A pang went through my heart as I watched him lying there. He’d been a good father. I wished, for his sake, that he’d been able to have a happier life with my step-mother. As if sensing my presence, he opened his eyes.
“Oliver,” he said with a weak smile, as he tried to prop himself up in bed. He reached a shaky hand out for me. “You didn’t need to come all the way out here.”
“Hi Dad.” I took his cold hand in mine and gently squeezed his fingers. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine. Fine.” He patted my hand. “It’s good to see you, son. Everything going all right for you?” His voice was raspy and weak, as if it was an effort to talk.
“I’m good, Dad. Nothing to complain about.”
“Are you dating anyone? I’m worried about you, all alone back in New York.”
I snorted out a small laugh. My dad was a romantic at heart. “Is that really the first thing you want to talk about?”
“I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t, would I?”
“Well, don’t worry about me. Uncle Frank keeps a close eye on things. I’ve got a friend who’s a French model. Everything’s good.” I pulled a chair close to his bed, avoiding the wires and machines that were attached to him. An image of Alexis lying in the bed after the accident flashed before my eyes. I had spent too much time in hospitals lately.
“A French model?” He let out a low whistle. “I can’t wait to meet her.”
“Yeah.” I tried to imagine introducing Simone to my father. “We’ll plan on it.”
My Dad’s eyelids were getting heavy and I could tell he was starting to nod off. “Don’t leave without saying goodbye, son,” he said in a sleepy voice.
So he remembered. I wasn’t good at good-byes. I usually just left and figured I’d follow-up with a phone call or a text. “I’m not leaving, Pop. You don’t need to worry.” I said softly. “I’m going to stay and handle your caseload. You just need to focus on getting well.”
I WAS IN the office by six the next morning, my body still on New York time. Phil had introduced me to the office staff yesterday, though they all knew who I was through our branch communications. Our firm was large enough to provide legal services in most areas of law: business, criminal, estate planning, bankruptcy, real estate, personal injury, family law and divorce proceedings, but my father tended to focus on business, estate planning and real estate.
THE DAY FLEW by as I familiarized myself with his cases. A knock sounded at the door and I looked up. Phil was leaning in through the doorway.
“Want to go check on Dad and get a late lunch? Nick’s been there all morning but he’s got a meeting this afternoon.”
I looked at the clock in surprise. Three already? My stomach growled as if encouraging me to go.
“Sure.” I closed the file I was reading. “It doesn’t look like there’s anything urgent pending at the moment.”
“Great. Let’s go.”
WE DIDN’T SPEND a lot of time with Dad as several tests had been scheduled for him that afternoon. He was still pale and extremely weak, but the doctors assured us that was to be expected.
“So tell me what’s new,” Phil said, as we sat at a window table at the Bayside Bistro. “How’s work? Staying busy?”
“Yeah,” I said, perusing the menu. “We’ve been buried.”
“Any interesting cases?”
“Frank is working on a corporate merger that’s some big names…”
“Speaking of big names, any interesting clients?”
There was something in his tone that made me lift my head. “Such as?”
“I heard you’re representing that French model—Simone what’s her name.” He looked at me expectantly.
I nodded and returned my gaze to the menu wondering if Phil knew I’d been assigned to escort Simone. “She is a client of the firm. Frank was thrilled to get her—she’s a big catch. Do you recommend the chowder?”
“Yes, it’s good.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “You seeing anyone?”
“No.” I folded the menu and turned to look for the waitress.
“Come on, Oliver, a good-looking guy like you? You’ve got to have girls throwing themselves at you all the time.”
I snorted. “Hardly.” Though the truth was I did have plenty of opportunities to date if I wanted, my arrangement with Simone was comfortable. I turned back to face Phil. “I’m not ever planning on getting married so there’s no big rush.”
My brother relaxed against the seat. “Well, some things haven’t changed.”
“Nope. And they’re never going to.”
AFTER PHILLIP FINISHED quizzing me on my romantic life, lunch became much more pleasant. He told me how things were going in the office, some of the details for Nick’s upcoming summer wedding and what was happening with his family. He glanced at his watch as he tucked the receipt into his wallet. “If you don’t mind, I need to drop a file off at a client’s on the way back to the office.”
My phone buzzed just then and I glanced down to see who was calling. Simone’s face lit up the screen. I sent the call to voicemail and slid my phone back in my pocket. “No problem. I’m clear this afternoon.”
The sun had come out, its bright light lifting the grey gloom of the January afternoon enough that I put on my sunglasses. Phil drove for about fifteen minutes before he pulled into some slanted parking slots next to a ball field. A group of what looked like middle-school kids played baseball on one diamond and a group of midget baseball players with matching t-shirts scurried around another field.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“T-ball.” Phil gave me a big smile. “This is Robbie’s team. I thought you might get a kick out of watching.” He chuckled. “Not a lot of structure to the infield. If the ball comes their way it’s a pig-pile. The game only takes about thirty minutes.”
“Sure, but I thought you had to drop off a client file.”
“I do. My client is the coach.”
