by Avery Flynn
“It’s a miracle how you can be so good at hockey and totally unable to keep a straight face when you lie. Anyone can see through you in an instant.” She smiled as he burst out laughing and gave her a quick kiss on her cheek. “Come on! Give over. What happened this afternoon?”
“Why do you think something happened?” He kissed her hand that somehow found its way into his. Then he patted it and let it gently fall back between them, giving her a sideways glance.
“Flattery won’t distract me. You’ve done something and you don’t want me to tell your father.”
He did his best to look shocked. “How did you put that together?”
“I know you, Deacon. And you’re definitely up to something. You should tell me before I change my mind about co-signing.” She crossed her arms for more effect.
It didn’t work. He laughed again. “Mom,” he said clucking at her. “I haven’t done anything. Well, not yet, anyway.”
“I knew it.” She pointed her finger at him. Steel gray eyes the same shade he saw in the mirror looked through his soul. “Come on, Deacon.”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“Don’t you dare ma’am me! Now what are you planning?”
“Really, Mom.” He brought his hand to his chest. “You expect the worse–every single time.”
“I know you much better than your father or brother do. You’re smile cannot–I repeat–cannot deter me. Now tell me what’s had you distracted all afternoon.”
“Well, I might have botched it anyway.” He shrugged.
“What?” Her voice was suddenly more tender.
“A man needs a couple of secrets, Mom,” he mumbled.
“When you flash that smile I immediately feel sorry for women everywhere.” His mother patiently waited for him to continue.
“Damn, you haven’t laid your guilt on this thick since I left for boarding school.”
“I’m not doing anything to you, sweetheart. I’m just curious.”
“All right. I met someone. I can’t say I’ve actually met her. We didn’t introduce ourselves.” He shoved his hands through his hair, more nervous than before game seven. “Anyway. I deliberately followed her and made a very lame impression. Then one thing led to another.” He glanced at his mother again regretting his last admission.
Would she rail at him?
“Who is she?”
“I honestly don’t know. We didn’t introduce ourselves.”
“You don’t know anything about her? You really didn’t get her name?”
“No.”
“And you’re this distracted? Why didn’t you ask?”
“We were interrupted. I was needed back with the group for more PR photos.” He looked out the window at the golfers. He deliberately took several deep breaths to calm down. Thinking about his mystery woman got him thinking about all sorts of possibilities that might happen after the party.
“And?”
He looked back at her. “Honestly, I didn’t want to know her name if she decided not to be there tonight.”
“You actually seem upset. Are you saying that you’re distracted because a girl you don’t even know night not come to a party?”
He didn’t acknowledge her with a look or a nod. She’d see right through him if he turned toward her so he continued to stare out the window.
“What exactly was the ‘one thing that lead to another’ part?”
“I kis…” he had to clear his throat before he could continue. “I kissed her. Or she kissed me. I’m not sure what happened.” He stumbled over the words, not looking at his mother. He felt like he was on the verge of being grounded.
“A stranger?”
“She kissed me back and didn’t slap me,” he said full of indignation.
“Deacon? Whatever were you thinking? Does she know who you are?”
“I’m pretty sure she does. She was at the parade this morning.” He smiled, remembering how she’d looked in the sunshine. “Damn, we barely came up for air.”
“Deacon!” She crossed her arms, this time pulling off the righteous indignation he’d expected all along. “Are you certain the press didn’t snap any pictures? They were there, weren’t they?”
“No one saw anything. We were sitting in the stairwell.”
His mother began laughing. Almost doubling in half. “I wish I’d been there. If Mr. Clark wasn’t coming, I’d tell you to leave and have a good time.”
The doorbell rang and his mother walked to the closest mirror to check her hair before heading to the door. “Now let’s get his paperwork out of the way so you can buy your loft. Then you can excuse yourself. No reason to hang around and continue to be distracted.”
It was a very unusual conversation that ended with him having the funds available to purchase his loft when he returned to New Orleans. Mr. Clark was very thorough, giving him a folder with all the paperwork. A huge step for him. But a good adult investment.
If he was traded–which he didn’t think would happen but you never knew in his business. But if he was, he could rent the loft through an agency.
“Seriously, Deacon, don’t be too disappointed if things don’t go as you plan dear.”
“She probably won’t show.”
“Oh, she probably will if your luck stays the same.”
Just don’t do anything that lands you in the papers. You know how irritated your father can get.”
“You know I’m supposed to be in the papers right now. Right?”
“I don’t think you want that picture in the paper, sweetheart.” She switched on the TV, muting the news. One of the teasers was a picture of him skating, holding the Cup over his head after they’d won. “Are you riding with Gage tonight? I can’t tell you how nice it is to have you both home.”
She didn’t say the sentence that normally followed. Now, if only Clint could be here, too. He felt it just the same. His oldest brother was literally on the other side of the world, partying. Like always.
It wasn’t the first time he’d wished he could be enough to keep his mother from hurting. But he was adult enough now to keep out of trouble. It was one of the reasons he’d spent so much time at the country club with them.
