Out of Bounds (20 page)

* * *

T
HE
NEXT
WEEK
on Wednesday at lunchtime, Wes’s rec-league team was up by twenty points in the first quarter of the game. Jay was on his team and the mayor would not stop feeding him the ball. Wes could score at will. Well, not at will, but if he put his mind to it, he could score a lot. The problem was he was bored out of his skull. His rec-league games were rapidly becoming a bigger chore than any of the weeding he did for Mrs. Meacham.

Jay shot him another pass and Wes dribbled around, pretending that Ryan, who was attempting to guard him, was an impeccable defender. In reality, he was easy to beat if Wes cut to his left, and even easier on his right. Wes passed to Jay and prayed the guy would take the ball to the basket himself.

“You’re slacking,” Ryan muttered.

“Forget your daily affirmations, Ryan?” Wes said. “You’re good enough, you’re smart enough and, gosh darn it, you can guard the lane.”

Jay yelled, “Wes!” and the ball came right back to him.

Are the mayor’s arms broken or what?

Ryan swatted at the ball and Wes was tempted to put it through Ryan’s legs and take it in on a fast break, but that would be rude. And humiliating. And, Wes thought, as he passed the ball to Mickey Denoria, his other guard, it wouldn’t make the game any more interesting.

He watched as Mickey put the ball up, but Ryan managed to get a hand in his face to block it cleanly.

“Nice move,” he said to Ryan and ignored the glare Mickey sent his way. It
was
a nice move. Moves like that were few and far between in this league and should be celebrated.

Posy would understand.

Heck, Posy would wipe the court with these guys. He wondered what she did at lunchtime. Jay wouldn’t refuse if he asked him to put her on a team. Not that she’d be there much longer, but still, he could get one more good game in. He didn’t even have to play. Watching Ryan guard Posy would be entertainment enough.

He took himself out of the game, trading places with John McHale, and settling on the end of the bench. Bubba, whose adoption had gone through that morning, was lying on the pavement behind the bench. Wes had decided to bring him to work for the day and he’d spent the first hour lying on the floor in Wes’s office before transferring to the court to lie in the sun. Bubba seemed to have two speeds, slow and asleep, but Wes liked to think he was enjoying the change of scenery from the shelter.

Jay yelled for him, so Wes bent to fiddle with his shoelaces. He had his head down when he heard a familiar bark from the dog park on the other side of the courts.

He swiveled on the bench. Posy and Angel were just going through the gate.

He quickly untied Bubba’s leash and pulled the dog up. “I’m heading out, guys! See you next week.”

His pulse kicked up faster than it had during the entire game. He wanted to be here in Kirkland for his brother, but Posy was right. The place might be charming, but it was no Madrid. Not that he wanted to live in Madrid—it was too far from home—but he wasn’t sure he was cut out for this life, either. Working a desk job, shooting around with the guys at lunch and then heading home to weed his garden and drink beer on the deck.

Being away with Posy had reminded him how much he enjoyed life on the road.

Posy smiled when he came through the gate.

“Is Bubba a full-fledged member of the family now?”

“As of this morning,” he said. Angel dropped a tennis ball in front of him and he picked it up. Her whole body tensed with excitement, every inch of her being focused on it. Bubba didn’t seem to notice the ball.

Wes reared back and flung it. Angel streaked after it, the fur on her ears streaming backward, her tail straight, her compact body flying as she ran. Bubba yawned and stretched his front legs out, rear end in the air, tail curling, until he suddenly flopped to his belly in the grass.

“Bubba lacks Angel’s enthusiasm for dog games,” Wes explained.

Posy slid her foot out from under Bubba’s head.

“Bubba lacks enthusiasm for just about everything, as far as I can tell.”

Posy wore a yellow shirt and a gray cotton skirt printed with white circles. Underneath, her legs were bare. She bent to pick up the ball when Angel returned it and he had to swallow hard at the sight of her skirt riding up enough that a guy with an active imagination could really have fun.

