by Erika Kelly
“Hey.” Wiping her mouth with a napkin, Delilah approached him. “Sorry about that.”
Most people wanted to see the elk preserve or Bazzo’s Mercantile. They got a kick out of taxidermy grizzly bears, antique brothel tokens, or jewelry made of elk ivory, agate, or opal.
Not Delilah. She seemed to find those the least interesting things about the area. With a thoughtful expression, she took in the crowded town green and the sidewalks busy with tourists. After a long hard winter, summer hit with a bang in June, drawing out the residents and attracting visitors. Most used Calamity as a base for their Yellowstone and Grand Teton adventures.
She smiled at the group of teenagers. “You’re quite the celebrity in this town.”
“I just got back from a pretty big competition. It’ll settle down.”
“What kind of competition?”
“I ski. Half-pipe.”
She glanced to the mountains that jutted out of the earth, snow glistening on their rugged peaks. “You any good?”
“I hold my own.”
“I’m totally kidding you right now.” She nudged him with her elbow. “I do pop my head out of the kitchen every now and then.”
“Yeah? You follow freestyle skiing?”
She laughed. “No, but a good friend of mine—Callie Bell? You might know her?” She gave him a mischievous smile. “She gave me the low-down on the whole family. Besides, I think about a hundred people have congratulated you so far.”
“Will, dude.” An old friend from high school approached them. “Proud as shit, man.” He slapped Will’s back.
“Thanks. Delilah, this is my friend Gunther.”
She reached to shake his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“Same.” He turned his attention to Will. “Dude, your amplitude in the qualifying round?” Gunther tipped his head back and howled with excitement. “Holy shit, I thought you were gonna crash into a satellite or something. Never seen anything like it.”
“Thanks.”
His friend’s gaze darted over Will’s shoulder, and the smile faded. “Ah, hell. Looks like you’ve got company.”
Will turned to see a news van and a couple of paparazzi heading up the street toward him.
“And that’s my cue to head home.” He turned to Delilah. “You ready?”
“Sure.”
“Gunther, man, I’ll catch up with you later.”
His friend nodded. “I’ll distract them with my big—”
“Truck?” Will shook his head and smiled before taking off down the street.
Delilah fell into step beside him. “You don’t do interviews?”
“I do scheduled interviews before, during, and after events. I don’t bring my work home with me.” Actually, the paps didn’t usually come to Calamity. He thought about Ruby, and a sick feeling churned in his stomach. “They might be after something else.”
He’d parked on the other side of town, behind the yoga studio, so he ducked down a quiet side street, hoping to dodge the reporters.
“The fact that a celebrated chef’s staying with you?”
“Ha.” If only. “They might know about Ruby.”
“Why would anyone care about your sister?”
She kept right up with him, and he appreciated the hell out of that. Especially in those fancy gold sandals she wore. He gestured to them. “Need me to slow down?”
“Oh, honey, I’m a New Yorker. I can chase down a purse snatcher in heels twice as high and not miss a beat.”
He couldn’t help smiling.
“So, Ruby?” she asked.
“You remember that World’s Worst Boyfriend thing last summer?” His youngest brother had turned into an international meme when a text he sent to a friend went viral. Thousands of spurned lovers from around the world had told their stories on social media, replacing their real-life lover with Fin’s name.
“Uh, yeah.”
The meme had trended for months. His fiancée, Callie, had even made a museum out of it. “It pretty much put Calamity on the map.”
“As adorable as the whole modesty thing is, it’s just me here, so let’s lay it all out there. It put the four hot Bowie brothers on the map.”
Delilah Lua was a trip. “Anyhow, a lot of that attention hasn’t died down. They’ve got fan groups that keep track of what we’re doing. They might’ve found out about Ruby.”
“And you don’t want the world to know about her?”
Hell no. “We’re trying to get her settled and adjusted. She doesn’t need reporters in her face.” He didn’t need to share his real concerns with a houseguest. “But there are plenty of other reasons.”
