Hook Up (A Bad Boy Sports Romance) (13 page)

C
hris barely said
four sentences to me in the limo and on the plane. To be fair, Pat was talking up a storm the whole time, and I’m not sure if he did it to fill the awkward silence or because it was his default setting. Much of what he said was for my benefit, primarily to get me ready for the meeting with his father. There was a slew of instructions on what to say and do, as well as what not to do or say when I was in the presence of an organized crime boss.

I set aside the disagreement I had with Chris and listened intently. The meeting with Pat’s father could yield twenty thousand dollars and change my life in a way I never thought possible. That kind of money would probably take me five or six years to save, and the best part was that selling even one piece of art every couple of months would allow me to paint full time and earn a way better living than waitressing. I could earn amazing money doing what I loved. The whole idea was a lot to wrap my head around. I was talented and had something to offer. It still didn’t feel real.

After Pat had finished his lengthy talk, I asked him what I should call his father.

“Mr. Salvatore is fine,” he answered.

I suddenly realized I didn’t know Pat’s real name. “Pat, what does your dad call you? I reckon it’s not Pat, and it’s not Pappa Thumbs.”

He laughed. “It’s Franko. Franko Salvatore.”

“Okay good.”

We landed at El Paso International Airport and less than an hour later, the airport limo Pat had booked rolled up outside Chris’s large detached, two-story home. At this point I was even less comfortable staying with him, now that he was unhappy with me. I told him something to that effect when Pat, Tre and the driver stepped outside.

“I’m not mad at you,” he tried to convince me, but I wasn’t buying it.

“Maybe you’re not angry, but you’re not happy either.”

“You’re jumping to conclusions.”

“Well I can’t stay here with you like this.”

“Sure you can. My mom’s already expecting you. One disagreement doesn’t change what I think or feel about you.”

“It’s your home and I don’t belong here, Chris. It’s best if I let the driver take me somewhere I can store my stuff before I make this trip to Las Vegas and find out what’s possible. I’ll stay in a motel tonight. Pat can pick me up when he and Tre are on their way back to the airport tomorrow evening.”

“No.”

“No?”

He turned to me. “That’s right. I said no. You told me and my mom you’re staying, and that’s what you’re gonna do. Las Vegas is a different story. You can’t afford not to go out there and get some art sold. It gives you options and you deserve to have your talent recognized. But don’t change the plan to stay with us tonight and for Thanksgiving tomorrow just because I’m not pleased you didn’t leave your stuff with me in Baton Rouge. I want you to be with us.”

He took a breath, and I leaned my head on his shoulder. This was the thing I loved about Chris. Even now in the midst of us not seeing eye to eye, he was still kind and ready to look out for me.

“Okay.”

“Come on. They’re waiting.” He stepped out and opened his parents’ garage. “We’ll put the things you don’t need for your trip to Vegas in here. That way, when you fly back, it’ll all be here for you.”

“Makes sense. Thank you.”

“Tre, Pat. Come give me a hand with these.”

The three of them packed everything away except for one of my suitcases before we all headed inside. Chris entered the house first. For a home with three kids under ten years old, it was quiet.

“Ma?” Chris called out.

“I’m back here in the kitchen, honey,” a female I guess was Mrs. James hollered.

The four of us left our things in the front foyer and Chris took my hand. I followed him to the kitchen. “Hi Ma. Where’s everybody?”

“Hi honey. Hi y’all. Connor took them out back for a while,” she said without looking over at us. She was standing at the kitchen sink with her back turned, rinsing dishes.

“Ma, you remember Pat and Tre. I want you to meet my…my friend, Jo.” Well at least he didn’t tell his mother I was his woman. That would have been one conversation I was not prepared to engage in right now.

“Hi everyone. Happy Thanksgiving.” Turning off the water, Mrs. James grabbed one plate and a dish rag, then she turned to greet us. “It’s good to meet you, Jo…Oh my lord!” she cried when she saw me. She froze in her spot and a second later the plate in her hand fell to the marble floor and shattered into a million pieces.

