A Better Man (30 page)

“And you will. She knows you'll be there for
her.”

“If she leaves as soon as school's out that gives me no t
ime.”

“She's not going to do t
hat.”

“How do you k
now?”

“Let's just say that I think I understand her. I know she's searching for herself. But I'm pretty sure she really doesn't want to do it al
one.”

He glanced away. “I don't k
now.”

“Look. Everyone I know quit on me and I even gave up on myself many times. I won't let you give up on you. No one expects you to give up everything for them. Talk to your family. I'm sure you'll see that they support you and your career a hundred percent. You've worked all your life for this opportunity. Take it. Everyone will still be here when you're d
one.”

Because she could say no more, because she was silently begging him not to quit on
her
, and because it was breaking her heart to stand there and see him so torn up inside, she knew she had to l
eave.

“Don't quit on Nicole,” she said in parting. “Be her champion by giving her guidance, even if it's from miles away. Show her what hard work and determination can accomplish. And let her know that love doesn't have time or space limits.” She kissed his cheek and headed for the
door.

“What about
you?”

She turned. “What about
me?”

He crossed the floor and stopped in front of her. The masculine scent of his warm body, soap, and sex drifted up like a wonderful perfume that made her head
spin.

“If I don't quit, will you still be here when I'm done?” he a
sked.

“In the beginning, everything inside of me told me to run. That you would only hurt me again. That a man as perfect as you would never truly find anything special about someone like me. But I took a chance anyway. As much as I tried not to, I've fallen in love with you. So prove to me you're not a quitter and yes, I'll still be h
ere.”

She reached for the door and he stopped her with a hand on her
arm.

“Promise me,” he said. The haunted look in his eyes verified it was important for her to d
o so.

“I promise. Now you have to prove
it.”

Before she could change her mind, she opened the door and walked
out.

She just hoped it wouldn't be for
ever.

Chapter 17

S
leep came in short spurts. Jordan finally got up at six o'clock after looking at the clock radio for what felt like every hour on the hour. All night his mind had whirled with the dilemma. No matter which way he turned, he'd end up letting someone down. Whether it was Nicole, Lucy, his brothers, his teammates, or his fans. And he had no one to blame but him
self.

Trying to work things out in his head, he went for a run, then to the gym. Then he busted all his hard work to hell by stopping at Sugarbuns and satisfying his sweet tooth with an apricot-­almond breakfast pastry. Halfway through his workout Ryan had called another family meeting, so he also picked up a dozen donuts but only managed to make it home with eleven. Somewhere along the way a glazed old-­fashioned had disappe
ared.

When he walked into his parents' house, the place was silent. He set the donut box down on the kitchen table and wandered back into the living room, once again looking at the endless array of group photos and the solitary photo of him. One day he'd change
that.

Sooner than later, he h
oped.

As a start he took his picture off the mantel and shoved it into a side table drawer. He'd rather not be there at all than be there a
lone.

Ethan and Declan came into the kitchen as he was making a pot of co
ffee.

“Don't take this personally, Jordy.” Declan snatched a coffee mug off the counter. “But you look like ten miles of a bumpy road in h
ell.”

“Too much stress.” Jordan snapped the lid closed on the coffeemaker. “No sl
eep.”

“And now another family pow-­wow,” Ethan said, grabbing his own coffee
cup.

“Yeah. Hopefully Ryan has some good n
ews.”

At that moment Ryan and Riley—­still in her footie pajamas and looking sleepy—­strolled into the kitchen. Ryan handed his daughter a donut on a napkin, gave her a kiss on the forehead, and sent her off to the den to watch cartoons. Judging by the look on Ryan's face, Jordan figured the news was going to be anything but
good.

“This couldn't have waited until later?” Jordan asked. “Riley still looks half asl
eep.”

“Yeah.” Ryan glanced toward the doorway his little girl had disappeared through. “She's not too happy with me right now. But things need to be discussed so we can start moving forward. And since everyone has lives to get back to, it needed to hap
pen.”

Jordan agreed, but his heart still went out to little Riley. Admittedly, until he'd come back home he'd never put much thought into his niece other than she was adorable and she'd gotten the shit end of the stick when her mom took
off.