It didn’t escape him that he was having a lot more fun walking his dog with Posy than he’d had on the court today. Or that she was still the most interesting person he’d met in Kirkland and one of the only ones he wanted to get to know better.

He poked Bubba with his toe. “Don’t you want to chase the ball, buddy? This is what dogs do at the off-leash park.”

Bubba shifted onto his side, exposing his belly. Wes threw the ball again for Angel and then rubbed his foot against Bubba, who closed his eyes.

“He’s not really what you expected, is he?” Posy asked.

“I never had a dog,” he said. “I told you.”

A pair of terriers whose owner was chatting with another woman near the gate chased Angel when she ran back to drop the ball again. Posy picked up the ball and faked a throw in one direction before tossing it in another. Angel wasn’t fooled by the fake out, but the terriers were. They were a few yards away when Angel took off after the ball.

“They’ll never catch her,” Wes said.

“No one ever catches her.”

Before they ended the game, the terriers were lying panting next to Bubba. Even Angel looked slightly droopy, although she perked up enough to snarl at a Lab who tried to take the ball she’d dropped near Bubba’s face. The Lab backed off a step, but then decided Angel was too far away to stop him so he went for it again. Bubba snaked out and he snatched the ball before the Lab got close. The Lab barked, trying to engage Bubba, wondering if this was a new game, but Bubba stood, shook himself once, dropped the ball next to Angel and then looked back at Wes.

“I didn’t know he was even awake,” Wes muttered.

“Do you wish Bubba had more pep?”

“He is who he is,” Wes said. “It’s not as if I’d ever return him just because he doesn’t meet my fantasy of what a perfect dog would be.”

“Some people would,” Posy said. “Heck, someone already did. Isn’t that why he was up for adoption?”

Wes crouched next to Bubba and scratched his neck. When Angel and the terriers came back, Posy’s dog scooted under his knees, dropped the ball and bared her teeth at the terriers. They backed off and Angel laid the ball down between her front paws.

“I had five different foster placements in six years. I don’t even remember them all. I used to worry they’d move me somewhere Deacon couldn’t find me. Or that he’d realize all these other people were right and he wouldn’t want me, either. That’s all I had when I was a kid. Deacon. He wanted me when nobody else did.”

Posy crouched next to him, her skirt tucked over her knees. “That’s all anybody really needs, right? One person who wants them.”

“I’m Bubba’s person. Pep or not.”

Posy stood. “Angel’s an anarchist,” she said. “I’ve been reading that site Travis told me about. All this time, I thought she was badly behaved when really she’s been bored out of her mind. She wanted a job. She likes to spend part of each day engaging in bold action against squirrels, carpenter ants, Chloe Chastain and my mother’s mail carrier.”

“What did the mail carrier do to get on the list? Steal the coupons out of the grocery circular?”

“Maybe he nabs my mom’s
People
magazine when Jennifer Aniston is on the cover. I don’t know what his crime is, but Angel does.” She watched Angel taunt the Lab with the tennis ball for a few seconds. “Did you know they have agility leagues for dogs? It’s like obstacle courses with all these complicated tricks—the dogs have to be smart, fast and agile. I bet Angel would ace an agility course.”

“You should get her in a class.”

“She’s not my dog,” Posy said, but the statement didn’t have nearly the force it usually did.

Angel carried the ball all the way back to the gate of the dog park, leaving the Lab frustrated behind her.

Posy clicked the button on her key ring to unlock her car.

“I thought I was the only one in Kirkland who locked the car,” Wes said.

“Habit,” she answered. “I haven’t lived here in a long time.”

Again, it was time for her to leave and he didn’t want to see her go. He reached for her hand.

“After I drop Bubba off, I’m free. Can we meet for dinner?”

“Downtown?”

“Wherever you want.”

“I’ll be at my mom’s.”

“How does pizza sound?”

“Perfect.”

When he got to her mom’s house later, he parked in the driveway and then rang the doorbell. They didn’t actually get to the pizza until long after it had gone cold, but he didn’t mind.

Living with ballplayers as long as he had, cold pizza was practically its own food group.

