Oh, he was every ounce the perfection I’d heard of.
Handsome and perfect.
And not even a flicker of desire. Not that he was offering, but I couldn’t help but notice the absence of want.
Connor had laid claim to every inch of me—the debate was over. I was an absolute goner for him if a British accent and killer smile was lost on me.
“You travel so often,” I said, but posed it as a question. “Last I read you were in Paris?” I searched my memory. “Visiting a boy who was recently diagnosed with a rare blood disease…”
“Either you have an excellent memory,” he said. “Or you’re fishing.”
“Can’t it be both?” I admitted. “I admire your presence and work in charities and third world countries and beyond. You never seem to discriminate when it comes to helping—you go where you feel you could do the most good. I think that is beyond honorable and, if I’m so bold to say, newsworthy.”
He pursed his lips, surprise coloring his sky-blue eyes, and then tapped his drink against mine. “No one has ever said that to me before,” he said. “Not from the press, anyway. Most ask me who I’m dating, or if I’m looking for someone. What I’m wearing or what I like to sleep in.”
“We’re not all interested in titillation,” I said. “Though it does sell.”
“What are you interested in, then, Ms. Harris?”
I sighed. “I’d love to see more stories like your good work in the headlines. More than whose heart you broke.”
He covered his chest like I’d punched him. “You wound me,” he teased. “I’ve never purposefully broken a heart, you know.”
“Does anyone?” I asked, knowing I’d never meant to ruin relationships like I tended to do. Never meant to jeopardize Crosby’s career when I had. And I definitely didn’t want to do anything to hurt Connor…but how could I ever protect against something I couldn’t see? It seemed a curse simply followed me around when it came to men, and now that I’d fallen for Connor it was only matter of time—
“Touché.” His words cut off my plummet down doubt-mountain, and I shook off the thoughts.
“So,” I said. “Who—”
“Am I dating?” He cut me off, laughing.
“No,” I said. “Who was the last person you helped?”
He arched a perfect brow at me. “What makes you think there has been anyone since the boy in Paris?”
“A hunch.” I tilted my head. “I don’t think you know how to sit still for too long, and you wrapped your last movie over a month ago and don’t start filming the next for another sixty days.”
“Wow.”
“Sorry,” I said. “It’s my job.”
“Could you tell me so much about the rest of the guests here?” He motioned toward the crowd beyond and around us.
I nodded. “Not all,” I said. “But most.”
He surveyed me. “Those of us with certain aspirations.”
“Yes,” I said. “I have a type.” I laughed. “The do-gooder type.”
“I’m honored,” he said. “Two weeks ago.”
I raised my brows, turning on every mental fiber I possessed. “And?”
“A little girl who lost her family in the most recent hurricane,” he said, his shoulders sinking, the pain in his eyes real and more raw than I’d ever seen in any of his movies. “She’s five,” he said, and a sharp sting in my heart flared. Same age as Hannah. “Not only did she lose them and her home, she was battling an infection that had set in after nearly drowning.” He took another drink and cleared his throat like it had closed up. “We found her dog,” he said, a soft smile on his lips. “We honestly never expected to find it, not with the amount of water that had taken the home,” he continued. “But we found the beast, floating on an end table miles away.” He chuckled. “She was more excited to see him than me, and it was the best thing in the world.” He sighed. “I wished I could’ve brought her whole family back.”
Tears bit the backs of my eyes, but I forced my tongue to work. “Were you there as an activist for the hurricane relief or did you specifically go for her?”
“I was there as a volunteer,” he said. “Using my resources to help in whatever way I could. I have a pilot's license and a chopper and was able to get places some couldn’t.” He shrugged like anyone in his position would do the same thing. Sadly, that wasn’t always true. “My personal assistant—one of her main jobs is finding cases like the little girl’s. Anywhere and everywhere, and scheduling me to help whenever I can. But this one…” he pressed his lips into a line. “This one I just stumbled upon when I visited the overflowing hospital. I don’t think she even knew who I was,” he chuckled. “Just the man that brought back her beloved Sprinkles when no one else could.”
