He does sound like your daddy, doesn’t he?”
Angel twirled the thread around her fingertip before glancing up. “Mommy died, and Daddy did, too. What if you die?”
“Oh, baby.” She pushed up on her forearms to stare into Angel’s tortured eyes. “I’m not going to die.”
Fresh tears popped, magnifying Angel’s crystal blue irises. Gracie hugged her close and rolled her eyes heavenward. How did one ease the fears of a child who’d already known too much loss? She rubbed a soothing hand up and down her back.
“Did you know my mother died when I was a little girl?”
Angel pulled away slightly to stare at her. “Really?”
“Really. I was fourteen. Not as young as you and Charlie, but still young. I had no daddy either. Only Sarah. We had each other. Your mommy took care of me.”
Desperate curiosity flooded Angel’s eyes as she blinked owlishly. “She did?”
“Yes, she did. When Momma died, Sarah made me a promise. She said she’d always be there to take care of me, and she was. She kept me safe, even though she was barely more than a girl herself, and I’ll be here to make sure you and Charlie are safe.”
“You promise?”
Gracie nodded.
Baby teeth flashed in Angel’s trusting smile. “Pinky promise?”
Laughter bubbled up from her chest, and she held out her pinky finger. Angel scrambled to sit. Though her nose was red and her eyes puffy from crying, relief brightened her eyes as she linked fingers with Gracie. “Do you think Charlie and Jake ate all the ice cream?”
“I don’t know.” Gracie cocked her head. “You know how Charlie loves ice cream, and Jake is awfully big.”
Angel nodded solemnly and proved she hadn’t missed a detail at dinner, despite her seeming disinterest. “He ate four pieces of chicken and two piles of mashed potatoes. He can eat a lot, and he said ice cream is his favorite, too.”
“Then we’d better get down there before it’s gone.”
Angel jackknifed off the bed, sprinting for the door. “Last one to the kitchen is a rotten egg.”
Chapter 12
Gracie tapped at her keyboard. Greeting the minions, she smiled at their universal acceptance of Jake’s apology. If nothing else, their blog battle was something she no longer had to worry about. That left plenty of other troubles to gnaw on, however. Like the continued interest from the press and how she was going to survive the rest of the custody stipulation time frame with Jake
underfoot.
Beyond his professional football connections threatening to expose her parental secret, there was his reputation with women to consider. She shouldn’t be surprised by his flirtatious behavior. After all, the man was photographed with a different woman every week, but his flirting had to stop or she was doomed. Jake Malone slaughtered her willpower.
She didn’t know a lot of men. Other than Max, she couldn’t think of anyone she could try and pass off as a boyfriend, except maybe Stan. Not a chance in hell. Of course, she could always claim she was gay, but considering the way she’d kissed Jake back, he wouldn’t buy it. No. He was a pro. A competitor. Offense was the best defense against his kind. Some hard and fast ground rules were necessary and she’d need to make them crystal clear. Anything even remotely resembling flirting would be out of bounds, and there could be absolutely no more kissing!
Confident she had a plan, of sorts, if not of her ability to get him to follow it, she put the finishing touches on tomorrow’s Gridiron Girl blog with her predictions for this week’s match-ups. She jumped when the grandfather clock in the hall bonged the half hour then chuckled at her jumpiness, until the tiny hairs on her arms stood on end. Swallowing and stifling a shiver, she could swear the air actually shifted.
She looked up. Sure enough, Jake stood framed by the archway to the foyer. A tattered T-shirt hugged his broad shoulders and chest and faded jeans rode low on his hips. She dropped her gaze to her laptop, trying to slow her accelerating heartbeat as he crossed the room.
He slumped onto the couch beside her, propping his large bare feet on the coffee table then jerked his chin at her laptop. “Am I interrupting?”
“Ah, no.” She backed out of several open windows. “I was…finishing up a few things.”
“Feeding the football chicks?” His eyes sparkled with humor.
She lifted her chin. “Those chicks are intelligent women who happen to enjoy discussing football.”
He grinned. “Among other things.”
Instant heat flared on her cheeks. Discussions about certain players occasionally slid toward suggestive on her blog. Okay, raunchy, but the minions were true fans who loved the game. Figures Jake would narrow in on the ladies’ more personal observations. Unable to mount a solid defense, she flattened her lips in a reproachful line.
He chuckled. “They do seem to understand the sport. For the most part, anyway. As do you.”
She blinked at the unexpected compliment and the heat of her blush deepened. She cleared her throat. “Thank you.”
He grunted and cast a glance toward the foyer and the stairs. “Are they asleep?”
“They were out before I reached the end of the first chapter.”
He dropped his head against the back of the couch and rolled his neck to meet her gaze. “SpongeBob?”
Some of her tension eased with her grin. “SpongeBob is the oracle of six year old understanding. You’ll catch on in time.”
He shoved the fingers of both hands through his overlong hair, still damp from a recent shower. Uneasy with the idea of assisting at bath time, once they’d finished their snacks, Jake had wished the girls good night and escaped to the master suite, leaving the chore to her. She hadn’t expected to see him again tonight, but since he was here…No time like the present to lay out those rules.
He sighed. “Thanks for earlier. I don’t know what you said to Angel, but it made a difference. Though, I don’t think I’m completely off the hook yet.”
She couldn’t help but agree. Upon arriving in the kitchen, Angel had offered him a stilted apology and, although she didn’t attempt to join the conversation over bowls of ice cream and cookies, at least she quit scowling at him. That was, until he accidently dropped several spoons as he carried them to the sink. Whatever ground Gracie had gained him with Angel was lost with his colorful curse.