* * *

S
HE
WOKE
UP
the next morning, groping on the nightstand for her phone before she was fully awake enough to realize it was ringing. Wes’s arm slid around her from behind, cupping her breast. His erection pressed against her and she wished she’d woken up all the way so she could have let the phone go to voice mail.

“Hello?”

“Posy, the cops are here,” Maddy said. “They arrested your mom.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

F
OR
ONE
SECOND
she closed her eyes and allowed herself to press back, sinking into Wes’s strong arms. Remembering the way she’d felt last night.

Then she rolled forward and sat up in bed.

“Where are they taking her?” she asked Maddy.

“It was the Kirkland P.D. Downtown, I guess.”

“Tell her I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Her shirt was on the floor next to the bed and she bent to grab it, acutely aware of her naked body. As soon as he found out her mom had been arrested, his loyalty to Deacon would trump the fragile relationship they’d built. This blow to the foundation’s reputation was also the death blow to her hopes. She slid off the bed and crouched, pulling her shirt over her head even as she groped for her underwear.

He rolled to the edge of the bed and leaned over. His eyes were still half-closed, an invitation to come back to bed. She sat and pulled her pants on, hustling into them so she could be covered. Protected.

“Where are you going?”

“You need to go, Wes,” she said.

“What’s happening?”

“My mom’s been arrested.” She pushed herself up. She couldn’t face him, but she had to do it. He sat up, the sheet pulled around his waist, his chest and stomach bare and so beautiful, it was unfair. Even more unfair, she felt tears behind her eyes. “I don’t know more than that.”

“Posy, wait.” He scrambled toward her, but she turned on her heel and left the room. She heard a bang as he stumbled into something in the room and a muffled curse. She went into the bathroom and started to brush her hair. The lock was broken, but she kept her heel wedged against the bottom of the door. She didn’t want to have to face her anger.

He knocked, rattling the handle. “Posy, let me in.”

“No. I’m not decent.”

“I’m...we just... There’s nothing I haven’t seen.”

She pulled her hair into a ponytail and secured it with a band. Her toothbrush was just out of reach and she stretched for it, trying to grab it with the tips of her fingers while keeping her foot against the door. She slipped and the door flew open, the handle banging hard into the tile wall. Wes leaned in the doorway, jeans open at his waist.

“We didn’t do this, Posy.” He shook his head. “I talked to Deacon last week and we agreed.”

“I didn’t think he would.” It didn’t make much difference who had caused the arrest.

“It was Chloe,” he said. “It has to be.”

“How can Chloe press charges? My mom didn’t steal her money.”

Wes straightened up, leaning one shoulder against the door frame. “All the donors were legally victims. Chloe didn’t just collect money, she donated some of her own.”

“Oh, for the love of...” Posy threw her hairbrush into the sink. “What am I supposed to do now?”

Wes took a step toward her. “She needs a lawyer. I asked Deacon if we could help, if it came to this, but our lawyers can’t represent her. If you need to find someone, we can get a referral.”

She put the tube of toothpaste down. “You asked your brother if the Fallon Foundation lawyers could help my mom when she got arrested because she stole from you?”

He shrugged. “Stupid, I know.”

She went to him and leaned against his chest. “Not stupid. Sweet. Well, maybe stupid, but also sweet.” She kissed his jaw. “Thank you.” He didn’t want to have to choose between them. It was sweet, but it wasn’t going to work.

He cupped her face, rubbing his thumbs along her chin and across her lips. “I want to help.”

* * *

H
E
DRESSED
AS
QUICKLY
as he could and met Posy by the front door. She was piling things into the huge bag she carried. A granola bar, several bottles of water, her phone, a package of tissues and a bottle of hand lotion. He stopped counting and just watched her. She talked a good game about giving up on her mom, but here she was, ready to go to bat the second Trish needed her.

She had her keys in one hand and the bag in the other, so he opened the door and held it for her. He felt a swish against his ankle and then heard Posy yell, “Damn it, Angel! No!”

The dog was gone, across the street and around the blue house.

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I wasn’t thinking.”

