A smiling Sandra bops him on the chest. “My better half. As you can see, he’s in charge of the grill.”
He has stains upon stains on his apron, proof positive he’s most definitely a master of the barbecue. “Nice to meet you, Joe.”
“Likewise.” Something flares on the grill, catching our attention. “Oops, gotta go before those hamburgers get done a little too well.” But before he takes off, he points the spatula at Brock “Wanna a beer?”
“Sure thing,” Brock says, before turning to me. “You gonna be okay?”
“Of course.” Last thing I need is a babysitter.
“If you need me, I’ll be over there.” He points toward the grill where a bunch of men are hanging out. When he joins them, he’s welcomed with hearty backslapping and handshaking. Not a surprise. He’s their home team’s quarterback star, after all.
Sandra nods in Brock’s direction. “He’s the best.”
“Yes, he is.” I struggle to smile as I wipe off a trickle of sweat. Darn it. The heat’s getting to me.
“You okay, Mom?” Kudos to Kaylee for noticing how hot I am. My cheeks must be blazing red.
“Yes, honey. I am.” A total lie. I may have lived most of my life in the South, but my body has acclimated to the Chicago weather where it rarely reaches ninety degrees. And that’s exactly what it feels like right now because I’m burning up. The way I’m dressed isn’t helping. I’d chosen long sleeves and slacks. Even worse, I can’t run to Brock’s house and change. I didn’t bring any summer clothes.
“Want something cold to drink, Ellie?” Sandra asks, a look of concern on her face.
“Yes, please. Iced tea if you have it. With lots of ice.”
“Coming right up, honey.”
When she returns with the glass, she brings a young man with her. “Wanted you to meet my son, Mitch. I expect you’ve heard a lot about him. He and Ms. Kaylee here”—she nods toward my daughter—“have been inseparable all this week.”
Mitch has a mouthful of hardware, coke-bottom glasses, and appears just as geeky as they come. Brock was right. I have nothing to worry about.
“How do you do, Mrs. Parker?” And very polite too.
“Hello, Mitch.” I take the glass from Sandra while fighting the urge to guzzle the tea. Barely winning the struggle, I take a healthy gulp that feels great going down.
“Kaylee, I hit a snag with that app we’re working on. Can you take a look at the code?”
“Can I, Mom?” Kaylee pleads.
“Sure, honey. Don’t forget to eat.”
“Oh, don’t worry, Mrs. Parker,” Mitch says. “There’s a ton of food in the basement.” Talking a mile a minute, he and Kaylee disappear into the house.
Sandra shakes her head. “Can’t get them away from computers. Those two are going to change the world.”
“I bet.” What more can I say? They’re not going to be together, or even neighbors. Tomorrow, she’ll be flying home with me.
“So are you here for good?” Her question doesn’t seem nosy, but simple curiosity.
“No.” I shake my head. “Just visiting. I’m a sports agent and things are kind of hectic at work. What with trading season and all.” Not really a lie. Things are busy. But then they always are.
“Oh?” She glances toward Brock who’s moved on to coaching ball-tossing skills to some of the youth at the barbecue. Needless to say, they’re hanging on to his every word.
“He’s so good with them. We’ve had several get-togethers, and it always ends the same way. It won’t last past his training camp, of course. He’ll be too busy then. But in the meantime, they sure are making the most out of him.” She flicks her gaze back to me. “He’s wonderful with Kaylee. So he’s bound to be a great dad to a son.”
I choke on the tea.
“You okay?”
“Sorry.” I wheeze out. “Some ice went down the wrong way.”
While I regain my ability to breathe, a woman slithers up out of nowhere. She’s wearing a ton of makeup and a skimpy top that barely corrals her triple Ds. “You Brock’s wife?”
I cough and take a deep breath. “Yes, I am.”
“He’s such a good neighbor.”
Good neighbor? What the hell does that mean? Rather than pull her over-processed, bleached-blonde hair out by the roots, I smile sweetly. “I know.”
