Foolish Games(64)

Tugging on the hand he’d wrapped securely around hers, she pulled him deeper into the trees. When they were out of sight of the house, she stood on her toes and kissed him. It was a tentative kiss at first, until he took the reins and began kissing her back.

Hank leaned his back against a tree, pulling her in closer contact to his hard body. Annabeth sighed as she opened her mouth wider to give him better access. Her hands fisted in his shirt before he broke the kiss to push his glasses on top of his head.

She nuzzled his neck as his hands squeezed her backside. Their lips found one another again. One of them moaned, she wasn’t sure who.

Suddenly, the yard was flooded with lights.

“Who’s out there?” Will shouted from the verandah.

“Ah, hell,” Hank whispered. “Please tell me he doesn’t own a shotgun.”

Annabeth couldn’t help it, she laughed. Hank held her closer, but that only made her giggle harder. He chuckled along with her.

“Mom? Is that you out here?”

She could hear Will coming down the steps.

“Have dinner with me and Sophie tomorrow.” Hank whispered in her ear.

She nodded against his chest. “Go!” she managed to get out between giggles. Hank stood there flattened against the tree, at least the parts of him that could remain flat. Annabeth laughed harder as she stepped out into the yard, now lit up like a Christmas tree lot. Will was advancing toward her.

“Mom! What the hell are you doing out here?”

“None of your business. Go back inside where you belong.”

Her son’s eyed narrowed to slits. “What’s that on your neck?”

“William Anthony Connelly, I respect your privacy. I expect you to show me the same courtesy.”

“Oh, for the love of . . .” Will swore. “I’m happy to respect your privacy, but I’d really rather not find you necking in the woods with HANK OSBOURNE!” he roared.

“Will!” Julianne called from the porch. “You’ll wake the baby!” She waved at Annabeth. “Hey, Annabeth. We were just going to have dessert. Would you like to join us?”

The last thing Annabeth wanted to do was make small talk with her son right now. “No, thank you, Julianne. I have an early day tomorrow. I’m going home. Thank you, though.”

“I’ll walk you home.” Her behemoth son was being a tad overprotective.

“It’s only across the driveway, Will. Your mother isn’t in any danger. If it makes you feel better, come up here and stand next to me and we’ll both watch her safely to her door.” Julianne winked at Annabeth.

Will tried his game face on her, but Annabeth was immune. She strolled inside unaccompanied, making a mental note to offer to watch Owen for Julianne every day for a week.





Twenty





Owen kicked his feet and pumped his arms in his bouncy seat.

“I’m going to have to start calling you Cheerio, little man. You’re way too happy in the morning.” Will took another swallow of his coffee, reaching over to wipe a spit bubble off his son’s chin. “Daddy is not a morning person, so you’re gonna have to tone it down a notch.”

The baby let out a delighted gurgle at Will’s words. Will smiled in spite of himself. Now nearly two months old, Owen was awake for longer spurts of time. Usually Will didn’t mind, but this morning he’d hoped to have his son fed and back to sleep before Julianne finished her shower. Unfortunately, Owen had other ideas, meaning there wouldn’t be a repeat of yesterday morning’s soaping of his wife’s back, among other things.

For the past two days, he and Julianne had secluded themselves in the house, taking care of their son and each other. Since her storming of his bedroom, they’d had sex at least a dozen times, and Will still couldn’t seem to get enough of her. What they hadn’t done was talk. At least not about their relationship. That subject seemed to be the elephant in the room, neither of them wanting to disturb it.

That wasn’t the only thing Will had been avoiding. Roscoe had been calling and texting him since their phone conversation the other night, but Will hadn’t bothered to answer. The mess with Bountygate was getting uglier, and Hank and Roscoe had been correct: Will’s name was right in the center of the storm. He needed to decide what to do, but Paul Zevalos wasn’t returning his phone calls, either.

As if all that weren’t enough, finding his mother in the woods outside the house making out with his team’s GM was proof enough that Will’s world was beginning to resemble a busted play. He wasn’t naïve enough to think his mother had remained celibate since his birth; she was young and very pretty, after all. But she’d been discerning of her reputation, and his, for many years, keeping her relationships very private. Much as she kept the rest of her life. Hank Osbourne, on the other hand, cut through a swath of rich divorcées like Brody Janik ran through defenses after a catch. His mother wasn’t on the same level with the socialites Hank wore on his arm. Will still believed Hank was using his mother to gain information on his relationship with Coach Zevalos, and he worried she’d end up hurt.