Out of Bounds (12 page)

She shouldn’t say yes to a dinner just because a cute guy who kissed like the devil tilted his head at her. But she did it anyway.

* * *

A
FTER
THE
LAST
of the cleanup was finished, Julia drove back to the hotel. Deacon asked Wes if he had some time to talk. The two of them went out to the courts behind the community center. Deacon dribbled the ball out to center court.

Wes made a half-assed attempt to guard his brother when Deacon went up for a shot.

“You know what I never questioned when I was a kid?” he asked.

Deacon shrugged and shot again. “Nope.”

“What would happen if you didn’t make the NBA. I never doubted you’d make it. Even afterward, I didn’t really process exactly how much of a long shot it was. Your draft day just seemed inevitable.”

“Because I was a stud.”

“Don’t forget I also believed in the Easter Bunny during this same blind-faith era.”

Deacon spun and dribbled past him, but Wes got in front and blocked his shot. There’d been a time when they’d been almost exactly evenly matched, but in the past two or three years, Deacon lost a step while Wes was still playing professionally. They’d never discussed it. Deacon was the one guy in the world he had no interest in beating on the court.

“So what’s your point?”

“Nothing.” Wes bounced the ball a few times and then shot. The ball whispered through the net, easy as pie. “But what if you didn’t make the NBA? You might have been working in a gas station or flipping burgers or something. Maybe they wouldn’t have let you be my guardian. I might have been stuck in foster care till I aged out.”

It was bad enough that he’d spent six years in the system and couldn’t remember most of it. What if he’d stayed there until he was eighteen? What if all the memories he had of growing up with Deacon—visiting his team locker room, living in his big house with the indoor court, knowing he was safe and wanted—had been replaced by more moves, more rejection? More confirmation that the person he was wasn’t acceptable.

“I was going to steal Coach Simon’s car and take you away,” Deacon said. He clapped his hands and Wes tossed him the ball. “I had a whole plan about crossing the border, moving to Canada, using fake names. I might have had to grow your hair long and pretend you were a girl.”

Wes stopped dead. “Seriously?”

“I always thought you’d look cute in ponytails.”

“Screw you. You really thought about running away?”

“Not about the girl thing, but the rest of it? Yeah,” Deacon said. “I was too old for the Easter Bunny, Wes. I knew how many ways the NBA thing could go wrong and you couldn’t take much more. I wasn’t about to leave you in foster care.”

Wes smacked the ball out of his brother’s hands and shot. The ball bounced off the rim.

“Canada?”

“Don’t say I never gave your future any thought.”

The ball was all the way across the grass near his office window, so he jogged over to pick it up then he heaved a big pass in to Deacon who caught it on the fly and took it in for a dunk.

“The Fallon brothers,” Wes said. “Invincible as always.”

“That’s actually what I wanted to talk about,” Deacon said. “Julia and I are switching things up at home pretty soon. We’ve done an emergency intervention for this boy named Marcus—he’s fifteen and he’s a challenging kid, but his home life is a mess. By this time next month, his mom’s rights are going to be terminated and he’s going to need a permanent foster home. Julia and I really think we can make a difference for him, so we’re going to take him in.”

Wes smiled. “That’s great. The kid is lucky to have a place to land.”

“We hope so. But Marcus also has several half siblings. The oldest one is seven and then there are two preschoolers. Julia and I are going to have the whole family, which means we’re committing to being full-time for these kids for as long as they need us.”

“But you never take young kids.”

Deacon nodded. “We prefer the older ones. We’ve been so busy with the foundation, we needed the flexibility.”

“So now these little kids...”

“We can’t say no. Sometimes... I don’t know, Wes. It’s just right for now.”

Wes hugged his brother. “That’s unbelievable. Way to go, D.”

“Well, this is an opportunity for you, too. I’m not going to be able to work the Hand-to-Hand program the way I expected to. We’re going to need someone here to set it up, do all the hiring and basically manage the daily operation. There’s nobody we’d rather have doing that than you. Hire your buddy Ryan and the two of you can kick this thing into shape.”

A cold sweat broke out all over his body. With every word his brother said, Wes felt himself shutting down. Deacon needed him....

