Traded

by Tess Thompson

  “Well, one did.” Zane pointed to the bar. “See the girl at the end of the counter?”

  A young woman with long legs and glossy brown hair sat at the bar reading from a paperback. A paperback rather than an electronic device? Somewhat unusual for someone under thirty, which he presumed she was. What was she reading? His mother said you could tell a lot about a person by the kind of shoes they wore. But as a former English major, he believed reading choices rendered more details about the inner workings of a person’s character. For example, Honor was fond of self-help books that promised an answer to all your deficiencies in seven steps. Seven Ways to Success Beyond Your Wildest Dreams. Seven Habits to Inner Peace. The Seven Qualities of the Wealthy.

  His Kindle was loaded up with thousands of novels: thrillers, historical fiction, mysteries. Occasionally, he pulled up a classic he’d studied in school, just to prove to himself he could still dissect a work of literature. For the most part, however, he read for the sheer pleasure of losing himself in another world.

  “She’s renting that room of Old Man Cooper’s that used to be the dining room,” Zane said.

  “That place is a dump,” Jackson said. “And the old dining room’s the worst of them. I don’t think it’s safe, between the mildew and the old foundation.”

  “How do you know?” Brody asked, almost rhetorically. Between the two of them, Zane and Jackson knew every inch of this town.

  “My dad’s sister’s cousin rented it for a while,” Jackson said. “Like five years ago. She got really sick with pneumonia.”

  “That’s awful,” Brody said.

  “Her name’s Kara Eaton. She’s cool,” Zane said. “I told her to come over and say hi. Don’t get a big head, Brody, but I could tell she was totally psyched to meet you. Even though she thinks you’re a jerk.”

  The young woman turned slightly. She was gorgeous, with a round face, smooth skin, and a sultry mouth. She reminded him of a cross between Natalie Wood and Cindy Crawford.

  “She thinks I’m a jerk?” No one acknowledged his question.

  “Zane, are you going to ask her out?” Jackson’s voice lifted with hopeful expectation, like a spinster aunt hoping to marry off her favorite nephew.

  “Dude, what? No, no,” Zane said. “I just took an immediate sisterly liking to her—a kindred spirits type of thing. She has that shell-shocked look I had after my wedding that wasn’t a wedding.”

  “What brought her here?” Jackson asked.

  “She had a bad breakup and decided to start fresh,” Zane said. “Sound familiar?”

  “Just a little,” Brody said. When Zane’s fiancée called off their wedding a week before the planned nuptials, they weren’t sure he would ever leave his L.A. apartment. Ironically, his dad’s Alzheimer’s diagnosis had made it impossible for him to stay in Los Angeles. They all knew this bar had given him purpose and a calling. Brody just wished Zane’s heart would come back to life.

  “Actually, I thought she and Brody might hit it off,” Zane said.

  “What? You know that’s not in the cards,” Brody said.

  “But the season’s over,” Jackson said.

  “The next one’s right around the corner,” Brody said.

  “She’s a football fanatic. And, she’s reading a novel. Need I say more?” Zane grinned.

  Brody sighed. Zane should know better. He was not available. Women messed up his mind and distracted him from his purpose, which was to win football games. After Samantha, he’d sworn off intimate involvements. After two years, he still reeled over what she’d done, of what she’d been capable of. Lies and treachery. Blackmail.

  He only had to close his eyes to see her face. “I’ll go to the press and say you beat me.” Samantha had held up her phone to show him a photo of her face, battered and bruised. “Unless you pay up.”

  Now, he shuddered. It was still impossible for him to comprehend how someone could make up that monstrous of a lie about a person she had claimed to love.

  Thinking of it strengthened his resolve. No long-term relationships for the foreseeable future. Football came first.

  It wasn’t just the relationship aspect of women either. It was sex. He loathed to admit it, but sex ruined his game. The release took the edge off so that he wasn’t as focused or driven on the field. Last year, he’d decided: no sex during the season. He’d been celibate for the past six months. Six long months. But the sacrifice had been worth it for the best season of his life.

  He ran a finger over the rough ridges of his dad’s Super Bowl ring. No women. No sex. No problems.

