Foolish Games(33)

Will put together a bottle for Owen and handed it to his mother, who sank down on a leather bench overlooking a well-appointed screen porch that could have been featured in a gardening catalog.

“Drink,” Will commanded, refocusing her attention.

The orange juice was cool and tangy. Julianne felt her head clear a little more with each sip. Of course, that meant Will’s menacing form came into focus as he belligerently stood in front of her.

“So what drug is it this time?” he asked quietly, presumably so his mother wouldn’t overhear.

“Excuse me?” Julianne sputtered.

“You heard me. Last time it was migraine medicine that made you loopy. You don’t look like you have a headache, so what’s today’s excuse, Princess?”

Julianne slowly stood. Unfortunately, she gave up the advantage of being at eye level once she left the bar stool, but she wasn’t going to take his accusations sitting down.

“I. Don’t. Take. Drugs.” She spun on her heel and marched into the kitchen. The preponderance of culinary equipment nearly took her breath away, defusing the heat of her anger a bit. Everything about the room was state of the art. The appliances gleamed like new. Pots and pans hung above the massive eight-burner range looking as if they were shined daily. The spices in the elaborate spice drawer were filled to exactly the same level and were placed in alphabetical order. This kitchen was a chef’s fantasy. Like the rest of the rooms in the house, it looked unused—almost like a movie set.

Will prowled up behind her. “Something laid you out back there. I swear if I find out you’re using, you’ll never see Owen again.”

As threats go, Will’s had teeth. She shivered slightly at the thought of him taking her son away. But Julianne had the truth on her side. At least the truth about not taking drugs. She pulled a bag of peanut butter crackers out of the diaper bag, willing her hand not to tremble. “I just had a baby. I’ve spent the last five weeks in a hospital eating and sleeping only when I had to. I’m hungry. That’s all.”

Will donned his William the Conqueror expression, which probably intimidated plenty of quarterbacks but had little effect on Julianne.

“I’m happy to pee in a cup for you. You just say the word.”

He didn’t so much as blink, and Julianne slid past him as she shoved a cracker into her mouth. Annabeth was humming softly while Owen sucked forcefully on his bottle.

“Your home is lovely.” Except for the fact that the ocean churned right outside the front door, but Julianne figured her mother-in-law considered that her home’s best advantage and not a curse, so she didn’t mention it.

“Thank you, but I can’t take the credit for decorating it. Will arranged for it.”

“That kitchen is to die for. You must love cooking.”

Annabeth laughed softly. “I rarely cook. And when I do, not in that kitchen. I have a small guest house on the other side of the garage. It has the best view.”

“So you don’t actually live in the house?” Julianne was starting to feel queasy again.

“No, the main house is Will’s. He uses it to entertain when he’s in town.”

More like he uses it to thumb his nose at the locals who’d dissed him as kid, she thought. Julianne was starting to put together a more detailed picture of Owen’s father. Sure, his mother wanted to remain in town, but Will wasn’t going to let her live in anything short of a spectacular show home.

“There are plenty of take-out menus by the phone in the kitchen. Everyone is happy to deliver,” Annabeth said quietly so not as to disturb Owen, whose eyes were slowly drifting shut. Of course they delivered. Will probably counted on everyone in town wanting a look at his fabulous bachelor pad.

“Actually, I love to cook. It relaxes me.” Julianne strolled back into the kitchen. “I’m pretty sure I could happily whip up a few meals here.” She pulled open a few cabinets to check for supplies.

“I thought you said you weren’t doing any cooking while we were here?” Will asked, as he trailed her around the kitchen as if to ensure she didn’t pilfer anything.

Julianne whirled on him, effectively stopping him in his tracks. “I said I wasn’t going to cook for you.”

Will opened his mouth to speak just as Annabeth walked into the kitchen, a sleeping Owen in her arms.

“He’s asleep.” Annabeth smiled wistfully as she gazed down on her grandson. “I forgot how beautiful they are when they sleep.”

“Remember that when he’s screaming at two A.M.” Gently, Julianne took the baby from her. “Did you have a chance to get a crib, Will?”