Chapter Twelve

The next afternoon, Cole was out in the backyard with Finn, pushing him on the swing. “Higher, Cole, higher!”

Cole smiled and pushed the kid higher. Finn was a fearless little dude—he had to give the boy that as he hung on to the rope and let his head fall back, his straight blond hair hanging off his scalp like spaghetti. It was making Cole dizzy just looking at him, but Finn clearly had a cast-iron gut.

“Wheeeeeee! I’m flying! I’m flying. Higher, Cole! Higher!”

Laughing, he gave the tire another round of pushes. Finn Spencer was a handful from the second he rose to the second he went to bed, but Cole hadn’t had this much fun in a long time. Never in a million years would he have thought entertaining a four-year-old all day would be this satisfying.

He’d meant it when he’d told Jane that he hadn’t ever given fatherhood serious thought because rugby was everything. But this playing house thing, hanging out with Finn and Jane, was forcing him to reassess a lot of things. And it wasn’t just that his plan A was smashed to smithereens or that he got a funny little kick in the vicinity of his heart whenever he looked at Jane or even the sexual halo ringing this whole experience.

Something inside him had made a seismic shift. He hadn’t given his own direction in life serious thought since he’d started taking care of Finn, and that should have scared the bejesus out of him—but it didn’t.

His phone rang, and he pulled it from his pocket as Finn said, “More, more!” Cole grinned and gave the kid more, planning to reject the call outright. But then he glanced at the screen—it was Mitch Jellicoe, his agent. At only forty, Mitch was one of the top sporting agents in Australia and also apparently clairvoyant, calling like this when Cole was pondering over how little his future had been on his mind.

Glancing at the time, Cole did a quick calculation in his head. It was about nine on Friday morning back home in Sydney. Home. He glanced at the blond-haired little boy, then back at the phone, his ribs crimping tight around his lungs, his heart booming slow and hard. Two weeks ago, he’d have answered this call in a split second, but now his finger hovered indecisively over the reject button.

It had to be the sportscasting job. Had he gotten it, or was Mitch ringing with bad news? And how the fuck did he even feel about that?

Sucking up his indecision, he quickly pushed the answer button. “Hey, Mitch.”

Mitch was his usual upbeat self, wanting to shoot the breeze a while first, but Cole just wanted him to get to the point. He was supposed to be looking after Finn, not being distracted by a phone call. “Can we just cut to the chase, please, Mitch?”

There was a pause like Mitch hadn’t expected such directness, but he ploughed straight into it. “The job’s yours if you want it.”

The bands around Cole’s chest tightened as Mitch launched into the package, touting the salary and perks he’d managed to negotiate and studio expectations. But Cole barely heard any of it as he waited for the expected flood of relief to focus his mind.

It didn’t come.

When he first arrived here, this job—despite his reservations about it—had been his one hope to still stay connected to rugby. It was the basket into which he’d put all his eggs. And now?

He’d found some other baskets. God…when had that happened?

“You’re starting in two weeks.”

Whoa! Okay, that focused his mind. As Mitch prattled some more, Cole glanced at Finn, who had a grin the size of Australia on his face as he spun around and around, clearly enjoying the way the world was spinning.

The world was spinning for Cole, too, but he was not enjoying it.

“Do you need the office to rearrange your flights?”

Cole blanked for a second, then panicked for another second. Two weeks. He glanced at Finn again as indecision raged. “Could I have a few days to think it over, Mitch?”

“I’m sorry?” Cole actually heard a thunk, like Mitch might’ve had his feet up on his desk and they’d suddenly fallen to the floor. Or maybe it was his forehead meeting his desk. “I thought this was what you wanted.”

“Yeah. It is. But…”

“But what?”

Yeah. But what, Cole? But…there’s this woman…

“Cole…mate. This is a good deal. They’re not going to go any higher, and…look, I know you think time will be some miracle healer, but you know the docs are unanimous about your inability to return to—”

“Goddamn it, Mitch!” Jesus. Cole knew that. He didn’t need his fucking agent to rub it in. “I just need a few days, okay?” It felt like there was a lot more at stake now than there had been even a few weeks ago when he’d left Australia. “Could you get me that?”

A beat or two of silence followed before Mitch answered. “Okay, sure thing. I can do that.”

“Thank you.” Cole hung up the phone, throwing it down on the grass, annoyed at Mitch and himself and his damn fucking leg.