“What is going on with you, Ma?” Chris asked, alarmed. He pulled his hand away from me to step to her side.

I took one big step backward, and was now between Pat and Tre. I had no idea what the hell was going on or why she reacted to me that way. At first I thought maybe it was because I was some stranger holding her son’s hand as though we were a couple. Tre and Pat went over to the counter and grabbed up some paper towels, hurriedly gathering up the broken pieces of the plate with just as much confusion on their faces as I was sure to have had on mine.

Mrs. James was shaking. Chris walked her over to sit in one of the bar chairs at the kitchen’s center island. “Ma, please talk to me. What’s wrong?”

It took Mrs. James a solid minute to finally speak. When she did, it was to look at me and utter, “You look just like her.”

“Just like who, Ma?” Thank God Chris asked the question, because none of this made any sense at all.

“I think I should leave,” I quietly announced, taking another step back.

“No. Please don’t do that,” Mrs. James said, getting to her feet. “I’m sorry I startled you all like that. Let me explain.” She looked at Tre and Pat. “Boys, would you mind giving us a few minutes to clear this up? Your rooms are all ready. Go on and settle in.”

“Of course, Mrs. J,” Pat agreed and left with Tre in a hurry.

Chris stared after them, and I was sure he was wishing he could have been excused from this ordeal, but he stayed at his mother side. “Jo, come and have a seat.”

I nodded and inched my way back into the room, then sat on his other side.

“Tell us what this is about, Ma.”

She leaned forward and spoke directly to me. “I didn’t make the connection when Chris said he was bringing a friend home called Jo who was from El Paso. Your name’s Josephine Quinn, right?”

“Yes ma’am, but how do you know my name?”

“You’re mother’s name was Agnes Thorold…Agnes Quinn after she married your father. We were friends a long time ago. You look exactly like her…the resemblance is uncanny.”

“I get that a lot, ma’am. How did you know her?”

“We went to high school together. We were good friends right up to senior year and for several years after, until…well that’s water under the bridge how we lost contact. It broke my heart when she passed…but I’m so thrilled to see you. How is your sister, Rose?”

Chris rolled his eyes.

“She’s fine, ma’am. She lives in New Orleans.”

“And your mom’s sister, Alice. How is she?”

“She passed a few months ago.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”

Chris got to his feet right then. “Ma, that’s all this was about? That Jo looks like an old friend of yours and that it turns out she’s her daughter? It’s an interesting coincidence, but gosh, Ma… you looked like you saw a ghost just now. What are you not telling us?”

“That’s pretty much it, Chris. I never thought I’d see you or your sister again, and I sure didn’t think you’d turn out looking exactly like your momma. I know it doesn’t sound reasonable, but… wait a minute. I’ll show you both.”

Mrs. James excused herself and disappeared down the hall.

“Are you all right?” Chris asked.

I nodded. “I’m fine. I feel bad about scaring your mother like that.”

“Don’t apologize. It’s weird. Ma isn’t one to overreact like that. I’ve never seen her like this.”

“It’s okay. What a coincidence she knew my mother and aunt.”

“Yes. It sounds like she knew you and your sister too…but that doesn’t make sense. I’m a year older than you. How old is Rose?”

“Twenty-three.”

“So she’s two years older than me. If my mom knows you and Rose, I wonder how come we never met all this time.”

“True, though Mom passed when I was seven.”

“I think if they were close friends I would have remembered you or Rose.”

“Maybe they grew apart by then.”

“Probably. There’s something to—”

Chris stopped speaking when his mother returned with a dusty old shoe box. “Sorry it took so long.” She opened the box and pulled out a stack of photos about an inch thick, flipping through them until she found a specific one, which she placed at the top of the pile. She placed the stack in front of me. “See for yourself, dear. This is why I reacted that way. Just so you know, I took this photo of your mother in my parents’ kitchen a little over twenty-three years ago.”

After looking at the picture, I understood why Mrs. James had lost her shit when she saw me. I think I lost my shit too. I looked down at my clothes then I looked at the picture again, incredulous.