I swiped the traitorous tear off my cheek, and he flashed me an apologetic smile.
“Now look what I’ve done,” he said, offering me a napkin. “Gone and made us both mopey at a party.”
“No,” I said. “Not mopey. Amazed.” I nodded. “Thank you for telling me about her.”
God, my heart ached. I couldn’t imagine Hannah being in that position, and yet, her mother had left her at Connor’s doorstep with only a backpack and a note. She elected to leave when this girl’s parents were taken from her by a natural disaster. Sometimes, the world was a cruel and terrifying thing. Then, there were people like this man, and Connor, who brought light back into the darkest places.
He stood, setting his empty glass on the bar. Slipping his hand into his suit jacket, he pulled out a card and handed it to me. “Feel free to use the story,” he said. “If you’d like.”
I took the card, shocked at the generous offer.
“Not that I do those things for publicity,” he said, his brow furrowed as if he could possibly think I believed that.
“I know that,” I said. “And thank you.”
“I don’t normally do this,” he said. “But I find it rather refreshing to meet someone in the press who isn’t thirsty for blood.” He smiled and pointed at the card. “Use that number if you need to verify anything. I like your angle of spreading positive momentum throughout our industry.”
I couldn’t stop my grin. “Thank you,” I said again, and he gave me a little bow and sauntered into the crowd. Left me sitting at the bar, grinning like the fangirl I was, filled with hope that I was on the right path.
And now, I was armed with what I knew had to be a headline story.
Chapter 13
Connor
I smacked the alarm clock and debated throwing the damn thing across the room. Hannah and I had gotten home at two a.m. that morning, and I’d forgotten to turn the damn thing off my usually seven a.m. wake-up call. I’d gotten a little sleep on the flight from Nashville, but not nearly enough to feel human.
I would have rather skipped the team flight, flown back commercial, and let Hannah get a good night’s sleep, but she’d been adamant that we’d be here this morning. I just wished I known why.
I rolled over, my hand reaching for the pillow that unofficially belonged to Ivy. We’d been—hell, were we even labeled? Well, whatever it was, we’d been that for almost three weeks now, and I hated waking up without her, which was pretty much every day with our playoff schedule and Hannah only having sleepovers once in a while.
Ivy had become a hard, fast addiction, and I didn’t feel right about my day until I saw or heard from her. Since she hadn’t been able to travel to Nashville for the first two games of the third round of playoffs, it had been three days since I’d seen her, which just flat-out sucked.
My eyes drifted shut as exhaustion crept in.
“Uncle Connor,” Hannah stage-whispered.
I opened my eyes and found her leaning over me, staring.
Cue horror-movie-worthy heart attack.
I suppressed my reflex to shriek and blinked the sleep out of my eyes. Was she wearing a dress?
“Hey, Banana. Hungry?” I asked since that was usually her first order of busine
ss. Mine, too, so we matched pretty well.
“Yes,” she admitted, practically vibrating with excitement. “But I’ve already prepared. Just get dressed in something nice, and I’ll meet you downstairs!”
“I can do that,” I answered, sitting up.
She gave me a huge grin and flounced off, her dress swishing with each motion. It was that pretty, pink, frilly one she’d bought with Ivy a couple of weeks ago that made her look like a princess. For special occasions, Ivy had told me, assuring me that girls needed one. More than one, if possible.
My phone buzzed, and I reached for it, reading the text with a quick swipe.
Ivy: Hey, are you up? I just got the strangest text from Hannah’s iPad.
Connor: Hey yourself. Yeah, she just ordered me to dress up and come downstairs. What did your text say?
Ivy: It was emojis she sends when she wants her hair braided, lol.
I had to laugh at that. Hannah had become obsessed with every braid she could do that would match Ivy’s, even going so far as to watch youtube tutorials.
Connor: Ha! Why don’t you come over, and I’ll take my girls to breakfast?
Ivy: Is that how you say you’ve missed me?
