by Brenda Novak
“Braden’s nanny.”
“Nanny?” Greg smacked his forehead with the heel of his hand. “We’re in over our heads already! Please tell me that she’s over eighteen and—”
Grabbing him by the shirtfront, Tyson nearly lifted him off his feet. “Are you trying to make me punch you? Of course, she’s over eighteen. Since when have I ever touched a woman who’s under age?”
Greg squirmed out of Tyson’s grasp, then made a big show of brushing himself off. “I thought you weren’t going to touch this woman,” he said sullenly.
“I’m not.”
“Yet you’re buying her underwear. That’s not something a guy typically does for a friend.”
Tyson refused to hear the logic in his argument. “This is an unusual situation. She needs my help.”
“Your help? Come on, Ty. You must want to get into her pants to be so interested in this. And it’s scaring the hell out of me that you’re so damn preoccupied with panties when your whole career’s at stake.”
“Thinking about panties beats the hell out of thinking about prison,” Tyson muttered. “Besides, I don’t want her the way you’re accusing me of wanting her.”
“Yes, you do. Why not admit it?”
“I’m not talking to you anymore,” Tyson said, turning away.
“That’s good,” Greg responded. “Because you’re not making sense.”
Tyson fingered a beige garment that was, as far as he could tell, supposed to push a woman’s breasts up so far they were all but spilling out the top. “I’m merely doing her a favor, okay?”
“How about doing me a favor?” Greg replied. “Stop trying to rescue every unfortunate woman you find. It always leads to trouble.”
“Dakota isn’t anything like Rachelle—”
“Every woman is like Rachelle. They want your money. What don’t you get about that? When are you going to start protecting yourself?”
Tyson shook his head. “Man, I’m glad I don’t have your view of life.”
“Just give me those panties so I can buy them. And take a walk outside while I do it, okay? Before that bell rings over the door again and gives me a freakin’ heart attack.”
Tyson laughed in exasperation. “You’re one cynical son of a bitch, you know that?”
“I accept the way things are. You? You try to fix everything.”
“Whatever.” After handing the item over, Tyson went out and sauntered down the street, burning time until his agent could join him. But in the window of a store half a block away, he spotted something else of interest.
“Can I help you?” the clerk asked as soon as she noticed that he’d come in and was standing near the display.
Before he could answer, he saw recognition dawn on her face. “Hey, you’re Tyson Garnier!”
“No, I just look like him.” He used his thumb to turn his Super Bowl ring around before she could catch sight of it.
“The resemblance is striking,” she marveled. “If he had a goatee, you could be his twin brother. Except I think he’s a little bigger.”
“He’s got me by at least two inches.” Tyson pointed at the display. “How much is that?”
“Five hundred and eighty dollars.”
“Do you ship?”
“Anywhere in the United States,” she said proudly.
“Great. I want it sent to Idaho.”
“Would you like it gift-wrapped?”
“I guess.”
“What about a message?”
Tyson considered the question but eventually shook his head. “No message.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Grandpa Garnier: Never squat on your spurs.
“THINK YOU’RE TOO GOOD for your old dad, now? Is that it?”
Dakota hesitated, grocery sack in hand, as her father stood in the doorway of their trailer and gazed out at the Ferrari.
“He’s only letting me drive it while he’s gone, for practical reasons,” she said. “He’s afraid I’ll get stranded somewhere with the Bomber.”
“A cell phone could’ve solved that problem.”
“There’s no service in the mountains, and you know it.”
“I know that’s an eighty-thousand dollar car, which makes it worth four times as much as our trailer.”
“It’s the only one Tyson has at the cabin.”
“Your own car isn’t broken down yet.” Her father whistled as he admired the Ferrari. “He’s sure treatin’ you like you’re somethin’ special.”
Her father was getting at something, but she didn’t want to consider what it might be. “Ty’s a nice guy,” she said simply.
“Ty.” Squinting against the brightness of the June sun, her father lowered his voice. “He hopin’ to have a little fun while he’s here?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“I’m asking if he’s trying to get in your pants.”
“Stop it.” Keeping her eyes averted so he couldn’t see any evidence that she might actually welcome such an advance, Dakota forced her feet to start moving again. She needed to stock the fridge, clean up the place and get some dinner made, and she needed to do it right away so she could get back to Braden in a reasonable amount of time.
“He must want somethin’ pretty bad,” her father added in the same “I’ve got his number” tone.
She brushed past him, then held her breath as she entered the trailer. It smelled old and stale, as stale as her life had been before she’d started working for Tyson. “What have you been doing?” she called over her shoulder. “Chain-smoking? You should air this place out once in a while, you know. All you have to do is open the windows.”
“What’s the matter? Is home sweet home a little too humble for you now that you have such fancy friends?” he called back.
She had to clear a spot on the counter to put the groceries. Maybe Terrance kept a good eye on her father, but he certainly didn’t do much of anything else, except help himself to the beer and cigarettes.
“What time is Terrance coming today?”
