Chapter 3

CHAPTERTHREE

Three tables had been shoved togetherin the back room of the Oak Creek Diner, a popular breakfast spot in Milwaukee. Crowded around them were a few of Trey’s Growler teammates, along with a group of geriatric men who acted as though they were involved in this meeting somehow. One of the geezers clapped his hands to get everyone’s attention.

Trey pinched the bridge of his nose.

“What kind of fresh hell have I gotten myself into?” he mumbled.

Dex Fletcher chuckled softly beside him. “Knowing your ugly views on marriage, I woulda thought you woulda found an excuse to avoid this fracas.” The Growlers’ Scottish placekicker gently shifted the baby sleeping on his lap.

“It’s marriage he objects to,” Luke Kessler chimed in from Trey’s other side. “The bachelor party is an entirely different animal. Although, the jig is up about your views on marriage, old man. No one believes the BS that woman said.”

“Yeah,” Fletcher added. “Imagine our surprise when both our lasses fessed up. They told us it was you who talked them into giving each of us a second chance.”

Trey glared at Fletcher. “That’s because I was tired of the two of you playing football like love-sick fools. I needed you both to have your heads in the game.”

“Uh, huh,” Kessler said.

His favorite wide receiver’s smirk was starting to royally piss him off.

“This doesn’t look like a planning meeting for a bachelor party.” Trey gestured forcefully to the trio of septuagenarians seated in the corner before waving at the baby. “It feels like we’re planning a trip to the circus. It’s a wonder you didn’t bring that big goofy mutt with you.”

Kessler grinned. Besides football, the guy’s passion in life was rescuing dogs and finding them forever homes. “Hey, that’s not a bad idea,” he said. “Maybe we can find a place that allows dogs.”

“I thought we were having this stag party in Vegas,” one of the white-haired men at the other end of the table grumbled. “We can’t take a dog to Vegas.”

“I rest my case,” Trey murmured to his teammates. “No one from this century calls it a ‘stag’ party.”

“Relax,” Kessler admonished him. “They’re harmless. I want Summer’s grandfather and his friends at the weekend. They’re a big reason why the two of us are together in the first place.”

The baby suddenly jerked awake. Her blue eyes grew wide before she let out an excited gurgle, complete with a few spit bubbles, when she locked onto her father’s nauseatingly adoring gaze. Dex lifted her to his chest. As if on cue, the old men chorused a pitch perfect “aww.”

“And this little lass will be staying home with her mother. The first time she even mentions bachelors, I’ll be sending her to the convent.”

Kessler’s younger brother Brady and Growlers’ receiver Antonio McGraff chose that moment to hustle into the diner and over to the table.

Brady turned a chair around, straddling it before helping himself to a slice of bacon from his brother’s plate. “What’d we miss?”

“The senior citizens want to go to Vegas,” Trey announced. “Your brother wants to bring his fart-machine dog. And Fletcher needs to find a convent for his daughter. We still haven’t decided who’s going to order the bouncy house.”

“Cool,” Brady said before shoving another piece of bacon into his mouth.

Trey reached over and moved the plate out of the teenager’s reach. “Just because you’re redshirting this season doesn’t mean you can let your body go to shit.”

“Ack. Leave the lad alone. He doesn’t need your Faustian diet. He’s still growing.” Fletcher tossed a bagel in Brady’s direction. The kid caught it with two fingers.

“Vegas works for me,” Brady said around a mouthful of bagel.

His statement prompted a trio of enthusiastic nods from the geriatric set and a thumbs up from Antonio and the other receivers at the table.

“We’re not going to Vegas.” Trey and the men on either side of him spoke in unison.

“Man,” Antonio moaned.

“Yeah,” one of the seniors added. “What a bunch of namby-pambies.”

The waitress came around to refill the coffee cups. Brady ordered a breakfast of pancakes, eggs, bacon and some sort of home fry situation.

“Too many paparazzi in Vegas,” Fletcher explained. “We want a place where we can let loose without having to read about it online.”

“Fletcher’s worried one of us will get hitched at one of those wedding chapels just like he did,” one of the Growlers said.

That got a laugh from the rest of the group.

The kicker grinned at his daughter. “I’ve no complaints with how that particular business deal turned out.”

“Some place close is better because it cuts down on the travel. We only have one night over Labor Day weekend,” Kessler added. He pitched his voice in a poor impersonation of Trey. “Once the season starts, we can’t afford any distractions.”

His teammates guffawed. Trey rolled his eyes.

“Our only other weekend off is taken up with the gala,” Antonio announced. “Speaking of which, Van Horn, now that you’re chairing the thing, maybe you’ll class it up a bit with some fine musical accompaniment, like from yours truly.”

“Wait. What?” Kessler jerked his head toward Trey so fast it was a wonder his eyeballs stayed in their sockets.

“You’re chairing the gala?” Fletcher practically gasped out the question.

“How did you find that out?” Trey demanded of the wide receiver.

“Astrid told me,” Antonio replied with a shrug, as if that explained everything.

Kessler let out a little wolf whistle of appreciation.

“Who the hell is Astrid?” Trey wanted to know.

All the Growlers looked at him like he’d just asked what a football was.

“She’s one of the receptionists for Mrs. C,” one of them enlightened him.

“Tony-O here wants to shag her,” Fletcher added.

“They’d make beautiful music together,” Kessler said. “Summer says Astrid is a very promising violinist.”

Trey glanced between his two teammates. “How do you know all this about a receptionist in the team’s office building?” He didn’t think he could pick any of the support staff out of a lineup.

