“Not your academy,” Marabelle said. “Your academy would be special because it’d be for kids who can’t afford anything else. Start a foundation. Raise money for kids who can’t afford lessons, much less the training that an academy provides. The foundation pays for their tuition.”
Window shoppers strolled by their table and did double-takes, checking him and Nick out. Keith leaned forward in his seat, pushing his plate away. “What about kids who can afford the tuition? Do we accept them?” he asked.
“Yes. If they can afford it, great. But you have to make sure there are enough teaching pros and training to accommodate everyone. And there should be no special treatment for anybody.”
Keith nodded. “Looks like I’ve got some research to do and some money to raise.”
Marabelle bounced in her seat. “There’re all kinds of ways to raise money, and with your high profile and good looks—”
Nick gave a bark of laughter. “Here we go again. Keith, your biggest fan has turned into your campaign director in charge of fund-raising. Be careful, or she’ll plaster your face on billboards all over town.” Marabelle nodded her head so hard that her curls danced around her shoulders.
She turned to Nick. “You’d help, wouldn’t you, hon?”
“Of course, babe. Anything for you.”
“And we’ll get Beau and Ty and a bunch of the other Cherokee players too.” The excitement in her voice escalated.
Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all. Maybe he’d discovered a way to get back into the world of tennis, to give something back to a sport that had been good to him on so many levels. “Well, it looks like I’ve got me a director. What do you say, Marabelle?”
“Woo-hoo! I’m on it.” Marabelle raised her right hand for a high five. Keith laughed, grabbed her hand, and kissed the back. Marabelle’s cheeks flamed red.
Keith winked at Nick. “I’m gathering there’s never a dull moment in your house.”
“You have no idea,” Nick said, hugging Marabelle to his side. “Damn, Morgan. Now I’m never going to get a home-cooked meal. That’s the only reason I married her.” Nick let out an “oomph” as Marabelle’s elbow connected with one of his ribs. This time, Keith had no doubt Nick felt it.
***
An hour later, Keith found himself parked in front of Barnes & Noble. His sharp mind ran through numerous scenarios. To start an academy would be a huge step for him. It would take a great deal of research and planning. But the timing couldn’t be worse. Right now, he had to give Francesca what she demanded and Maddie what she needed. He had more important issues to deal with. Ulcer-causing issues like: 1) convincing sweet, unsuspecting Gail that she should fall in love with and marry him; and 2) convincing sweet, cookie-baking Gail that she’d love to become an instant mother; and 3) convincing himself that he should want sweet, turtleneck-wearing Gail and not sassy, stiletto-wearing Bertie.
Keith checked his watch. He had half an hour before he needed to hit the road to pick up Maddie from school. His cell chirped and he read a text message with an attached selfie of Maddie mugging for the camera with her tongue hanging out: Hurry! Can’t wait for no school. He chuckled as he texted: Behave. Be there soon. Luv u! He shoved a piece of gum in his mouth, brushed his fingers through his hair, and jumped out of his car. Two minutes later, he stood by the register where Gail was stationed. She looked clean and competent, wearing a green polo shirt and a blue-and-green plaid headband in her hair. She gave Keith a shy smile as she finished ringing up her last customer.
“Can you take a break and grab some coffee?” He leaned against the counter and noticed the soft nude polish on her oval-shaped nails.
“Sure. Let me close this register and I’ll meet you over there,” she said.
Keith ordered two cappuccinos and found an empty table. Gail approached, wearing sensible khakis and brown loafers. He stood and pulled out her chair.
“Thank you,” she murmured. “What brings you back to Raleigh?”
Desperation. Fear. Marriage. “I’m on my way to pick up Maddie at school. This is her spring break.” He toyed with the lid to his coffee cup. “And I wanted to see you.” He slanted a glance at Gail, hoping he hadn’t scared her away with his role as a single dad.
A faint blush settled on her cheeks. “Oh. I’m glad you did. I’ve done some research on you since I saw you last.”
Christ. Just what he needed, Gail reading about his wild partying days in Miami…and all over. How could he convince her that those days were behind him now? He had turned over a new leaf. He had a new lease on life. Fuck. How could he convince her when he still needed to convince himself?
