The Player Next Door (5 page)

“If I promise to answer the phone, will you leave?”

“Only if I can see that it’s charged.” He looked over at Mike. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve tried to call her only to find her dead phone sitting beside our bed. Or lost under it.”

Uh-oh.
Our
bed didn’t sound like something a brother would say.

Tori sighed and stepped around them, heading for the back door. “Fine. I’ll get it.”

Mike was still trying to picture Tori sleeping with this jerk when he suddenly realized what she intended to do. He was out of his chair and rushing after her a second later. “Don’t—” he began, but it was too late.

She was already climbing the tree, her blond hair was so white it seemed spooky in the fading light.

“What’s she doing?” Edward called from still inside the house. Mike looked back to see him turning off the oven.

“Getting her phone,” Mike answered, trying to keep his voice calm. It was twilight. She hadn’t taken a flashlight of any kind. If she took a misstep, no way would Mike be able to catch her again. He could move his shoulder without much pain—thanks to the anti-inflammatories—but his arm didn’t have any strength. A little bit of strain and the whole thing just quit working.

He stepped out into her backyard, choking back his words. He wanted to tell her to be careful, but he remembered his daredevil niece. The moment someone said “be careful” was the exact second the child would make a show of exactly how daring she was. Tori wasn’t that childish, but she certainly wouldn’t appreciate him hovering either. So he held his tongue and didn’t clue Edward in on the possible disaster-to-be.

Then he heard the shadow of her body speak. “Call my phone, will you?”

Hell. She couldn’t find it. He fished his phone out of his pocket. “What’s your number?”

She recited it, and he dialed. A second later a man’s voice pealed out. “Tori, pick up the phone. Tori, stop reading. Pick up the phone.”

Then it stopped, and he heard her voice through his cell saying, “Found it.”

“Is that your ringtone?” he asked.

“I know. Obnoxious, but Edward thought it was funny. Come to think of it…”

She suddenly hung up. He waited, peering into the darkness and trying to pick out her silhouette. Then tiny electronic notes sounded. Then piano chords. Next came a train whistle.

It took him a moment to understand that she was changing her ringtone right there on the roof. He grinned. Of course she would change it right then and there. She was an immediate-thought kind of girl.

“Take your time,” he said. “Figure it out before you start back.”

He heard a dull thump as she settled down on the roof. “It’s a nice night. Tell me when he’s gone.”

Trumpets blared. Another ringtone choice.

“You’ve got my number,” he said. “Call me when you’re ready to come down. I’ll spot you, just in case.”

A cascade of electronic notes came next.

“I’m not going to rip up your shoulder twice in one week.”

“Just in case, Tori. Okay?”

“Sure.”

The
Twilight Zone
music sounded.

He waited a moment more, but she seemed well occupied. He turned back to the door only to see Edward heading out of it.

“What is she doing?” the man demanded.

“Changing her ringtone.”

The man rolled his eyes. Jesus, he’d never seen a grown adult do that before. “Typical. Just typical,” Edward groused.

“If you don’t mind my asking, exactly what is your relationship with Tori?”

Edward headed back inside, aiming straight for her refrigerator. “I’m her fiancé, that’s what. Or I will be as soon as she gets this silliness out of her system.” He waved over his shoulder at the house in general.

Popping open the refrigerator, the man searched for something, then grumbled when he didn’t find it. He straightened up with another roll of his eyes. “Yogurt, brussels sprouts, and peanut butter.” He pulled out the jar of Jiff from the back of the appliance. “She doesn’t even know that this gets hard when it’s cold.”

He slammed it down on the counter and looked at Mike who had no answer. Sure, he liked room temperature peanut butter as much as anyone, but he got the feeling the man’s fury wasn’t because the condiment was cold.

“So, you’re engaged?”

Edward leaned back against the counter. “No. Yes. Well, no.”

“She either said yes or she didn’t.”

He sighed. “Actually, it’s more like I haven’t asked yet. Then she got mad about some stupid sushi book and stormed over here to renovate this disaster.”

Mike looked around. It was clear that there were half-finished projects everywhere he looked. But it also seemed like she must have been here a while. After all, no one could partially start this many projects in a day or so.

“Exactly how long has she been here?”