“Who’s Mitch?”

Cole glanced up to find Finn watching him, the swing circling lazily now as it ran out of steam. “He’s…my agent.”

Finn frowned. “What’s an agent?”

“Someone who helps someone else find a job.”

“You got a job?”

“Yeah.” Absently, Cole gave the swing another push. It lacked enthusiasm, which kinda matched his mood. “I got a job.”

“Playing footy?”

Cole smiled at how foreign the very Australian colloquialism sounded coming out in a squeaky little-boy voice. He didn’t realize he’d said it that often. “Kinda.”

“In Credence?”

“No.” He grimaced. “In Sydney.” A fucking long way away from Credence.

“Do you want his guts for garters?”

Cole blinked and laughed despite his dark mood. The kid picked up everything. “No, why?”

“You sounded mad on the phone.”

Jesus. The kid had ears like a bat. “I think he wants my guts for garters,” Cole said with a rueful smile. “Now, how high this time? Higher than the treetops?”

He gave the swing an almighty push, getting an excited little giggle from Finn. “Higher than the mooooooon,” he said, leaning back and pointing at the white sliver high in the sky, just visible through the leaves and branches of the tree.

Cole laughed. He couldn’t get it that high, but, for Finn, he’d try his damndest.

A few hours later, with Finn finally tucked up in bed, Cole came downstairs to find Jane. She’d been operating an industrial-strength sanding machine most of the day, removing all the old tile crud from the parquetry floor in preparation for its first coat of gloss tomorrow. It was quiet now as he located her standing in the middle of the red sitting room, admiring her handiwork.

The parquetry, with the damaged timber pieces now completely replaced or restored thanks to Jane’s handiwork, had been heavily sanded.

“You did it,” Cole said, sliding his arm around her waist.

She looked up at him and smiled—beamed, actually—and Cole’s heart went thunk. She was radiant in her achievement. “Doesn’t it look amazing?”

Cole looked all around. To an untrained eye, it probably looked dusty and lackluster, dulled by the sanding process, the color differentiation between the three types of wood nonexistent. But Cole knew that would change with the first lick of gloss, that the richness of the wood would come to life, the individual color properties of the timber forming a vibrant red tapestry.

“It really does.”

“I love this bit. Where the wood is taken back to its bare bones, to what it was the day it was laid all those years ago. Knowing I’m seeing it as the person who painstakingly laid each piece saw it.” She shook her head as she also inspected the parquetry. “I wonder if they knew they were creating this thing of beauty that would be cherished and admired long after they were dead. That a woman two centuries later would be keeping their handiwork alive.”

Her voice was wistful, her face earnest. Her passion for what she did, her drive to restore and continue the provenance of a house or a chandelier or a floor, was infectious. She looked at it like it was a precious piece of art and she was its custodian.

“You’re so hot when you talk restoration.”

She laughed, her ponytail brushing her neck as she looked up at him again. “Oh yeah.”

“Not as hot as you were handling that machine before, but yeah.”

She frowned. “The sander?”

“Yep.” Cole nodded. “Your guns were popping.”

She shrugged. “It’s heavy and can get away from you if you don’t keep a firm hold.”

Having some experience with sanders, Cole knew of which she spoke. “Right. That’s what I said. Hot.”

“Oh yeah. With my goggles and my respirator mask. Very hot.” She pulled out her T-shirt and let it go again, a fine cloud of dust puffing into the air. “I have dust in places where dust should not go.”

Cole grinned. “Oh, I can help you with those places.”

He lowered his head, his mouth zeroing in on hers. Unfortunately, his phone had other ideas, cutting through the moment like the final hooter of a rugby match. “Sorry,” he muttered, his mouth lifting as he reached for his phone. “I’ll switch it off.”

Her attention returned to the parquetry as he pulled his phone out of his back pocket. The damn thing had barely rung in two weeks, and today it’d rung twice. Cole frowned at the name flashing on the screen.

Griffin King? The coach of the Sydney Smoke.

King was famously a man of few words, so Cole doubted he was ringing just to shoot the breeze. Maybe he’d heard about the commentary position being offered to Cole and he wanted to talk about Cole’s contract with the Smoke? The one he’d refused to revoke until Cole had made a decision about his future.

“I’m sorry. I need to get this.”

She waved her hand dismissively. “It’s fine. I’ll be over here in all my hotness, loving on this floor for a bit longer.”