Jordan saw her in a whole different light now. She was a sharp little cookie with a sweet smile that melted his heart. He'd never thought much about having kids. He'd just figured someday they'd come along when he finally decided to settle down. Now he could picture himself with a couple of cute little brainiacs that looked just like
Lucy.

“Your little girl deserves a br
eak.”

Ryan nodded. “I figured once everything settled down a little I'd take her somewhere like Disneyland to take her mind off things. In the meantime . . .” He tossed a thin newspaper on the table. “Looks like you made a visit to
Talk of the T
own
.”

Only after Lucy had already taken a s
tand.

Jordan lifted the paper and read the headline story that was a retraction and apology. “Yeah.” He chuckled. “I threatened to sue her nasty
ass.”

Ethan cocked his head and looked over Jordan's shoulder at the paper. “Looks like she took you seriously. That paper doesn't have a Sunday edit
ion.”

“Told her she wouldn't have
any
edition unless she apologized. We all have enough to worry about without some mean old biddy trying to stir up a hornet's n
est.”

“Who's stirring up trouble?” Parker came into the room looking like he might be dealing with a hangover as he reached up into the cupboard and grabbed a coffee
mug.

“Jordy single-­handedly took down the wicked witch at
Talk of the Town
,” Ethan drawled while he perused the selection of do
nuts.

“Not single-­handedly,” Jordan said. “Lucy got there before me and took her down a couple of notches before I even got warmed
up.”

“My kind of woman,” Declan
said.

“
Not
your kind of woman,” Jordan shot back. “
My
k
ind.”

His brothers raised their eyebrows because even though back in the day they'd often been in competition, he'd never before claimed a w
oman.

“Duly noted,” Dec said, selecting a regular glazed donut from the box. “Hands off the schoolteac
her.”

“Hey,” Ethan complained. “That's the donut I was going to t
ake.”

Parker scoffed. “You've been in this family for thirty-­one years and you still haven't learned to act fast when there's food aro
und?”

Jordan chuckled. He'd missed the banter with his brothers. When they'd been younger they'd all tried to prove who was bigger and badder by basically beating the crap out of each other. One or the other had often sported a black eye or a busted lip. Their mother had always shaken her head in disgust and complained about too much testosterone in the house. Now, Jordan realized, he was grateful to have his brothers. And he was grateful to have the chance to get to know them a
gain.

“So . . . a schoolteacher, huh? Never figured you for the type. Unless she's like one of those you see in
Playboy
.” Parker sipped his coffee and grinned. “Is
she?”

In Jordan's opinion, despite her choice of plain outerwear, naked Lucy far surpassed anyone in the pages of
Playboy
. “Doesn't matter. She's hands off to
you.”

Aunt Pippy bounced into the room like a ball of energy in a retro bell-­bottom jumpsuit made of a blue, green, and yellow paisley print. Once again, plastic fruit dangled from her
ears.

“As soon as Nicki comes down we can get started,” Ryan
said.

“I'm here.” Nicole came into the room wearing her grumpy baby dragon face. Jordan handed her a cup of black co
ffee.

“Eeew.” She handed it back. “I only drink caramel macchiatos from Starbu
cks.”

“Starving musicians can't afford caramel macchiatos from Starbucks.” Jordan leaned in and gri
nned.

Nicole grinned back. “They do if their big brother is a superstar hockey pla
yer.”

That got a laugh out of him. “Good one, sis.” He grabbed her in a one-­armed side
hug.

“Everyone take a seat,” Ryan
said.

Wood chairs scraped against the tile floor as everyone chose a place to
land.

Ryan sat at the head of the table. “Sorry about the short notice,” Ryan said, folding his hands together on the tabletop. “I wanted to discuss your ideas for improving the business and give you some updates before we all started going in different directi
ons.”

Parker leaned his forearms on the table. “I'm still all in for a tratto
ria.”

“I like the idea of renovating the event center and creating a wine club,” Ethan a
dded.

“I took a look around the property and there's no identity. No theme,” Jordan said. “Some of the buildings look Old West and others look European. We need to figure out what we want it to be and stay the cou
rse.”

“We also might consider hiring an in-­house event coordinator,” Declan suggested. “Someone who is really enthusiastic about what they do and will keep the place booked year ro
und.”

“Great idea,” Parker
said.

