“I’m not surprised.” She laughed. “I had the wedding planner make sure she sat you at their dinner table.”
Under normal circumstances, that would have been welcome news. He pushed up the corners of his mouth. “Fabulous. Thanks.”
“I hope that makes up for my broken promise.”
“We’re square.” He took a step back, and general manager, Darby Hogue, and his wife stepped forward to offer the bride and groom their congratulations.
Sam took a drink, and over the top of his glass, he spotted the Playmates. They weren’t hard to pick out in a crowd. They were the four girls with big hair and bigger breasts, surrounded by Blake, Andre, and Vlad. Four on three was an uneven play. He figured it was his duty to even things out. He lowered his glass but didn’t move.
Autumn. He just couldn’t work up the proper enthusiasm required to chat it up with women in short skirts and low-cut blouses. Not while his babymama circled, looking for a reason to hate him even more than she already did. If that was even possible. Instead, he struck up a conversation with Walker and Smithie and their wives. He smiled and nodded as the women talked about their own weddings and the births of al their children. Thank God Walker interrupted his wife just as she was warming up to a poop story.
“Did you hear the front office is looking to trade Richardson?” Walker asked.
Yeah, he’d heard. He liked Richardson. He was a good, solid wingman, but with Ty retiring, they needed a more versatile guy. One who could kil penalties as wel as play the wings. “Do you know who they’re looking at?”
“Bergen, for one.”
“The Islander? Huh.” The last he’d heard, Bergen was stil in a slump.
“And then,” Walker’s wife said through a laugh, “he cal ed out, ‘I poo in the potty, Mommy.’ ”
Screw it. “See you around,” Sam said, and headed for the playmates. He didn’t care what Autumn thought. She was an uptight bal -buster, and there was nothing wrong with a little conversation with four beautiful women.
Autumn knelt between the bride’s and groom’s chairs and went through the rest of the schedule. Autumn was a list maker, both in business and in life. When it came to weddings, she knew the list by heart. Just in case, though, she had every detail written in her folio. It was after eight, and the dinner and toasts were just about over. Faith looked exhausted, but she only had to get through the cake cutting and first dance before the groom could take her home.
Autumn herself might get home at midnight. If she was lucky.
“Thank you,” Faith said. “You’ve kept everything running smooth.”
“And on time,” Ty added, who’d never made an effort to hide his desire for a very smal wedding. But like most grooms, he’d caved to the desires of the bride.
“You’re welcome.” She looked at her watch. “In about five minutes, Shiloh wil invite everyone to meet you in the Rainier Room.”
“Could you do it now?” Ty asked, but it was more of a demand than a question.
“Not everyone is through eating,” Faith protested.
“I don’t care. You’re tired.”
“You can’t expect everyone to just get up and leave.”
“Mention the open bar,” Ty suggested to Autumn. “They’l trample over each other to get to the free liquor.”
Autumn laughed as she rose. She buzzed her assistant and told her to mention the open bar when she invited the guests to join Faith and Ty in the other room. As she moved from behind the bride and groom’s table, her gaze landed on Sam, where he sat charming the pants, or more appropriately, the thongs, off the Playmates. They laughed and touched his shoulder and looked at him like he was a god. There had been a time when the sight of Sam with a beautiful woman or two would have carved out her heart. When she would have wanted to curl into a bal , but those days were long past. He could do what he wanted. As long as he didn’t do it in front of her son. Which she suspected he did because he was an irresponsible horn dog with jock itch on the brain.
She moved from the room as Shiloh picked up the microphone and made the announcement. She checked and rechecked her list. The cake was ready to be cut, the band ready to play, and the two bartenders ready to sling drinks. She had a few moments and ducked into the ladies’ room. As she washed her hands, she looked at her face in the soft lighting. Growing up, she’d hated her red hair and green eyes. Al that color against her pale skin had been too much, but she liked it now. She’d grown into her looks, and she liked the woman she’d become. She was thirty years old, had an event-planning business that al owed her to pay her bil s and raise her son. The child support she got from Sam more than covered the expense of raising a child. It al owed her to pay cash for her home and vehicles and take vacations. But at the same time, she knew that if she had to, she was financial y able to take care of Conner on her own.