“Like?”
He wanted to be annoyed at her pushiness, but—at least for the next two weeks—she was involved in their lives. She should be aware. “Frankly, we don’t want her to become a target.”
“The whole billionaire thing?”
He cut her a look. Bingo.
“Yikes. You really think that’s a possibility?”
Kidnapping the children of billionaires? He and his brothers had grown up with security detail on the ranch, so yes. A very real possibility.
“Will?” a reporter shouted.
Another paparazzi came rushing at him from a side street. “Will, do you have a response to Damien’s interview?”
He remembered what the teenager had said just a moment ago. Especially after what Damien said.
What’s that asshole done now?
“It’s not about Ruby.” Delilah touched his arm. “Do you want to stop and give them a quick answer? It might get them to leave sooner.”
“I’m not dignifying anything Damien Brenner has to say.” In the old section of town, they reached the alley between the yoga studio and Callie’s museum. Two of the elderly staff came out the door and waved, inviting conversation. Just as Delilah veered toward them—her natural inclination to be open and friendly—he grabbed her hand. “I’ll take you there another time.”
“What is that place?”
“That’s Callie’s Museum of Broken Relationships.”
“That’s it? Oh, my God. I have to see it.”
“Wait up, Will,” a reporter called. “Is there any truth to what Damien said?”
Don’t know, don’t care. As soon as he got to his truck, he’d get his manager on the phone. See if he could get ahead of whatever trouble Damien had stirred up.
Just as they emerged out of the alley, though, reporters swarmed him. “Will, is it true? Does your family money have anything to do with your wins?” one of them shouted.
Delilah swung around. “What kind of question is that?”
Will caught her upper arm, forcing her to look at him. “Don’t engage them.”
“Can you verify whether your father invested in any of the Games’ sponsors, Will?” someone shouted.
Truck in sight, he dug into his pocket for his keys. He hit the fob and the tail lights flashed. Just before he reached the driver’s side door, he heard someone shout, “Running away only makes you look guilty.”
Guilty? He wanted to remind them his dad had been gone over two years. You think he’s paying off judges from the grave? But the whole thing was ridiculous, and he wouldn’t validate it with a response.
His manager would put out a statement, shutting down Damien’s latest bullshit. Will pulled open the door and stepped on the running board.
“Will!”
Just as he started to close the door, he heard, “How do you feel about being suspended?”
He slammed into the word with the same impact as hitting the ice wall of the half-pipe.
Suspended?
Chapter Twenty-Six
What the hell could he have done to get suspended? Unless…had Damien uncovered a connection between his dad’s investments and a sponsor? If he had, no way would it have come with strings. In the World Freestyle Games, the judges were former athletes, and the idea that they could be bought was laughable. Extreme athletes were in it
for the thrill of the sport.
He held the door open for Delilah, and then followed her inside the house. A cartoon blared on the television. “Ruby?” He found the remote and punched it off. “Mom?”
“Hey.” Alex, his manager, came out from the kitchen. “We need to talk.”
“Hang on a sec. Have you seen Ruby and my mom?”
“Your mom’s out back. And Ruby’s looking for…something. I don’t know.”
“She left Ruby alone?”
“I guess so. But she’s fine. I saw her a few minutes ago. Look, we’ve got to talk about this suspension.”
“Not until I find her.” He breezed past, needing to get eyes on her.
“Will.” His manager’s harsh tone stopped him. “This is serious. We’ve got decisions to make.”
“My sister’s a hell of a lot more important than some bullshit suspension.”
But Delilah was already heading into the kitchen. “I got it.”
He turned to his manager. “What’s going on?”
“A few days ago, Damien ran his mouth off with the press.” Alex pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Here. Listen to it yourself.” He pressed Play.
On the small screen, a reporter shoved a microphone in Damien’s face. “So, here you go again. Always a bridesmaid never a bride. How do you feel about that?”
Damien’s amiable demeanor hardened. “It sucks. But I guess if my family was rich as hell, you might see me on the podium seven years in a row.”