“I also think we should put in a stage over by the grassy knoll with priority seating for concerts which can be obtained by joining the wine club,” Jordan added. “There's plenty of room to add a picnic market for folks to purchase everything they need right here instead of dragging it all in with them. There's also room to add another couple of cottages by the creek for guests. A spa isn't out of the question either. I agree we need to turn this place into a destination instead of just a vineyard. No other winery in the area has that much going on. They might copy us, but at least we'd be able to build the clientele fi
rst.”

“Great ideas,” Ryan said. “As soon as we get the report from the financial investigator we can figure out the priorities and costs so we can come up with a bud
get.”

“Ryan and I think the man we hired is getting close to an answer,” Declan a
dded.

“Oh my.” Aunt Pippy made a big show of looking at the gigantic watch on her wrist. “I've lost track of time. I was supposed to be at . . . church . . . yeah . . . church. Ten minutes ago.” She pushed back her chair and headed toward the door mumbling, “Hope Reverend Collins didn't start without
me.”

“Since when does she go to church?” Parker wanted to
know.

“She doesn't,” Ryan answered. “Mom always said she was afraid the roof would cave in on her for all the things she did during the ‘Make Love, Not War'
era.”

“Then what the hell was that all about?” Jordan asked. “Come to think of it, whenever we talk about the missing money she finds a reason to leave. She's starting to look suspici
ous.”

“Dude, she still dresses like it's the 1960s,” Ethan piped in. “Maybe she's just getting old and sen
ile.”

“You're around her the most, Ryan. You have any idea what's going
on?”

“I try not to delve too deep into Aunt Pippy's mind. I'm afraid I'll tap into a bad acid t
rip.”

“This is bullshit.” Jordan stood and shoved his chair away with the backs of his knees. He caught Aunt Pippy before she reached the st
airs.

“Hold on there, turbo,” he said. “You're holding out on
us.”

“Don't know what you're talking about.” Aunt Pippy placed her hand on the stair rail but Jordan caught her by the back of her jumpsuit before she could es
cape.

“I think you do. Because if you were going to church you'd be heading out the front door, not sneaking up to your room,” he said, taking her by the elbow and leading her right back to the kitchen. “So how about we all sit down at the table and you can enlighten
us.”

Panic widened her eyes. “I don't have anything to
say.”

“Don't make us get the interrogation light and smoke cigars in your face till you break,” Parker joked, even though it was no joking ma
tter.

“Have a seat.” Jordan pulled out the chair she'd been sittin
g in.

Pippy looked at the chair, then at all of them. “He
had
to do it,” she announced, then burst into t
ears.

Jordan's heart sank. What the hell was goin
g on?

Ryan's brows pulled together tight. “He
who?”

“Not sure I even want to hear this,” Nicole
said.

“But we're going to.” Jordan handed his aunt a napkin to wipe her tears. “Aren't we, Aunt Pi
ppy?”

“I can't tell you who,” she said between sniffs. “I'll be betraying
him.”

“I don't care if you're talking about the president of the United States,” Ryan said. “This family's future depends on your answer. So yes, you
will
t
ell.”

Fingers curled over the backrest, she stared at the chair they expected her to sit in. Finally she looked up. “Your father took the money. I can't tell you why. Don't ask. I can't betray him any further. He was a good man but he wasn't perfect. And neither was your mother. God rest their so
uls.”

She heaved a huge sigh. “And now I
will
be going to church so God doesn't strike me dead for my disloya
lty.”

As their aunt escaped the room without giving them further details, they all sat there stunned, staring at the half-­empty box of donuts like it held the answers they so
ught.

“Oh my God.” Nicole started to cry. “It's starting to make sense
now.”

“What is?” Ryan a
sked.

Nicki tossed Jordan a panicked look and he knew he had to ste
p in.

“Nicki told me something that I haven't been able to share with any of you yet,” Jordan said, his heart breaking for his sister. Because no matter what she said, the truth was none of them knew much more now than they did when they'd first entered the
room.

Declan slid his hand over the back of her chair. “What's up, butter
cup?”

“Seems there's some confusion about a conversation she had with Dad before he and Mom left for Hawaii. And that's why she's been so . . . tou
chy.”

Expression apologetic, Ryan looked at Nicole. “I'm sorry, sweetheart. I've felt something was out of place but I never knew what or why. And I never asked. I guess I just got too wrapped up in my own probl
ems.”