She dried her hands and opened the door. The economy always affected her business, which was why she’d expanded it to encompass a variety of events instead of just limiting herself to weddings. She was currently planning a Wil y Wonka birthday party for twenty ten-year-olds for next month. Getting al the props and vendors for the party had been a chal enge, but fun. Not as much fun as weddings. Planning weddings was what she loved best, ironic given her past.
She moved down the hal through clumps of wedding guests making their way to the Rainier Room. There were a lot of beautiful and wealthy people at that night’s event. There was nothing wrong with that. Autumn made her living catering to beautiful, wealthy people, as wel as those on tight budgets. She enjoyed both, and as she knew al too wel , wealthier didn’t always mean easier. Or that the bil was paid on time. As she passed Sam, he separated himself from a group of his teammates and a few of the Playmates.
“Autumn. Do you have a minute?”
She stopped a few feet in front of him. “No. I’ve got thirty seconds.” They had a son, but she couldn’t imagine what they had to talk about. “What do you need?”
He opened his mouth to answer, but the cel phone clipped to her belt rang, and she held up one finger. There was only one person in her phone with that “Anchors Aweigh” ring tone, her brother, Vince. And Vince wouldn’t cal unless there was a problem.
“Hey, Carly just phoned,” he said. “She’s sick and can’t watch Conner. I have to be at work in half an hour.”
It was stil too early for Autumn to leave. She moved to a quieter spot in the hal and said, “I’l cal Tara.”
“I did. She didn’t answer.”
Autumn ran through a metal list of options. “I’l cal his day care and see if they’l take him… Crap, they closed a few hours ago.”
“What about Dina?”
“Dina moved.”
“I guess I can cal in sick.”
“No.” Vince had only had this latest job a week. “I’l think of something.” She closed her eyes and shook her head. Sitter problems were difficult for every single mother. The odd hours of an event planner turned those hours into a nightmare. “I don’t know. I guess you’re going to have to bring Conner here, and I’l have one of my workers entertain him for a few hours.”
“I’l get him.”
Autumn looked up over her shoulder. She’d forgotten about Sam. “Hang on.” She lowered the phone. “What?”
“I’l get Conner.”
“You’ve been drinking.”
He frowned. “Obviously, I’l have Natalie pick him up.”
Natalie. The “personal assistant.” Autumn didn’t have anything against Sam’s latest “assistant” other than she thought it was ridiculous that he cal ed his girlfriends “assistants.” She shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“Is this real y something to fight about?”
Conner could either go to his dad’s with the “assistant,” a place he knew, or he could come to the Rainier Club and hang out until she could take him home. On the surface, the decision appeared to be a no-brainer, but she liked Conner with her at night. She slept better knowing h
e slept safe and sound in the room across from hers.
“Forget it.” He shook his head and turned away.
But being a good parent wasn’t always about her. She reached out and grabbed his arm. “Wait.” His blue eyes met hers, and, through the wool blazer, his body heat warmed her palm. His biceps turned hard beneath her touch, and she dropped her hand. There had been a time when the heat would have leaped to her chest and burned her up. These days, she was immune and returned the phone to her mouth. “Sam’s going to take him.”
“What’s that idiot doing there?”
She bit the side of her lip to keep from smiling. “He’s at the wedding.”
“Tel Vince hi,” Sam said as he reached into his pocket and pul ed out his cel . He pushed a few numbers, then spoke into the receiver. “Hey, Nat. I know it’s your night off, but can you go pick up Conner for me?” He smiled and gave Autumn a thumbs-up. “Yeah, just take him to my place. I should be there in a couple of hours.”
Autumn hung up her phone and looked down as she hooked it to her belt. “Thanks, Sam.”
“What?”
She looked up at the smile on Sam’s face. “You heard me.”