Then again, he might try to tell himself that it was for his parents, but the way his father treated him–introducing him, bragging about his playing ability–that made him feel close to him like he’d never been before.
“I think Gage said we were leaving in about an hour. I should get cleaned up.”
“Have a great time at the party, son.”
And he’d be responsible, too. He felt like an adult. He could handle it for a couple of more nights.
Unless a certain raven-haired beauty showed up. Then all bets were off.
7
Brooke heard the argument building from her car. It was worse by the time she reached the porch. The cop in her made her pause before walking in front of the window. Her hand automatically dropped to where a weapon should be on her hip.
Should be, but hadn’t been there in over a year. She was curious to know if the yelling was about her before alerting them that she’d arrived.
Rooms. Sleeping arrangements. Garage and privacy versus a bedroom with a shared bath. Not her specifically, but it appeared she was the reason for the debate. So she rang the bell ready to volunteer to sleep on the couch. It was only for a few days, after all.
The door opened and she was met by a woman dressed all in black. Hair as dark as her own, but definitely not naturally so, it had a bluish tint from the dye. Thick, black eye-liner, black nails, black lips, and black army boots.
“I’m Emma. You must be Brooke. I think we met at Grandpa Frank’s funeral.”
“Right.”
“It’s okay to be confused. I was a blonde then. Sort of like that.” She pointed to her twin in the next room. “Only I never wore yellow. At all. Ever.”
“I remember. You’re Aunt Amanda and Uncle Bob’s twins.”
“Yep, that’s us.”
<
br /> “I’m Essie. Grammy’s in the kitchen. She cooks whenever we’re all going to be home.”
“Whatever she’s making, it smells delicious.”
“Brooke, you’re here.” Grammy wiped her hands on the frilly apron, then hugged her. “We were expecting you a little earlier, but it looks like you went shopping.”
She’d forgotten about the bags in her right hand. “Shoes. I um…I only brought my boots and tennies.” She kicked up a rubber heel. “Where should I put my stuff?”
She stretched the truth a little. She did need the shoes and dress for tonight, but her real reason for shopping–distraction. The kiss had her discombobulated. Her grandmother gave her a scrutinizing look, making her wonder again what the woman’s gift was. Possibly mind reading?
“Here.” Emma took everything from her hands and set it on the bottom step. “Dinner ready? I’m starving.”
“As soon as Hallie comes down.” Stuffing her hands in the pockets of her apron she gave each of the twins a look that didn’t need much analyzing. Without a word she told them she was ready for something to be settled.
“We’re arguing about the garage apartment. Carrie was staying there, but she’s shaking up with the billionaire. I should move out there since I play my music much louder than anyone here.”
“That’s her only reason for needing the garage apartment.” Essie dropped air quotes around the word needing. “I think we should stay where we are and let Brooke have it. She’s probably not used to living with a bunch of people.”
“Well, you’re right about that,” she answered. “But, honestly, I can take the couch.”
“No need, dear.” Grammy waved a finger between the twins. “These two are going to choose. There are plenty of bedrooms. Besides, you need your privacy. We all do.”
“Honestly, I like falling asleep to the news. I bet the couch is comfy.”
“Emma. Essie,” Grammy said with disappointment. “Flip a coin. And it’s much more polite to say they’re living together. Brooke, you might meet Carrie tonight. I think Hallie mentioned that they might stop by the party.”
“Hey, there you are.” Hallie practically flew down the stairs, propelling herself into Brooke’s arms for a hug. “So I guess you know everyone?”
“Yeah.”
“Let’s eat then. We’ve got a celebration to get to.” Hallie took her hand and tugged her toward the dining room.
Brooke shouldn’t feel awkward. Not really. They’d all met before even though they never saw each other growing up. Just after her incident and resignation from the Kansa City Police Department, Hallie had driven their grandmother’s motor home for a visit.
The visit lasted a couple of weeks while they filled Brooke in on the family gifts. They’d also taught her how to protect herself from the pheromones. Lots of concentration and imaginary walls.
But it worked. Unless she forgot…like at the parade that morning.
“Oh wow. It’s roast with all the trimmings.”
“Grammy’s is the best. One day she’s going to let us in on her secret recipe.” Essie said, pointing Brooke to a chair.
“And maybe some other secrets.” Emma took her chair.
Why did she feel so guilty? Right. The kiss. The date. The job ethic thing.
Food was passed around and she felt her stomach knotting before her first bite. Were ants crawling up her legs? She certainly felt like it. Probably because guarding every word from her mouth took its toll.
“I thought we could ride together to the bar where the party’s being held. Gage is riding with Deacon and it would be weird if they stopped by to pick me up. I mean, since you’re here and all.”
“Sure.”
“You can drive and I’ll catch a ride back with Gage. Deacon’s staying downtown for a breakfast thing in the morning.”
“So… I hear you’re going to be at the party.” Emma made the statement and dished vegetables on her plate. “We were invited.”
“But we have tests in the morning,” Essie clarified.
“So we voluntarily decided not to go.” Emma finished by putting another bite of roast in her mouth.
“Um…what time do you want to leave?”