  However, Jackson was right. It was the off-season now. Which made it dangerous to have such a beautiful woman at their table. Something causal, maybe, with someone in the city who understood the game of no-strings-attached sex with a football player. But not here. Not in his sanctuary. This was too small of a town to get involved with one of the local women. Furthermore, a girl in their friendship group was off-limits. This was a pact they’d made long ago. The Dogs didn’t sleep with women in the inner circle. It had happened once in college and had almost ruined their friendships.

  “Anyway, she’s dying to meet you. Like I said, she’s a football fan. Even though she doesn’t like you.”

  “But why?” Brody asked.

  “She says you seem like a jerk,” Zane said, obviously delighted by the woman’s inaccurate assessment of him.

  Brody grimaced. “It’s not my fault I have ‘resting douche face.’ ”

  “Seriously, what’s up with that?” Zane asked.

  “It’s the camera,” Brody said. “They always get me when I’m thinking.”

  “Which we know is hard for you,” Zane said.

  “You’re hilarious,” Brody said.

  “Also, she’s a nurse practitioner,” Zane said to Jackson. “I thought you might have some job leads for her. You okay if I bring her over?”

  “Sure, fine. We don’t have anything right now, but who knows what the future holds. My dad seems keen on golfing more and working less,” Jackson answered, but his mind was clearly elsewhere. On Sharon, Brody guessed. Why did women always mess them up? The Dogs were lucky in everything but love. He blamed it on the girl from freshman year who had claimed to be a witch. After Zane had dumped her, she’d made voodoo dolls out of all of them. He didn’t have concrete evidence, but he felt certain she’d pushed pins through the dolls’ hearts.

  Seconds later, Zane came back to the table with Kara.

  “Hey guys, this is Kara,” Zane said.

  His heart skipped a beat. It didn’t really skip a beat. That wasn’t possible. But damn if it didn’t feel as if it had. He tried not to stare. Her gorgeous brown eyes snapped with intelligence and humor. Black riding boots accentuated her long legs. She was tall, with curves in all the right places.

  She smiled. “Hi, everyone.” Full lips made for kissing. Stop right there. That line of thinking will get you into a heap of trouble.

  “Mr. Mullen, I promised myself not to act like a complete fool, but it’s an honor to meet you.” Creamy skin, the color of pale tea, glowed under the lights. He wanted to stroke her neck to see if it felt as soft as it appeared.

  Brody stood to shake Kara’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you too.”

  After the handshake, she smirked and raised one eyebrow. “In the spirit of full disclosure, I’m a Philadelphia fan.”

  “Not for long,” Brody said. “You’re in San Francisco territory now.”

  “We’ll see about that,” she said.

  They locked eyes and grinned at one another.

  The resonate tone of her voice and the round, open pronunciation of vowels and precise consonants reeked of breeding and education. She spoke without hurry too, each word chosen with meticulous care, like the high-powered attorneys and judges in his mother’s legal circle.

  Before he knew it, Brody had invited her to join them.

  Kara tossed her shiny cape of hair behind her shoulders. “I would love to, but I’
m tired from traveling, and I have a lot to do tomorrow. Plus, I wouldn’t want to get in the way of boys’ night out.”

  Stay. You should stay. He wanted to say the words. Which was the exact reason he shouldn’t. It was way too dangerous.

  “Another night, then?” Brody asked. Where had that come from?

  “I would love that. It’s nice to meet you guys,” she said.

  “Come by tomorrow and let me know how the job search went,” Zane said.

  “I will. I might be here every night. My new place doesn’t have a kitchen.”

  “That place is terrible,” Jackson said.

  “It’s cold and smells of mildew,” Kara said. “Do you guys know of any other places to rent here in town?”

  “I’ll keep my ears open,” Jackson said. “But we’re notorious for our lack of rentals or even homes for sale.”

  “Like I said, locals don’t love new people coming to town,” Zane said.

  “Someone had to die before I could find a piece of land,” Brody said.

  “Die?” Her eyes widened.