He laughed. “Yeah, I did. It’s just been a while since you’ve had a nice word for me.”
With Sam, it had never been so much what he said as they way he said it. Al oozing with nice-guy charm. Good thing she was immune to him, or she might actual y mistake him for a nice guy. “I’l have Vince pick Conner up in the morning.”
His laugher stopped, and his smile disappeared. “Vince is an idiot.”
Which was a lot like the pot cal ing the kettle black.
“I’l have Nat drop him off home.” A few of Sam’s hockey buddies walked down the hal . Handsome, rich, beautiful women on their arms. This was Sam’s life. Beautiful women and designer clothes. Invitations to weddings at the Rainier Club. Adoration and fan worship.
“Thanks again,” she said, and moved around him. She’d been his wife and had given him a son, but she’d never real y known him. Never would have fit into his big, over-the-top, life. She didn’t shop at Neiman Marcus or Nordstrom or Saks. She haunted vintage shops, or, when she bought new, she shopped at Old Navy or the Gap or Target.
She walked into the Rainier Room and toward the four-tier red velvet cake. She had her own life, and except for Conner, her life had nothing to do with Sam LeClaire.
Chapter Three
Any Man of Mine:
Likes Children
Autumn pul ed her Subaru Outback into her garage a little after midnight. She’d stayed at the Rainier Club until the last vendor had packed up, and she’d written a final check to the band.
She grabbed her tote bag off the passenger seat and made her way into the lower level of the house. She’d purchased the split-level in Kirkland a year ago because it was on a quiet cul-de-sac and had a huge, fenced backyard that bordered dense forest. For the past three years, she’d saved a portion of Conner’s child support and paid cash for the home. She needed that kind of security. That kind of stability. She needed to know that no matter what happened with her job or with Sam, she would always have a home for Conner.
The house certainly wasn’t lavish by any means. It had been built in the late seventies and, while it did have new paint and appliances, it needed some work. The previous owner had been mad for wal paper with flower borders, wood paneling, and faux bricks. It al had to be taken down, but unfortunately Autumn didn’t have a lot of time to take care of it, and remodeling the house got pushed farther down the to-do list. Vince said he’d help her, but he didn’t have a lot of time either.
In the family room, the overhead light burned, and the television blasted the Discovery Channel. Her tote pul ed one shoulder lower than the other as she stepped over a Nerf Recon Blaster and a green plastic golf bag fil ed with two plastic clubs. She shut off the TV and checked the wooden dowel in the sliding glass door before hitting the light switch.
The blaster was the latest toy Vince had bought for Conner. It was Vince’s opinion that Conner spent too much time with girls and needed a manly influence and manly toys. Autumn thought Vince was ridiculous—but whatever. Conner loved Vince and loved to spend time with him. God knew he spent little enough time with his own father.
In the quiet of the house, the stairs creaked beneath her feet. Normal y, she liked peace and quiet. She liked those few hours of calm after she put Conner to bed. She liked having that time to herself. When she didn’t have to work or make dinner or keep one step ahead of her five-year-old. She liked reading a magazine while soaking in the tub, but she didn’t like Conner not being there at al . Even after these past several years when he’d had overnight visitations with his dad, she stil got a bit anxious knowing her baby wasn’t in his bed.
She moved across the dark living room and into the lighted kitchen. She set her tote on the table, then opened the refrigerator and grabbed some string cheese. On the outside of the refrigerator door, Conner had spel ed out “hi mommy” in alphabet magnets, and he’d tacked up a new picture he’d obviously drawn while she’d been at work. In crayon, he’d drawn a figure with a red ponytail and green eyes, one arm longer than the other and holding the hand of a smal er figure with yel ow hair and a big smile. He’d drawn a bright tangerine sun and green grass. Off to one side he’d drawn another figure with long legs and yel ow hair.
Sam.
Autumn opened the cheese and threw away the wrapper. She pul ed a long string and took a bite. For the past few months, Conner had started to randomly include Sam in his family pictures, but always off to one side. Which, Autumn supposed, was a true representation of his relationship with his dad. Random. Off to one side.
