Power Play (Play Makers Book 4) (9 page)

“Thanks,” she told Wyatt sheepishly. “What a
jerk. Poor Chrissy.”

“Yeah. But she stays with him, so what’re
you gonna do?”

“We could bury the body in the orchard and
no one would ever suspect.”

“I like how you think.” He cleared his
throat. “How bad was it?”

“It was fine,” she assured him. “He’s just
such a windbag. But I have to admit, his son is a cutie.” She eyed
him teasingly. “Do you spend five minutes with the toddlers
too?”

Wyatt chuckled. “He’s what? Two and some
change?”

“Two and a half,” she agreed. Then she eyed
the football in his hand. “What’s with the prop?”

“I thought we’d get the first lesson out of
the way.”

“No such luck, Dr. Bourne. But I’d love to
see you throw. Word on the street is you don’t suck at it.”

She kept the teasing smile plastered to her
face, hoping he hadn’t noticed how smitten she was with him. The
way he had saved her from death by boredom, Roger Westin style. His
clear concern for his cousin’s welfare. Even the fact that he knew
the age of the youngest Bourne.

And of course, the way he loomed over her,
his steely eyes going cobalt at the slightest hint of amusement or
flirtation. The Bournes were a good-looking family, but he stood
out among them in much the same way he had done at the fundraiser.
Not just a great body, but a great presence. Possibly the most
confident person she had ever met, including Murf.

Maybe even including Emily.

And there was so much more. Having expected
him to discreetly use his earbuds to listen to a game during the
party, or to wander off alone for some Wyatt time, she had been
charmed by his diligent one-on-one interactions. Of course, Tony
had received the bulk of the attention, but as predicted, Wyatt
seemed intent on talking to each and every family member, his
expression always focused, never glancing at his watch, or his
phone, or even off into the distance.

Such a mystery, considering he only visited
once a year. Only gave impersonal gifts. Surely his football
schedule brought him to California frequently, and even in the
off-season, there were events like the fundraiser.

Apparently he could compartmentalize just
about anything, including family responsibilities. But at least he
did it right when the time came.

Embarrassed to be analyzing him all the
time, she was glad when he stepped back, gripped the football with
intention, and told her, “Go long.”

“Long?” She backed up a safe distance, then
stretched her arms high in the air, making her body as long as
possible. “Like this?”

He stared at her as though she had spoken
Martian. Then he turned and scanned the distance, where one group
of kids were playing basketball on a concrete court while another
group had set up crocket in a grassy field.

“Hey, Danny!” he shouted finally.

The tall, handsome teen she had met on the
porch trotted over to them. “What’s up, Uncle Wyatt?”

“Go long.”

The boy’s face lit up and he said, “Sure
thing,” then took off running. When he had gone far enough to make
Darcie wonder if Wyatt could really reach him, he half turned,
still running, and Wyatt threw the ball with an effortless yet
powerful motion that sent it spiraling through the air until it
landed securely in Danny’s outstretched hands.

“Yay!” she called out, not caring if she
sounded like a fan girl. “Great catch, Danny.” To Wyatt she added
sheepishly, “Nice throw too.”

“Thanks.”

“So when you say ‘Go long,’ you actually
mean, ‘Go far’?”

“Yes, Darcie. We’ve been saying it wrong all
these years.”

Danny was back, panting and proud, bringing
with him a group of admiring grandchildren. “Can we scrimmage,
Uncle Wyatt?” Danny asked. “Just for a few minutes?”

Wyatt hesitated, and Darcie realized it
wasn’t part of the usual routine for his visits. Then he shrugged
and said, “Sure. We’ll choose up teams, you and me as captains.
Darcie can be the cheerleader.”

“That’s sexist, Uncle Wyatt,” Annie told him
in mock horror.

“Fine, she can be the goalpost.”

When they all groaned, Darcie laughed. “I’m
afraid your uncle’s right. I don’t really know much about the
game.”

“You can be on
my
team,” Danny said
quickly.

“I want to be with Darcie,” Gail
insisted.

“Then I’ll be with Uncle Wyatt. We’re gonna
crush you,” Annie said with a grin. “Right, Uncle Wyatt?”

“No doubt.”