He couldn’t say no, but did he want to stay here in Kirkland?

Did he have a choice?

* * *

H
ER
PHONE
RANG
when she was getting dressed to meet the Fallons.

“Hey, Posy.” It was Wes. “So, bad news. Or maybe not. I guess it depends.”

“Depends on what?”

“On if you like karaoke.”

In the corner of the room, Angel, who’d appeared early that morning and hadn’t escaped yet, shook her stuffed teddy bear until it flew onto the bed.

She felt like the teddy bear in Wes’s grip, limp and helpless. The dog stood on her hind legs, paws scrabbling at the mattress. Posy scooped the bear up and threw it down the hall. Angel scrambled after it.

“I’m sensing there’s been a change of plans.”

“Deacon bet that Julia couldn’t list his stats in the quarterfinal game from his last year in the NBA. Turns out she could.”

“Impressive.”

“Yeah. I should warn you now. Don’t bet against Julia.” He laughed. “Anyway, she won the right to choose the restaurant tonight and she picked someplace called Finnegan’s because it’s karaoke night.” Wes didn’t sound as disgusted as she’d have expected him to be. “You still in?” She was about to say yes, when he added, “Because we can go somewhere else if you’re not going to have a good time.”

He’d promised her a night on the town after Equipment Day and he’d give it to her even if it meant missing out on his time with his brother. Wes kept his promises.

“I’m a fan of karaoke,” she said. “No worries.”

Make that one worry. She wasn’t wearing the pants she’d planned on for dinner to karaoke night at Finnegan’s. Not with Wes.

She opted for a slim skirt that hit just above the knee. On top she layered a spaghetti-strap tank and a deep fuchsia shirt. She added a wide black belt with a funky black-and-white clasp. For shoes, she had two choices—low black heels and lower black heels. She wished she’d packed a pair of real heels, but when she’d planned this trip to Kirkland to visit her mom, she hadn’t expected to be moving in and she really hadn’t expected to meet someone like Wes.

She looked in the full-length mirror, Angel next to her foot. Her hair looked good—she’d used her curling iron to make big soft waves. Her makeup looked good—her eyes and lips always looked better with a little color defining them. Her chest wasn’t as big as she’d have liked, but her stomach was flat and the slim skirt emphasized the curve of her hips and butt. Her legs were good—she’d always liked her legs. Her shoes...well... They were shoes and that was that.

She couldn’t fault any of her individual parts. It was just the whole, the complete package, the entire sum of everything that was her.
Big, broad, imposing, strong, tall and all of its synonyms including high, giant and large.
It wasn’t that she wanted to be petite. Posy never wished to be her mom’s size. It was just that her size combined with her competitive personality were too much. If she were just a little smaller, maybe she would feel more comfortable being herself.

They were going to pick her up and she wanted to be downstairs when they got there. She took one last look in the mirror and then grabbed a black chunky knit sweater. When she put it on, it hid most of her bright shirt and the funky belt. It toned everything down enough that she felt more acceptable.

Angel barked at her when she buttoned the sweater up, but she told the dog to shut up. Angel was small, white and fluffy. She had no clue how it felt to be Posy Jones.

She went downstairs to wait for Wes. She’d made good progress on the kitchen earlier that day and she shoved the finished boxes out of the way so she could lock the sliding glass door. When she tried to turn the lock, it wouldn’t catch because a corner of the throw rug was caught in the track. She pushed the door back, but the rug slid along the track with it. When she bent over to tug the fabric loose, Angel shot around her ankle and out into the night.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Posy muttered before she closed the door and locked it.

* * *

W
HEN
THEY
GOT
to the bar there was a line out the door, so Deacon and Julia dropped them off in front while they went to park the car. She and Wes reached the hostess station just as the other two walked into the bar.

As Deacon and Julia came up behind them, Posy felt the other people in the lobby assessing their group. The Fallons were hard to miss and Julia, in a short, red, sleeveless shift, drew admiring looks.