“Who the hell cares? I don’t want him here.”
Her father had been baiting her all week, but so far she’d managed to avoid an all-out argument. She hoped to do that today, as well. “He’s not so bad.”
“You’re not the one who has to spend every evening with him.”
“I thought I’d make some chicken marsala for dinner,” she said, changing the subject.
Skelton followed her inside and stood near the breakfast bar, leaning on his cane. With his skin a jaundiced yellow and his dark hair dirty and standing up on one side, he looked even worse than usual. Obviously he’d had a bad night. Remembering how long she’d curled up in her bed talking to Tyson on the phone last night made the guilt Dakota already carried even heavier. She’d enjoyed every minute of that conversation, had even dreamed of Tyson afterward—while her father was probably up, sick again.
“Chicken what?” Skelton said in the same tone he might use if she’d told him she was making dog food for dinner.
“Marsala,” she replied, struggling to keep a lift in her voice. “It’s Italian. I tried it last week for the first time. Turned out great.”
“I want the kind of meat and potatoes you used to make before you ran off to kiss Mr. Wide Receiver’s rich ass.”
Taking a steadying breath, Dakota tried not to let her father get the better of her. She was in a good mood, right? Her arm was almost completely healed and looked as if it would leave only a small, thin scar. She was getting to know a side of Tyson he showed to very few people, which meant he trusted her. And she was out and about on a glorious summer day, driving his Ferrari. But the fact that she cared more about feeling close to Tyson than she did about having the use of such a luxury item told her a lot about the crush she’d developed on him.
She returned her focus to the food. “What would you rather have?” she asked. “Meat loaf and potatoes?”
He didn’t answer right away. He seemed surprised, almost di
sappointed, that she wasn’t willing to give him the fight he was spoiling for. “Meat loaf’s fine,” he grumbled at last.
“No problem. Meat loaf it is.”
To discourage further conversation, she avoided eye contact, and Skelton eventually shuffled over to his recliner and sat in front of the television.
After a few minutes, he hit the mute and spoke again. “You know he’s only using you. Women are a dime a dozen to men like him.”
“He’s not what you think.”
“Oh, yeah? Don’t you read the papers?”
“I don’t believe them anymore.”
“Don’t be naive. Look at what he did to Braden’s mother. Is that what you want to have happen to you?”
Knowing it wouldn’t do any good to continue to defend Tyson, Dakota bit her lip.
“Well?” her father prompted.
“That’s not going to happen.”
“It could if you give him what he wants.”
She opened her mouth to tell her father the truth—that she’d all but asked Tyson to sleep with her and he’d refused. But that little detail was better kept to herself. For the sake of peace, she simply needed to acknowledge her father’s concerns and move on. He was ill and afraid for them both. “Consider me warned,” she said as she washed the lettuce she was using to make a salad. “And for your information, I’m not sleeping with him. He hasn’t even kissed me.”
He leaned around his chair. “Well, he’s not letting you drive his car because he’s afraid you’ll get stranded, I can tell you that much.”
Allowing herself a wry smile, Dakota went on with her work. Her father was worried about Tyson’s motives, but hers were the ones he should concern himself with. She couldn’t count the number of times she’d imagined Tyson coming home early to find her in the shower. In those fantasies, she’d already lost every extra pound of excess weight and looked incredible, of course. It was a dream, after all. But Tyson didn’t apologize and leave.
“He’ll drive away when it’s time to go and never think of you again. Remember that.”
Her father’s words finally succeeded in leaching away the last of the good feelings she’d had when she left the cabin. “I know it’s not as if he would ever fall in love with me, okay?” she said softly. “But stop with the dire warnings. Can’t you give me a couple of months, just a couple of months, to be happy, Dad?”
He turned to stare at her.
“I’ll still be here when he goes. That’s all that matters, right?”
The volume went up on the television. But it wasn’t long before her father yelled over it. “Whatever you do don’t get yourself knocked up. It ain’t easy raisin’ a kid by yourself.”
“I get that,” she said.
“Maybe it’d be different if I was going to be around to help you,” he added. “But you can’t always count on me….”
Tears burned the back of Dakota’s eyes as his words fell off. She’d been feeling so hard done by, having to take care of him. But he’d been there for her when she was growing up. He’d supported her alone all those years before the accident, and in the many years after they’d struggled to get by together. If not for her disregard of his cautions that day, things would’ve been different. She knew that. It was part of the reason she stuck around.
Crossing to his chair, she laid a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll be careful, okay, Dad?”
He covered her hand with his and gave it an awkward pat. “How’s Braden?”
“Good.”
“You still enjoying babysitting?”
“More than ever.”
“I would never hurt a baby, you know.” He craned his head to look up at her. “I never hurt you when you were little, did I?”
He was as appalled by what he had become as she was, she realized. “No. You were a good dad,” she said and managed a smile.
* * *
THE TELEPHONE RANG just as Dakota finished working out for the second time that night. With Tyson coming home in only four more days, she’d stepped up her exercise routine. She didn’t have enough time to lose all the rest of her weight, but she was hoping to get rid of four or five more pounds before the night of the big party.