Cole laughed, answering the call as he walked over to the windows. “Griff?”

“Hauser.”

Cole leaned a hip into the windowsill, propping his cane beside him as he waited for Griff to say something else. Apparently, the old guy had mellowed a little since he had reconciled with his daughter and there was a grandbaby on the scene, but it sure hadn’t made him any chattier. “Everything okay?” he prompted.

“You’re in Denver, right?”

Cole had no idea how Griff knew his whereabouts. The only people he’d confided his travel plans to were Wade and Mitch. So Mitch must’ve spilled. Probably hoping Griff could talk Cole into taking the sportscaster job. Cole braced himself for that and the inevitable gut wrench that officially confirmed his career was over.

“Nearby, yes.” Cole didn’t think Griff King wanted to know the nitty-gritty of where he was and why. More silence as Cole waited for the order to get his arse on a plane and get home to the best offer he was ever going to get post-injury.

“I need you to check out a player for me.”

Cole blinked. If Griff had said he wanted Cole to swim back to Australia ASAP he’d have been less surprised. “A player?”

“Ronan Dempsey. He plays for the Barbarians.”

“Okay.” Cole hadn’t heard the name, and he usually kept his finger on the pulse where worldwide talent was concerned. But he hadn’t exactly been paying attention to anything rugby since the accident.

“They have a game at four tomorrow afternoon your time.”

“Okay.”

“If he’s half as good in real life as the reports I’ve heard and what I’ve seen on screen, I want him to try out for us.”

A spike of jealousy lanced Cole right through his middle. Rugby players all around Australia would kill for such an endorsement from Griffin King. Ronan Dempsey must be something else.

“I need someone who knows their shit to take a look for me. I don’t want to be fed hyper-inflated bullcrap from his team or from those with a vested interest. I don’t want him to know there’s someone in the stands checking him out. I need someone I can trust to give me an objective assessment. Are you up for it?”

Could he go watch a game of rugby for the first time since his accident with the aim of scouting out a player who was probably going to be taking Cole’s place in the Sydney Smoke? Christ. Griff didn’t want much.

But…he couldn’t deny he was curious. If Griffin King thought this guy was something special, then hell if Cole didn’t want to see him in action. In fact, he was even a little excited at the prospect. There was nothing like watching a gifted player do his thing.

“Yeah. I’m up for it.”

“Good. If he’s special, I want you to go and introduce yourself. Sound him out. On the down low.”

“About?”

“Where he sees his career going. Would he consider moving to the other side of the planet for it?”

“Okay.”

“But only if he’s the one, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.” And he did. He also knew that Griff was giving him a shitload of responsibility. Securing a top player could help a team win a competition. It could also make or break that player’s career.

“Call me after.”

The phone went dead in Cole’s ear, and Cole looked at it blankly for a beat or two. Griff obviously wasn’t big on goodbyes. Or please and thank yous, for that matter.

“That seems serious.”

Cole glanced at Jane, still standing in the center of the room into which she’d breathed new life, an idea rapidly forming in his head. “How long will it take to apply the first coat of gloss tomorrow?”

“A few hours. Why?”

Cole tapped his phone against his chin. “Do you and Finn want to come with me to a rugby game in Denver tomorrow afternoon?”

He wasn’t sure if Jane was into football or any kind of sport, but he knew Finn would love it, and, being here with her in the midst of what made her who she was, he was suddenly dying to show her what made him who he was.

Show her he’d been more than his injuries, more than his damn cane, more than the manny. That he was good at something. Her lips pursed as she regarded him like she was seriously considering his proposal.

“We can leave as soon as you finish,” he added as he ambled in her direction, closing the gap.

She nodded slowly as she took her own steps toward him. “Or I could…knock it over tonight.”

“Oh, no.” Cole shook his head, his eyes zeroing in hungrily on her mouth as he got close enough to reach out and tug, her body sweet as it aligned with his. “I have plans involving my tongue and your dust tonight.”

He dipped his head and licked her neck. She laughed, but he didn’t miss the hitch in her breath or the flare of her nostrils as he pulled away a little. Her eyes were just as hungry. “It’s only three hours in the car. If we’re gone by midday at the latest, we’ll make it in time.”

“And we’ll what? Drive back after? That’s a big-ass round trip. Finn will be stir-crazy by the end of it all.”