The hostess behind the podium was in her early twenties. She had a mass of blond hair pulled back and secured in a knot with a pencil. She licked her lips when the four of them came up and Posy watched her do the math, dismiss Deacon as obviously taken, before deciding she had a shot with Wes. Posy recognized the look in the hostess’s eye. She’d looked at attractive guys herself just that way. Heck, she’d given Wes that same look. She knew exactly what it meant when the woman leaned over the reservation desk, ostensibly because it was difficult to hear him, but actually because it made the top of her blouse gape, offering a view of a black bra with glittery gold hearts.

Oops.

Oops, my ass.

She wondered if the other woman knew that hussy and hostess shared an awful lot of letters. Posy tugged the sleeves of her sweater down over her wrists.

Wes half turned to her, putting his arm around her back so his fingers rested warm against her waist. He bent his head and his breath was on her ear when he said, “She wants to know if we’re planning to sing.”

The hostess registered his arm around Posy and her eyes swept Posy from head to toe, taking in the too-big sweater, the too-low heels, the too-much woman.

“It’s up to Julia. She wants to sing, right?”

When Wes turned back, the hostess licked her shiny lips again and leaned harder on the podium. One more inch and she might as well just invite him right up inside her shirt.

Posy had been assessed and dismissed.

Wes’s hand slid around to the small of her back as the hostess led them through the dining room to a table about three rows back from the stage. She wasn’t a person men felt protective of. The funny thing was, she’d always thought it would irritate her to be guided this way. Being steered. But it didn’t feel that way at all. It felt like a connection. A very private one.

He put a hand on the back of an empty chair and waited while she smoothed her skirt down and sat. When he sat next to her, he left his hand on the back of her chair so his arm was stretched across her shoulders.

He was dressed in a beautifully cut leather jacket over a slim dress shirt that showed off his chest and trim waist. His dark jeans emphasized the length of his legs. She leaned back, savoring his arm on her, and smiled at the hostess.

The woman snapped the menus on their table and said someone would be with them shortly.

“What a surprise to meet you all here. Hi, Posy.” Chloe’s sister, Felicity, was stopped next to their table, her eyes on Wes and Deacon even as she held her hand out to Posy. “It’s been years, but you still look just the same.”

She looked past Felicity’s shoulder and saw Chloe coming up to greet them.

Posy introduced Felicity to the others and then Chloe shook hands all around, but when she smiled at Wes, he practically glared at her. Chloe noticed, but she didn’t say anything. She left after a few more seconds.

Deacon picked up his menu. “What was that about?” he asked Wes.

“What?”

“The death stare,” Julia said. “That woman raised an awful lot of money for us last week.”

“Posy’s mom started the fundraiser. Without her, we wouldn’t have collected a penny,” he said. “And it was nothing. I had a conversation with her today and she rubbed me the wrong way, that’s all.”

Julia picked up her own menu, but she looked from Wes to Posy, a thoughtful expression in her eyes.

* * *

T
HEY
DECIDED
on a selection of appetizers and one of the wood-fire pizzas that Finnegan’s was famous for. Then Julia suggested they get a second pizza and Posy was sure there’d be way too much food, but it turned out Julia knew her brother-in-law very well. Wes ate most of the second pizza himself.

“It’s good,” was all he said when Deacon made fun of him for having fourths.

Throughout dinner they watched as people got up to do karaoke. The performers included a few high school kids, a bachelorette party that was ordering drinks by the dozen and one or two other couples. Then just as the dishes were being cleared, the emcee announced that they were taking sign-ups for the main event of the evening, the Famous Finnegan’s Friday-Night Face-off.

Julia jumped up from the table. “I’m in. Posy? Wes? Are you singing?”

Deacon put his hand over his eyes. “I knew I was doomed as soon as Julia heard about this.” He looked at Posy. “Some lady mentioned it while Julia was helping her kid try on shoes. My wife is a bit of a closeted diva.”

“Just for that, I’m signing up for a duet with my husband.”

While Deacon begged her to reconsider, Wes leaned in and asked, “What about you, Posy?”

Posy felt the competitive thrill inside. She’d let herself get carried away today playing Wiffle ball. She wouldn’t do it again. She was having a good time. She would sit back and watch the singing like a normal person.