“Oh, yes. Jake. He came in about a year ago when Chief McQueen retired. You remember Bill? Got his pension and went to Florida with Mabel.” She waved one hand. “Anyway, they put the word out, and Jake applied. Had the right qualifications, and the town council liked him even though I thought he was a bit young for the job.” Her mother shook her head. “Man’s only thirty.”
“And you didn’t think I might be interested in this information?” Angela mumbled through a mouthful of ooey-gooey heaven.
“It was none of your business. He was married, and you were dating that fellow already.”
“He’s married?” A trace of jealousy surged through her veins, displacing her anger at Eric for a few seconds.
Her mother took a sip of coffee, eyeing Angela over the ceramic rim. “I said he was. Woman up and left him six months ago, said the life wasn’t for her.” Mary-Ann snorted. “Figure if you marry a cop, you know what you’re getting into. She was too high-strung, if you ask me. Worried about him when he was a state trooper and then freaks out when he’s in a good place like Glen Barrow ’cause we’ve got only one Starbucks.” She rolled her eyes. “Can’t imagine what he saw about her in the first place.”
“The guy I dated in college comes home to work as the police chief, and you think I wouldn’t be interested? Just as a bit of trivia?” Angela dug out another heaping forkful of macaroni.
“You want some trivia? Okay.” Her mother leaned in, a wisp of blond hair escaping the tight bun to fall in front of her face. “Guess you’d like to know Hunter Stratham is back as well, right? Got himself a job at the college, basketball coach. Taken the Badgers to the play-offs two years in a row.”
Angela swallowed the mouthful of pasta to avoid a coughing fit. “I thought he moved to Harrisburg after graduation.” She waved the fork in the air, forcing herself to tamp down the rage building inside her. “What the hell is going on with this town? How many secrets are you keeping from me?”
Mary-Ann crossed her arms and glared at her, pushing Angela back three decades in time. “Don’t you get that tone with me. I talked to you once a week and didn’t think it was appropriate to talk about your ex-boyfriends. Go ahead, tell me I was wrong.” She leaned back in her chair. “I told you about everything else, from the screwed-up church bake sale to the fertilizer truck accident that stank up half the town for a week. Forgive me for wanting to keep you from having any issues with Eric by bringing up the men you used to date. Last thing I wanted to do was give him a reason to be upset with me and with you. In retrospect, I sort of wish I’d yapped your ear off.”
Angela felt her face burn, the reprimand taking hold. “Okay. I understand.”
Mary-Ann nodded her approval. “Now, about Hunter. He cleaned himself up, did a good job turning his life around. He moved to Harrisburg, like you said, and got a degree, decided he wanted to be on the other side of the desk. Got his teaching credentials, worked in Harrisburg for a bit. He came back home when Henry started having problems, and lucked into a job at the college.” Mary-Ann gave her a wide grin. “You got enough to think about now?”
“More than.” Angela took another slug of coffee, her mind spinning.
It didn’t take much to draw her into the memory well, back to her first true love.
Soft butterfly kisses, love notes tucked into her locker, making her blush when she read them in the hallway. Stolen moments under the bleachers, gentle caresses while sitting next to each other in class when the teacher wasn’t looking.
Her mother reached over and touched her arm. “You’ve had a bad day, to put it lightly. Let’s get you upstairs for a hot shower and then to bed. A good night’s sleep will set you right, and tomorrow we’ll figure out what you want to do. What you need to do.”
Angela slumped in the chair as the strain of the last few hours caught up with her. “Thanks, Mom. It’s always good to come home.”
“You’re better than this.” Hunter Stratham pushed the sheet across his desk. “I know you are.” He pointed at the grades. “According to Professor Magee, you’re barely hanging on in English Lit. She’ll have to flunk you if you don’t get it in gear and do it fast.”
The young man rolled his shoulders and glanced out the window. “I do my best. Not my fault.”
