Nothing But Trouble

by Amy Andrews

  “Yes. Annabel. And before that, it was Chrissie. And before that, Shondra.”

  Yeah. He’d been picking some doozies lately. It didn’t seem to matter how many times he told the women he took to his bed that he wasn’t looking for a wife—they were getting more determined. It had taken a lot of fun out of dating. And frankly, he was wondering if dating was more trouble than it was worth.

  For him and CC.

  Between women and this book, he was going a little stir-crazy. Maybe he was losing his mojo?

  “Can’t you be a little more…discerning?”

  He propped his feet up on his desk and raised his arms to tuck his hands behind his head, the back of his chair reclining slightly. “What can I say? Women like me.” Then he smiled that smile he knew would make her roll her eyes.

  She didn’t disappoint. He half expected her to mimic a gag reflex, but she opened her mouth to speak, instead, her face suddenly intent and serious as she took a step closer to his desk. “Do you have a moment to discuss something, Wade?”

  Wade’s scalp prickled at the grave note in her voice—he didn’t like the sound of that. The last time she’d been this serious, there’d been a major Nerd shortage two Christmases ago. Thankfully his phone rang, cutting her off, and he grabbed it quickly, holding up his hand, indicating for her to hold her thought. He couldn’t cope with a Nerd shortage and the blink, blink, blink of the taunting cursor.

  Noticing the word Mom displayed on the screen, he pushed back in his chair again. Few people had this number. His parents, his brother, some old NFL buddies, and CC.

  He put her on speaker. “Hey, Mom.”

  “Wade.” The soft lilt of her Southern accent was as soothing as it’d always been. “How’s my baby?”

  CC rolled her eyes again, and Wade stifled a laugh. He was thirty-eight years old, filthy rich, and about as close to sporting royalty as it was possible for an ex-quarterback to be, but he’d always be her baby.

  “Same old, same old.”

  “Staying outta trouble?”

  “Always,” he said and ignored CC’s not-so-quiet snort.

  “You’re going to church?”

  “Every Sunday.”

  CC mouthed, You’re going to hell, and Wade grinned.

  His mother laughed, obviously not fooled. “Well, now listen, darlin’, don’t go getting all worked up, just calling to let you know your dad had a bit of a…funny turn, and he’s in the hospital.”

  Wade sat up abruptly, his feet hitting the floor with a thud. “What kind of a funny turn?”

  His father was as strong as an ox, but he was almost seventy. Sure, Wyatt, Wade’s older brother, did most of the heavy lifting on the farm these days, but his dad was still in the thick of it.

  Why in hell hadn’t Wyatt contacted him?

  CC took two steps closer to the desk, her forehead furrowed, her phone already out of her pocket.

  “He went all dizzy and short of breath yesterday. He had some kind of arrhythmia or something. But Doc McNally sent him to Denver to be sure, and the heart specialist here says he needs a pacemaker.”

  “A pacemaker?”

  Wade felt a little dizzy himself. And maybe like throwing up. His father had something wrong with his heart. His father, who’d first tossed a ball to Wade when he’d been four years old.

  “You’re at St. Luke’s?”

  “Now, darlin’, there’s no need to rush over; your father’s fine. Cussin’ up a storm.”

  “I’ll be there in twenty.” Wade hung up, pushing to his feet, meeting CC’s gaze. “Fuck.”

  She nodded. CC’s father had walked out on her mother when she was three, and she’d made damn sure Wade had kept in close contact with his since she’d been in his employ. Last week, a Post-it on his desk had reminded Wade it was his father’s birthday. And he’d gotten distracted and forgotten to call.

  Fuck.

  “Just ordered an Uber. It’ll be here in five.”

  He shook his head. “I’ll drive.” It’d give him something to do. Something to concentrate on.

  “Okay. I’ll cancel.” Her thumbs got busy on her phone. She glanced up from the screen. “Go.”

  Her urging sliced into his inertia. Right. Yes. Go. And he was moving. “Send me some info on pacemakers.”