  “I mean, that’s how I was able to buy the property. When a woman in her late eighties died, the heirs to the land decided they’d rather have the cash, so they sold it to me. I didn’t get a good deal.” Brody glanced at Zane.

  “He’s still bitter about it,” Zane said.

  “True,” Brody said.

  “Well, I can imagine it was worth it to live here,” she said. “Anyway, I should scoot. Zane, thanks for everything tonight. I was feeling pretty sorry for myself when I came in. You made me feel so much better.”

  “Tacos will do that,” Zane said.

  “Nothing a few tacos and an IPA can’t do?” She smiled at each of them before slipping into her coat. “Good night, guys. So nice to meet you.”

  Brody watched her walk away. Muscular legs and wide shoulders hinted at athleticism. He appreciated a woman who wouldn’t blow away in a seaside breeze.

  “She’s beautiful, right?” Zane asked. “And classy.”

  “Sure. Yeah,” Brody said.

  “I bet she gives great bedside manner,” Jackson said.

  Brody stared at him, shocked. Jackson never said anything that hinted at a sexual innuendo.

  “I didn’t mean that how it sounded,” Jackson said. “I mean, for real. As in, she’s a nurse.” He shook his head. “You guys are both going to hell.”

  Right on cue, the devil walked through the doors.

  It was Kyle, dressed in skinny jeans, a long, fitted t-shirt, expensive-looking loafers, and a purple scarf tied around his neck. Only Kyle could wear a scarf and look cool instead of feminine. A San Francisco image consultant and a CrossFit gym had transformed the skinny, impoverished friend of their youth into a sophisticated lady-killer. What had been a baby face when they were young had aged and hollowed to chiseled perfection. His strong chin, high cheekbones, and dramatic ski-sloped nose made him look dangerous and sophisticated. Shiny black hair, cut short at the sides and long on top, spilled over his forehead in waves that looked like they just happened to fall that way. Brody knew differently. Kyle Hicks coaxed his hair into submission with the same practiced precision he used to get women into his bed. Hair and women were no match for Kyle’s honed skills.

  “Gents, I’ve arrived. The party may now commence.” Kyle took the empty seat next to Zane and crossed his legs, looking around the table with an expression of anticipation. “I’m half-starved. Where are my tacos?” Kyle asked. “Is this beer for me?”

  “We just arrived,” Brody said. “Keep your pants on.”

  “If only he could,” Jackson said.

  “You exaggerate my prowess,” Kyle said.

  “Are you, or are you not, hiding in Cliffside Bay from the women you’ve thwarted on the hard streets of San Francisco?” Brody asked.

  “I’m telling you guys, some women are more irrational than they first appear,” Kyle said.

  “Perhaps you make them irrational,” Jackson said.

  “Nah. That can’t be it,” Kyle said.

  “We should put a sign around his neck,” Zane said.

  Kyle grabbed an empty glass and poured himself a beer as he looked around the table. “What’s going on? You all look like the cat who ate a pigeon.”

  “Cat who ate the canary,” Jackson said.

  “What do you have against pigeons?” Kyle asked.

  “To answer your question, there’s a new woman in town. An extraordinarily cool one,” Zane said. “And Brody thinks she’s pretty.”

  “Hey, it’s not just me. We all think she’s pretty,” Brody said.

  “She gave you a spark,” Zane said.

  “A spark? There was no spark.” How had Zane noticed that?

  “Admit it. I’m a bartender. I know an immediate attraction between two people when I see it.”

  “Whatever.” Brody shrugged and bit into his second taco. If he ignored Zane, the subject would change to something other than his love life. Hopefully.

  “Well, I can’t wait to meet this lovely young woman,” Kyle said.

  “You stay away from her,” Brody said. Why had that just come out of his mouth? He seemed to be incapable of controlling his big trap tonight.

  “Yes, sir.” Kyle raised his hands with an expression of concession.

  “But yeah, you didn’t notice her at all,” Zane said.

  “Perhaps Brody just wants to protect the lovely Kara from Kyle’s piggy ways,” Jackson said.

  “Exactly,” Brody said. “That’s exactly what I was doing.”