“Long enough to nearly die a hundred times.” Edward cocked his head. “She’s on the roof right now, isn’t she?”

No sense in lying. “Yeah.”

“In the dark where one misstep could pitch her over the edge. And did you see this?” He held up a book on the counter. It was covered in fruit stains, but the title was clear.
Wiring a House. For Pros by Pros.

Mike tried to keep an open mind. “Does she have an electrical background?”

“She’s a religion and philosophy professor at Northwestern.” Edward dropped his head back against the cabinet. “Don’t get me wrong. The woman’s brilliant. Spent a year hanging out with the Dalai Lama. She knows kabalistic symbols and Hindi mumbo jumbo like the back of her hand. If it’s esoteric, she’s an expert. But ask her to put together a bookcase, and you’ll have nails sticking out of your carpet. On a practical, real world basis, she’s a hazard.”

Mike wanted to give Tori the benefit of the doubt. There wasn’t a single part of Edward that he liked, but he had to admit the man had a point. She had fallen off her roof.

So rather than talk about Tori’s potential mishaps, he turned the conversation back to Edward. “You don’t sound like you really want to marry her.”

“Of course I do,” he huffed. “We’ve been together for nearly five years. You don’t throw that away because she inherited a death trap of a house.”

That wasn’t at all what Mike meant, but he’d learned early not to mess around in other people’s relationships. So he pushed away from the counter. “Look, I’ll just—”

“Do you want to make some money?”

Mike tilted his head, wondering if he’d heard correctly. “What?”

“Here’s the problem: she’s got this independent streak. All she needs is some time by herself to realize that she needs me. But she can’t get time alone if I keep coming around checking up on her.”

“So don’t come around.”

“I’m terrified she’s going to kill herself. Her whole family is.” He abruptly pulled out his wallet and counted out five twenties. “But if she has someone looking out for her. A neighbor that she trusts… You know, someone who will call 911 if she accidentally impales herself or something.”

Mike’s tone was cold. “I don’t need money to call 911.”

Edward didn’t seem at all embarrassed. “Of course not. You’re a good neighbor. But she’s also got the worst judgment when it comes to people, especially men.”

No argument there. After all, Tori had apparently picked this dick for half a decade.

“I’ve known her since college. You wouldn’t believe the losers she was attracted to.”

Mike was not going to say a word. Not. A. Word.

“So a good neighbor would see if she picks up some guy. If someone starts hanging around.” He set his business card down on top of the stack of twenties. It read
Prairie State College
on top of it.

“You want me to call you if she starts dating.” Mike folded his arms across his chest.

“Well, yeah. Look, I’m just worried about her. If you could keep an eye on her so I don’t have to? Just check on her every night. Make sure she hasn’t electrocuted herself.” He gestured at the book on wiring.

“I can do that,” he said. After all, he’d been planning to do that anyway from the moment he’d first seen the book on wiring. Or maybe it was from before. When he’d seen those legs pushing off the gutter as she tried to swing herself back onto the roof. Not to mention that delightful pink bra. “But I don’t need your money.”

“Great,” Edward said with a smile. “And call me if you see something worrisome.” He grabbed his business card and flipped it over before scrawling a phone number on the back. “That’s my cell number. Call anytime.”

He pushed the money forward. Mike didn’t move.

“Please, Mike, I’m desperate here.”

One hundred dollars didn’t constitute desperate in Mike’s book, but he didn’t quibble.

“My only other choice is to keep stopping by myself and she needs her space. Just long enough to realize that she can’t make it on her own.”

“She’s an adult with a good job. Of course she can make it on her own.”

Edward rolled his eyes. “You’ll see. She hasn’t got any sense. She’ll tumble off the roof or something if someone isn’t there to keep an eye out.”

There was no way to argue that. Which again showed that the man had a point. “I’ll call you right after I dial 911, but I’m not keeping track of her dates,” he said, though he didn’t touch the stack of bills.

Edward released a breath. “Thank you. Now what’s your cell number so I can call you?”

Mike shook his head. “I don’t give that out.”

“You don’t— But how else am I to call you?”

Mike smiled. “Trust me. I’ll call you if she’s headed for the ER.”