I was wearing a black and white striped camisole under an open long-sleeved baby blue office-styled shirt, black leggings, and my tan ankle-high cowboy boots. Because I was expecting to have a full day of driving, which didn’t turn out to be the case when Chris told me about the flight, I had my hair in a high ponytail so it wouldn’t get in the way when I leaned back in Chris’ car. In the picture, my mother was wearing exactly the same clothes and shoes, and her hair was pulled up the same way. Our clothes, shoes, hair, and face all looked identical, as though someone had literally taken a picture of me minutes earlier in someone else’s kitchen.

Stunned, I passed the photo to Chris and waited for his reaction. His jaw dropped. “Wow. Now I get it.”

“Me too.” I started going through the other stack of images. There were so many that I had never seen before. Aunt Alice wasn’t one to keep a lot of photo albums, so many of my mother’s old photos were nowhere to be found. “These are great, ma’am. My sister Rose and I only have like four or five pictures of her.”

“That’s a shame. Feel free to take any photos you want from that pile.” She paused and put a hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry about earlier, dear, though I can’t say it won’t happen again. Chris’s father knew Agnes too, so he may be just as shocked when he gets in. And good heavens, my parents will be here for dinner tomorrow. Agnes spent a lot of time at my place during our high school years, just as I did at her parents’ house. They’re sure to be spooked.”

“No problem, Mrs. James. I’ll be ready.”

“I’ve taken up enough of your time, you two. Chris, the kids are out back. Why don’t you show Jo to her room then take her out to meet them? I’m starting on dinner and will do some prep tonight for the Thanksgiving meal.”

“Will do.” Chris passed the photo back to me and got up. “Ma, just so there’s no confusion or anything, Jo and I aren’t… like… we’re not related or anything, are we? I gotta ask because of how you freaked out, and I wasn’t sure if it was because we were holding hands or something.”

All that went through my mind to that question was,
ewwwwwww
. In hindsight, I’m glad he asked.

Mrs. James chuckled and shook her head. “Not at all, Chris. There’s no chance at all. Are the two of you dating?”

He looked at me, probably hoping I would answer. “Well we’re…uh, Jo and I are…”

His mother grinned. “Never mind, son. I can tell you’re close. That’s enough for me.”

“Let’s go, Jo.” I thanked Mrs. James for having me and followed Chris out into the hallway for our things. “I’ll show you to the spare room. Pat and Tre are probably out back by now.”

“Sounds good.”

I
waited
until we were upstairs inside the well-lit, bright and airy guest bedroom Chris led me to before I said a word. Placing the old photos on the dresser, dropped my bag on the floor, and broke down laughing on the day bed close to the window.

Chris put my suitcase in the corner and went back the door, turning the lock before sitting beside me. “What are you laughing at, Jo?”

“Oh, everything that’s gone down in the last twenty minutes or so. I could be crying so don’t complain.”

“Good point.”

“Holy crap, Chris, you were hilarious with your
‘we’re not related or anything, are we’
question. That was classic!”

“You think that’s funny, do you?”

“I couldn’t make that shit up!”

“Shhhhhhh. Watch it with the language. Seriously, the twins repeat everything, and they won’t hesitate to say they learned it from the flaming redhead visitor, either.”

“Oops, sorry,” I whispered, covering my mouth in my failing attempt at bringing my laughter under control. “It’s only the most stereotypical question someone would ask here in West Texas.”

“And half the time the answer is probably yes, ain’t it?”

“That may be true too, sadly… I’m glad we’re not related.”

He tugged on my waist and pulled me to sit in his lap. “I am too, sweet thing. What I want to do to you right now would be a real sin.”

I wrapped my arms around his neck, pressing my lips against his cheek. “All this talk about being unholy is making me so horny,” I confessed quietly. “I can’t wait until you get lost on your way to the bathroom tonight.”