  “I’ll keep my mitts off her,” Kyle said. “Your ladies are always off-limits.”

  “Like we have any ladies,” Zane said.

  “I do,” Jackson said.

  “Right. Good old Sharon,” Kyle said.

  “Why do you say it like that?” Jackson asked.

  Kyle shrugged and widened his eyes. “I didn’t say it like anything.”

  “You did,” Jackson said.

  “No, not at all,” Brody said, glaring at Kyle. “We’re just out to blow off a little steam.”

  “Absolutely,” Zane said, raising his glass. “To Brody and his Super Bowl win.”

  “It was a great night. One for the memory books,” Jackson said.

  “Memory books? Are we crafting now?” Kyle asked.

  “Hilarious.” Jackson rolled his eyes. “It’s an expression.”

  “And here’s to you being a permanent resident of Cliffside Bay,” Brody said. “If only we could get Lance back to the west coast.”

  “How is Lance?” Kyle asked. “I haven’t heard from him in forever.”

  “He’s in Zurich.” Brody pushed aside the memory of the phone call with Lance from earlier. He didn’t want to think about Flora’s diagnosis or the fact that Lance couldn’t get home. He could tell his friends about it tomorrow at breakfast. Not now. “But he’s busy running the stock market.”

  “Is that what a hedge fund manager does?” Zane asked.

  “None of us have any idea,” Kyle said. “All we know is that he’s smarter than the rest of us, other than Doctor Waller here.”

  Jackson grinned. “I think the folks you’ve made rich by developing their properties into resorts would disagree.”

  “You’re too kind,” Kyle said. “But that doesn’t take brains, only blood, sweat, and tears.”

  They raised their glasses as Jackson made another toast. “To four out of the five dogs being right where they belong. And to Brody. We’re proud of you.”

  “And we’re glad you haven’t traded us in for cooler friends,” Zane said.

  “There’s no such thing,” Brody said.

  “To us. Through thick and thin,” Kyle said.

  Brody’s eyes stung. He was getting sentimental in his old age. Who was he kidding? He’d always been sentimental. Especially about these guys. Thick and thin.

  Chapter Eleven

  Kara

  After she returned to her apartment, Kara cha
nged into her warmest pajamas and curled up next to Minnie. The nights in the hotel had been lonely, but at least they had been warm. She’d taken for granted the bathtub and cable television. Yet another aspect of life she didn’t fully appreciate until it was gone. I just want to go home.

  She scratched Minnie under the chin, who lifted her head and purred. Was this her life now? Curled up in a cold room with a cat? Minnie yawned and meowed in protest of her owner’s disloyal thoughts. “I know, you’re cute,” Kara said. “But humans are good too.”

  Why hadn’t she accepted the invitation to stay at the bar with Zane and his friends? She knew the answer, even as she loathed to admit it to herself. Brody Mullen had disturbed her. He was sexy and unapologetically manly. The man wore his virility like a uniform. She hadn’t expected that, given how surly and unpleasant he appeared on television. And his eyes. Intense and seeing, like a hawk. She’d shrunken under his gaze. The sudden urge to flee had overtaken all other desires. Which was not like her. Normally, she faced any challenge with unflinching calm. She was a trauma nurse for heaven’s sake, not some school girl. Look what she’d done! Faced her father in a courtroom. Taken down a drug ring.

  Kara had developed detachment skills the first few months of working in the trauma unit. She distanced herself from the horrors of the moment by focusing only on the task at hand. Who could have predicted she would need that same skill to condemn her father?

  Looking back, she could pinpoint the exact moment the first thread of her life had unraveled. One can’t see it at the time, but after, when left with only the teary aftermath, it appears in exact clarity. It was the call from her father about his annual garden party.

  “You haven’t been home for two years,” he said. “Come for the party. I’ve invited several young men I want you to meet.”

  Her guilty conscience had caused her to accept his invitation. I should at least try and have a relationship with him, she had told Jessica. Maybe now that she was older they might have a chance to become closer. She took a week off work and drove up to her father’s country estate in Upstate New York.

  She closed her eyes, remembering the night that changed everything.