Keith yanked on his collar, rolling his neck as fear gripped the inside of his throat. Concern filled Gail’s cornflower-blue eyes. “A little stuffy in here,” he said on a short laugh. “Did you…uh, read anything interesting?”
She nodded. “Tons and tons.”
Shit. Keith fought not to grimace as he gave his collar one last tug. “I wouldn’t believe everything you read. You can’t trust anything on the Inter—”
Gail gave an angelic laugh. “Goodness. I hope I can believe all the stats on your tennis and how many tournaments you won. Did you know we have three different books on you in the store?”
The vise tightening around his chest slackened. “Books? Really?” He didn’t think his mug had graced any tabloids lately—at least, he prayed it hadn’t.
“Sure. You’re featured in our tennis section.” Gail ducked her head and spoke to the table. “I play tennis on the club level, but I’m embarrassed to say I didn’t know much about you, until now.” She clasped her hands together. “I was wondering if you would sign a few copies so we could put an ‘autographed’ gold sticker on the cover,” she said in a soft, shy voice.
Thank you, Jesus. The courtship was still on. Keith swallowed the remaining panic in his throat. “Sure. On one condition.” He relaxed and flashed his famous Morgan smile, designed from an early age to melt female hearts.
Gail fiddled with the delicate gold cross around her neck. “Um, okay, but I may have to check with my manager.”
“Do you always ask your manager permission to date?” he said in a teasing tone.
“A date? With me?” Her voice held a mixture of disbelief and doubt.
“Sure. I’d like to take you to dinner. I think it’s time we graduated from the coffee bar. How about next Wednesday?”
“Wednesday? That’d be nice. I’m sure I can get the night off.”
“Great. It’s a date.” Keith smiled as he covered Gail’s hand on the table with his. No jolt. No heat. No sexual electricity. Merely one warm hand touching another. Plain, boring vanilla. Perfect.
Chapter 10
On Saturday, Bertie walked Sweet Tea for Dottie Duncan; met with the N-Purrfect-Harmony ladies about the upcoming festival to discuss tents, tables, and chairs; planted a container garden for Shirley Douglas in an old, beat-up red wagon while barely managing to escape Scott visiting for the weekend; arranged for supplies to be delivered to Dwelling Place’s warehouse; and brought Mr. Carmichael lunch and dinner. All before heading to the Dog to fill in for Liza’s night shift.
Gary drove Bertie to work in her SUV because he needed it first thing in the morning to pick up some plumbing supplies and deliver them to Keith’s house. “You going to be okay tonight?” He gave Bertie a deliberate once over as she struggled with her stockings that bagged around her ankles.
“Sure. Piece of cake. My skating has really improved since last time.”
“Dog bollocks. You suck, but that’s what makes you so adorable.”
“Bite me.” Bertie gave her stockings a final tug and jumped from the car.
“I’ll bring the car back around noon tomorrow.” Gary leaned toward the open passenger door.
“No prob. The only plans I have involve my head hitting my down
pillow and staying there for about twelve hours.” Bertie waved and then stopped. “You sure you don’t want to come in? Dinner is on me. Besides, I could use a partner for my duet.”
“I’m not dressing up in one of your flashy sequined outfits. Besides, I didn’t bring my stilettos.”
“Funny. I’d actually pay to see that. Go. Do whatever sophisticated thing you do on Saturday nights that doesn’t include me.” Gary took off after Bertie shut the car door.
Bertie stomped through the back door to the Dog and threw her orange satchel on top of Cal’s desk. She jerked down on the very short, black tulle skirt, hating the way it barely covered her butt, but her skater shorts had a huge rip and looked even more risqué than the skirt. Thank goodness for the coverage of the ugly purple-and-black-striped tights she wore beneath it.
Cal burst through the office door from the kitchen. “Come on, Bertie. You’re late.” He glared at her. “And put your skates on.”
“Dammit, Cal. You know I can’t skate.” She stomped her black-pump-clad foot.
“You should’ve thought of that before you opened your big mouth and fired Liza,” Cal shot back.
