Foolish Games(49)

“So far being the key words, Will. Don’t forget, her brother is on the committee investigating this whole Bountygate mess. I don’t trust her, and neither should you.”

“Hey, he promised to keep me out of it if I gave Owen my blood,” Will argued. “I did more. I married his little princess of a sister. If I get anything out of this mess, it should be immunity.”

“Never trust the word of a politician, Will. And don’t think you can hide behind the shield of being family.”

Roscoe’s words hung ominously in the air even after he’d hung up. Both Will’s agent and his brain told him he couldn’t trust Julianne. But his gut was telling him something else. She was a flighty artist who rode the crazy bus wherever life took her. Formulating a complicated plot to trap him into marriage was beyond her scope of planning. Roscoe’s theory of her being in cahoots with her senator brother seemed even more far-fetched—until he watched through the window and saw Brody stroll into the kitchen and kiss Julianne on the cheek before handing her an envelope. One that looked suspiciously like the one he’d opened in Brody’s room the other day. Will bolted for the door.

“Oh, Brody, this one is perfect!” Julianne reached up to hug Brody as Will charged through the door.

“What is going on here?” he shouted.

Owen laughed, his legs and arms flailing at the sight of his father.

“Jeez, dude, will you stop doing that?” Brody stepped away from Julianne, his hands poised to defend himself. “Relax. I’m just giving her a picture.”

“A picture of what?”

Will saw the moment that realization dawned on Brody’s face. His posture immediately went from defensive to aggressor. Will instantly regretted doubting his teammate. If Brody had wanted to out him, he had the means to do so days ago. He didn’t need Julianne to make it happen. This whole Bountygate situation had him wound up tight as a drum.

“It’s a picture of his sister, for heaven’s sake.” Julianne waved the photo in front of Will’s face. “I need it to work on . . . something.”

Will rubbed the back of his neck. He glanced at the picture of Brody’s sister in a bridesmaid gown. Suddenly, the situation all made sense. “You’re designing?” He wasn’t sure why the prospect excited him so much.

Julianne laid the photo on the desk and began pouring the batter into a loaf pan. “Well, I wouldn’t call it designing yet. More like doodling. And”—she pointed the spatula at Brody—“no telling your sister until I know I can do this.”

“I already promised not to,” Brody said, his mouth a tight line. “And I keep my promises.”

“Okay, if you two are going to show off your muscles again, save it for the locker room. All this macho posturing is really nauseating.” She covered the pan with a lid and stuck it in the fridge, presumably to bake it later, before lifting Owen out of his swing. “Speaking of nauseating, someone needs a diaper change.”

The baby cooed at his mother, grabbing for that lone strand of hair as she carried him upstairs. Will looked over at Brody, who stood grim faced, arms crossed over his chest as he rocked back on his heels.

“Sorry, man,” Will offered. “This whole thing’s got me jumpy.”

Brody didn’t answer for a minute, silently rocking on his heels. “Yeah,” he finally said. “Well, then you’re probably not going to like this. Hank Osbourne checked into the inn this morning.”

He was right; Will didn’t like it. The Blaze front office had been trying to pin him down on his involvement in Bountygate for several weeks now. If what Roscoe said was true and things were heating up, Hank was probably getting anxious about how the scandal would affect the team. If he’d bothered to track Will down in Chances Inlet, the team had to be thinking about its options and where exactly he fit in the future.

Will swore. He loved playing for the Blaze. And he’d never do anything to jeopardize his position or the respect of his teammates. Head coach Matt Richardson was a former NFL player who understood not only the intricacies of the game but a player’s mind. A rare find, especially since the man had been a quarterback during his playing days.

Will needed to think. He wandered over to the desk and picked up the picture of Brody’s sister. “When did she tell you she would design the gown?”

If Brody knew he was stalling, he was wise enough to let it alone.

“She came into the gym today to tell me. She wanted a picture to help spur her imagination.” Brody sat on one of the bar stools. “I already told Tricia it was a no-go, but if Julianne can come up with something, I’m sure she’ll be ecstatic.”