“The other day I was plumb out of coffee, and I stopped over to borrow some.”
Coffee. The one thing Brock has in abundance. “Did you now?”
“Yeah.” She twirls a curl around one of her talons as she ogles Brock.
Coveting is a sin, honey.
“And he sure gave it to me.” She cackles before wandering off.
The double entendre gets on my nerves. But I’m not getting down in the dirt with her. My mama taught me better.
“Don’t pay her any attention,” Sandra says. “She’s desperate.”
“Oh?”
“Her husband’s business went belly up, and he took off for parts unknown. Rumor has it her house is being auctioned to pay off his debts.”
“Oh, that’s awful.” Almost makes me feel sorry for her. But what is she doing about it? If I were in danger of losing my home, I’d take a second and third job. Anything to keep a roof over our heads. “She’s not employed?”
“No. She doesn’t have any marketable assets. Except for the obvious.” Sandra cups her boobs.
Ooooh. Go Sandra. Who knew this sweet, mild-mannered woman had such sharp claws? I like her. A lot. Too bad I’ll never get to know her. We could have been friends.
“Want more iced tea? Looks like you’re done with that one.”
For the first time since I arrived, I smile honestly. “Yes, thank you, Sandra.”
“Sure thing, honey.” After she brings me more tea, I mingle with some of the guests. Except for the occasional catty remark, most seem quite nice. To my surprise, I actually enjoy myself. Something I hadn’t expected. But as the afternoon progresses, I lose the fight with the heat. Pretty soon I’m looking for a place to lay down.
Sandra’s been busy with hostess duties, but somehow she notices my distress. “You looking a little peaked there, Ellie.”
I fan my face with a paper plate, but the slight breeze is nothing but hot air. “I’m afraid the sun’s getting to me.”
“Ellie?” Brock pops up by my side. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”
Rather than hang over me, he’d given me space, which is what I’d asked him to do. But now I desperately need his help. “I think”—I swallow hard—“I think I better go home.”
“The sun’s too much for her,” Sandra offers by way of explanation.
Feeling like I’m going to pass out, I droop against Brock’s broad chest and stumble a couple of steps. Without bothering to ask any questions, he picks me up and rushes past all the gawkers who whisper as we pass by.
“Feel better.”
“Take care.”
“Oooohhh, wish it were me.”
No, honey, you don’t. I’m about to barf.
Back home, he lays me on the couch. “Tell me what you need.” His eyes are full of worry.
“A glass of cold water would be nice. Not too cold,” I say as he heads to the kitchen. In a flash, he’s back holding a frosted mug.
“Sip it slowly. You don’t want to upset your stomach.”
“I know.” Taking small sips with rests in between, I drain the glass.
While I’m doing that, he retrieves two bed pillows and tucks them behind me. “Feeling better?”
Exhaustion’s setting in. Before I can say ‘yes,’ I drift off into a dreamless sleep where nothing can touch me. Not the sun, not Brock, not even Kaylee. Sometime later, I come awake with a jerk. No idea what woke me up. A little disoriented, I glance around to find him in the reclining chair next to me, his head leaned back, his eyes closed. He’s not sleeping. Only keeping me company.
I breathe a sigh of content. If only it could be always like this.
If only we could be together. But that just can’t be. I can’t live with a man who doesn’t trust me. Who’s willing to believe the worst of me.
“What time is it?” I ask. Sunlight’s no longer streaming through the front window, so it’s got to be night.
Sitting up, he glances at his watch. “Nine-fifteen.”
I’ve slept for three hours. “Where’s Kaylee?”
“In her room. She rushed over when she heard. But when she saw you were sleeping, she headed to her room to work on some computer stuff. Want something to eat? Sandra dropped off some food.”
“Nooooo.” The mention of food turns my stomach, and I’m running for the bathroom.
A while later I emerge, weak and shaking.
He stands in the living room, fists propped on his hips. “That’s it. I’m taking you to the ER.”