Bertie yanked on her short, hot-pink T-shirt that kept creeping up, revealing her belly button. “She can’t skate either, you moron. I don’t know why you ever hired her in the first place. You know she hates my guts.” She turned toward the mirror on the wall and adjusted the silver bow on her ponytail. Cal stepped behind her and squeezed her shoulders with his hands.
“That’s not true, Bert. You guys need to call a truce and stop sniping at each other. Besides, it was only temporary. She’s leaving town in a couple of weeks.” Cal sounded a little disappointed at that bit of news.
Good. The sooner Liza skipped town, the better. Bertie rolled her eyes at his reflection in the mirror. “She started it.”
Cal laughed and yanked on her ponytail. “Real mature. Shake a leg and get out there. The place is starting to fill up.”
Bertie groaned, “If I break my leg, you have to take care of all my jobs while I lie around all day and eat Godiva chocolate.”
“Just hold on to the backs of all the chairs and take orders. Whatever you do, don’t deliver any food or drinks. Leave all that to Sara Jean and the others,” Cal said as he pulled the office door open.
“Yes, sir.” Bertie gave him a mock salute.
Cal smiled. “You’re gonna knock ’em dead.”
“Don’t I know it,” Bertie mumbled as she sat down to lace up her skates.
***
Keith held his daughter’s soft, small hand that no longer felt pudgy from baby fat. When did that happen? He gave her hand a squeeze as he pushed through the front door of the Dog. Tonight the Dog had advertised roller derby and karaoke, which Keith had a hard time wrapping his mind around, but Maddie seemed to love the idea.
“Wow! This is so cool!” Maddie said. Her brown eyes lit with excitement as she scanned the kaleidoscope of colors.
“Think so? You don’t think it’s too loud?” Or obnoxious and nauseating, he wanted to add but kept quiet. Looking at the bizarre decor made him dizzy.
“No, Dad. It’s really awesome. Don’t you love all the colored chairs? And look at those Dalmatian spots on the back of the booths.” Maddie pointed as she pulled Keith further into the foyer.
“They make my eyes hurt,” he mumbled under his breath. Maddie looked at him with a wide smile, and he softened. “It’s awesome, Maddie-Poo.”
“Welcome back. Is this your daughter?” The blond waitress he met a few weeks back skated forward and came to a stop in front of them. Keith tried not to gawk at her short, purple knit skirt and black fishnet stockings.
“Yep. My daughter, Maddie.” He stroked the top of Maddie’s silky brown hair.
“Hey there, beautiful. I’m Sara Jean. Where would you like to sit?”
“Can we have the booth with the pink table?” Maddie pointed to a booth in the middle.
“Absolutely,” Sara Jean said in a cheery voice.
Keith didn’t know how anyone could eat on a pink tabletop, but to see Maddie so excited, he’d do it without complaining. He nodded at Sara Jean as she led the way on her skates.
“Here you go.” Sara Jean indicated their table with her hand, sporting lime green–painted fingernails.
Keith and Maddie slid into the booth as she placed menus in front of them.
“What can I get you to drink?”
Keith blinked at Sara Jean’s blinding bright orange T-shirt with “Roll Dog Roll” on the front in silver sequins. He didn’t know if he could ever eat again. He preferred his bars to be dark and seedy or even swanky like the ones that lit Ocean Drive in the wee hours of the morning. Too many hours had been spent in those places, which explained why he now sat inside the fantastical land of Elmo’s World in a tiny town in the land of Dixie.
Maddie bounced in her seat. “Do you have lemonade?”
“Sure do. It’s pink and fabulous.”
Maddie nodded with a grin. “Is it hard to skate and wait tables at the same time?” she asked, checking out Sara Jean’s wild outfit.
“Nah. It only takes a little practice. Unless you’re Bertie, and then it’s hopeless,” Sara Jean laughed. “What can I get you, Mr. Morgan?”
“Call me Keith. Iced tea, unsweetened.”
“Be back in a jiff.” Keith watched Sara Jean glide away toward the bar and glanced at the other waitresses skating in various skimpy outfits. He released a calming breath, glad he hadn’t spied Bertie. Somehow picturing her curvy figure in a tight skating outfit made his mouth go dry. Where was that tea? Flashes of sweet, flat-chested Gail, wearing black pants and a white silk blouse buttoned all the way up to the collar scrolled through his head.
