Page 51 of This Heart Of Mine (Chicago Stars 5)

Molly bit her lip. It was just like Phoebe to have written something like that. Of course she’d done it to protect the baby.

She pulled herself together. “Okay, you’re a great quarterback. I can do the respect part. And if you don’t count Phoebe, Dan, and Roo, I never speak badly of you to others.”

“My eyes are tearing up from emotion. How about the other part? That ‘support’ thing?”

“That was supposed to be about—You know what it was about.” She blinked her eyes and took a deep breath. “Phoebe certainly wasn’t trying to force me into helping you run a B&B.”

“Don’t forget the cottages, and a sacred vow is just that.”

“You kidnapped me yesterday, and now you’re trying to manipulate me into forced labor!”

“It’ll only be for a couple of days. A week at the most. Or maybe that’s too much to ask from a rich girl.”

“This is your problem, not mine.”

He stared at her for a long moment, then that cold look settled over his face. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

Kevin wasn’t someone who asked for help easily, and she regretted her peevishness, but she couldn’t be around people now. Still, she should have been more tactful about refusing him. “I just—I haven’t been in great shape lately, and—”

“Forget it,” he snapped. “I’ll manage on my own.” He stalked across the porch and out through the back door.

She stomped around the cottage for a while, feeling ugly and out of sorts. He’d brought in her suitcase. She unzipped it, only to go back out on the porch and stare at the lake.

Those wedding vows… She’d been prepared to break the traditional ones. Even couples who loved each other had a hard time living up to those. But these vows—the ones Phoebe had written—were different. These were vows that an honorable person should be able to keep.

Kevin had.

“Damn.”

Roo looked up.

“I don’t want to be with a lot of people now, that’s all.”

But she wasn’t telling herself the whole truth. She mainly didn’t want to be around him.

She glanced at her watch and saw that it was five o’clock.

With a grimace she gazed down at her poodle. “I’m afraid we have some personal character building to do.”

Ten guests had gathered in the buttercup and rose parlor for afternoon tea, but somehow Molly couldn’t imagine Victoria magazine giving the occasion its seal of approval. The inlaid table at the side of the room held an open bag of Oreos, a can of grape Hi-C, a coffeepot, Styrofoam cups, and a jar that looked as if it contained powdered tea. Despite the fare, the guests seemed to be enjoying themselves.

The bird-watching Pearsons stood behind a pair of elderly women perched on the pincushion settee. Across the room two white-haired couples chatted. The women’s gnarled fingers flashed with old diamonds and newer anniversary rings. One of the men had a walrus mustache, the other lime green golf slacks with white patent leather shoes. Another couple was younger, in their early fifties perhaps, prosperous baby boomers who could have stepped out of a Ralph Lauren ad. It was Kevin, however, who dominated the room. As he stood by the fireplace, he looked so much like the lord of the manor that his shorts and Stars T-shirt might have been jodhpurs and a riding jacket.

“… so the president of the United States is sitting on the fifty-yard line, the Stars are down by four points, there are only seven seconds left on the clock, and I’m pretty sure I just sprained the heck out of my knee.”

“That must have been painful,” the boomer woman cooed.

“You don’t notice the pain until later.”

“I remember this game!” her husband exclaimed. “You hit Tippett on a fifty-yard post pattern, and the Stars won by three.”

Kevin shook his head modestly. “I got lucky, Chet.”

Molly rolled her eyes. Nobody made it to the top of the NFL trusting in luck. Kevin had gotten where he was by being the best. His good ol’ boy act might charm the guests, but she knew the truth.

Still, as she watched him she knew she was seeing self-discipline in action, and she begrudgingly gave him her respect. No one suspected he hated being here. She’d forgotten that he was a minister’s son, but she shouldn’t have. Kevin was a man who did his duty, even though he hated it. Just as he’d done when he’d married her.

“I can’t believe it,” Mrs. Chet cooed. “When we chose a bed-and-breakfast in the wilds of northeastern Michigan, we never imagined our host would be the famous Kevin Tucker.”

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