“We could stay overnight at Wade’s apartment in Denver. He’s already offered it to me. Then we head back in the morning.”

“Okay…” She nodded slowly. “Yeah. Sure…why not? Finn’s going to flip out.”

Cole grinned. He would. And that felt seriously fucking great. “Not you?”

“I save my flipping out for other places. Like the lake. And my bed.”

“Speaking of.” Cole slid his arm from her waist, grabbing her hand and tugging.

She laughed. “I want a shower first.”

“Excellent idea.” He walked backward, tugging her along. “Let’s do that together.”

After all, he did some of his best work in water.

By the time they were both naked and in the shower, Cole’s need for Jane was beyond any kind of control. It didn’t matter that they’d gone three rounds last night before she’d slipped back to her bed or that she’d snuck in this morning at the crack of dawn for some morning glory—his desire for her grew bigger and deeper with each passing minute, his need to spend time with her even more so.

And, wet and naked, water beading on her neck and shoulders and eyelashes and sluicing over her breasts and belly, trekking down her thighs, he couldn’t keep his hands off her. She was gorgeous, and she was looking at him with a frank kind of lust that slugged him right in his balls.

“God, you look good wet,” he muttered.

Air escaped her lungs in a hiss audible even above the shower spray as she eyed his erection standing thick and proud between them before Cole closed the distance between them, sliding his hands around to her ass and grinding his cock against her bare, wet center. She gasped, reaching for his shoulder for purchase. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

Uncaring that water and electricity should never mix, Cole kissed her then, causing a charge that hummed around the shower cubicle, swelling and swelling until it became a force all its own, swirling around them, creating its own weather. Her head bent right back as he plundered her mouth, deep and wet and long, licking her up, tasting her, swallowing the moan that erupted from deep inside her throat.

Cole’s pulse beat in time to the drum of the water, and his breathing was rough and loud in his ears as the heat from their kisses meshed with the heat from the water, misting the glass, fogging his senses and swirling like a drug through his veins—a drug that demanded more as his hands slid to her breasts, the nipples two hard points as he stroked and tweaked and kneaded, and she cried out and panted, “Cole,” against his mouth, so full of need and want and desperation he knew exactly how she felt.

Easing her back against the tiles, he slid his hands under her ass to urge her up. He wanted her ankles locked around his waist, to drive himself inside her. He wanted to pound and pound until they were both coming hard.

Her sudden resistance brought him up short. “Your hip,” she said, panting and breathless as he broke their kiss.

Christ…she was right, even if he didn’t want her to be. Her mouth was swollen and flush from his kisses, and he wanted to just claim it again and slide deep inside her, but he probably shouldn’t be testing his hip like that yet—especially in a shower, where things were already wet and slippery.

With his chest still heaving, he murmured, “Turn around.”

She smiled at him for a beat, then turned around, presenting her back and ass, beaded with water droplets, to his view. Cole sucked in a breath and took a step closer, bringing his front against her back, then crowding her forward until her breasts hit the cold tiles and she gasped and arched, pushing her ass into his groin, which didn’t need any extra stimulation.

Cole slid his hands onto her hips, and, dropping his head, he nuzzled her neck. “Spread your legs,” he whispered, rough and low into her ear.

She whimpered but eased her legs apart.

With his heart thumping through his front and the shower beating on his back, Cole reached for her left leg and lifted it a little. “Tippy-toes,” he muttered into her ear as he grabbed for the condom he’d placed in the soap dish prior to shucking his clothes.

Her breathing as rough as his, she went up onto her tippy-toes and arched her back a little more, presenting herself to him in a way that almost brought Cole to his knees. His hand sure as hell shook as he suited up. And then he steadied himself, steadied her, as his cock slid through her slick folds and notched at her entrance.

She moaned and said, “Oh, yes, there,” and, in one slow, languorous push of his hips, he slid all the way inside.

Cole’s deep groan drowned out her gasp. Her hands slid up the wall, her fingers curling into the tiles, and he slid his right hand on top of hers, entwining their fingers together. “You okay?” he asked on a pant, his other hand tightening on her leg.

“Yes. God yes,” she said. “Don’t stop.”

And that was all the impetus Cole needed. Bracing a foot slightly behind him to anchor himself, he withdrew and thrust again, rocking her head against the tiles. She moaned some more and whispered, “Again.”

He did it again. And again. Over and over at her behest until they were both panting and gasping, the water cascading around them, his heart practically busting through his rib cage, his hip bitching at him.