“Crap.” Hunter leaned forward. “You want to keep playing basketball? You want a chance to go pro, go to the NBA? Because with marks like this, you’re not going anywhere other than back home with your tail between your legs. Might as well start looking for a job delivering pizzas, because you’re not going to be playing ball here.”
Jessie Winslow scowled. “I got the skills to go all the way. You know I do.”
“I know you do. But you know I don’t stand for my players keeping a low grade-point average.”
“I’m not good at English.”
“Then you get good.” Hunter grabbed a pen and scribbled a name on his notepad before tearing it off. “You call her. She’s a good tutor, one of the best. Tell her I sent you over.”
The college student stared at the paper. “I don’t need a tutor.”
“You don’t need to be benched for the next two weeks.”
“You”—Jessie coughed out the words— “you can’t do that. I’ve got to be out there.”
“And you will be, if you show me you’re doing your best. Call the tutor and set up a schedule.” Hunter paused. “You bring me your next test with no less than a B, and you keep playing. Otherwise, be ready to start warming the bench.”
The player stood up, shaking his head. “You run a hard deal, Coach.”
“Only because I know you’ve got it in you to do better.”
Jessie tucked the piece of paper with the tutor’s number on it in his pocket. “Thanks, Coach.”
“Don’t thank me. Just remember me when you get up for that big award.” Hunter winked at the young man. “Now, get the hell out. I’ve got work to do.”
A few seconds after Winslow left, Sally Adams stuck her head in. “That’s all your morning appointments done with.” She grinned. “Sounded sort of intense.”
Hunter rocked back in his chair. “Jessie graduated high school with high marks and knows he’s got the smarts and the talent to go all the way. But he’s too used to getting away with anything he wants because he can sink a shot from halfway across the court. So what’s next on the agenda?”
“Paperwork. Summer class schedules.” She chuckled at seeing his downcast expression. “And a bit of gossip, if you’re up to it. Darned juicy stuff, if you ask me.”
“Gossip?” Hunter shook his head. “You know I don’t usually go in for that.”
Sally leaned on the doorframe and inspected her nails. “If you’re not interested—”
He motioned her on. “Okay. Lay it on me.”
“Word is, Angela Kenzie’s back in town. Drove in last night from Philly.”
Hunter tried to sound as casual as he could, fighting back the urge to jump to his feet. “Oh. Any idea why?”
“According to what Mary-Ann told Denise at the grocery store last night while picking up ingredients for her mac ’n’ cheese, Angela got snookered by the fellow she was engaged to. Dropped her off the wall, and she came back home to get her head on straight. Mary-Ann always had suspicions about the man—he never called but the one time, and only because Angela insisted they tell her about the engagement. So when Angela called and said he’d been stepping out on her, Mary-Ann felt justified in not feeling right about the jerk. But she’s not going to say so, not when her only daughter is coming on home heartbroken and all.” She eyed Hunter. “Figured you might be interested, considering the two of you were a couple and all.”
And all.
Hunter took one of the pencils from his coffee cup and tapped it on the desk, keeping the same pace as his racing heart. “You know we were the talk of the town for the last year of high school. Did the smoking and drinking, and my dad said it was all a phase, getting it all out of my system before settling do
wn and growing up. Then I started seeing Angela in tenth grade, and everyone wondered what she saw in me. Good girl, top student, hanging out with the bad boy. It was a cliché, but we didn’t know or care.” He shook his head. “Never knew why she accepted that first date and kept on seeing me.”
“She saw a good man finding his way. End result is, you kept your grades up and turned out okay, and so did she.” She retreated to the doorway. “Anyway, she’s back home if you’re interested in finding out what old flames do when they meet again.” A sly wink, and the secretary stepped out of sight.
Ignite.
Combust.
Incinerate.
Hunter risked a glance at the clock.
Ten minutes to twelve.
He stood up and snagged the light jacket from the back of his chair. “Sally, I’m headed out for lunch. See you later.”
