He frowned. “Obviously, I’l have Natalie pick him up.”
Natalie. The “personal assistant.” Autumn didn’t have anything against Sam’s latest “assistant” other than she thought it was ridiculous that he cal ed his girlfriends “assistants.” She shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“Is this real y something to fight about?”
Conner could either go to his dad’s with the “assistant,” a place he knew, or he could come to the Rainier Club and hang out until she could take him home. On the surface, the decision appeared to be a no-brainer, but she liked Conner with her at night. She slept better knowing he slept safe and sound in the room across from hers.
“Forget it.” He shook his head and turned away.
But being a good parent wasn’t always about her. She reached out and grabbed his arm. “Wait.” His blue eyes met hers, and, through the wool blazer, his body heat warmed her palm. His biceps turned hard beneath her touch, and she dropped her hand. There had been a time when the heat would have leaped to her chest and burned her up. These days, she was immune and returned the phone to her mouth. “Sam’s going to take him.”
“What’s that idiot doing there?”
She bit the side of her lip to keep from smiling. “He’s at the wedding.”
“Tel Vince hi,” Sam said as he reached into his pocket and pul ed out his cel . He pushed a few numbers, then spoke into the receiver. “Hey, Nat. I know it’s your night off, but can you go pick up Conner for me?” He smiled and gave Autumn a thumbs-up. “Yeah, just take him to my place. I should be there in a couple of hours.”
Autumn hung up her phone and looked down as she hooked it to her belt. “Thanks, Sam.”
“What?”
She looked up at the smile on Sam’s face. “You heard me.”
He laughed. “Yeah, I did. It’s just been a while since you’ve had a nice word for me.”
With Sam, it had never been so much what he said as they way he said it. Al oozing with nice-guy charm. Good thing she was immune to him, or she might actual y mistake him for a nice guy. “I’l have Vince pick Conner up in the morning.”
His laugher stopped, and his smile disappeared. “Vince is an idiot.”
Which was a lot like the pot cal ing the kettle black.
“I’l have Nat drop him off home.” A few of Sam’s hockey buddies walked down the hal . Handsome, rich, beautiful women on their arms. This was Sam’s life. Beautiful women and designer clothes. Invitations to weddings at the Rainier Club. Adoration and fan worship.
“Thanks again,” she said, and moved around him. She’d been his wife and had given him a son, but she’d never real y known him. Never would have fit into his big, over-the-top, life. She didn’t shop at Neiman Marcus or Nordstrom or Saks. She haunted vintage shops, or, when she bought new, she shopped at Old Navy or the Gap or Target.
She walked into the Rainier Room and toward the four-tier red velvet cake. She had her own life, and except for Conner, her life had nothing to do with Sam LeClaire.
Chapter Three
Autumn pul ed her Subaru Outback into her garage a little after midnight. She’d stayed at the Rainier Club until the last vendor had packed up, and she’d written a final check to the band.
She grabbed her tote bag off the passenger seat and made her way into the lower level of the house. She’d purchased the split-level in Kirkland a year ago because it was on a quiet cul-de-sac and had a huge, fenced backyard that bordered dense forest. For the past three years, she’d saved a portion of Conner’s child support and paid cash for the home. She needed that kind of security. That kind of stability. She needed to know that no matter what happened with her job or with Sam, she would always have a home for Conner.
The house certainly wasn’t lavish by any means. It had been built in the late seventies and, while it did have new paint and appliances, it needed some work. The previous owner had been mad for wal paper with flower borders, wood paneling, and faux bricks. It al had to be taken down, but unfortunately Autumn didn’t have a lot of time to take care of it, and remodeling the house got pushed farther down the to-do list. Vince said he’d help her, but he didn’t have a lot of time either.
In the family room, the overhead light burned, and the television blasted the Discovery Channel. Her tote pul ed one shoulder lower than the other as she stepped over a Nerf Recon Blaster and a green plastic golf bag fil ed with two plastic clubs. She shut off the TV and checked the wooden dowel in the sliding glass door before hitting the light switch.
The blaster was the latest toy Vince had bought for Conner. It was Vince’s opinion that Conner spent too much time with girls and needed a manly influence and manly toys. Autumn thought Vince was ridiculous—but whatever. Conner loved Vince and loved to spend time with him. God knew he spent little enough time with his own father.
In the quiet of the house, the stairs creaked beneath her feet. Normal y, she liked peace and quiet. She liked those few hours of calm after she put Conner to bed. She liked having that time to herself. When she didn’t have to work or make dinner or keep one step ahead of her five-year-old. She liked reading a magazine while soaking in the tub, but she didn’t like Conner not being there at al . Even after these past several years when he’d had overnight visitations with his dad, she stil got a bit anxious knowing her baby wasn’t in his bed.
She moved across the dark living room and into the lighted kitchen. She set her tote on the table, then opened the refrigerator and grabbed some string cheese. On the outside of the refrigerator door, Conner had spel ed out “hi mommy” in alphabet magnets, and he’d tacked up a new picture he’d obviously drawn while she’d been at work. In crayon, he’d drawn a figure with a red ponytail and green eyes, one arm longer than the other and holding the hand of a smal er figure with yel ow hair and a big smile. He’d drawn a bright tangerine sun and green grass. Off to one side he’d drawn another figure with long legs and yel ow hair.
Sam.
Autumn opened the cheese and threw away the wrapper. She pul ed a long string and took a bite. For the past few months, Conner had started to randomly include Sam in his family pictures, but always off to one side. Which, Autumn supposed, was a true representation of his relationship with his dad. Random. Off to one side.
She grabbed a glass from the cupboard and poured filtered water into it. Seeing Sam that night, it was hard to remember what she’d found so fascinating about him. Oh, he was stil gorgeous and rich and as magnetic as ever. He was big and muscular and larger than life, but she wasn’t the fool at thirty that she’d been at twenty-five.
She raised the glass to her lips and took a drink. It was embarrassing to admit, even to herself, that she’d ever been that big a fool, but she had been. She’d married Sam after knowing him a total of five days because she’d fal en madly, desperately, in love with him. It had been foolish but had felt so real. She stared at her reflection in the window above the sink and lowered the glass. When she looked back on that time in her life, it was difficult to believe she’d actual y felt those things. That she’d married a man she’d known for so short a time. Difficult to believe her heart had turned so soft and squishy at the sight of him. Difficult to believe she’d fal en so fast and hard. Difficult to believe she’d been a woman who would do something so impulsive. Perhaps it had happened because she’d been at a real low point in her life. Her mother had died of colon cancer a few short months before that fateful trip. Vince had been in the Navy—off doing his scary SEAL stuff. And for the first time in two years, she hadn’t had anyone to take care of but herself. She hadn’t had to run anyone to doctor appointments or to chemo or radiation therapies. After the funeral, after she’d packed up her mother’s life in boxes for storage, there’d been nothing left for her to do, and for the first time in her life, she’d felt alone. For the first time, she’d
She would like to think she married Sam because she’d been lonely. That she’d had too much to drink and been stupid. Which was true. She