But Cole did not stop.

Not until she cried out and flew apart and he followed her over the edge.

…

Jane had been right.

Finn was beside himself as they bundled out the door the next day at ten thirty. Even more so when Cole swung him up onto his shoulders at the bottom of the stairs. She worried Cole wouldn’t manage with his cane, but he powered on, yelling, “Go Barbarians,” pumping his fist.

“Go Barbarians,” Finn repeated, also punching the air.

She laughed up at both of them, Carl in his carry cage in one hand—of course Tad had bought an exotic pet that couldn’t be left unattended for a night—a backpack with a change of clothes for them both in the other. Who’d have thought two weeks ago she’d feel this damn…light? She’d been behind on her job, dealing with a disappointed four-year-old, and wishing a mild case of laryngitis on her ex.

And then Cole had come along and, despite a rocky start, had been a godsend. He was great with Finn, a good cook, handy around the house, and made her laugh. He also made her remember she was more than a mom and a businesswoman trying to juggle a hundred things at once and feeling like she was failing at all of them and that one day all those balls were going to fall down on her head.

He made her remember she was a woman with functioning nipples and ovaries. A woman with needs. He made her feel…pretty and desired. But also valued.

And yeah…he was really, really freaking great in bed.

Jane vaguely heard the soft thud of a car door closing as she opened the gate, but it wasn’t until she heard “Finn!” that she really registered the sound.

She blinked at the man walking across the street. Well, crap…

Her ex was as tall and lean and blond-skinny-rocker-dude as always, and Jane wondered when exactly that look had stopped doing it for her. Prior to Cole coming on the scene, for sure, but given what Tad had done, the nostalgia associated with that look had lingered way longer than it should have.

Tad’s grin faded, and his step faltered as he took in his beaming son on another man’s shoulders. Finn’s face lit up. “Daddy!”

Squirming to be let down, Finn wiggled until Cole obliged, and Jane watched as Finn ran out the gate and straight into his father’s arms. “Finny.” Tad hugged his son hard. “I missed you so much,” he said gruffly.

For a second, Jane’s heart hurt so badly she could barely draw breath. She believed him. Tad loved Finn deeply, and she knew he missed his son when they were apart. But she wanted to yell this was your choice, douchebag.

She didn’t.

She just stood and watched, trying to master uncharitable thoughts about this being typically Tad. To turn up at the worst possible moment like a bad freaking penny. The last she’d heard from him was when he’d spoken to Finn two nights ago, during which he’d estimated his time to grace them with his presence as being mid next week.

And now here he was…

“Hey, Janey.”

She grimaced. At nineteen and in her lust, she’d adored the way Tad had called her Janey. It’d been his pet name for her. Now, a grown-ass woman with a business, a four-year-old, and a divorce to her name, the old endearment grated. She hated the possession and the intimacy it implied, which of course he knew, because she’d asked him to stop with it a long time ago, and he’d complied.

But, she guessed, with Cole an ominous, silent force dominating the space behind her, Tad was feeling some bullshit need to assert a claim.

She’d never felt more like socking him in the gut than she did right now. But she wouldn’t. Nor would she correct him, either, with Finn clinging to him like he was Father Christmas, the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy all rolled in one.

“Hi.” Tad switched his attention to Cole. “I…don’t think we’ve met?”

Jane glanced at Cole, the blanching at the angle of his jaw evident even through the scruff of what was now a light beard. “This is Cole,” she said, jumping in. “He’s a friend of Wade Carter’s who’s been staying for a couple of weeks.”

Tad, whose hands were occupied holding Finn, didn’t offer to shake, but the way Tad was eyeing Cole, she wasn’t sure he would have even had his hands been free. Cole didn’t offer to shake, either; he just nodded and said, “Tad.”

She could see Tad was surprised that this man who’d been carrying Finn on his shoulders knew who he was, but he was even more surprised when Finn announced, “Cole plays rugby.”

Jane didn’t miss the way Tad’s gaze fell on Cole’s stick. Cole didn’t, either, if the continued tightening at the angle of his jaw was any indication.

“We’re going to Denver to watch a game right now,” Finn continued, and, in that spontaneous way of all children, he said, “You can come, too, Daddy. Can’t he, Cole?”

She opened her mouth to object, but Cole, tense though he was, smiled and said, “Of course, mate. The more the merrier.”