“Don’t be silly. It’s just a touch of sun poisoning.” Actually, it’s a lot more than that, but I’m not sharing the real reason with him.
“You sure, Ellie?”
His concern touches me. “Yes.”
Trying hard not to jostle my innards, I creep toward the couch. Right now, that’s the best place for me.
“Wouldn’t the bed be more comfortable?”
“No. This is fine. Just don’t say the ‘F’ word. If you have to e-a-t, don’t do it in front of me.”
He smiles that grin that rocks my world. “I can do that. You want to watch some TV?”
“Yes, please.” It’ll take my mind off my stomach, which is still pissed off at me.
“What would you like to watch?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“What about your baking show?”
I shoot him a death glare. Or try to anyway. Too weak to really achieve it. “You’re a cruel, cruel man, Brock Parker.”
“Sorry.” Going by that grin, he’s not the least bit sorry.
He pulls up one of the premium channels. “Sleepless in Seattle” or “Notting Hill?”
Two romantic comedies. He knows how much I love them. But both those movies have dinner scenes. “Nope. Isn’t there some nice musical where people don’t eat?”
“Ooh, tough one. How about “West Side Story?” “The Sound of Music?” “My Fair Lady?” I drift off again while he runs through the list. Hours later, I wake up in his bed. How I got there I have no idea. But one thing’s for sure, I’m starving.
He’s curled around me which is going to make it tough to slip out of bed. At a snail’s pace, I inch away from him, until I’m finally free. Grabbing my cell so I can check for messages, I head toward the repository of all food—the kitchen. Hopefully something there will spark my appetite. Sure enough, the fridge is chock full of food, from the barbecue, from his drop-bys. But only one thing grabs my attention.
He’s got to have peanut butter to go with it. He loves that stuff. I go searching in the cupboards for a jar. On my third try, I find it. And it’s the crunchy kind too. My favorite.
Parking my fanny on a kitchen stool, I open both jars. Pretty soon I’m spearing the peanut butter with the tasty treat, sucking the salt off my fingers, licking them too.
When steps approach, I realize it’s much too late to hide what I’m eating. I’ll have to brazen it out.
“You’re eating?” Brock asks, semi-awake. Semi-hard too. But then why wouldn’t he be? It’s already morning.
“Yep. Got hungry.” I swipe the brine off my lips.
“That’s good.” His sleepy gaze drifts to the jars. He blinks a couple of times before his eyes flare. “Peanut butter and pickles?”
“My favorite.” I grin.
His brows knit. “Since when?”
I play it off like it’s no big deal. “Since always.”
“I don’t think so. You’ve never eaten that combo before.” Wide awake now, he crosses his arms against that broad, bare, lickable chest of his.
God. I can’t get horny right now. Not when I need all my working brain cells. “Yeah, I have. You just weren’t around.”
His gaze narrows. “When Sandra dropped off the food, she asked me something.”
“Oh?”
“She wanted to know when the baby was due.”
Chapter 29
Brock
“WHEN WERE YOU GOING TO TELL ME, ELLIE?” How could she have hidden this from me?
“Tell you what?”
Can’t believe she’s doing this. “Don’t fucking play with me. When?”
Unable to look at me, she gazes down at her feet. “September, maybe October.”
“When’s the baby due?”
“Christmas time.”
I do a quick math. “So you’re four months along?”
“Yes.”
Four months ago we were in Bora Bora. Shortly before our trip, she’d developed a reaction to her birth control pills. Rather than chance a new prescription while we were out of the country, we’d opted for condoms. But there had been times—in the beach bungalow, in the ocean, on a freaking sailboat—when we’d made love without protection. I hadn’t given a damn because more than anything else I want more children with her. And now that wish is a reality.
Except.
She doesn’t want me to be part of it. Once again she’s hidden her pregnancy from me. Something easily done since we live hundreds of miles apart. She probably thought if she waited until October to tell me, I wouldn’t do anything about it. But she’s wrong. Dead wrong. That’s my child she’s carrying, and I’m not about to let her go at it alone. Not this time. Not ever again. “I may have missed out on Kaylee, but I’ll be damned if I miss out on this one.” I point to the floor. “You’re moving down here.”
