“But”—Annabeth held up a finger as Walker and Sophie were fist-pumping one another—“only if you tell me why you need the money. If you’re using it to buy drugs, the deal is off.”
“Hey!” Walker cried.
“Drugs? No way,” Sophie protested. “I’m so not into that!”
“Yet you’d risk getting grounded to sell some jewelry. Why?” Annabeth had worked with enough teenagers to know things weren’t always what they seemed. Her gut was telling her Sophie was sincere. She hoped her gut was right.
“I’m perpetually grounded. I have a D in physics, so I’ll likely spend my summer trapped at home watching the twins while my mom plays tennis at the club and weekends at the shore with her book club.” Sophie leaned back against the sofa cushions and crossed her arms in disgust. “My friend Lizzie moved to L.A. last year and I want to go visit her. My dad keeps saying he’ll take me, but since there’s no professional football team in Los Angeles, that isn’t likely to happen. So I wanna buy my own ticket. Lizzie says I’d like California. I wouldn’t stand out so much there. I just want to meet people like me, you know?”
“The kids at our school are all rich, WASPy tight-asses,” Walker added. “They don’t appreciate Sophie’s artistic genius.”
Annabeth’s heart squeezed tightly in her chest at Walker’s words. She could easily relate. At fifteen, she’d been thrust into a small-town school in the heart of the Bible Belt weeks after her free-spirited hippie parents had been killed in a car accident. Her parents didn’t believe in the institution of marriage or school or anything else, instead roaming the country wherever the wind blew them. Needless to say, the transition to normal life was a bumpy one for Annabeth, and acceptance was difficult to achieve. Of course, showing up to school pregnant at sixteen hadn’t helped.
“Here.” She pulled a business card out of her clutch and handed it to Sophie. “I’ll be in the store tomorrow afternoon. Why don’t you call me then and we can chat about what you have and work out the details of getting your product to the shop.”
Sophie hurled herself into Annabeth’s arms. “Oh, Annabeth, I love you!”
“Sophie Claire!”
The three of them jumped to their feet at the sound of Hank’s voice.
“Dad!” Sophie squeaked.
“What are you doing here?” Hank demanded.
Sophie clenched her fingers in her skirt. “Um . . .”
Hank ignored his daughter. “And more importantly, how did you get here?”
“Yo.” Clearly, Walker didn’t possess innate self-preservation skills, or he’d have kept quiet.
Fisting his hands at his hips beneath his unbuttoned suit jacket, Hank glared at Walker behind his wire-framed glasses. Not quite as tall as Will, Hank still wasn’t a small man. She could see well-defined pectoral muscles beneath his crisp dress shirt. A small abrasion, likely from his razor, marred his rugged jaw, but it didn’t detract from his handsomeness. His nostrils flared briefly when his steely blue eyes came to rest on her. Annabeth had to lock her knees at the fierceness of his gaze.
“You got in a car with him?” He sliced a finger through the air at Walker. “On the highway with Mr. T-bone-his-mother’s-car-the-day-he-gets-his-license? What were you thinking?”
“It wasn’t like that! That old geezer didn’t look where he was going when he pulled out. It wasn’t my fault.”
“Daddy, Mom exaggerated that whole thing just so you would back her up when—”
“Enough!” Hank bellowed.
The room was silent as Hank took a few calming breaths, one hand massaging the back of his neck. Annabeth really didn’t want to overstep her bounds, but she didn’t feel right leaving the kids defenseless, either.
“Walker, why don’t you go to the kitchen and help yourself to a piece of the cake I brought. Someone should enjoy it,” she said, ruefully.
Right on cue, Walker’s stomach growled. He looked from Sophie to her father. Sophie rolled her eyes at him before nodding at him to go. Hank leveled another fierce glare at Annabeth as Sophie sidled up closer to her. Annabeth answered his gaze with a raised eyebrow. If he wanted her to leave, he’d have to ask her.
Hank sighed. “Does your mother know you’re here?”
“Not exactly.” Defeat rang in Sophie’s voice.
He pulled his cell out of his pocket. “For crying out loud, she’s probably worried sick.”