Finn beamed at his father again. “He calls me mate,” he said in a whisper loud enough to be heard in Australia. “Like in Bluey.”

“Hey, a rugby game. That sounds great,” Tad said, the jolliness in his voice utterly forced as he completely ignored the whole mate thing. “But I’m here to take you back home to California for some guy time.”

“Oh, but…” Finn’s face fell. “I want to see the game.”

“Maybe another time, huh? I already booked the flights.”

Okay, no. That was it. Jane saw red. Finn had been beyond excited about this expedition, and Tad didn’t get to come in and take this away from him because he was finally ready to assume his parental responsibilities.

Guy time? Oh, give me a break.

“Tad.” Her voice may have been a little on the high side, but it was sharp as a knife and grabbed Tad’s immediate attention. “Let’s chat inside for a moment. Finn, silly us, we forgot the football. I think it’s out in the backyard somewhere. Why don’t you and Cole find it while Daddy and I talk?”

Finn had wanted to bring his football today, but Jane had diverted his attention from the idea because he’d want to hold it for the entire trip and then, because Finn was Finn, it wouldn’t take long before he wanted to toss it around a bit, which was hardly safe inside a moving car. But right now it was the only thing she could think of that might successfully distract Finn, especially given the football was safely hidden in the cupboard in her room.

Finn looked like he was about to object, but Cole—god, that man was just…everything—jumped in. “Great idea. No road trip is complete without a footy. C’mon then.” And he held his hand out to Finn, who took the bait and squirmed out of his father’s hold.

“I won’t be long, Daddy,” he threw over his shoulder as he took off back into the house, Cole following in his wake.

“Janey.”

“Not here,” she snapped at Tad, her voice an angry whisper.

She turned and headed into the house, leading Tad into the parlor, another magnificent room Jane would love time and a bottomless budget to renovate. Shutting the door behind them, she folded her arms and got straight to the point. “Finn has been looking forward to this rugby match all morning, so you’d better rearrange those flights, because he’s going to that game.”

“Oh god, no. Come on, Jane. The airline’s going to slug me a fee for that. You know how expensive it is to book seats one day out?”

Yeah, she did. Because she was an adult who planned things so that wouldn’t happen, not a man-baby who acted on impulse more often than not. “Well maybe, just maybe—”

She sucked in a quick breath, conscious of the growing bubble of rage inside her. She wasn’t usually this combative with Tad—she sucked up his inadequacies and compensated for them as best she could—but goddamn it, she was tired of having to do it.

“If you’d bothered to inform me of your plans,” she continued, forcing herself to speak calmly, “that could’ve been avoided. I could have told you we were heading to Denver today. We could have met there, saving you this trip, and you could have booked flights around the game time and not had to reschedule them.”

But no, as per usual, you were thinking of no one but yourself.

“Are you fucking him?”

Jane blinked. His words weren’t particularly accusatory, but they still felt like a slap. “I beg your pardon?”

“Are you and the rugby player screwing?”

Again, there was no real heat behind the question, but she could tell Tad was determined to get an answer. “That is none of your business.”

He nodded slowly, and Jane watched as realization dawned in his eyes. “So that’s a yes, then.”

“This has got nothing to do with anything.”

“It has if you’re carrying on with some…baller you’ve only just met in front of my son.”

“Oh, that’s rich.” Jane gave a mirthless laugh. “Your son, now? Gee, I wish you’d remember that when it came to things like oh…I don’t know…taking him for your allotted visitation during summer break.”

Tad ignored the criticism. “I don’t like it.”

She supposed he didn’t. There’d never been this issue before. It had always been Tad getting the action. “Because you’re the only one allowed to screw around?”

Tad’s sucked in a breath. “I’ve never fucked anyone while I’ve been taking care of Finn.”

Tad’s words were well aimed. It didn’t matter that she knew she and Cole had been discreet—she’d always been back in her bed by the time Finn woke up—she wouldn’t have liked Tad having a woman she didn’t know under his roof while Finn was staying there, either.

A long-term relationship was different. That was a bridge they’d cross when they came to it, but a random woman? Nope. So she didn’t have a defense against Tad’s accusation, unless he’d take because I freaking deserve a little sumthin’ sumthin’ in my life for a change.

Thankfully, Tad didn’t wait for her reply, moving on to his next grievance. “I don’t want him taking my kid to watch rugby.”