“Wait, what’re you suggesting?” the guy asked.
“The Bowies own half the world,” Damien said. “Figure it out.”
“Are you suggesting Will Bowie’s family bought the judges?”
“Look, Will’s a great skier, but he didn’t outperform me this time,” Damien said. “He just didn’t. So…come to your own conclusions.”
Alex killed the video.
Into the blaring silence came a sugar-sweet voice. “Hi.” Ruby, in blue and white polka dot pajamas, came bumping down the carpeted stairs on her butt. Under her arm, she clutched her big, white chicken.
“You okay, Rubes?” When she nodded, he checked the time on the phone. “Why’s she still in pajamas?”
“I don’t know.” His manager lifted both his arms in exasperation. “Come on, Will. This is serious.”
“It’s almost one o’clock. She should be dressed. She should be playing outside.” Will started for her, but his manager caught his arm.
“The League’s thinking about suspending you. Do you understand the impact of that?”
Heels clacked on the hardwood floor. Great. Just what he wanted his mom to hear.
“Suspending him?” In a silk blouse and slim-fitting skirt, his mom looked like she’d just walked off the page of a fashion magazine. “What’s going on?”
“We’ve got an issue with the League,” his manager said. “But we’re handling it.”
“Why?” his mom asked. “What’s he done?”
Jesus, not now. “I haven’t done anything. Damien’s a sore loser who’s shooting his mouth off again. No one takes him seriously.” He couldn’t get suspended based on an unsubstantiated rumor. “This isn’t his first tantrum.”
“He just accused your family of buying the judges, Will,” Alex said.
“Is it true?” his mom asked.
He turned away from her, as if to dodge the bullet, but it glanced across his pride nonetheless. “Of course it’s not true. It’s so ridiculous it doesn’t merit discussion.”
“It merits a whole lot more than discussion.” Alex gave him a hard look. “It merits an investigation.”
What? He’d been a League member for nearly two decades. They knew him. They knew his family. “How? It doesn’t even make sense. They’ve got different judges every year. Besides, you think if we pulled a stunt like this for seven years it wouldn’t get out? You don’t think one of them would come forward?”
“You’re missing the point. No one thinks you paid off judges.” His manager’s expression sharpened. “Damien just questioned the integrity of the sport.”
“Okay, but they can’t suspend me based on some—” Will watched the little girl, still bumping down the staircase. He motioned impatiently for his mom to get her. “Nonsense from a poor sport.”
Ruby flashed a grin with her tiny, white Chiclet teeth. “Hi.” When she hit the bottom stair, she waved like she was on a float in a parade.
In her enormous chicken slippers, the girl padded over to the coffee table, flung her stuffed chicken on it, and climbed on top. Her little legs stretched out in front of her, and her tumble of auburn hair gleamed in the afternoon light. “Hi.” This time her voice wavered, and her elbow lowered a notch.
Delilah reached for her, whispering in her ear, but Ruby firmly shook her head and stayed put.
“They have no choice,” his manager said. “People watch sports to see athletes push the boundaries. To do things no one’s ever done before. If they think it’s fake, they won’t watch, and then the money dries up. Look, the half-pipe’s new to the Olympics. The League can’t afford to lose spectators. So, for the sake of appearances, they have to do an investigation. Keep everything clean and above board.”
“Investigate what, exactly?” Will asked. “How are we going to prove that my family doesn’t pay off judges? How do you prove a negative?”
“You can’t. Which is why I’ve come up with a solution to make this go away.” For some reason, Alex didn’t look as confident as he sounded. “People Fuel’s been after you for years to be the spokesman for their brand.”
Not this again. “I don’t do endorsements.” Will didn’t eat protein bars or drink any of their shit products.
“Yeah, I know that. But you’ve never had the threat of suspension, either.” Alex exhaled harshly. “You want the Olympics, yeah?”