“I doubt it.” Sophie dropped back onto the sofa. “She and Kevin took the twins to Hershey Park today.”
“And not you?”
“I’m grounded. My physics grade is still in the toilet.”
“So you came here instead of studying because . . . ?” Hank prodded his daughter.
“’Cause I wanted to spend time with my father.” She picked at the chipped blue nail polish on her thumb, avoiding her father’s face.
Hank slammed his phone on the desk. “Bull!”
Sophie leaped up from her seat. “Of course not! Why would you want to spend time with me, anyway? I came to meet Julianne Marchione. To show her my jewelry and see if she might want to use some with her gowns. Not that you’d understand!”
“Jewelry? What jewelry?”
Annabeth’s heart nearly broke at the crestfallen look on Sophie’s face. “God, Dad, don’t you even listen when I talk to you? Mom and Kevin have the twins always distracting them, but you don’t even have that as an excuse. Nobody hears a word I say.”
Sophie headed for the door, but her father blocked her way. “Hold up. I do hear what you say. I just assumed the jewelry you make is for your friends. Not to make money.” He ran a finger over the sparkling earring Annabeth had held earlier. “Is this yours? It’s beautiful.”
Hank’s tender tone with his daughter stilled Annabeth’s breathing. She’d always wanted a father to listen to her at her darkest hour. How her life might have been different had she had one. Except then she might not have had Will. And that thought choked her up even more.
“I should go check on the guests,” she said, making her way past them.
“No!” Sophie cried. “Please don’t go, Annabeth. Dad, Annabeth is going to sell my jewelry in her store. We were just talking about it.”
“Is that so?” Hank’s measuring glance focused in on Annabeth. She licked her lips.
“It is, right, Annabeth?” Sophie sounded nervous, as if her father would force Annabeth to retract her offer.
“Yes, we have a deal.” She smiled at Sophie before turning her gaze on Hank, daring him to contradict her.
He contemplated them both before speaking. “On one condition.”
“Daaaad!” Sophie wailed.
“That physics grade has to go up a letter grade before you can work on any new jewelry. If it does, you can spend all summer working in her store for all I care.”
“Really? Can I, Annabeth?” Sophie’s eyes beamed.
Annabeth looked at the girl’s father, who raised his own eyebrow in challenge.
“Sure,” she heard herself saying. “I can always use the help during the summer.”
“Ohmigod! This is so sweet!” Sophie hugged her dad before wrapping her arms around Annabeth. “I’m sooo glad I came today. Meeting you is the best thing that ever happened to me!” She flounced out the door to find Walker.
They both stood there in silence staring at the door. Feeling the need to flee with Sophie, Annabeth retrieved her clutch from the sofa.
“Mrs. Connelly.” Hank’s nearness startled her.
She looked up to find him watching her carefully. “It’s Miss. I’ve only ever been a Miss.”
Hank lifted a hand in agitation and rubbed the back of his neck again. She’d rattled him. Good.
“Yes. Miss. I apologize.”
He paused for a moment to study her face. Annabeth felt heat flare in her cheeks. He was
looking at her differently. Like a man who was interested in her. She’d seen that look many times before. Unfortunately, like the men before him, he wouldn’t find her interesting once he got past her good looks.
Hank seemed to shake himself. “Thank you. For backing me up there. She’s a little . . . impetuous, but she’s a great kid. You shouldn’t worry about having her underfoot all summer, though. Physics doesn’t come that easily to her. She’s not very theoretical.”
Annabeth took exception to his remark. Unexpected motherhood had stalled her own education, and she had only a high school GED. Her son never lorded his Ivy League degree over her head, but she knew she was definitely inferior to him academically. Obviously, Hank Osbourne, with his multiple college degrees, felt the same way about his own daughter.
“Shame on you! You should encourage your daughter to succeed. I truly hope she surprises you. And when she does, I’ll be delighted to have her work for me.”
He didn’t recoil from the bite of her words. Instead, his lips curved into a wolfish grin. “I do, too, Miss Connelly. In fact, I may pay for her tutor to come every night before the final exam in two weeks so she does well on it.”