  “Already on it.”

  Of course she was. “I’ll call from the hospital.”

  “Yep,” she said, not looking up from her phone.

  He was at the door when CC called his name. He turned back in time to intercept a packet of Nerds she’d just pulled from her pocket and tossed in his direction. He caught them in his right hand, out of pure instinct, the packet rattling with familiar, sugary goodness.

  “Thanks.”

  She nodded dismissively but she was all intent again as she watched him, which put an unpleasant itch up his spine. He had a feeling whatever she’d wanted to talk about was way more serious than a Nerd shortage, and he could only cope with one crisis at a time.

  Wade did not multi-task. That’s why he had CC. Thank God.

  Chapter Two

  Wade did not spare the horses as he drove his Mustang to St Luke’s. About a hundred different scenarios chased their way through his head as he navigated red lights, pedestrians, and roadworks. All of them ended up with his father being dead when Wade arrived at the hospital.

  Why hadn’t he fucking picked up the phone and called him on his birthday?

  Twenty minutes later, it was a massive relief to find his father alive and well. But it still punched Wade in the gut to stand at his bedside and see such a big, strong man with drips and wires and a monitor that reduced his heart rate to a green squiggle and a continuous series of blips.

  Cal Carter had always towered in Wade’s mind, yet today he seemed smaller. Older.

  Mortal.

  “Son…I told your mother to tell you I was fine. There’s no need to go interrupting your day over this.”

  Wade felt lower than a snake’s belly that both of his parents apparently felt something as serious as this would be some kind of inconvenience in his life. He knew it wasn’t intended as a criticism, but it sunk like a barb into his chest.

  He’d been neglecting his family responsibilities. Showing up for Christmas and Thanksgiving wasn’t enough. His parents were both getting older.

  “Dad. You’re in the hospital. You need a pacemaker.”

  His father waved it aside. “Doctor Cranforth says I’ll be right as rain once it’s in.”

  Wade glanced at his mother. Veronica—Ronnie—Carter nodded reassuringly. Her blond hair had turned silver over the last decade, and there were lines on her face, but she looked good for sixty-four. She still helped out on the farm, contributed to their church, and had a seat on the Credence town council.

  “What do we know about him?”

  “He’s the heart doctor and the loveliest man. Seems very competent. Don’t fret now, darlin’.”

  Wade didn’t give one fuck how lovely the doctor was. He cared how experienced he was, how many people had tried to sue him, and how steady the guy’s hand was. He pulled out his phone. There was a text from CC with a bunch of links for him to check out pacemakers. He sent a quick reply.

  Find out about Doctor Cranforth. He’s a cardiologist at St Luke’s.

  He also sent a text to Doug Schumann, the team doctor when he was playing for the Broncos, but it could be a while before Doug got back to him. CC’d be quicker.

  “When are they doing it?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  That was good. It would give Wade time to check out the doctor and make arrangements to get his father somewhere else if needed. “How long will you be in for?”

  “Doc reckons I can go home the next day if everything goes well. Day after at the most.”

  “But he has
to take it easy for six weeks,” Ronnie interjected. “No lifting. No driving.”

  Christ, his father would hate that. Wade had never seen his father idle in his entire life. “Any hogs due to farrow in that time?”

  His father snorted. “There’s always hogs farrowing.”

  “It’s okay,” Ronnie soothed. “Wyatt’ll pick up the slack.”

  Wade nodded. His brother was more than capable of running the entire operation by himself. “I could get him some extra help while Dad recovers.”

  “Nah, son.” His father patted his hand with his big paw. It was easy to see where Wade had inherited his giant, safe quarterback hands from. “We’ll be fine.”

  Which probably meant his father wasn’t planning on being very compliant. He opened his mouth to say as much, but his phone buzzed, and a message from CC flashed onto the screen.

  Dr. Richard Jonathon Cranforth is the best cardiologist in Colorado. Possibly the world.

