The kid grunted more than he talked but Ryan was impressed with his strength and stamina. After leaving Frankie, he’d been so revved up on desire, he hadn’t trusted himself to go back without finishing what he shouldn’t have started. So when he’d seen the boys coming home that afternoon, he called Carter over and asked the kid if he was interested in making some cash. As he expected, Carter had agreed.
Whether the kid had discussed it with Frankie, Ryan didn’t know, but Carter was currently moving wood from Ryan’s truck to the garage. They’d worked all morning putting up shelving, and while Carter had stacked wood, Ryan had built the solid frame for a workbench. It had been so long since he’d had a chance to work with his hands.
His contract had specifically stated that he would avoid any hobbies that could lead to injuries—his love for woodworking was well known throughout the league. He was almost as good at turning out unique pieces of furniture as he was at hitting a ball. His brother had bugged the hell out of him when Ryan had complained about the line in his contract. Someone making seven figures ought to be able to choose their own goddamn hobbies. Max had told him to suck it up and try crocheting. Ryan let him know what he could do with that idea.
“Here, take a break,” Ryan said to Carter, passing him a can of soda. Carter wiped some of the sweat that had dripped down his forehead through the bandana he’d tied around his head.
“Thanks,” he answered.
Ryan leaned back against the workbench and eyed Carter over his own can. “You’re a hard worker.”
Grunt. Ryan arched his eyebrows waiting for the kid to say something.
Carter gestured to the large sports bag taking up a whole shelf in the garage. “You play sports?”
Frustration tightened Ryan’s chest, but he answered anyway. “I did.” He waited. Waited for the questions about Victoria. Cal. Drugs. His suspension and did he really punch someone out in a crowded restaurant?
“Cool. What’d you play?”
Ryan nearly choked but managed to swallow instead. He wasn’t sure of Carter was messing with him. Though he and his brothers had a lot going on so it wasn’t impossible that they’d been unable to keep up with sports. The kid waited, taking a long swallow of his own soda.
“Baseball,” Ryan said skeptically, still waiting for Carter to say he knew exactly who he was. Ryan had always been surprised at how well perfect strangers claimed to know him. Most people didn’t know shit. Certainly not about him or his life or how fucking hard he’d worked to get where he wanted to be. Or how bad it hurt when he’d had it stripped away. Carter’s eyes perked up and his lips almost formed a smile.
“Only thing I liked about school,” Carter said, finishing off his can.
Ryan shook off the bitterness that churned in his gut. “You graduate?”
Carter shook his head and his eyes shuttered. He crushed the can and tossed it into the recycling bin Ryan had on the other side of the garage. Ryan nodded. Not bad. If you liked basketball.
“You any good at baseball? You watch it on TV?” Ryan pushed off the table and went to one of the well-treated storage boxes he’d had specially made for his bats. He’d had a room at his old house for his stuff but since moving here, he hadn’t felt much like pulling any of it out. Why pull the past out of a box when you’d so neatly stored it away? Carter started moving wood again before he answered.
“Nah. Didn’t have a TV when we were younger. Most of the time I was taking care of my brothers, going to school. Frankie says she ordered a new TV. The one that Aunt Beth had is sh—junk. She said we couldn’t watch any blow ‘em up movies. Her words. But she didn’t say nothing about sports,” Carter said, placing two-by-fours in neat piles. Ryan could hear the affection in Carter’s voice. He understood it, as he was, unfortunately, feeling pretty affectionate toward his neighbor after the kiss they’d shared a few days ago. A kiss he’d initiated and one that he couldn’t get out of his head. God, it had been sweet and sexy all wrapped up in a gorgeous blond package.
“Frankie’s a nice woman.” Ryan brought one of the boxes over to the table and set it down. He’d need to move some stuff into the house before the hard weather hit. Carter snorted and gave a genuine laugh.
“Nice? She’s like a fairy godmother, dude. And she’s smokin’ hot,” Carter replied. Ryan couldn’t disagree. He also couldn’t help wondering what would happen to these boys when the clock struck midnight for them. Frankie needed to talk to someone about finding a place for them. Not that it was his business.
“She is that. I won’t disagree. C’mere,” Ryan said, hoping his tone was neutral.
Carter stacked another piece of wood and ambled over. Ryan was able to stop himself from telling the kid to pull up his damn pants only because of a quick flashback to his skinny-leather-tie days when he’d also thought he was too cool. Carter’s gasp of appreciation was well worth the stitch of pain that lodged in Ryan’s chest as he looked at the slender, sleek ash-based bat. In his mind, he could hear the satisfying crack that sounded when he connected with the ball. It was slightly thicker than regulation but he hadn’t used it on the field.
Carter reached out to run a finger along the wood, but stopped and looked at Ryan, who nodded. “Dude, where did you get this? Holy shit, is that your name?”
It had been a gift from his brother—a specially made bat with Ryan’s name engraved into the sweet spot of the wood. He didn’t use it often, but he loved it. Loved the feel of the wood when he wrapped his fingers around the handle. Loved the sound when it connected with the ball and the feel of the hit singing up his arms all the way to his shoulders.
“Yeah. I used to play,” Ryan said.
Carter moved his hand when Ryan shut the box and once more, Ryan felt like he was closing the door on the past. He wondered how many times he would have to before it stopped feeling like it opened a hole in his chest. He couldn’t go back. He knew that. But some days it was easier to accept that than it was to go forward.