The two captains alternated their picks,
even allowing the younger children on a team, at least nominally,
with assignments such as “water girl” and “equipment manager.”
Darcie offered to be the judge, which sent the group into fits of
laughter as Danny gently explained she meant “ref.”

Then Wyatt’s cousin Chrissy walked over with
her little boy Nathan in tow. “What’s going on?”

“Uncle Wyatt’s going to play football with
us.”

“Really?” She gave Wyatt a smile. “You’re a
brave man.”

“I don’t back down from a challenge,” he
said with a wink. “Do you and Nathan want to play?”

“We’ll just watch.” She turned to Darcie.
“Bea wants to see you. On the porch.”

“Oh, darn,” Darcie said with a laugh. “I’ll
have to ‘go long’ some other time. Danny? I hope you win.”

“We’ll win it for you,” he promised.

As Wyatt chuckled, she waved to the kids
then strolled back toward the house. Behind her, she heard Annie
say tartly, “You should be more romantic, Uncle Wyatt.”

“Yeah,” one of the boys told him in a
serious tone. “If she was
my
girlfriend, I’d pick her first
for sure.”

“I’d
kiss
her,” another voice, also
male but childlike and adorable, insisted.

It sent the group into gales of laughter,
and Darcie found herself laughing too. These Bournes just got cuter
and cuter.

Bea was already on the porch, sitting in one
of the wooden rocking chairs near a table laden with sandwiches and
salads. Darcie had had a few bites from the buffet earlier and
could easily have eaten again, but wanted to save herself for
cakes, so she gave the table a wide berth as she joined the
matriarch.

“Hi, Mrs. Bourne. Thanks for rescuing me
from the football game. I dreaded getting grass stains on my
favorite jeans.”

“I’ve never seen Wyatt play with all of them
before.” Bea motioned for her to sit in a matching rocker. “Usually
he just works out with Danny and Joe. This must be
your
influence.”

“Probably not, but I’ll take the credit.”
Opting for a straight-back chair and pulling it up close to the old
woman, she said cheerfully, “Bourne parties are the best. Lots of
food, expert cake-decorating lessons, friendly people and a
beautiful landscape. Have you lived here since your wedding
day?”

“Yes. It was still a working ranch when we
moved in with my in-laws. They worked Tony sixteen hours a day, and
I did all the housework and cooking. He likes to say: he was his
parents’ retirement plan.”

“A working ranch? For olives?”

“They were already phasing that out. It was
oranges back then. And horses. Tony loved horses, and so did our
Matthew. It wasn’t particularly profitable . . .”
Her voice trailed off. “I wonder if Wyatt remembers that. We sold
off most of the stock when he was just a little boy.”

Darcie wondered if Tony had sold them
because Matt moved to New Jersey and wasn’t around to help anymore.
No retirement plan for Tony, apparently.

Bea recovered her good spirits quickly,
saying, “So, tell me a bit about yourself.”

Darcie had fielded this question a dozen
times in the last two hours, so she recited her stock answer about
an idyllic childhood, which wasn’t far from the truth. Wonderful
parents, one older sister, one younger brother, Emily, college, law
school, the dead judge, and finally Murf, agenting and the NFL.

To her surprise, the sports-agent part
captured Bea’s imagination, so the conversation stretched on and
on, with Darcie sharing such tidbits as her woeful lack of football
knowledge to the likelihood that Bam Bannerman would be her first
client.

Hilariously, the matriarch knew all about
Bam and insisted, “He seems like a handful. But he wins games for
those darned Lancers, doesn’t he?”

Darcie laughed. It hadn’t occurred to her
that the Bournes would be anti-Lancer, but of course it made sense.
The family probably believed Wyatt had been robbed of the Super
Bowl championship!

When Bea asked if she knew any other famous
players, and Darcie mentioned Johnny and Sean, along with Alexi
Romanov, the older woman peppered her with questions and
observations, some of which Darcie filed away for future use. In
particular, Bea knew a lot about the career of Johnny’s father,
Aaron Spurling, who had been a famous college coach, then moved to
the NFL, then retired for health problems, only to resurface when
Los Angeles finally scored an expansion team known as the Rustlers.
“Tony was so excited that we were finally getting a team again,”
she said wistfully. “And with Coach Spurling in charge, he expected
great things even for the first season. And they did pretty well.
But by then, my poor husband wasn’t really paying attention. He
watched Wyatt in the Super Bowl of course—we
all
did—but I’m
not sure he knew what was happening.”