  Tension in Wade’s shoulders—tension he hadn’t even realized was there—eased suddenly.

  “Dad…” He glanced at his mom, who was apparently as unconcerned about his heart requiring an external force to keep beating as his father. That was the problem with his parents’ generation—they put too much faith in doctors. “Have you thought about retiring?”

  “Retiring?”

  Wade couldn’t help but smile. His father was looking at him as if he’d just muttered the “v” word in his presence.

  Vegetarian.

  “Yeah, you know. Stop working. Pass the farm over to Wyatt and…I don’t know. Go on a vacation or something. I can send you on that Caribbean cruise Mom’s always been talking about.”

  His parents had worked all their lives, why shouldn’t they get to relax in their old age?

  “Hell, you can go live somewhere else if you want. Come to Denver. Or Florida. Mom likes Florida. I’ll buy you a place there. Some place with a view of the ocean. Some place where you’re not freezing your ass off half the year or up at three in the morning with a sow.”

  The blipping of the heart monitor picked up a little as his father gaped at him. “Florida?”

  That suggestion drew an even more virulent response than the retirement suggestion. Wade might as well have uttered vegan this time.

  “What in hell would we do in Florida?”

  Wade shrugged. “Go deep-sea diving. Learn how to salsa.”

  His father snorted. “You want me to move to a state where one of the football teams is called the Dolphins?” His father looked scandalized. “I’m a Broncos man.”

  Wade had to concede his father’s point with that one.

  “Fine.” He sighed. “But you could move into the house I bought you in Credence. You’d still be in town, still be close to the farm, but you wouldn’t have to work so hard every day.”

  Wade had earned a lot of money over his career and had invested it wisely. He’d cleared the debt on the family farm many years ago. Every few years he upgraded the farm vehicles, and whatever new tech came along that Wyatt considered a worthwhile purchase, he bought.

  He might not have been mucking in with the day-to-day work, but with Wade’s money and his brother’s savvy, they’d turned the farm into a modern agri-business.

  “Son, if you think I’m ever living in that god-awful Southern horror show—” He glanced at his wife. “Sorry honey, no offense.”

  Ronnie smiled at her husband. “None taken.”

  His father turned his attention back to Wade. “—then you’ve fallen off the tater wagon.”

  A couple of hundred years ago, back when Credence had been a thriving outpost, a snake oil salesman had settled in town and built a replica Southern-style mansion for his sweetheart, who had come from a plantation near Atlanta.

  It wasn’t the full Gone with the Wind catastrophe, but it sure as hell stuck out like a pimple on a pumpkin in Credence.

  As a kid, Wade’d been fascinated with the house. He used to pass it on his way to school, and it had seemed very elegant and grand. When it had come up for sale a decade ago, he’d snapped it up. Wade had thought his mother might appreciate some Southern influence, and it was a good solid building—big and roomy with amazing attention to detail in the interior.

  “It’s got character.”

  “I’m not living in a house that looks like a damn wedding cake,” his father bitched. “I’d rather move to Florida.”

  “So.” Wade shoved a hand through his hair, exasperated. “I’ll buy you another one.”

  “Darlin’.” His mother’s soft Southern drawl cut into the father/son verbal tussle. She squeezed her husband’s hand. “That’s so generous. We’re very lucky to have such a generous son. But your dad and I are happy on the farm. Your great-grandfather bought the land just before the depression. Your father was born there, and I’ve been living there for over forty years. It’s our home, and we’re not fixin’ to move.”

  And that was that. His father might think he wore the pants in their relationship, but he was the only one under that illusion. Her voice may have been quiet, but when Veronica Carter spoke—everyone listened. She even had all the old dudes on the town council totally snowed.

  She smiled at Wade reassuringly. “I won’t let your dad do anything he’s not supposed to be doing. Neither will Wyatt.”

  His father scowled, none too happy to hear that. Wade wasn’t particularly happy about it, either. His father was having a pacemaker put in, and his brother and sixty-four-year-old mother were going to be picking up the slack and bearing the brunt of his father’s frustrations at being idle.