“Hello?” She held the cordless phone to her ear with her shoulder as she used a towel to wipe the perspiration running from her temple.
“Who’s this?” came a not-so-friendly response.
Dakota sat on the edge of the treadmill she’d been using. Because it was getting late, she’d expected the call to be from Tyson. But the voice on the other end of the line belonged to a woman.
“Dakota.”
“Who are you?”
Was this a wrong number or something? “Who are you?” she countered.
“I’m Braden’s mother.”
Rachelle Rochester? Dakota’s nails dug into her palms. “How did you get this number?”
“I did a favor for a friend.”
“Well, you wasted your time and energy. Tyson’s not here right now.”
“Where is he?”
“I’m sorry, but I wouldn’t tell you even if I knew.”
There was a long pause. “Do I detect a bit of misplaced loyalty?”
“That depends on your definition of misplaced.”
“He must have you convinced he can walk on water, like he did me.”
“He’s a good man.”
Rachelle laughed bitterly. “You’ll learn soon enough.”
“Learn what?”
“That he’s not what he seems to be.”
“He didn’t rape you, I know that much,” Dakota argued.
Rachelle’s voice turned hard. “Yeah, well, maybe you gave it up too soon.”
“He hasn’t even touched me.”
“Then you’re too fat, too old or too ugly, because a man like Tyson likes to use what he’s got between his legs.”
Dakota winced at the reminder of her own shortcomings. She’d never be a blond bombshell like Rachelle. But sometimes it seemed as if Tyson cared about her. They were certainly spending more time on the phone than it took him to ask after Braden…
“If you’re not his girlfriend, who are you?” Rachelle asked.
Suddenly exhausted, Dakota wiped the sweat from her arms. “Your son’s nanny.”
There was another long silence. “How is Braden?” Rachelle asked at length.
“He’s fine.”
“So he’s in Idaho somewhere?”
“Somewhere. What is it you want?”
“To see my baby.”
“How bad? Bad enough to give back the money?” Dakota challenged.
“Go to hell,” Rachelle said and hung up.
Apparently not. Dakota stared at the phone, wondering if she had to worry about Rachelle trying to steal Braden, and finally called Tyson on his cell.
“Rachelle just called,” she said as soon as he answered.
“What? How’d she get that number?”
Dakota got up to wander through the house, checking to make sure the doors and windows were locked. “She said she did one of your friends a favor.”
“But why? She has my cell.”
“She said she wants to see her son.”
“If she really wanted to see him, she’d contact me,” Tyson muttered.
“I know.”
“She’s just poking around, checking out the possibilities,” he added.
Maybe she was even having a moment of remorse. But it didn’t seem to last long.
A peek in Braden’s room showed he was sleeping peacefully. Dakota had known that was the case, but she still felt a certain measure of relief. “I think she was also trying to check up on you, see what you were doing, who you were with.” She whispered until she could get far enough away from the baby’s door that her voice wouldn’t wake him.
“Then she hasn’t changed much. She used to drive by my house a dozen times a night. Did she say anything else?”
You’re too fat, too old or too ugly…. “She as
ked if I was your new girlfriend.”
There was a long silence. “What’d you tell her?”
“That I’m Braden’s nanny.”
“Okay. Go ahead and get some sleep. There’s nothing to worry about.”
“You don’t think she’d ever try to kidnap Braden, do you?”
“No, having him would only hamper her ability to go out and stay out,” he said.
But when Dakota took Braden for her daily hike the following morning, she realized that someone knew where they were. A man had parked his car at the edge of Gabe’s property and was sitting up in a tree, taking pictures of the house. And her.
* * *
THE STORY BROKE the day Tyson was supposed to return to Idaho.
With a sigh, he sat in the office of his Malibu home and stared at the stack of newspapers sitting on the desk before him. Greg had brought them. And now his agent was on the other side of the desk, pacing and cursing—and not nearly as cocky as he’d been when they left the attorney’s two days ago.
“They all say the same thing,” he ranted. “They claim professional athletes are reckless and feel they’re above the law. They suggest it’s time to do something about ‘those who use their fame and fortune to take advantage of defenseless women.’ They refer to the Kobe case as validation that this is becoming a recurring problem in professional sports. Hell, they even talk about the rise in sex crimes among college sports teams.” He jammed a hand through his hair. “It’s not good. It’s going to kill your endorsements and hurt the whole damn industry.”
Tyson had skimmed a few of the articles. They were all difficult to get through, but none of them bothered him as much as the one he’d stacked on top: New Live-in Lover for Garnier. It started, “Following a recent accusation of rape, Stingray wide receiver, Tyson Garnier has already moved onto a new relationship. The woman now living with him appears to be looking after the son he has with Rachelle Rochester, the woman behind the accusation.” The accompanying picture showed Dakota wearing jogging shorts and a T-shirt and carrying Braden in a child carrier on her back.