“Jesus, Tad.” Jane shook her head. “You still don’t get it, do you? This isn’t about what you want. Your son has been dying to go all morning. He’ll be bitterly disappointed, and that’ll be on you. But, hey, might as well add it to the list, huh?”

“Taking my kid to a game, even if it is rugby, is”—he puffed out his chest—“my job.”

What the what? “Your job is to keep your kid happy and not act like an asshole when he is just because it’s nothing to do with you. My god…” Jane glared at him. “While you’ve been off playing with the band, Cole has been doing your job for the last two weeks. Building your kid a swing and taking him to the park and throwing a ball with him. Helping him paint and cook and catch crickets for that ridiculous exotic pet you bought him. You should be thanking Cole, not walking around pissing on the furniture.”

A dull flush spread across Tad’s cheeks. “Oh yeah? And how long is Mr. Wonderful going to be sticking around for? Is this going to be a permanent thing?”

Jane’s brows beetled together. “What are you talking about?” she demanded. “He’s from Australia. He’s here on vacation. He’ll be gone in another week or two. We’re not a…thing.”

Saying it out loud put the reality of their situation front and center. Jane had been bobbing along in her own little fantasy world with Cole—this whole house had been one giant loved-up bubble. But she and Cole weren’t anything more than a vacation from both their lives.

They weren’t a thing.

Damn it, was it only ten minutes ago she’d felt so damn light?

“Oh, okay then.” The tension in Tad’s body popped like a balloon, and that old cast-iron self-assurance she was so used to crept back into his demeanor. “Australia?” He smiled. “I didn’t know that.”

Jane rolled her eyes. For the love of… “You know, Tad, I keep praying you’re going to grow up, stop chasing something that’s never going to happen, and get a proper job.”

She knew it sounded harsh, but it was the truth. Even in their heyday, the band had only been average. Sure, they had a local following and were booked for occasional out-of-town gigs. Second-rate gigs at second-rate venues. The band had never gone anywhere because, essentially, they just weren’t good enough.

They weren’t bad—they just didn’t have that X factor.

Tad was a musician, not a performer, and she knew for a fact he’d been offered several jobs teaching music over the years and knocked them back to keep pursuing his music career.

“Be there for Finn,” she continued, “when he needs it, not when it suits your schedule. Just…spend more time with him. You’re a good dad when you’re present, and that’s all kids really need. For their parents to be present. To show up. To put their needs first. Not wander off and forget about them for a while when something shiny comes along.”

“For the tenth time, I didn’t know the gig was going to come up.”

Jane sighed at the petulant undertone to his reply as Tad entirely missed the point. She waited for his familiar refrain about how much Finn loved him and how well they got along. Which was true. But she needed Tad to be a father, not a cool big brother off playing in two-bit rock bands that were long since past their prime.

Tad didn’t, however, go down his usual route. “Look, I’m sorry, okay. You’re right. I do want to spend more time with him. I know I’m not consistent enough, and it’s not fair on you, and Finn deserves to know I take my responsibilities seriously.”

Wow. She hadn’t expected this—not after she’d been so frank about his fathering. Maybe the presence of another man in Finn’s life had given Tad pause. She didn’t think everything would be suddenly fixed, but even Tad having some insight was a giant step forward.

Not that they had time for this sort of discussion at the moment. They had to get to Denver. “Look…we can talk about this later. Right now, we’re going to the rugby. Finn and I and, yes, Cole. You are most welcome to join us if you wish, but”—she shook her head at him—“you’d better lighten up, because I will not have Finn’s afternoon spoiled by you in a snit or trying to goad Cole into a dick-measuring contest.”

Because trust me, buddy, you won’t win.

“Now…how about you reschedule the flights for tomorrow while I go and pack Finn’s stuff so he can fly out of Denver with you in the morning.”

Tad grinned. “Sure thing, Janey.”

Jane’s mouth tightened. Give the man a foot and he took a yard. “You call me that one more time, I’m going to tell your mother you screwed around on me and that’s why we split.”

Tad had begged her not to reveal the true nature of their breakup, and Jane had agreed. Mostly because she loved Tad’s parents and hadn’t wanted to make his mother any sadder than she had been. And also a little bit for the sake of harmony.

But she wasn’t his to Janey anymore.

He held up both his hands in surrender. “Okay. I’m sorry.”

And, for once, he actually sounded genuine.