  He suddenly felt like an outsider in his own family. He only had himself to blame for that, but it didn’t make it any easier to face.

  Maybe it was time he stepped up and took on some parental responsibility instead of leaving everything to Wyatt? Being able to abdicate stuff was awesome, but he shouldn’t abdicate this.

  Not any longer.

  The kernel of an idea formed and took root in his brain. By the time he headed back to his apartment two hours later, it was fully-fledged.

  He and CC and that annoying fucking cursor were moving to Credence to write his damn memoir.

  …

  CC was finishing her fifth Red Bull of the day—she was going to kick the habit the second she moved to SoCal—when she heard Wade let himself into the apartment. She’d been juggling research into cardiac conditions requiring pacemakers and clearing his schedule for the next couple of days while she’d waited to hear from him.

  She knew this unexpected development was going to throw a wrench into her resignation plans but, right now, that wasn’t important. Wade needed her to do her job, and CC was in full organizational mode.

  Wade looked good when he appeared in the doorway—better than when he’d hightailed it out of here a couple of hours ago. His father must have been okay. She’d been trying not to think about the older man, but it’d been hard. She’d met him on several occasions and had always liked him. He reminded her of Wade in a lot of ways.

  Physically, there were many similarities. Both men were big and broad and had hands like meat cleavers. Not to mention that loose-hipped swagger and the aura of restless energy that seemed to vibrate off both of them. But it was in the attitude as well. She’d seen Wade’s masculine confidence in Cal, too.

  CC opened her mouth to ask Wade about his father, but he didn’t give her a chance.

  “How long would it take you to pack for Credence?”

  CC blinked, alarmed. Oh God. Was his father that sick? “Is it bad? Your father?”

  “Oh no.” He shook his head. “I spoke with the cardiologist. Barring unforeseen complications, he should be out in a couple of days.”

  “Okay.” A surge of relief flushed through CC’s veins. “So…you’re going there for a few days? A week?”


  Normally he went overnight and packed his own bag. If he wanted her to do it for him, she’d need to know how long he was planning on staying away.

  “Three months. Thinking of going for the summer.”

  Three months? The longest Wade had ever spent in his hometown since she’d been with him had been two nights, and that usually had him mad as a cut snake on his return, mumbling about country drivers and the appalling lack of good coffee.

  “The summer?” Her brain quickly rattled through the logistics of possibly having to cancel three months of speaking engagements and public appearances and board meetings. Or most of them, anyway. She glanced at his schedule on the screen of her desktop, running her eyes over the heavily booked months. “Like, all of it?”

  “CC.” He shoved his hands on his hips, the epitome of exaggerated patience. “My dad’s having a pacemaker put in. He’ll be out of action for six weeks, and I want to be there to help Wyatt around the farm. Neither of my parents is getting any younger, and I think this is a good opportunity to spend some time with them.”

  Obviously seeing his father in the hospital had shaken him, but…“Wade The Catapult Carter is going to help muck out pigsties?”

  The man couldn’t even buy his own condoms.

  One winged eyebrow lifted. “I spent a lotta years mucking out pigsties, thank you very much. I’m pretty sure nothing’s changed. Plus, I have a book to write. And I think going home to my roots might be good for the process. It’ll sure as hell be a lot easier doing it in Credence, away from all the distractions in Denver.”

  CC snorted. She knew what distraction was code for. She clicked the schedule closed because her head hurt even thinking about reshuffling everything. “I hate to break this to you, Wade, but wherever you go, there’ll be women.”

  “Nope.” He shook his head. “Not Credence. It’s had a declining female population for decades. Girls go off to college and don’t come back. My mother tells me that very few women of marriageable and child-bearing years can be found in Credence these days, and the rest are snapped up pretty damn quick. Apparently, the school will be facing closure in a few years’ time because of low enrollment. No babies being born in Credence.”