She grabbed a glass from the cupboard and poured filtered water into it. Seeing Sam that night, it was hard to remember what she’d found so fascinating about him. Oh, he was stil gorgeous and rich and as magnetic as ever. He was big and muscular and larger than life, but she wasn’t the fool at thirty that she’d been at twenty-five.
She raised the glass to her lips and took a drink. It was embarrassing to admit, even to herself, that she’d ever been that big a fool, but she had been. She’d married Sam after knowing him a total of five days because she’d fal en madly, desperately, in love with him. It had been foolish but had felt so real. She stared at her reflection in the window above the sink and lowered the glass. When she looked back on that time in her life, it was difficult to believe she’d actual y felt those things. That she’d married a man she’d known for so short a time. Difficult to believe her heart had turned so soft and squishy at the sight of him. Difficult to believe she’d fal en so fast and hard. Difficult to believe she’d been a woman who would do something so impulsive. Perhaps it had happened because she’d been at a real low point in her life. Her mother had died of colon cancer a few short months before that fateful trip. Vince had been in the Navy—off doing his scary SEAL stuff. And for the first time in two years, she hadn’t had anyone to take care of but herself. She hadn’t had to run anyone to doctor appointments or to chemo or radiation therapies. After the funeral, after she’d packed up her mother’s life in boxes for storage, there’d been nothing left for her to do, and for the first time in her life, she’d felt alone. For the first time, she’d been alone—alone with only two things to check off her long to-do list. Sel the house and go to Vegas for an overdue break.
She would like to think she married Sam because she’d been lonely. That she’d had too much to drink and been stupid. Which was true. She had been alone and drunk and stupid, but she’d married Sam because she’d fal en head over heels, madly in love with him. It was embarrassing to admit, even now, how quick and hard she’d fal en.
But he hadn’t loved her. He’d married her like it was joke. He’d left her like she meant nothing. Less than nothing. He’d left her without looking back. She set the glass in the sink, the sound of the glass against porcelain echoed in the empty house. He’d left her devastated and conf
used and with a lot of other emotions. She’d arrived in Vegas alone. She’d left married and alone. She’d been alone and scared when she’d taken her first pregnancy test. Alone and scared when she’d felt the first gossamer flutter of her baby in her womb, and the first time she’d heard Conner’s heartbeat. She’d been alone and scared when she’d discovered she was having a boy, and she’d been alone and scared when she’d delivered Conner with no one in the room but a doctor and two nurses.
A week after Conner’s birth, she’d cal ed Sam’s lawyer and informed him that Sam had a son. A few days later, Conner had been given a paternity test, and a week later, Sam had seen his baby for the first time.
She turned off the kitchen light and moved down the hal . Autumn no longer felt alone and scared, but it had taken her a few years to stitch together a life from the shattered pieces. To make a secure place for Conner to live and forge a protective shield around her heart. There was a part of her that wished she’d kept Conner a secret from Sam. A part of her that wanted to keep Conner to herself. A part of her that didn’t think Sam was worthy of her beautiful boy, but she knew that it was best for Conner to know his father. Autumn had hardly known her father, and she knew from experience it was best that Conner grew up having Sam in his life. Even if Autumn didn’t approve of him or his lifestyle, Sam was Conner’s father, and that was that.
She paused by Conner’s bedroom door and looked at the empty bed. His Barney pil ow lay on the Barney quilt she’d made him, and her heart squeezed a little. Conner should be in his bed, hugging his Barney pil ow. Sam didn’t deserve Conner. She’d seen him leave the Rainier Club with a group of his hockey buddies and the playmates. A child didn’t fit in with Sam’s lifestyle. He was an athlete, a playboy, and he was no doubt spending the night somewhere with one of those Playmates. Heck, he was probably spending the night with more than one while Autumn went to bed alone. Al by herself. Every night.
Any Man Of Mine hs-6 Page 3