Fletcher shook his head. “Jaysus. You really are a robot. There’s more to this team than just the guys in the locker room. You’re too singularly focused on the game to know it.”

“The only reason this team exists is to win championships. Period. Excuse me if I’m the one person at this table who gets that,” Trey argued.

Kessler snorted. “Testy much? Maybe you should rethink your no sugar rule. Not that I think it would make you any sweeter.”

Sighing in frustration, Trey dropped his head into his hands. Why did it seem he was the only one on the team who cared so much about the game’s outcome?

Fletcher nudged him with his shoulder. “Is that why you look like shite this morning, Van Horn? You don’t like the idea of chairing the gala because it breaks your silly ‘no PR during the season rule?’”

Hell no, he didn’t like it. Not one bit. But that’s not what had him looking and feeling like “shite.”

He was still reeling from his close encounter with a woman he thought he’d shaken from his system years ago. And the overwhelming way his body continued to react to her. Memories he believed long buried suddenly were replaying in vivid detail every time he’d tried to shut his eyes. Images of a quicksilver smile, her sassy mouth and those luscious lips kept his body on tenterhooks most of the night. Twice he’d gotten up to brush his teeth because he could have sworn that he could taste her. As a result, he’d barely slept a wink.

Pissing him off even more was how unaffected she’d been seeing him for the first time. Except it wasn’t the first time she’d seen him. Apparently, she’d been at the same galas Trey had been attending all these years.

And he’d never realized it.

Probably because she hadn’t made a scene and called him out on the way he’d left things between them. Trey had endured more than one embarrassing incident like that. Case in point, the ugly Vanity Fair article.

Something shifted within his chest cavity.

Those other women claimed to have been in love with him. London obviously hadn’t felt the same way. He’d been right all these years to think her interest in him was a ruse. A mother-daughter plot to get their hands on the Van Horn money. Lucky for him, only one of the two women was successful.

The back of his neck was unexpectedly tight and hot. Trey was angry that he’d avoided returning to his grandfather’s house for over a decade because he’d been carrying around a sliver of guilt at walking away from London that summer night. The old man was still vital and in good health, but he traveled less and less, preferring to spend three seasons at his Lake Geneva home. Trey always found an excuse for why they had to meet somewhere else.

Suddenly he realized how ridiculous he’d been. He could go back there and enjoy all the area had to offer with a clear conscience. In fact, the men gathered around the table could, as well.

“I’ve got the place,” he announced loudly. “My grandfather has a house on the lake. It sleeps twenty. We’ll have a chef, access to golf and all the privacy we need. There are even a few boats we can use out on the lake.”

“Hey, speaking of boats, maybe your dad can join us? He’s always up for a good time.” Kessler looked at him expectantly.

One of the downsides to having a dad who’d become a father before he was old enough to drink legally was that the guy thought they were more like brothers instead of parent and son. Lars Van Horn Junior, or Jay as he was dubbed by the paparazzi years ago, was very much like Peter Pan: He refused to grow up.

Whenever he visited for a game, he was the life of the party. Carousing with the guys, picking up the tab and chasing every skirt he could. Unfortunately, he had a habit of marrying some of the skirts he caught.

Trey loved his dad. But he also loathed the man’s laissez-faire approach to life. It was downright embarrassing. His dad definitely hadn’t inherited his carefree lifestyle from Trey’s grandfather. Just the wealth that allowed him to live that way.

The senior Van Horn was a self-made millionaire who worked doggedly to build a small electronics firm into a giant within the semi-conductor industry. After his wife died giving birth to their son, Lars Senior devoted himself to acquiring more wealth. The man’s self-discipline made him a role model for his only grandchild.

That and his attitude about committed relationships.

The elder Van Horn’s grief after losing his wife nearly destroyed him. Once he recovered, he vowed never to give his heart to another. He insisted that doing so made a man weak.

Words to live by.

“Jay will be on his way to Australia by then,” Trey lied. He had no idea of his father’s schedule. He doubted his father did either.

“You two have the coolest relationship,” one of his teammates remarked.

Jay insisted his son call him by his first name. Most people thought that meant Trey and his dad had a close relationship. They were wrong.

“What about a stripper?” one of the old-timers asked. “Will we be able to get one to come to the lake?”

“No!” Trey, Kessler, and Fletcher practically shouted.

“What about a theme drink?” Brady asked.

Kessler smacked his brother on the head. “You’re eighteen, dumbass.”

“We need a hashtag,” Antonio insisted.

While the rest of their group began debating options, Trey relaxed in his chair, surprised that he was looking forward to the outing. Not only would he get the bachelor party behind them before the season started, but he could finally exorcise the remaining ghosts of London from his life.

“I need the loo. Hold her a minute.”

Before Trey could even voice a protest, Fletcher placed his young daughter in his arms.

“Don’t drop her,” the kicker growled before disappearing down the hall.

What the hell?

Trey had never handled a baby before. He’d never even been around one. How was he supposed to hold her?

The baby let out a little squeak. Trey realized he was gripping her too hard. When he relaxed his fingers, her rosy lips moved from a pout to a little “o” of surprise. Any second now, she was going to let her displeasure with him be known to the entire diner.

Dammit.How long would it take the Highlander to take a leak?

Holding her wasn’t quite the same as holding a football. For one, the little imp was squirmy. She gave Trey a drunken smile while thrusting her arms and legs out like a little starfish. His shoulders relaxed ever so slightly when she gurgled a happy sound.

A startled gasp had him jerking his gaze away from the baby currently bewitching him. Only to collide with the first pair of female eyes to ever wrap him up in a spell. For the second time in as many days, London Headley was close enough to touch.