Annabeth tried to stalk past him, but he stopped her at the door.
“Aren’t you curious about why I want her to succeed?” he breathed into her ear.
She turned her neck to meet his gaze, but said nothing.
He pulled the door open. “Because then I’ll have an excuse to spend my weekends in Chances Inlet with its extraordinary . . . scenery,” he murmured as she stepped over the threshold into the foyer.
Annabeth didn’t dare look back. She was torn—on the one hand, hoping Sophie would surprise her father, but on the other, wary of having Hank Osbourne pursuing her. Hank was a part of her son’s world, not hers. He’d quickly realize that fact when he arrived in Chances Inlet.
Nine
The small jet landed smoothly on the runway nestled between the berm and sand. Will had wasted no time getting them to North Carolina once Dr. Ling had discharged Owen that morning, swiftly whisking them off to Reagan National Airport, where a private plane waited. He’d arrived at the hospital with a state-of-the-art infant carrier, insisting their son be properly strapped in his seat the entire time they were in the air. Julianne was relieved that Owen slept peacefully during the forty-minute flight because, had he been fussy, there was no way she was leaving him in that car seat. Her arrogant, domineering husband could bluster all he wanted.
It had been two days since their marriage and that encounter in the powder room. She’d managed to keep her interactions with Will brief and always in front of witnesses. Once on the plane, however, he was difficult to avoid. He took up most of the cabin, lounging in one of the wide chairs across from Julianne and Owen. It was the first time she’d seen him dressed casually, wearing jeans, sneakers, and a tan golf shirt that brought out the green in his eyes. Not that she saw much of them since he’d spent the trip perusing his iPad while Julianne feigned sleep.
“I made an appointment with a pediatrician in Wilmington next week for Owen’s well-baby visit,” he announced, apparently fully aware she wasn’t sleeping. “I interviewed him yesterday. He comes highly recommended.”
Julianne cracked an eyelid open. Will was watching her, waiting for a reaction, that cool defiant look on his face. His presumptiveness was really starting to rub her raw. Dr. Ling had already referred her to a pediatrician located in Chances Inlet, a former medical professor of hers at Duke, now in private practice in the small town. Julianne had the woman’s name tucked in her purse.
“I’ve already taken care of it,” she said, closing her eyes again. Not exactly true, but she planned on taking care of it once they landed.
She heard Will snap the case of his tablet closed. “Really? Because you weren’t even taking notes when Dr. Ling was discharging him. Do you even have a vague idea of the number of checkups and inoculations Owen needs in the next several months? Or do you plan to parent the same way you live your life, by the seat of your pants?”
Julianne was thankful her seat belt was still securely snapped around her waist; otherwise, she might have flown out of the chair and throttled him. Her eyes were wide open now, and she could only imagine what he saw reflected in them. Not that he registered any reaction. His opinion of her stung, however. She wasn’t the flaky artist her brother constantly made her out to be. But she didn’t live her life encumbered by rigid rules prescribed by society, either.
“I didn’t need to take notes, because you, Mr. Ivy-League-brownnoser, were doing such a great job at it. And yes, I know exactly the protocol for well-baby visits. I had several months of pregnancy to memorize it.” She reached down to pull on a sock Owen had kicked off in his sleep. “Our deal was that I’d be the dutiful wife in public, but you aren’t dictating how I mother my son.”
Will’s jaw clenched at her slip, but Julianne reminded herself she was trying to get along. She flailed a hand in the air before he could correct her with some acerbic rebuttal.
“Pardon me. When our son”—she was gratified she didn’t choke on the word—“has an ear infection or a fever, I’m not hauling him off to a doctor forty minutes away when I can push him in a stroller to a well-qualified, well-liked physician two blocks down the street.”
Will hesitated, concern briefly flickering in his eyes, before opening his iPad once again. “I have an article on homeopathic remedies for ear infections.”
She slumped back against the seat. Undoubtedly he had entire research manuals on childcare loaded onto his tablet. He was apparently trying to debunk the dumb-jock myth single-handedly.