I felt a little awkward walking across a grassy field in my black suit, but Phil was waving and chatting with everybody he came near, so I figured they must be used to seeing him in business attire when he came to games. The whole team, a combination of boys and girls, wore matching bright green shirts that read Green Lightning across the fronts. They had little ball caps and little miniature gloves. It was pretty cute.
“Ryan!” Phil waved at the coach. He was a young, good-looking guy with wide shoulders and buff arms. He looked like he’d been a jock in high school and I wondered if he was now living the dream through his own kid.
My gaze drifted over the small crowd sitting on the bleachers, looking for Phil’s wife, Suzette. I’d only met her once before at their wedding the previous summer and I was hoping I would be able to recognize her without having to be introduced. But instead of seeing my sister-in-law, my eyes locked on the back of a petite blond with her hair pulled into two thick braids, standing at the base of the bleachers. One leg bore a walking cast and I could see her right arm was casted as well.
My jaw sagged. What were the chances?
As I watched, she turned and hobbled toward the field.
From far away, I heard Phil talking. “This is my brother, Oliver, and this is Ryan Leeds—soon to be partners in West Family Hardware.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Jessie was the one who insisted I had to go to the T-ball game. “You’ve been sitting in front of your computer all day, every day. Are you even writing anything?”
“Yes,” I’d said defensively, but I hadn’t written much. I seemed to keep going over and over the few chapters I’d written, instead of moving forward. What was wrong with me? How did I expect to make a living as a writer when I couldn’t even finish a manuscript?
“Some fresh air will do you good. The game only lasts half an hour anyway. Come on, I’ll drive.”
“SO, HOW LONG have you been babysitting Dylan?” I tried to keep my voice casual as I shot her a sideways glance from the passenger seat, not sur
e what kind of answer to expect. I had a strange feeling in my gut there was something more going on than the occasional babysitting job, but my gut was terribly suspicious about everything anymore.
“Oh,” her tone was diffident, “on and off for a while.” She shrugged. “It’s no big deal. It’s some extra money since I’m only working part-time. Besides, I enjoy it. Dylan is so sweet.”
“Uh huh.” I wondered what wasn’t being said. “How did everyone in the family manage to reconnect with Ryan, anyway?”
“After college,” she hesitated, “you know—after you’d moved to New York—he used to come by the store a lot to talk to Dad. He was in a mess he didn’t know how to handle. His own dad died when he was young and he spent so much time at the store over the years—I think he sees Dad as a father figure. You know—he likes to get advice from him.”
I gazed out the window at the familiar streets, feeling like I was being sucked backward through time, almost as if I’d never left. “Does Ryan have a job?”
“He’s been working at the store since right after you left, but I don’t think he has to work. From what I’ve heard his mom left him a pile of money. He and Dad have big plans for the store, though.” She looked over at me and grinned. “I haven’t seen Dad this excited in a long time.”
I fought a surge of bitterness. It was just like Ryan to sneak into my family when I wasn’t around to stop him. Like I hadn’t been enough—he wanted everything I had, including my family.
“What happened to his wife?” I couldn’t hide the edge in my voice.
“Jeanette? She’s been gone since Dylan was about two years old. Ryan has full custody. She was from back East and had some drug issues. Her family forced her to go home.” Jessie tapped on the steering wheel in time to the music on the radio. “To tell you the truth, I think she was glad to leave it all behind.”
“You sound like you were there.” A strange tangle of emotions I couldn’t define warred in my chest.
“Not really, but Ryan’s told me about it.” Jessie stared straight ahead. “He’s had a tough time of it, Lex, you might want to cut him a little slack.”
My jaw sagged. A million angry, smart-ass answers spilled into my mouth begging to be unleashed but I pressed my lips together to hold them in. I was not going to let Ryan start a fight between me and my only sister.
During the years that Ryan and I had dated, he’d been over at our house a lot. His mom was a big socialite around town and had frequently been gone to this fundraiser and that party. Jessie, who had been in middle school and then high school, had adored Ryan. Apparently, that hadn’t changed.
I LET JESSIE go ahead of me when we got to the ball park. I was fuming inside and to make matters worse, I was suspicious of her—because I was almost sure she had feelings for Ryan. The question was—did he have feelings for her? And if he did—what did I feel about that?
I WAS STANDING at the bottom of the bleachers, debating about trying to navigate the potentially slippery metal stands with a walking cast. It didn’t seem like such a smart move. Jessie had already climbed up to the middle and was chatting with some of the other moms, leaving me alone and feeling like an outsider. I caught a few of the curious, evaluating glances thrown my way and it was all I could do not to run…make that hobble… for the car. Why had I agreed to return to Seattle? All the reasons I’d left were thumbing their noses at me right now. What I would have given to be back at Antoine’s with Nandini and even the evil Richard. Anywhere but here.
I sensed disaster waited for me if I tried to climb the stands, so I headed for the fence line to watch the game. I thump-stepped my way over to the section just past the little bench where the players sat when I heard a deep voice say the name Oliver. Of course it wasn’t my Oliver, but I had to look anyway.