“Who’s Bertie?” Maddie asked, and Keith turned his attention back to his daughter.
“Uh, she’s one of the owners of this restaurant, and she’s also—”
“Coming through! Watch out!”
Keith turned toward the commotion and was struck with horror as Bertie careened around the backs of two chairs, clearly out of control. She grabbed the edge of a table and locked her wobbly knees to stop from rolling. The minute she let go of the table, someone accidently bumped her from behind and she came barreling forward, wind-milling her arms, heading straight for Keith.
“Jesus!” Keith scooted to the edge of his seat and reached out to break her fall.
“Help!” Bertie wailed as she crashed into Keith’s arms, propelling him backward from the force of her fall. Keith stared up at Bertie’s appalled expression as she lay on top of him, trying to catch her breath.
“Daddy! Are you okay?” Maddie scrambled forward over the tabletop, trying to find her dad underneath a hot-pink T-shirt and black tulle skirt.
“Sure, honey,” he said in a muffled voice to reassure Maddie. Warm curves and a bare waist filled his hands. He was better than okay. Bertie’s skin-tight shirt had ridden almost up to the edge of her bra. Keith tamped down the urge to ride his hands up even farther. He willed his fingers to tug the hem of her top down.
“Uh, Maddie, honey…I want you to meet Bertie,” he grunted as he gently shifted Bertie and struggled to sit up. He glanced at Bertie’s horrified expression as she pushed against his chest, scrambling for a more dignified position, which caused her knee to come perilously close to his crotch.
“Whoa. Hold on there,” he said in a tight voice. “Let’s not ruin Maddie’s chances at a sibling.” He lifted Bertie until she was sitting in his lap and not crushing his balls.
Bertie straightened her twisted pink shirt with the silhouette of a roller skate in black and “Roll with the Dog” in gold sequins plastered across her chest. She appeared flustered, and he could’ve sworn she mumbled something about driving a stake through Cal’s heart. The tension that had been contracting every muscle in his bod
y broke, and he started to shake with laughter. Bertie’s big, green eyes narrowed to mere slits, and she mumbled something about hitting him in the head with his own tennis racket. Keith’s head fell back and he howled even louder.
“It’s not that funny,” she snarled close to his face. Bertie slid from his lap to the seat next to him on the bench.
“Daddy?” Maddie’s confused, small voice caught Keith’s attention. His laughter petered off into a chuckle.
“Sorry. Let me start again. Maddie, this is Bertie. She’s our interior decorator.” Maddie’s gaze darted from Keith’s laughing face to Bertie’s exasperated expression. Her dark brown eyes shone with knowledge far greater than her ten years.
“You own this place and you decorate?” she asked Bertie. Keith could tell that Bertie had graduated from pretty cool to super-duper cool in Maddie’s world.
“I sure do. Me and my brother Cal own the Dog.” Bertie extended her hand across the table. “It’s very nice to meet you. I’m sorry about my embarrassing entrance. I’m not usually this clumsy.” Bertie’s laugh sounded nervous as she shook Maddie’s hand.
Maddie grinned from ear to ear at Bertie, as if she were watching one of her favorite teen groups sing on stage.
Sara Jean glided forward with their drinks on a tray. “So, you’ve witnessed Bertie’s skating firsthand, huh?” she said, placing Maddie’s lemonade on the table. She handed Keith his iced tea in a Mason jar. “Last time, she landed face-first in Dottie Duncan’s chest with a big plate of spaghetti. It was hilarious,” Sara Jean laughed.
Bertie cleared her throat. “Thanks, Sara Jean, for those highlights. Have you taken the Morgans’ dinner order?”
A few minutes later, Sara Jean skated away from the table with Keith’s order of grilled salmon and couscous and Maddie’s chicken tenders.
“I’m so happy I’m going to be working with you on your bedroom. You’ll save some time to meet with me this week, won’t you?” Bertie asked Maddie.
Find My Way Home (Harmony Homecomings) Page 12