The sun was beginning to set, making the Minnesota mountains look like a painting with red and orange grazing their tops. Cameron’s sleek Lexus pulled up in front of the garage. Ever the politician, he got out of the car with a smile.
“Hey there, Ryan. Who’s your friend?” Cameron asked, his voice and his stride easy, casual. He wondered if good ol’ Cam had asked Frankie out after Ryan had taken off the other day. He didn’t enjoy the spark of irritation the thought caused. Carter’s shoulders slumped, like he was trying to make himself smaller. Ryan hesitated slightly.
“Carter. Carter this is Cameron. He lives down the street. Carter is helping me out.” The only thing his dad had ever taught him was to say as little as possible until you needed to say more. Cameron held out his hand to shake Carter’s.
“You live around here?”
Carter looked at Ryan.
“He’s staying with a friend,” Ryan said, looking back at Carter. He pulled his keys out of his pocket, passed them to him, and continued, “Why don’t you go move my truck back up the driveway. Park it in front of the house.” Carter’s eyes widened and Ryan saw a hint of a smile before he nodded at Cameron and walked toward the truck.
Cameron ran his hand over the table that still needed sanding and a couple coats of polyurethane. Ryan picked up the box with his bat and moved it back to the shelf. He didn’t want Cameron touching it.
“That kid doesn’t look familiar,” Cameron said. Ryan eyed him over his shoulder as he put the bat back.
“You know everyone in town?”
“No,” Cameron chuckled. “But I know a lot of faces. His just doesn’t ring a bell.”
Ryan said nothing and came back to stand by the table. If it were someone else, he might have offered a beer. His neighbor had been nothing but nice to him but he didn’t like the way Cameron looked at Frankie, the way the boys felt the need to hide from him, or the way he thought it was his business to know everybody and everything. He was arrogant, and maybe that was the pot calling the kettle, but Ryan didn’t care. It was time to start trusting his gut when it came to people. And his gut said, Cameron was only looking out for himself.
“What brings you by?” Ryan asked. He picked up his empty can and tossed it in the recycling.
“Couple of things actually. One is, I’m having a get-together, mostly a neighborhood thing, and thought you might want to come by.”
Ryan pursed his lips. He didn’t particularly want to socialize but he just nodded, as if considering it.
“I suspect some people will know who you are, so if you’re not up to doling out explanations or answering questions, I’ll understand if you don’t want to join. I’ve already invited Frankie. She was pretty excited so she’ll definitely be there. You know, she didn’t know who you were,” Cameron said.
Ryan crossed his arms over his chest and straightened his stance, irritation ratcheting up to pissed off. “Is that so?”
Cameron nodded, a smile that probably won him votes pasted on his face. “It is. It didn’t click for me right away either, of course, but then it hit me and I couldn’t believe I’d forgotten after all the time you’ve spent making headlines.”
Ryan’s fingers itched. He breathed through his nose, slow, measured breaths. Ryan had made plenty of headlines in his career. He had a sick feeling that Cam was referring to the more salacious ones.
“I know you’re a politician, Cam, so you like to hear yourself talk, but do you have a point?” Ryan enjoyed seeing the irritation that creased Cameron’s brow, right before he covered it up with a smile.
Cameron stepped closer so his wool coat brushed against Ryan’s jeans. “Cameron. And, yes. Frankie didn’t know who you are but I’m sure she’ll figure it out. You and her, you’re not a thing, right? I mean, if you were together, she’d know who you were.”
“Again, your point?
“Well, Frankie is a good-looking woman and she said yes when I asked her out to dinner so I just wanted to be neighborly and let you know about that, make sure I wasn’t stepping on your toes.”
Ryan wanted to step on Cameron’s toes. At the moment, he wanted to drop kick Cameron and wipe the smile from his lips. When Cameron clapped Ryan on the shoulder, Ryan cinched his jaw tight and gave an unfriendly smile.
“Wouldn’t want to do that, would you, Cam?”
“Really, it’s Cameron. I’m not big on nicknames. But no, I wouldn’t want to do that. Not that you’re in any place to be thinking about hooking up with Frankie or any other woman, am I right? One site online said you’d moved to the hills just to get away from all the craziness.”
“If you saw it online, it must be true. Guess my secret is out. Is that all?” Ryan asked, his voice smooth and low. Cameron was too pleased with himself to notice that the even tone was masking his shaking hands.
“Mostly. I also wanted to say there’s been a rash of break-ins around here and Angel’s Lake. Keep your eye out and let me know if you see anything that seems strange.”
“Sure thing, Cam. Break-ins, get-together, and you’ll be making a formal move on Frankie. Got it.”
Cameron winced slightly but covered it with a silky smile. Carter was walking back to Ryan, eyeing both men a little uncertainly.
“Alright. I’ll see you next Friday then. Eight-ish. Bring a date if you want,” Cameron said, as he started moving toward his car. Carter nodded at him as he came to stand beside Ryan.
“Oh, hey, Cameron?”
Cameron turned when he got to the driver’s door and looked over the roof of the car, his eyes not as friendly as his smile.
“Yeah?”
Ryan walked to the front of the garage where there was a switch to close the door. With his hand hovering, he smiled and said, “Fuck you.” Then he gave a mock salute with his left hand while pressing the switch with the other. When he turned around, the sound of the door closing behind him, Carter had a grin so wide that Ryan couldn’t help but laugh.