“I thought in about an hour. Is that enough time for you to get ready? I can show you around the area, give you some tips if you don’t mind that sort of thing.”
“Sure. I’d appreciate it.”
Liar. The last thing she wanted was to spend more time with Hallie…her boss. She was going to find out that Brooke couldn’t watch from a distance successfully.
Just as soon as she showed up at the party and Deacon not only recognized her, but also treated her like a date. Dammit, he wasn’t going to act like it. He’d come right out and asked her for a date and she’d said yes. There was no way to get around that unless she didn’t go.
“Are you certain you even want me there tonight?”
“Why? Is something wrong?”
“Well, you’re going to be there along with all the security for the Cup. I just thought…”
“Mr. Sanders insisted you attend everything. Besides, you’ll be able to see a lot more of the room than Gage or me. We’ll be stuck right next to Deacon all night.”
“Are you tired, dear?” her grandmother asked.
“No, ma’am. I’m fine. I was just checking.”
Grammy’s look confirmed that she knew it was something else. It took a lot of concentration on the tablecloth to make certain no embarrassing thoughts of their kiss made her face flush or made Hallie suspicious.
“So what’s your power, Brooke? I mean gift,” Essie asked. “I’m not certain what mine will be. Grammy keeps telling me there’s no rush. But I’m definitely impatient about it.”
“I call mine a curse.”
“Ooo, now I’m really curious.” Emma set down her fork and waited.
“It’s nothing Brooke can’t handle.” Grammy’s confidence didn’t help her lack of any.
She wanted to tell all of them. Blurt it out what had happened. It seemed to have been out of her control, but she didn’t think she’d sprung any “leaks” at the hospital. At least nothing that compared to what happened at the parade.
In fact, she didn’t know what was wrong. She hadn’t had an episode in months. It was the reason she’d taken the job. If she could handle this, she might be able to go back to work.
Real work. Maybe not cop work…but something like Bodyguards in Heels.
“Does she know, Grammy?”
“Know what?”
“Now might not be the best time to talk about it, Emma. Hallie and Brooke have to leave soon.”
“Tell me what?” She looked around the table. Everyone stopped eating, then looked toward Hallie.
“Emma, sometimes I appreciate your bluntness and other times, it’s just plain inconvenient.” Hallie wiped the corner of her mouth and took a deep breath.
“I have a feeling I’m not going to like this.”
“It’s better you find out now instead of when it’s…inconvenient. Like Carrie did.” Essie raised a blond eyebrow looking very much like their grandmother.
She has an old soul.
“What they’re hinting at,” Hallie began and hesitated. “Is that the closer we all are to family, the stronger are gifts seem to become. It’s the reason our parents moved and don’t see each other that often.”
“That’s true, dear.” Grammy forced a smile. “It was my decision to wait until you arrived to spring this on you. I thought knowing might affect your decision about coming.”
“You think?”
“So just what is your gift?” Emma asked, still all smiles.
“I attract…people,” she managed.
“Attract?” the twins asked together.
“That’s right, girls. Now, if you’ll excuse us. I think one of you needs to move to the garage.”
“That would be me.” They both answered again.
“Hallie and I will clean up while you
get ready, Brooke. Is it okay if Hallie answers your questions on your way to the party?”
“Sure.” She was kind of stunned and needed a minute to regroup. “Is there a reason you don’t want to talk about it?”
The guilt returned. Then she realized that the parade might not be entirely her fault. She’d met Hallie for breakfast and job details.
There wasn’t any doubt that she’d feel better if she told them. But while she was in the shower, it became clear that protecting Deacon could be done better if she was closer to him. Grammy had said as much.
She just couldn’t kiss him again. It didn’t matter how badly she wanted to. She couldn’t let it happen.
So that was her plan. She drove and listened to Hallie explain that their gifts or strengths increased when they were around each other–but so did their defenses. And as she listened to how their grandmother wished for them to know each other and be successful using their gifts, it became even more difficult to admit what had happened.
Or how she’d screwed up the protect-from-a-distance plan.
“Now I know why mom drifted away from her siblings.”
“Yeah, I’ve actually told my mother they’ve all done us a disservice. Most of them don’t admit they have a gift, let alone use it.”
“I have to admit something, Hallie. This afternoon at the hospital, Tripp recognized me. He sort of noticed me at the parade and then asked me to come tonight.”
“Well, that must have been awkward, but it sure makes your job easier.”
Brooke passed a car, following the GPS to the bar where the public celebration was being held. She could follow a GPs anywhere.
“You took that a lot better than I thought you would.”
“When we spoke, you were a true fan. You even call him by his nickname. Deacon would have a hard time not noticing you. Anyone would. All I ask is that you’re aware of anything unusual. The authorities and hockey association are aware of the threats and are taking them seriously.”
“Two more days and he should be in the clear.”
“Because all the threats mention the Cup and destroying it?”
“Yes.”
“He also said he’s returning to New Orleans once he’s done here. I hope this is all wrapped up by then, but we’re not having much luck tracing down who sent the letters.” She pointed to the corner. “You can drop me here. Since you’ll be with Deacon, I won’t waste your time with outside options.”