A knee injury had kept him out last time around. Now, at twenty-eight, this next one could be his only shot. He had a lot of trophies and medals, but he didn’t have Olympic gold. He wanted it as a finale, to finish out his career.
But, mostly, he wanted it for his dad.
“If this suspension’s longer than three months,” Alex said. “It could impact your next season.”
Which meant he wouldn’t make the Olympic team.
“What, exactly, do you need him to do?” his mom asked.
“I just got off the phone with People Fuel. We’ve worked out a deal that’ll make everyone happy. You do a campaign for them, and they’ll sign a contract to sponsor the Games for the next five years.” Alex shrugged, as if it were that simple.
“What happens to Damien’s accusations?” Will asked. “You told me they have to investigate.”
“And they will. If you bring them People Fuel, they’ll interview a couple of judges, talk to the executor of your dad’s estate, and sit down with you. Look, they already know they’re not going to find anything, so they’re comfortable putting out a statement in a few days that says there’s no evidence to support the allegations.”
They should stand behind me anyway.
“What’s the big deal?” his mom said. “So you do a campaign?”
He thought about that kid in town who’d asked for his autograph. If he told her to eat a People Fuel bar, she’d eat it. “I can’t endorse a product I don’t use.” The first ingredient listed on the label was sugar. “It’s got twenty-nine grams of sugar in one bar.”
Alex’s gaze swung back up. “Yeah, Will, I know all the reasons you won’t do it. Now I’m giving you a damn good one to do it.” He lifted both hands as if he couldn’t believe he had to convince his client of something so obvious. “It’s advertising. You do a few commercials and sit for a bunch of photo shoots. You’ll get a million bucks in your bank account and everyone will ignore Damien’s innuendo.”
“Hi.” Ruby’s bottom lip quivered, her hand falling to the stuffed white chicken nestled in her lap. She looked so damn lost.
But she wasn’t. Not a
nymore. She had Will and his brothers. They’d take care of her.
“Hey, kid.” But this issue wasn’t just about him, was it? How would the suspension impact his brothers…her?
“Why are you hesitating?” his mom said. “He’s giving you a chance to clean up your family’s reputation.”
“The Olympics are eight months away,” his manager said. “Do the campaign, and we stay on track.”
His dad had been Will’s biggest supporter. He’d stood by him at the cost of losing his wife.
Winning that gold medal would prove his dad’s support hadn’t been for nothing.
“What if you spin the endorsement in a different direction?” Delilah said. “What if you worked it so Will’s not actually telling anyone to eat the product? Like maybe you show Will skiing or training, and then an image of the product pops up on the screen.”
Well, damn. He had so much tangled up in this suspension—the reputation he’d worked so hard to build, his dad who’d supported him through everything—that he hadn’t considered the options. “I like that.”
“Won’t work.” His manager’s gaze shifted to Ruby. “They have a specific campaign in mind. They’ve already sent the contract, which I haven’t had a chance to look at but, basically, they’re going for family values. They want you as a father figure.”
His joints locked. “I’m not a father.”
“How do they know about Ruby?” His mom’s tone was filled with accusation.
“Maybe from the guardianship papers you filed,” Alex said. “Someone from the courthouse might’ve leaked it.”
Ah, that’s probably it. “So, the campaign includes Ruby?”
“Yes. They’re a good company. Like I said, family-oriented. They donate ten percent of their proceeds to charitable causes. And they think highly of you, Will. You lead a clean life. And now…with the kid.”
“Hi?” The little girl’s voice cracked, and big, fat tears glistened in her eyes. The fingers resting on her cotton-covered thigh curled into the fabric, making it bunch. She blinked a couple times, her lungs pumping rapidly. Her jaw set, lips pressed together, she looked determined not to cry.
Will couldn’t take it. Stepping around his manager, he scooped Ruby off the table and into his arms. Jesus, she didn’t weigh more than a boot. With her big blue eyes, she stared at him, her body stiff. Her lower lip trembled, but not a single tear spilled down her cheek.