She clambers off the stool to confront me. “No. I’m not.”
I want to shake sense into her, kiss her into submission, but neither is going to get me what I want. “For God’s sakes, Ellie, how many roadblocks are you going to put in my way?”
She hitches up her chin. “As many as it takes.”
Breathing hard, I fist my hands. “I want you here. With me.”
“Why? So I can watch you play hide the salami with those single neighbors of yours?”
Idiot woman. “I haven’t done it so far, and I’ve had every opportunity to do so. What makes you think I will?”
Jutting out her jaw, she slaps her fist on her hip. “One of them came up to me at the picnic.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know. She borrowed some coffee.”
“Ahh. Suzi.”
“You know her name?”
“Of course, I do. She told me. You got nothing to worry about. I don’t have the least interest in her, or any of the other women who’ve dropped by.” As gently as I can, I cup her shoulders. “I only want you.”
She shrugs me off as her lip curls. “You’re only saying that because for some weird reason you want a family. And Kaylee, and this baby and I”—she hugs her stomach—“fit the bill.”
“I do want a family with you and Kaylee, and God willing, this baby. But I’ve always wanted you.”
“Really?” She folds her arms across her chest. It’s only now I notice her growing belly. How could I have been so fucking blind?
“Yes.”
“Then why did you decide our marriage would be temporary?”
“Because that was the only way to get you to marry me.”
She drops her arms as doubt rolls over her face. “What?”
“I knew if I offered anything permanent, you would have said no. And I couldn’t have that. Not when I’ve wanted you for so long.”
Her breath hitches. “Since when?”
“Since always.” I cup her cheek, stroke a thumb across her velvety skin. I love her so much, but I can’t say the words. She’ll never believe me.
“If you wanted me so much, why didn’t you come looking for me?”
She’s right. I should have. But nobody knew where she’d gone. I’d been so devastated when she left, I’d barely eaten, hardly slept. It’d
taken my high school football coach to pull me out of my funk. After I’d missed several practices, he’d told me I was in danger of not being recruited by Clemson, Mississippi State or anyone else. And then he’d ordered me to pull my head out of my ass. The tough talk worked so well I pretty much mowed down defenses after that. By the time I’d arrived at college, I’d learned to focus on football in order to live with the pain. But I never forgot her. “You left without saying goodbye. I thought you didn’t want me, Ellie.”
“I couldn’t. I didn’t know what to say.”
“How about I’m having your baby. Please help.”
“You were seventeen, Brock. Last thing you wanted was a baby. You said so yourself.”
I don’t recall that conversation. “When?”
“After the Outlaws’ banquet. You said it’d been for the best you hadn’t knocked me up.”
“I didn’t know, Ellie. But if you’d given me half a chance, I would have fucking learned.”
“You were the biggest stud in high school, Brock. What kind of a father would you have made? I had to think about the baby. I had to think about me.”
“From the day we made love, I never looked at another girl, much less hooked up with one. I would have done right by you.”
“And what would you have done, Brock? Told me you’d take care of us until the end of time?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“No. Of course, you don’t. It’s easier to believe what you want to believe. Life is a whole lot easier when you push people away. That way you’ll never get hurt.”
Tears rain down her cheeks as she puts both hands over her ears. “Stop this. Stop this.”
I pull down her hands because I want her to hear every word I have to say. “But understand this. You’re throwing us away when we could be wonderful.”
“You’d say anything, do anything to keep us by your side.” She spits out.
“Not anything, Ellie. I would never lie about this. I want you in my life. You and Kaylee and Butch. And that’s the God’s honest truth.”
We’re standing inches from each other, and yet a whole world apart.
Kaylee rushes into the kitchen, a concerned look on her face, and we grow silent.
Roughing the Player (Chicago Outlaws Book 2) Page 21