“It’s tragic. You guys have football in your
blood, right? Wyatt says his dad was a quarterback too.”

“Our Matthew,” Bea agreed, brightening. “He
played his heart out, and was so disappointed when he wasn’t chosen
to go pro. It would have changed everything,” she mused. “Can you
imagine? He might still be alive.”

“Wyatt misses him so much,” Darcie agreed.
Then she winced. “Or at least, that’s how it sounded when he talked
about him.”

It sounded ridiculous even to her own ears.
Of
course
Wyatt missed his father. Why apologize for stating
the obvious, even if she had only known him for twenty-four bizarre
hours?

Bea cocked her head to the side, clearly
picking up on the point. “Jenny tells me you met him on an
airplane. So romantic.”

“Strangers on a plane,” Darcie joked. “One
of the few times you get stuck sitting next to a perfect stranger
for five straight hours, right? Luckily, it went by
super-fast.”

“And then he asked you out? Like a real
date? It isn’t just an agent doing a favor for a star
quarterback?”

“Hmm?”

“He does that. He even admitted it to me.
But it’s usually someone he pays. You don’t seem like that kind of
girl.”

“I’m not,” Darcie assured her. “When I
accepted Wyatt’s invitation, it was because I genuinely wanted to
go out with him. I like him a lot.”

Bea eyed her intently. “Tell me more about
that. About your impressions of him.”

“Okay,” she said, refusing to panic. “Just
remember, I’ve only known him for a day or two. Luckily, he’s an
open book, right?”

She wasn’t sure the joke would land, and was
pleased when Bea chuckled and said, “As Annie would say, ‘If
only.’”

Darcie laughed. “He’s private. But also such
a great guy. You must be so proud.”

“We are. But we worry about him, all alone
out there in New York.”

Touched by the grandmotherly comment, she
said gently, “He doesn’t seem lonely to me. Not at all. He’s aloof
for sure, but that’s because the poor guy can’t even walk through
an airport without being recognized. Hounded, probably. So his
privacy matters to him.”

Shut up, Darcie,
she pleaded with
herself.
You don’t know anything about him
.

And wasn’t she just projecting? She wanted
to believe he had tuned her out on the plane out of habit, not
because she annoyed him. She wanted to believe there was a warm,
caring, accessible man lurking under all the sarcasm.

Most of all, she wanted to believe he was as
attracted to her as she was to him.

“Do you think he’s happy?” Bea demanded
suddenly.

Startled, Darcie noted the woman’s
expression with concern. She seemed honestly worried about her
grand-nephew despite all his success, wealth, and evident
vitality.

The good news was, Darcie felt sure she knew
the answer to this one. “He’s happy, Bea. I don’t know him well,
but he’s the most confident, self-assured guy I ever met. I think
he’s just where he wants to be. Meeting every goal, making choices
that work for him, working hard and being rewarded for it.
Worshipped for it, actually.” She sighed. “You’re worried because
he doesn’t live close by. And he doesn’t have a wife to take care
of him either. But he has friends, and fans, and agents and
teammates—scores of people dedicated to his happiness. He can
literally have anything he wants. And today,” she added fondly, “he
wants to be here with you and Tony. That says it all, right?”

The old woman’s eyes swam with tears. “I
never thought of it that way. I just wish he had someone special in
his life. Someone like you.”

“He’ll find someone when he’s ready. And
meanwhile, like I said, he has an agent. My boss tells me that’s
the biggest part of our job, taking care of these guys. I’m sure
he’s in good hands.”

“Looks like the game is over,” Bea
murmured.

“Pardon? Oh!” Darcie turned to see Wyatt
walking toward them, his gait leisurely, his grin telling her his
team had defeated Danny’s, thus defeating Darcie by proxy.

“So obnoxious,” she said under her breath
before she could stop herself.

“Mischievous,” Bea corrected her. “Just like
his father. Matthew used to tease me night and day. All of us
really, especially Jenny.” Sighing, she added, “Go and see him. Ask
him to show you the old stable. That’s where Tony and I used to
hide when the family drove us crazy.”

“Ooo, so romantic,” Darcie teased her, then
she patted the matriarch’s hand, stood up and stretched. “Don’t you
want to spend some time alone with him?”