Connor: My mouth would love to show you how much I’ve missed you.
Ivy: That’s some offer. I guess I can come over.
Connor: You’ll be “coming” alright. Just as soon as I can get you alone.
Ivy: OMG, you’re killing me. Ok, give me ten minutes. I’m already at the coffee shop.
Connor: Early morning?
Ivy: I thought I’d surprise you, but Hannah texted first.
Connor: Is that YOUR way of saying you missed me?
Ivy: Shut up. I’ll be there soon.
She sent a kissy-face emoji which had me grinning as my feet hit the floor.
Maybe Hannah had missed Ivy, too, and that was why she was all dressed up? That or she’d simply decided that she was going to wear princess dresses as everyday wear, in which case, I was cool with that, too.
I took a two-minute shower, opted to leave the scruff on my face, brushed my teeth and dressed in slacks, a collared shirt and the Sharks tie Hannah had given me at Christmas, thinking she’d get a kick out of it.
Then I grabbed my phone and went downstairs to see what she had been up to.
My smile was instant as I heard Ivy’s voice. I walked into the kitchen from the back steps and saw Hannah perched on one of the stools at the kitchen island with Ivy behind her, weaving her hair into something I knew was going to take me awhile to get down later.
“Good morning, ladies,” I greeted, bending to kiss them both on the cheek.
“I missed you,” Ivy said without teasing or sarcasm. She was getting better at that, being open about her feelings.
“I missed you, too,” I admitted, setting a chaste, but lingering kiss on her lips. God, they were soft and tasted like peppermint, and Ivy.
“Eew,” Hannah called back, knowing better than to twist her head while Ivy was braiding.
“What, Banana?” I asked, releasing my hold on Ivy. “Don’t like it when I kiss Ivy?”
“Don’t care,” she told me honestly. “Just don’t get your kisses all over my hair.”
“Yeah, that’s not how that works,” I told her, dropping to her eye level.
Her green eyes looked at me with a look that had to be at least a decade older than she was. “Do you have girl hair?”
“No.”
“Then how do you know how it works?”
I shot a WTF look up to Ivy, who was biting her lower lip to keep from laughing.
“I guess I don’t know how it works with girl hair. I’ll be more careful with my kisses,” I promised her.
She gave me a tiny nod, not enough to mess Ivy up.
“Your coffee, my dear,” Ivy motioned to the counter with her head.
“Thank you, my darling,” I responded, echoing her fifties sitcom tone.
The first hit of caffeine touched my soul, and I leaned back against the counter with my coffee, soaking up every second of this moment as the girls talked about Nashville, the hotel pool, and how happy Hannah was that we’d won.
“I wish I’d seen it!” Ivy said to her but looked straight at me.
I gave her a soft smile, knowing that work had to come first for her right now. Hell, we were both at that stage in our lives. Hannah had changed my priorities, but with help, I was balancing it. At least I hope I was.
“Me, too!” Hannah answered. “I mean, Miss Bailey is fun, and I like Lettie, but watching the game with them wasn’t the same. I like things the same.”
“Same is good, but different can be fun,” Ivy reassured her. “You’ve had so many changes in the last two months, and I think you’ve handled different like a champ.”
My gaze shifted from Hannah to Ivy, and my heart fucking ached. But it wasn’t a bad ache. It was intense but tasted sweet.
Ivy smiled at me and went back to finishing Hannah’s hair. God, she was beautiful, dressed in a casual maxi dress that gathered in a high neckline around her neck, leaving her shoulders bare, and then dropped to the floor. How could something so modest be so damn sexy?
Easy, when it was on Ivy.
Her hair was loose, falling in golden waves that brushed the sides of her breasts, and her smile bright as she and Hannah fell back into conversation.
Fuck me, I wanted this. Every morning. Not that I couldn’t do Hannah’s hair, I was doing just fine thanks to Youtube and some really forgiving bows, but this...feeling. This comforting glow that had me enthralled as something as simple and domestic as watching the girls get ready on a Sunday morning.