At Angel’s insistence, a used pickle jar now sat in a prominent position on the counter, doing duty as Jake’s swear jar.
She grinned. “I tried to warn you about your language.”
“You didn’t tell me the consequences would be financial. Twenty bucks!” He snorted. “Those two are miniature extortionists. Doug Costa could use them in the league’s front office.”
Oh, shit. Dangerous subject. She covered the tightening of her muscles with a stiff smile and shoved the conversation away from the pro football. “She’s scared and confused. Despite evidence to the contrary, she’s not usually such a brat.”
“I figured as much.” He sighed. “If she’s half as nervous as I am, it’s a wonder she spoke to me at all.”
Surprised at the admission, she turned on the couch, tucking one leg under the other. “I wouldn’t think anything could make the Outlaw nervous.”
He narrowed his eyes at the nickname, but there was humor sparkling in them. “Yeah, well, you know us semi-famous soccer players. We’re sensitive guys.”
She snickered, pleased by the evidence her earlier attempt at insulting him had hit its mark.
He smiled. “If they didn’t look so much alike, it’d be difficult to tell they’re twins.”
A sigh accompanied her nod. “In some ways they’re very different. Charlie’s always been easier with new people, but then, Angel is the first born. Think of her as the Alpha twin. She considers it her duty to protect them both.”
“That’s a heavy burden for a six year old.”
“Yeah.” She chewed on her lip. Personal ground rules aside, they were in this together, whether she liked it or not, at least for now. Best he know what he was dealing with. “She says her belly hurts when you talk because you sound like Pete.”
“Well, damn.” He stared at her in silence for a long moment. His head suddenly came away from the couch back. “Wait. Do I?”
“A little.”
He scowled.
She grinned but sobered quickly. “And she’s worried I might die, like her parents.”
His scowl slid into a wince. “Ah, shit. She said that?”
She dipped her chin in a subtle nod. “She also thinks you don’t like her.”
“Great.” He dropped his head back again and dragged a wide palm over his face with a heavy sigh. “I don’t have a fu—” He cleared his throat. “Sorry. I don’t have a clue what I’m doing here.”
His insecurity over the situation struck a chord of empathy in her heart. She stiffened her spine against going all mushy but offered him an encouraging smile. “Relax, Jake. You’re doing fine. You’re getting to know the girls, like Pete wanted.”
Air blew from his nose in a sharp snort. “Pete Thompson never did anything without an ulterior motive. I can’t figure out what he was after is in this case.”
There he went again, describing a man she couldn’t equate with her sister’s loving husband and the twins’ father. From what Anthony Spinoza said about Pete wanting to make amends, she supposed there were reasons for Jake’s poor opinion of his father. Still… “I’m having a hard time picturing Pete the way you describe him.”
“You mean as an arrogant asshole?”
She blinked at the heat of his question. He turned this time, pulling up his closest leg until his knee was an inch away from brushing her thigh. The healthy muscles beneath his T-shirt shifted along with the arm he rested on the back of the couch. She shot a wary glance at his hand, dangling far too close to her shoulder for comfort. As casually as she could manage, she inched away from him.
Like the predator he was, he narrowed his eyes at her subtle movement. She jerked when he lifted his hand but, instead of brushing his fingers over her shoulder, he brought them to his chin and stroked at the sharp edge of his bristled jaw. Pure mischief sparkled in his eyes.
“I’m starting to believe you don’t trust me, Gracie.”
Well, hello! She exaggerated the batting of her lashes. “And they say jocks aren’t perceptive.”
The warmth of his laughter washed over her, prickling the fine hair
s on her arms and beading her nipples. Willpower, Gracie. She hoped her smirk covered the sudden hammering of her heartbeat. “The Pete you describe doesn’t sound like the man I knew.”
“Then we’re even. Married with a couple of kids doesn’t sound like the Pete Thompson I knew.”
“You knew him well?”
“I didn’t know him at all, actually. We only met once.”
Her brows flew up in surprise and her mouth dropped open. She snapped it shut. “Once?” Wow! He’d met his father exactly one time more than she’d met hers. Their family situations took a big step closer to holy crap similar.
“Once was one time too many as far as I’m concerned.” His complaint was little more than an angry growl.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. It’s none of my business.”
He shook his head. “Don’t apologize. Considering we’re stuck here together, thanks to Pete, you have a right to understand why I’m reluctant to comply with his demands.”
“Are you still? Because you certainly didn’t seem reluctant at dinner.” The accusation flew from her mouth without her thinking. She squeezed her eyes shut. “Forget I said that. God, that was rude.”
“Not rude. It’s a legitimate question. You deserve an answer.” He sighed and stared at the ceiling. “It pisses me off to be here in his house, but you’re right. The twins are innocent in all of this. I’d be as big a bastard as Pete if I let my feelings for him spill over onto them.”
She was well acquainted with the various emotions surrounding a father one had never met, but the abhorrence in his tone spoke of more than bitterness over Pete’s absence. “If you don’t mind my asking, why do you hate him so?”
“Because he was an arrogant prick who looked down on anyone who couldn’t live up to his family’s wealth. He knocked up my mother and walked away without a backward glance. When she tracked him down after I was born, he sent a team of lawyers to the ranch where she’d found work.” He dropped his gaze to hers. Loathing heated his eyes. “They offered her five thousand dollars and a warning. If she contacted him again, he’d destroy her. He had the wealth and the powerful contacts to do it, and she backed down. We never heard from him again. Correction. She never heard from him again. Years of boozing eventually destroyed her liver. She’d drunk herself to death by the time he contacted me.”
To Win Her Love Page 10