“Christ,” he groaned, and I felt his cock throb against my ass. “I may have to sneak you off somewhere, long before that. Maybe Ma needs some things at the grocery. We can steal off in her SUV…hey, I’m sorry about earlier…I was an ass for pushing the issue then going all cold on you.”

“It’s okay. I got so close to caving when we made it to the airport.”

“Geez. You did? So you think after your trip to Vegas—”

I covered his mouth. “Shhhhh. Let’s not talk about it again. I don’t want to fight when I’m this turned on.”

“All right. Damn girl, I want you so bad right now.”

He cupped a hand over my mound through my leggings.

“Mmmm. Me too, baby, but we can’t,” I said, turning his face toward mine for a heated kiss, already responding to his hand at my clit.

He pulled the fabric and slid his hand down past my panties, covering my swollen bud with two fingers. My hips moved on their own, grinding into his hand and wishing he could free his cock and bury it into me right this second, the same way his tongue invaded my mouth and tangled with my tongue.

“You’re right,” he moaned out eventually, pulling from the kiss to look at the door. “We can’t. The door’s locked, but anyone can show up outside.” He ceased his hand and slowly removed it from between my legs. “I’ll make sure you’re good and satisfied sometime tonight…That’s a promise. It’ll be the last time we get to, for a while.”

“Oh. Right. Damn. Chris, in case we don’t get a chance to talk privately before I leave tomorrow, I want to tell you—”

Just like he mentioned, someone knocked on the door.

“Chris, are you in there?” came a muffled young female’s voice.

“That’s Callie,” he explained to me. “I am. Give me a second.”

He washed his hands in the en-suite bathroom connected to my room before opening the door. His sister was an adorable little dark-haired girl with eyelashes even longer than Chris’s. She launched into his arms, practically climbing up his legs to hug him tightly around his neck. “Hey Callie.”

“Hi Chris. I missed you.”

“Me too. How are you doing, little one?”

“I’m not little anymore, Chris,” she informed him. “That’s why no one picks on me anymore.”

“That’s awesome. Did Caleb help you out at school?”

“Naw. I helped myself. I kicked Henry Warner in the nuts when he called me tiny. Since then, everyone’s been real nice.”

Chris just about balked at that. “Good for you, Callie.”

She nodded then she looked my way. “Hello. Wow, your hair is so pretty. Can I touch it?”

“Manners, Callie. First you’re supposed to introduce yourself and tell her your name before you get all personal.”

“Okay. Hi Miss. My name is Callie. What’s yours?”

“Hi Callie. I’m Jo. Nice to meet you.”

“You too. Can I touch your hair now?”

“Sure.”

Chris groaned out a laugh and let her down to her feet. She skipped over to me, wasting no time to reach up to my ponytail. “This is so bright! It’s like Merida’s from
Brave
. Are you good with a bow and arrow too?”

“Not that I know of.”

She went from reaching up to it from standing at my side, to crawling into my lap and burying both hands into my scalp. After a while, she parted the disheveled hair that was now over my face to look me in the eye. “Can I maybe have some of it? Like to show my friends at school? Just a little tiny bit?”

Chris came over then. “No, Callie. That’s her hair. If she gave some of it to every little girl who asked, there wouldn’t be any left on her head now, would there?”

“I reckon not…”

“You can take a picture of it if you want,” I suggested.

“Really! Okay I’ll be back. I’m gonna get my phone.” She ran off down the hall and was back before long, but was accompanied this time by the rest of the kids in the house. “See, Caleb. I told you her hair was bright red.”

“Wow. That’s pretty cool. Chris!” The boy Callie’s age ran over to Chris and did the same vault up into his arms.

“What’s doing, bud? Caleb, this is my friend Jo. The silent teenager at the door is Connor, and he’s holding my baby brother, Chandler.”

“Hi Caleb, Connor.”

“Hi,” they said in unison.

“Hello Chandler. Awww he’s so cute. He looks like you, Chris.”

“Yeah he does.”

“I used to be cute,” Caleb informed me with a scowl, climbing down from Chris’s arms to sit on the bed in the middle of the room.

