Page 43 of Game On

Silently, she climbed down the last few steps and rounded the corner toward the kitchen. Hanging back in the shadows, she tried to get a better look. Troy Devlin stood near the French doors in the breakfast area. His brilliant green eyes shone with unshed tears behind a pair of wire-framed glasses. His dirty blond hair had a bad case of bed head. She guessed he was about Molly’s age. He still hadn’t grown into his gawky body, but the boy was going to be a lady-killer one day.

Troy was beyond tired, his eyes red rimmed with dark bruises beneath them. But even exhausted, he held his chin in the same defiant way his brother often did. From his stance, he looked as if he’d come to do battle with Shane.

Beckett seemed to sense the tension in the kitchen. The dog parked himself on Troy’s toes, panting frantically at everyone else in the room. Carly empathized with the wounded look in the boy’s eyes. That feeling of being alone in the world was a familiar one. What’s more, Shane was well acquainted with that feeling, too. Surely he’d have some compassion for his brother?

Beckett outed her as soon as she slipped into the kitchen. Jumping from Troy’s feet, he galloped over to bury his nose in her crotch.

“It figures,” Troy’s voice squeaked. “You didn’t want me here so I wouldn’t mess up your sex life. Is this the latest bimbo of the week?”

Well, alrighty then. Clearly, the boy had been reading from the same manual on obnoxious behavior as her nephew.

“Hey!” Shane yelled at the boy, causing him to flinch.

The big football player cuffed Troy in the back of the head. “Mind your manners,” he said in a voice higher than Troy’s.

Inhaling a deep, cleansing breath, she stepped farther into the room. Something wasn’t right here. Whether or not it was her business, the boy standing across the room was hurting and she wasn’t leaving until he was taken care of. It was impossible to interpret the look Shane flung at her: anger, frustration, perhaps even a bit of confusion. Too late now. She was in this mess whether he liked it or not.

“You must be Troy,” she said, trying to infuse a little cheer in her voice.

The boy stared at her, his chin betraying his bravado with a slight tremor. “Yeah, that’s me.”

“And you are?”

She turned to look at the source of the question. Besides the big Neanderthal standing with Troy, there were two other players. One was a handsome all-American blue-eyed blond who had poster boy written all over him, and the other a sculpted African American with diamond stud earrings that probably cost more than her car. His expression was surly, like the tone of his question.

Shane answered before she could. “Your worst nightmare.” His tone was soft but lethal. “She’s assistant to the Blaze GM. So if you buffoons are thinking about playing in the pros someday, I’d watch your mouth and your step. I’m sure you broke any number of laws on your little escapade last night.”

Carly forced herself not to roll her eyes at Shane’s statement. She wasn’t sure what constituted a “little escapade” or whether any laws were actually broken, but she’d get to the bottom of that later. Fairly confident that these three hadn’t seen the inside of a law book, she played along with Shane. It was his house, after all.

“Kidnapping comes to mind,” she said.

Mr. All-American went pale, while the big guy nervously shuffled his feet. The walking DeBeers advertisement only sneered at her. He probably had a defense attorney on retainer. “Ain’t nobody been kidnapped,” he said.

Shane’s cell phone rang, shattering yet another climactic moment.

“I’ll take this in the office. Keep an eye on them, Carly.”

Shane’s attitude was beginning to really annoy her. He ignored Carly’s defiant glare as he pressed his cell phone to his ear. “What have you got, Roscoe?” he said as he left the room.

So, he was talking to his agent. Something wasn’t right here, and now was the time to get the truth. She looked over at the boy. He was dead on his feet, one hand stroking Beckett’s big head, the other gripping the back of the chair.

“You seem to have made a new friend,” she said, gesturing to the dog. “Would you like to give him his breakfast?”

The boy’s eyes darted from her to the dog. Beckett looked up at him, swishing his tail across the floor. Troy gave him a ghost of a smile back. “Sure,” he said.

Carly showed him where the dog food was kept in the pantry, scooping up the dry food and handing it to Troy to deposit in Beckett’s dish. True to form, Beckett inhaled the food in thirty seconds flat.

“Dang, that dog eats faster than Tiny,” the all-American said with a laugh. The big guy must be Tiny, because he responded with an indignant, “Does not.”

His belly full, Beckett bounced around the room with a tennis ball in his mouth. It was answer time.

“You can take him outside if you’d like, Troy,” she said. “He likes to play catch.”

“Sure, whatever,” Troy mumbled as Beckett danced in front of the door.

Tiny went too as dog and boy disappeared into the backyard.

“Okay, why don’t you two tell me what’s going on?” she asked. “Let’s start with your names.”

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