I turned to look and—had a full-on cardiac arrest. (Wasn’t that what they called it when your heart stopped beating?) There couldn’t be two men in the world who looked as good as Oliver.
“Heads!” The cry went up but I wasn’t listening because I was too busy staring. A foul tip came flying off the other field and beaned me in the head. Oliver was the last thing I saw before I went down.
Chapter Twenty-Two
I was the first one to reach her. As I knelt in the grass and scooped her body into my arms I had a flashback of the accident in the taxi and how bright red her blood had been against the snow. I’d forgotten how petite she was.
Her head fell back against my arm, the two braids she wore made her look like a teenager. I carefully tucked her casted arm close to her body, not sure if she’d landed on it when she’d fallen or not. Already I could see the knot rising above her eye from where the ball had tagged her. She’d probably have one hell of a shiner tomorrow.
I smoothed her bangs away from her face. “Sleeping Beauty,” I said softly. “Time to wake up.” Her eyes fluttered open and stared into mine with surprising clarity.
“A prince has to kiss me,” she whispered, making no move to sit up. “Don’t you remember?”
By then we were surrounded by people wanting to help.
I grinned. “Yeah. Maybe next time.”
“Let me through.” One voice barked above the others in a possessive tone. “Let me see her.” Ryan Leeds knelt down next to us, taking Alexis’ hands in his. “Oh my God, Lex, what the hell did you do this time? Are you all right, babe?”
Her eyes shifted to a glare and she sat up, pushing my arms and his hands away. “I’m fine. I’m fine. Let go of me.” I helped her to her feet, keeping one hand on her elbow until I was sure she had her balance, but Mr. Jock had taken over.
“Come sit over here,” he said, leading Alexis over to the stands.
“Ryan, what happened?” Another girl cried as she jumped from the stands. She had to be Alexis’ sister. Same blond hair. Same contoured face, though hers was definitely a younger version with a smattering of freckles across her nose. She hovered close to Ryan and talked about Alexis as if she wasn’t there. “Did she get hit in the head? Did you see what happened?”
“Get me some ice,” Ryan yelled at one of the other parents. “It’s in the chest over there.” Soon he had an ice pack pressed against Alexis’ head. “Hold this, Jess.” He leaned down with his hands on his knees and peered into Alexis’ face. “You okay now?”
She tried to shove him away. “Yes. Just leave me alone.” She yanked the ice bag away from her sister.
Ryan straightened. “She’s okay,” he said loudly. “Let’s get on with the game.”
Phil helped get the kids back on the field then came to stand next to me a few yards away from the makeshift triage unit. He shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked back and forth on his feet.
“I haven’t seen you move that fast since you set the high school record in the 100 meters,” he said in a quiet voice. “What’d you say to her?”
I shoved my hands in my pockets, mimicking his stance. “Nothing. Just asked her if she’d hurt her arm when she fell.”
He shook his head. “That must’ve been some bump on the head. I could’ve sworn she told you to kiss her.” He nudged me with his elbow, a sly grin twisting his lips. “But you always have that effect on women, don’t you?”
I CAN’T SAY I watched much of the game. My gaze kept going back to Alexis, sitting on the far end of the bleachers with the ice bag pressed to her head. It was a surreal moment. I knew her—sort of—and yet—I didn’t know her. I wanted to talk to her, but part of me was afraid. Afraid of the strange effect she had on me. I caught her peeking under the bag once to look at me and I motioned for her to come over to where I stood, but she jerked her eyes away and pretended she hadn’t seen me.
I didn’t want to make her walk to me, but even more I didn’t want to have a conversation with her where everyone in the stands would be trying to listen.
After a minute, she dropped the ice bag to her lap and even from where I stood I could see the indecision on her face. I motioned again because sud
denly I wanted to talk to her more than anything in the world. She pushed herself off the bench and step-hopped with her walking cast in my direction. I was torn between chuckling at her gimpiness and wanting to wrap my arms around her to offer protection. What the hell?
I checked her out. She was wearing black Nike running pants that unzipped at the bottom to go over her cast but also showed off her slim figure. She had a black turtle neck on under a black jacket that was a nice contrast to her blond hair. She looked good—even with a knot that bulged on her forehead.
“Hey Alexis,” I said, pushing my sunglasses up onto my head. “How’s your head?” I waited half a beat. “And your arm?” Half a beat. “And your leg?” I raised my eyebrows. “Any other war wounds I should know about?”
Her cheeks turned cherry red and I immediately felt bad for teasing her. What kind of way was that to greet a girl I barely knew who was still injured?
“I wasn’t sure it was really you,” she said. “What are you doing here?”
“Business.”
“That’s weird. I thought you lived in New York. How did we end up at the same T-ball game in Seattle? This is the first one I ever gone to.”
I grinned. “Me too.”
“But why are you here? Dressed like that?” She motioned to my suit.
“My brother had to drop off some documents for the coach.” I motioned toward Ryan Leeds, who was dramatically fanning his arm encouraging a five-year-old to run for home. “He seemed to know you pretty well. Boyfriend?”
She glared. “Hardly. He’s going to be business partners with my dad.”
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