Posy shook her head. “She better keep far away from Chloe’s house. The last thing I need is to give her another reason to come after us.”

He held her coffee cup while she unlocked her car and then leaned down to kiss her. She’d been in the bathroom for less than five minutes and looked gorgeous.

“I’m right behind you,” he said.

She pulled out and he watched until she made the turn at the end of the block. He walked to his own truck and then saw Chloe jogging toward him from her house across the street.

“They arrested Trish this morning,” she said. “I know the fundraiser bank account was empty for at least a week, maybe longer, while she was supposed to have control of the money. I don’t know what she did with it, but that check Posy gave you came from some other source.”

Wes didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t going to lie to Chloe, but he wasn’t about to give her any more details. He wondered who her source was at the bank. In a small town like this, it probably wasn’t hard to find someone who knew someone who knew that kind of detail about a local account.

“I told you I had to protect my business,” she went on. “I have a picture of you kissing Posy just now. If I need it, I can use it. I’m the one who’s obviously on the outside here. I raised money in good faith and I’m a victim just as much as anybody else.”

“You don’t have to threaten me, Chloe,” he said.

“I’m taking care of my business because I have to. I can’t see my name ruined over this. You and your brother should start thinking about your foundation and how you’re going to protect yourselves.”

He called Deacon from the truck on his way to the police station. He thought his brother was going to jump through the phone when he heard the story.

“This wasn’t her call. She shouldn’t have done this without talking to us—”

“I know, Deacon, believe me, I know,” Wes said. And he did know. He was furious with Chloe. The trouble was, he also understood. She was protecting her family. They all were.

He pulled the truck over and parked. He was a block off Main Street in downtown Kirkland. The police station was two blocks north. There weren’t many people out at this time of the morning, but the shops were starting to open and a park ranger was down on the public dock at the end of the street, unchaining the gates and picking up a few stray pieces of paper.

If he continued seeing Posy, would the Fallon Foundation lose the place they were building here in Kirkland? Deacon had been working on the Hand-to-Hand project for more than two years. They were so close now to seeing the program become reality.

“Where are you now?” Deacon asked.

“Parked downtown. I’m on my way to the station to help Posy with her mom.”

His brother didn’t say anything and the silence stretched between them.

“You don’t want me to go,” Wes said. It wasn’t a question.

“It’s not about what I want. What can we afford?”

“I told her I’d help.”

“Vic contacted a local lawyer last week. Give his name to Posy. We can’t take care of the bills for her, but Vic said he’s good. He said since Trish Jones paid the money back and she doesn’t have a record, she’ll more than likely get a suspended sentence, especially because we’re not pressing charges. This could all blow over in a week or two.”

Posy couldn’t walk into the police station alone. “I have to meet her, Deacon.”

“Please, Wes, think about what you’re doing. Are you sure what you and Posy have is the real thing? If you have any doubt, can you back off and let the lawyer take it?”

For the first time in his life, Wes wanted to turn his back on his brother. Just the idea made him feel like a worm. He had to stick with his family.

He called her cell but it went to voice mail. He texted her the name of the lawyer Vic had given them and then he drove back to his apartment.

Mrs. Meacham was asleep in her Adirondack chair in the yard. He sat in the chair next to her and stared at nothing for two hours. His phone didn’t ring.

* * *

T
HE
K
IRKLAND
POLICE
DEPARTMENT
was small. The university had a private police force that took care of the campus. That left very little in the way of a town. She was surprised at how run-down the small station was, with the mingled aroma of stale coffee, strong cleaning fluid and dust.

She could see her mother on the other side of a glass partition, being interviewed by a uniformed police officer and another man in a sport coat.

“Excuse me,” Posy said to the officer behind the front desk. “That’s my mother, Trish Jones, and I need to speak to her.”

“She’s being processed. You’ll have to wait until she’s through.”

“But she doesn’t have a lawyer. How can she be processed without her lawyer?”

The officer barely glanced at her. “She needs to ask for one. It’s up to her.”