“You aren’t going to be able to develop a game plan for your son. He’s a living, breathing entity and things are going to happen, as we’ve already discovered. We’re going through with this ruse so you can bond with Owen. If you’re stressed about every little thing, he’ll sense it.”
His only reaction was a brief tightening of his fingers on his iPad. “I’m organized and efficient. Having a plan leads to less stress.”
Julianne rolled her eyes. “Right! You’re wound so tightly . . .”
Will tossed his iPad onto the chair beside him. Julianne’s breath caught in her throat as he stretched forward in his seat, his mouth hard. She should have known better than to bait him, but she was tired of his domineering manner and, well, she was just plain tired. And alone. And, truth be told, a little bit scared. In theory, marrying Will and returning to the small town where he grew up sounded doable. But now that she was actually living it, without the protective cocoon of her friends—Sebastian, Carly, and even Nicky—she wasn’t sure how she was going to pull it off. The ever-present sexual tension simmering between her and Will certainly didn’t help.
“If I’m stressed, Princess, it’s because I find myself having to totally restructure my off-season with a kid I didn’t know I had and a wife I don’t want.”
The force of his words sent her pressing further against the seat back. Of course he didn’t want her as his wife. It hurt to know that here was another man who didn’t envision her as a permanent part of his life. She turned her gaze to the window so as not to let him see how he could wound her. He already had enough power over her.
The pilot’s voice came over the intercom, shattering their stony silence.
“Hey, Will, we’re five minutes from wheels down, so make sure everything is secure back there, will ya?”
Will was quiet for a moment before switching on the intercom and answering. “Thanks, Ron.”
The ocean stretched out beneath the wing of the plane, and Julianne’s stomach did a flip-flop. She knew Chances Inlet was a small town located at the junction of the Cape Fear River and the Atlantic Ocean, but she hoped Will’s house was at least a few blocks inland. She didn’t do well near the sea, not since it had taken her mother from her.
“He’s
still strapped in?” Will asked.
She forced herself not to roll her eyes again as she peeked over at Owen, still sleeping peacefully, a bubble of spit dancing on his pursed lips. Her heart melted as she looked at her beautiful son. Gratitude for Will’s contribution to Owen’s creation and saving his life dulled a little of the animosity she currently felt for him. She pulled the blanket up over the blue onesie decorated with Clifford the Big Red Dog, and suddenly a vision of a lace christening gown danced before her eyes. She blinked, but the gown remained fixed on her brain. Relief flickered through her limbs. Perhaps her gift wasn’t gone, after all. It was the first time in months she’d conjured up a design, and her fingers itched to sketch it. But just then, the plane’s wheels hit the runway with a bump and Owen woke up howling.
Will took care of unloading their luggage while Julianne fed and changed the baby. When she emerged on the tarmac twenty minutes later, it was to find Will leaning against a gleaming SUV, chatting up a leggy blonde dressed in jean shorts and a white tank top. She was perched barefoot on the hood like a life-sized hood ornament. The girl—she couldn’t have been more than twenty—looked like she was posing for a new-car ad, the wind blowing back her hair as her perfect pink mouth smiled seductively at Will.
“Oooh!” she squealed as she slid off the car and made a beeline toward Owen. “Is this your baby?”
Julianne just barely resisted the urge to pull the carrier holding her son up to shoulder height just to watch the girl fall flat on her face.
“He’s sooo cute,” she cooed as she looked up at Julianne. “Hi! I’m Brandi. With an i.”
“Of course you are,” Julianne couldn’t resist saying. Brandi-with-an-i probably dotted her i with a heart. Julianne hated the stab of self-doubt that coursed through her stomach. She’d taken care with how she’d dressed today, but next to the athletic, tan Brandi-doll, Julianne looked like the doughy, pasty white mom she’d become.
Brandi turned to Will, who stood on the tarmac, hands on hips, coolly observing the exchange. “Will, you naughty boy! Did you tell your wife about us?” She winked at Julianne. “His mama used to babysit me. Will would let me sit on his lap on the school bus every day. He never lets me sit on his lap anymore.” Brandi’s pout was impressive.
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