“Oh you’re still cute, Caleb,” I reassured him. “Babies have the extra cuddle factor, and I’m sure you wouldn’t want me pinching your cheeks, right? Babies usually like that too.”

“No. I’m way too old for that. Only my Grams gets to do that.”

He and Callie were up on the bed in no time, bouncing a few times before Connor stopped them. “Hey. You know Mom would have you two in your rooms if she saw you jumping on this bed she just made. Get off of there. Hey Chris.”

“Yo Connor.” He and Chris shared a fist bump, then he passed Chandler over.

“Chandler dude, look at you, little man. You grew so much in three months.”

“Where’s the car?” Connor asked as the toddler babbled at Chris.

“We flew in. Long story.”

“Yeah, I saw Pat. Figured he had something to do with it.”

“Yup. So it looks like you’ve been helping out with them, or did you just take them today because you knew I was coming in?”

Connor laughed. “Naw, man. I’ve been watching them all the time since you left. Ask Ma. She’ll tell you.”

“I hope so.”

Chris sat on the bed, and a moment later the twins and Chandler were all over him. Connor took a seat and gave the occasional mother hen warning that was customary for a teenaged older brother turned babysitter. I leaned back on the day bed, admiring the five of them as Chris caught up on all their updates on what he’d missed since he left for school and football camp in August—and inadvertently crossed paths with my sorry ass on the side of that highway. It was clear as day that they adored Chris. I understood then why he wasn’t traveling with us to Las Vegas. I wouldn’t have traded time in Sin City for this precious time with kids he loved so dearly, either. My heart could burst, watching them together like this. Even Connor stretched out on the bed beside them, playing on his phone, but not quite ready to leave his brother’s side yet. Actually, I needed some air right now or I was likely to start bawling.

“Hey, I’ll be back in a bit. Are Pat and Tre out back?”

Connor nodded. “Yeah. Just take the downstairs hallway straight back and make a left and a right. They’re on the back porch.”

“Thanks. See y’all later.”

Chris and I didn’t find a spare second to be alone the rest of the day. It was just too busy and there wasn’t enough time. After dinner, the kids built forts in his room and set up residence with him. I couldn’t fault him for that, and I couldn’t bring myself to inject myself into their limited time together. The next day wasn’t much different. Except for when we all sat down to Thanksgiving dinner, he had a kid on his hip or was catching up with his father or running errands for his mother.

After breakfast on Thanksgiving morning, I offered to help his mother with whatever she needed to prepare the turkey dinner. It was the least I could do, and she graciously accepted my offer. Mrs. James, who wanted me to call her and her husband by their first names, Carina and Cordell, told me some stories about my mother while I peeled vegetables and prepared a cheese and fruit tray for the kids to snack on. I learned that she and my mother were best of friends for many years. They had only drifted apart after my father walked out on my mother. Mrs. James said she truly regretted not reaching out more from then on, especially when my mother passed so suddenly.

Thanksgiving preparation quickly turned to Thanksgiving dinner. The time seemed to fly by and before Mrs. Jones brought out dessert, Chris was doing his reveal of the painting I made from the photo of his family. He presented it to his mom as a surprise. She cried, and I think Mr. James got a little teary-eyed too. They were both curious about what I would charge to do more, in case their friends wanted a portrait like it. This was when Pat announced he was my agent and informed them I was likely to be booked up for at least six to eight months with the work he was anticipating as a result of my meeting with his father. Both details were news to me, but to be honest, I was thrilled to hear about the chance to do that much more work without having to figure out how to market my art by myself.

Before I knew it, I was getting into Pat’s limo with one suitcase and loading up the rest of the art. Chris barely got to kiss my cheek with everyone around. I promised him I’d phone him the next day so I could finish what I was about to tell him up in my guest room. He promised that after the SEC championships and his exams were over, he would fly home early for Christmas and New Year’s Day. He would be in town for over two weeks. That was a lot more time for us to pull away and be alone. If I could last that long without him.