I wanted to come home to this, too. Wanted family dinners, and popcorn movie nights, and taking Ivy to my bed at night. I wanted everything.
That ache returned, filling my entire chest.
Shit, I was falling for her, and it had nothing to do with the sex. It was just her, plain and simple. I even wanted to fight with her about the things we disagreed on, wanted her attitude to keep me on my toes, wanted her wild nature to rub off on Hannah so she’d know it was a great thing to grow up confident and mouthy.
“Well?” Hannah asked as she spun in front of me, halting my inner-epiphany.
“Gorgeous as usual,” I told her. “Now, I actually don’t have practice today, so what do you say I take you ladies to Nine’s for brunch?”
Hannah’s eyes widened. The way to the girl’s heart was always through food, and Nine’s was her favorite for brunch. Probably because she gave her “sparkling apple mimosas.”
“Is that a yes?” I asked.
“I’m in!” Ivy said, sipping on her coffee and taking her place under my arm. I tucked her in tight, loving the simple freedom of being able to put my hands on her.
“Hannah Banana?”
Hannah shook her head, her forehead creasing with worry. “I want to. I love the sparkle juice. But we can’t go. I already made breakfast. It’s in the dining room.”
“Oh!” I faked my excitement, feeling like I was missing something important. Really important. “Then by all means, lead the way!”
Her lips puckered and her hands twisted in the fluffy folds of her dress. “We can’t eat it. Not yet, I mean. But I’ll show you!” At that last bit she perked up, so I went with it.
“Okay, I can go with that. What about you, Ivy?” I shot her a look and hoped she read the confusion in my eyes.
“Definitely,” Ivy answered, squeezing my hand. Her eyes narrowed slightly, and I knew that beautiful brain of hers was going to work, trying to figure out what Hannah wasn’t telling us.
Hannah took off running, her patent leather shoes squeaking as she ran through the open parts of the house, then across the foyer to the formal dining room that was used for...well, nothing that we’d thought of yet.
Thank God Ivy knew how to furnish it because I’d figured it was a good space for a ping-pong table. She’d just shook her head, showed me to the dini
ng room sets that fit my style to a T, modern, comfortable, and minimalist, and my pingpong table had found a cozy spot in the basement.
“I think…” Ivy pulled me to a stop in the foyer, her eyes going wide as she took in the table. “Oh, no.”
I looked over but didn’t see anything that would cause that much alarm. There were two boxes of cereal—Lucky Charms and Frosted Flakes, a gallon of milk that made me wonder what time she’d pulled it out of the refrigerator, four bowls, and a bunch of bananas next to a pink scrap of construction paper.
“What?” I asked Ivy as Hannah straightened the spoons she’d set out.
Ivy’s eyes slid closed. “I want to be wrong. I want to be so very, very, very wrong. Do you know what today is?”
I blinked. “It’s Sunday. We have two days off, and then it’s game three at home.”
She shook her head. “Not what I mean—”
“Come see, Uncle Connor!” Hannah interrupted. “I set it all up.”
I gave Ivy’s hand a squeeze, and she nodded.
“What do we have here?” I asked as I stepped into the only formal space in the house.
Hannah raced toward me, and as I lifted her into my arms, she was already pointing out the seats. Who exactly were we expecting?
“See, that chair is for me because it’s in the middle. And that’s your seat. You’re closest to the Lucky Charms because they’re your favorite.” She turned to point to the other side of the table. “And that is for Ivy, and that one,” she pointed to the seat at the foot of the table, where there was a pink handmade card and a small, tissue-wrapped present the size of my palm. “That’s for my mommy.”
My arms tightened around her so I wouldn’t let go in shock. It was Mother’s Day. I hadn’t thought about it in years.
“Oh, Hannah.” My voice dropped to a whisper as my stomach hit the floor.
“So, we can’t go to Nine’s for sparkle juice because mommy will be here any minute!”
She looked so excited, so damn happy that it almost seemed cruel to burst her beautiful bubble. But it was even crueler to let her believe that Jess would actually walk in the door.
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