Posy wanted to vault over the desk and crash through the back to get to her mom. She sat on the bench against the wall where the officer sent her and waited.

At first, she glanced out the front window every couple of seconds. Wes would be here soon. She’d be able to talk to him, to make a plan.

When fifteen minutes had passed and her mom was still in the back and there was still no sign of Wes, she pulled out her phone. No messages.

A few minutes later, her phone buzzed. She pressed the button and read his text. He wasn’t coming. He and Deacon thought it best if he didn’t show up at the police station. They’d found a lawyer, though, and here was the number. He’d signed it Wes. Just his name.

Posy dropped her phone into her purse.

He’d made his choice. Deacon and the obligation Wes felt to him trumped her. His brother would always come before everything else in Wes’s life.

She was not going to cry in the Kirkland police station.

When Trish was finally released, the two of them collected her paperwork and Posy put the bail on her credit card. Grateful that no one was around to witness her mom’s humiliation, she put her hand under her mother’s elbow as they went down the steps outside and then realized she was treating her mom like an invalid when she was barely in her sixties. She dropped her hand.

Trish kept it together until she got to Posy’s car. As soon as the doors were locked, though, she lost it. She cried, great heaving sobs.

Posy didn’t know how to respond to her. “You stole the money, Mom,” she said cautiously after a few moments. “It’s not as if you got arrested for something you didn’t do.”

“But we paid it back.”

“I paid it back.”

Her mom jerked backward in her seat. “What is wrong with you?”

“You got arrested, Mom. That’s what’s wrong with me.” And it meant she couldn’t be with Wes.

“Please drop me back at the retreat center. I don’t need help from you if you’re going to be like this.”

“How do you want me to be?” Posy asked. Her throat ached from holding back her tears all morning. She met her mom’s eyes. “Tell me how you want me to be instead.”

Trish pressed her lips together. “You’re fine,” she said. “The way you are is fine.”

* * *

M
ADDY
MET
THEM
at the desk and after they got Trish settled, she took Posy to her own room.

“What’s going to happen?” she asked.

“I talked to a lawyer while she was at the station. He’s going to take the case. Based on the facts I gave him, it’s more than likely she’ll get a suspended sentence. She’s never been in trouble before and all the money was paid back on time.”

“Oh, thank heavens for that.” Maddy closed her eyes for a few seconds, and Posy knew she was praying. She wished she could think of what to pray for. There didn’t seem to be a thing she knew she wanted that was also possible to have.

“What about you?” Maddy asked. “What are you going to do?”

“What I’ve been doing. The house is almost done and it’s time to start on the store. I talked to my boss and he’s fine if I stick around here until the end of the week. I’ll have to see what happens with my mom after that.”

“And Wes?”

“There’s no more Wes.”

Maddy tried to get her to share more, but Posy was too tired.

He called six times that morning and another six in the afternoon. Every hour and half hour, on the dot. She didn’t answer. There wasn’t anything to say.

* * *

W
HEN
SHE
REFUSED
to answer his calls or texts, Wes thought about driving to her house. But what was he going to say?
Sorry your mom got arrested. I can’t do anything to help.

He’d heard from Deacon, who told him Chloe was getting set to run a blog post dissociating herself from the fundraiser and dragging Trish and the Fallon Foundation through the mud. Vic had convinced her to hold off until the next morning, but they didn’t have any way to shut her down.

He went for a run, hoping to clear his mind, but he didn’t get any closer to a solution. The problem was he understood Chloe’s position. She was doing what she thought was right to protect her business and her income. Once she found out about the theft, she almost had an obligation to make the facts public. She had to protect her image.

He slowed down. Her
image.

That was the main issue for Chloe. She had to maintain her reputation. Her blog was built on her online persona, so she had to maintain it.

He picked up speed as excitement flooded him. What if there was a way to not only salvage her reputation, but to improve it? Set her up as someone who’d been through a challenging experience and who could be seen as an authority?

* * *

T
HE
DOORBELL
RANG
around nine o’clock. Angel ran for the door, barking furiously. Posy looked out the window and then grabbed Angel before she opened it.