Edward stared at him, trying to intimidate him which was laughable. The day some balding guy with no muscles and a flabby gut intimidated him was the day Mike would hang up his athletic shoes for good.

In the end, the man huffed out a breath. “Fine. But if I don’t hear from you soon, I’ll have to stop by again. And that just isn’t a good idea.”

Mike nodded. “You better go now. Otherwise Tori might realize you’re hanging around to keep an eye on her.”

Edward huffed. “She’s probably searching Navaho creation myths or something. Totally forgotten about me by now.” There was real hurt in his words, and Mike could tell this was a man who liked having a doting woman at his side. Which meant Tori was the worst choice in the world. However had they stayed together for five years?

“I’ll keep an eye out for you,” Mike said. “But you should go.”

“Fine. Fine. Let me just say good-bye.” He started for the back door, but Mike stopped him.

“I’ll tell her. If you startle her up there, she’d probably fall off the roof.”

Edward laughed and it wasn’t a very nice sound. “Probably. Okay. I’m going.”

“Bye.”

Edward wanted to go out by the back door, but Mike stood in front of it like a brick wall. In the end, he cast a last disgusted look about the living room disaster and shook his head.

“I wouldn’t eat that pie, if I were you. Last time she cooked, she gave me food poisoning. I nearly died.”

Then he was gone out the front door. A few minutes later, Mike heard the bang of the car door and the roar of a moron with a muscle car. Which is when he was startled by a quiet voice behind him.

“He’s right, you know. I’m a terrible cook. But I think he already had the flu, so I plead a ‘maybe’ on the food poisoning. And he was a long way from dying.”

Mike whirled around to see her in the doorway looking equal parts embarrassed and annoyed. “How much did you hear?”

She shrugged. “I didn’t have to hear anything to know what he said. I’m hopeless and he needs to look out for me.”

“He intends to marry you.”

She shook her head. “I’ll believe that when he gets down on one knee. Until then…” She gestured to the pies. “Eat at your own risk.”

“Tell you what,” he said as he pointed to Edward’s wad of bills. “If it’s terrible, we’ll go out for dessert.”

“And if it’s wonderful?”

“We’ll go out for steak tomorrow.”

She seemed to think about it for a moment, then grinned. “You can have the steak. I’m a pescetarian.”

He blinked at her. “I’m a Sagittarius.” Then while she laughed, he grabbed a set of plates decorated with fluffy yellow chicks and prepared to risk his life with pie.

Chapter Four

Her pies were just fine, Tori thought with flushed pleasure. Bury anything in enough ice cream and it will taste good, right? Mike ate two pieces and finished off her ice cream, so she decided she’d done fairly well in her first dessert attempt. And while he was polishing off the last bite, she dropped her chin on her hand and asked the question that had been burning in her brain for at least two minutes now.

“Why didn’t you tell Edward you’re an NBA star?” She gestured at the stack of bills. “A hundred is nothing to you.”

“A hundred is never nothing,” he said as he leaned back in his chair.

“You make his yearly salary in one game. And that’s whether you play or not.”

“How’d you find out?”

She arched a brow. “I might be clueless about sports, but I do know how to use the internet. And even if I hadn’t recognized you, I saw your name on the pill bottle.” She looked at his shoulder. “I saw the CSPAN report too.” Even now she winced in memory of him getting his shoulder practically ripped out of its socket. YouTube had it in glorious slow motion. “It seemed…odd. You don’t normally play like that.”

“No kidding,” he said. When she frowned at him, he did a one-shoulder shrug. “I was playing in a charity basketball tournament. Went up to stuff a jump shot. It was a stupid show-boating move. I telegraphed it because there were cameras there. Got to get the pretty shot, right?” He was clearly angry with himself.

She knew next to nothing about basketball. Truthfully, she was hopeless about all sports, but she nodded sympathetically. “Well, the cameras got a good picture.”

“Of me getting stuffed.” He looked at her a moment and again must have realized she had no idea what he was talking about. “I went up to shoot”
—
he used his good arm to mime throwing a basketball into the air
—
“but then the other guy slapped it away right at the worst possible moment.” His arm and his elbow went back at an awkward angle. “SLAP tear. Tore the rotator cuff.”