He didn’t wait for a response as he headed for his car.
Angela’s back in town, and she’s got to be hurting.
I have to see her.
Angela knew it was way past morning, and she didn’t care.
Her bedroom was a time capsule, preserving both her high-school past and her college years in stasis. Stuffed animals from her childhood on the dresser, Penn State banners on the walls. Old CDs in the rack, and a twelfth-grade spelling bee trophy guarding some spare change.
Everything was pretty well the same as the last time she’d visited.
Just before heading off to Philadelphia for her promising law career.
Just before Eric.
She’d sent off a brief text last night, telling the firm she was sick and taking a few days off, before finally giving in to the need for sleep.
It wasn’t a total lie.
The smell of coffee crept up the stairs and enticed her to pull open the thick down comforter she’d bundled around her like armor.
The digital clock on her side table read 12:14 P.M.
Half the day gone, and I don’t care.
A week ago, she would have been dashing around her office, dealing with the paperwork of a dozen little cases, making her brand known to the partners. They’d been impressed with her right out of university and had offered her a junior position. She’d thought it was because she was at the top of her class and eager, hungry to get to work changing the world.
Now she wondered if it was because Eric had had his eye on her all along.
“You’ve got a visitor.” Her mother appeared in the doorway, cradling a fresh cup of coffee. She wore her usual flowery blouse and jeans, looking refreshed and ready to go. Her long blond hair was pulled into a tight bun.
“A what?” Angela stared at her.
“A visitor. And it’s about time you got your ass out of bed. You can be whiny and upset, but I’ll be damned if you’re going to spend the entire day up here.” She placed the coffee on one of the bookshelves. “When you’re ready. I’ll be entertaining your visitor while you get your act together and come downstairs. He’s on his lunch break, so don’t take too long.”
Grace spun and walked out of sight.
Angela eyed the thick ceramic mug and did the logic run.
I have to get out of bed to get the coffee.
If I get out of bed to get the coffee, I might as well get up.
If I get up, I might as well get dressed.
If I get dressed—
She sighed and flipped back the blanket.
Coffee better be damned good.
Acknowledgments
I’d like to thank my agents, Rachel Brooks and Louise Fury, for taking a chance on an #AdPit pitch and making it work. Also my wonderful editor, Eileen Rothschild, who took a lump of coal and squeezed it into a lovely story diamond.
About the Author
Sheryl Nantus was born in Montreal, Canada, and grew up in Toronto, Canada. A rabid reader almost from birth, she attended Sheridan College in Oakville, graduating in 1984 with a diploma in media arts writing. She met Martin Nantus through the online fanfiction community in 1993 and moved to the United States in 2000 in order to marry.
She loves to play board games and write haiku, although not usually at the same time.
A firm believer in the healing properties of peppermint tea and chai, she continues to search for the perfect cuppa.
She has published multiple books with Samhain Publishing. In 2011 she won two second-place Prism Awards from the Fantasy, Futuristic and Paranormal chapter of RWA for her steampunk romance, Wild Cards and Iron Horses, and Blaze of Glory, the first volume of her superhero romance trilogy.
For more about Sheryl Nantus you can visit her Web page at http://www.sherylnantus.com, see her on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/AuthorSherylNantus, or follow her ramblings on Twitter: @SherylNantus. She also blogs at sherylnantus.wordpress.com when the mood takes her.
She loves to get e-mail at [email protected].
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Excerpt: Game On
Chapter One
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Copyright Page
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
BETTING ON BOTH. Copyright © 2016 by Sheryl Nantus. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.
www.stmartins.com
Cover photographs by Shutterstock
ISBN 9781250104953 (e-book)
First Edition: September 2016
Our eBooks may be purchased in bulk for promotional, educational, or business use. Please contact the Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department at 1-800-221-7945, ext. 5442, or by e-mail at [email protected].
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