Will rubbed the back of his neck. He glanced at the picture of Brody’s sister in a bridesmaid gown. Suddenly, the situation all made sense. “You’re designing?” He wasn’t sure why the prospect excited him so much.
Julianne laid the photo on the desk and began pouring the batter into a loaf pan. “Well, I wouldn’t call it designing yet. More like doodling. And”—she pointed the spatula at Brody—“no telling your sister until I know I can do this.”
“I already promised not to,” Brody said, his mouth a tight line. “And I keep my promises.”
“Okay, if you two are going to show off your muscles again, save it for the locker room. All this macho posturing is really nauseating.” She covered the pan with a lid and stuck it in the fridge, presumably to bake it later, before lifting Owen out of his swing. “Speaking of nauseating, someone needs a diaper change.”
The baby cooed at his mother, grabbing for that lone strand of hair as she carried him upstairs. Will looked over at Brody, who stood grim faced, arms crossed over his chest as he rocked back on his heels.
“Sorry, man,” Will offered. “This whole thing’s got me jumpy.”
Brody didn’t answer for a minute, silently rocking on his heels. “Yeah,” he finally said. “Well, then you’re probably not going to like this. Hank Osbourne checked into the inn this morning.”
He was right; Will didn’t like it. The Blaze front office had been trying to pin him down on his involvement in Bountygate for several weeks now. If what Roscoe said was true and things were heating up, Hank was probably getting anxious about how the scandal would affect the team. If he’d bothered to track Will down in Chances Inlet, the team had to be thinking about its options and where exactly he fit in the future.
Will swore. He loved playing for the Blaze. And he’d never do anything to jeopardize his position or the respect of his teammates. Head coach Matt Richardson was a former NFL player who understood not only the intricacies of the game but a player’s mind. A rare find, especially since the man had been a quarterback during his playing days.
Will needed to think. He wandered over to the desk and picked up the picture of Brody’s sister. “When did she tell you she would design the gown?”
If Brody knew he was stalling, he was wise enough to let it alone.
“She came into the gym today to tell me. She wanted a picture to help spur her imagination.” Brody sat on one of the bar stools. “I already told Tricia it was a no-go, but if Julianne can come up with something, I’m sure she’ll be ecstatic.”
“They both will,” Will muttered.
“Hank invited me to dinner tonight. He’s here with his daughter. Something about her selling some handmade jewelry in town this weekend. Anyway, he wanted me to invite your family to join us. Although I think it might be more summons than invitation.”
“Not happening.”
“Dude, think about it; how much can he grill you with his daughter and your wife and kid at the table?”
“No. Besides, I have the perfect excuse. Owen is too young to be out in public yet. Not after being so sick. You’ll just have to tell him we can’t make dinner.”
“Tell who we can’t make dinner?” Julianne asked as she appeared in the doorway. She handed a drooling Owen to Will and went to wash her hands.
“No one.” Will replied.
“Hank Osbourne, the GM,” Brody said at the same time.
“Oh, the man whose house we were . . . married at?” Julianne began preparing a bottle for Owen. “I thought I saw him in town this morning.”
“You what?” Will knew Hank would see that wheedling information out of Julianne was useless. The GM was aware of the circumstances of their marriage, after all. But he didn’t want Hank filling her head with all the rumors surrounding the allegations.
Julianne stared at him. “He was out walking in town after I left you two at the gym. He didn’t see me, though; he looked like he was on a mission.” She smiled to herself, one of those I’ve-got-a-secret smiles that always made him nervous when he saw one on a woman. “What’s so horrible about going out to dinner with him?”
“He wants the three of us to go with him and his daughter. Owen could be exposed to too much in a public restaurant. It’s too risky.”
“You’ve got a point.” She shook up the bottle.
Will smiled smugly at Brody as if to say, She bought it hook, line, and sinker.
“So we should invite them here for dinner. You, too, Brody. And Annabeth, of course.”
It was Brody’s turn to smile at her words. Gotcha, his grin proclaimed.
“No!”
“Why not?” Julianne fisted her hands on her hips. “I’m a very good cook. And I love dinner parties.”
“You don’t cook for other people, remember?” Will arched an eyebrow at her.
“No,” she reminded him. “I clarified this before, I don’t cook for you. But for tonight, I’m willing to make an exception and let you eat with the grown-ups.”
Will shoved Owen into Brody’s arms. “Here, keep him busy for a moment.” He grabbed Julianne by the wrist and pulled her into the large pantry, slamming the door behind him.
“We are not having a dinner party here, Princess.”
Julianne surveyed the shelves. “Well, not with what you have here. I’ll need to make you a grocery list. We can have caprese tomatoes, chicken marsala, Caesar salad, and maybe a fruit torte for dessert. You’ll have to do the shopping, because I need to give Owen a bath if we’re having company.”
Will pinched the bridge of his nose. She had to be the most infuriatingly bullheaded woman.
“Will, it’s part of the charade. I’m the dutiful wife, we’re the happy family. Don’t you see?”
He stared at her, totally baffled by her thought process. “Hank knows we’re not an actual couple. We don’t have to pretend anything in front of him.”
Julianne muttered in Italian. “Not for him, for whomever else in this town it was so important you impress. Hank is your boss. He’s visiting. They’d think it would be odd if you didn’t invite him. People have already noticed him in town.”
Will pressed his hands to his head and squeezed. She was right. Likely everyone was already trying to glad-hand it with Hank. They’d assume the two would show up together somewhere. “Look, Julianne, Hank is not in town to socialize. He’s here because there’s some stuff going on.”
“Stuff? That’s the best you can come up with using that overloaded brain of yours?”
His jaw was clenched so hard he could barely get the words out. “Football stuff. Xs and Os. Stuff you wouldn’t be interested in and that doesn’t require a dinner party to discuss. I’ll have lunch with him tomorrow at the marina. That should be a public enough place to satisfy everyone. You included.”
“Huh.” Julianne pulled her hair down from her messy knot, shaking her head out to free it. “I didn’t get the impression he was in town to discuss football stuff.”
Will was fixated on the flow of her hair and the shimmy of her breasts as she shook her silky tresses out. It took him a moment to comprehend what she was saying. He crossed his arms in front of his chest. “And you know this, how?”
“Well”—she rolled the hair band between her fingers—“to tell you the truth, he seemed a lot more interested in your mom. They were having a very . . . intimate-looking conversation in her shop when I saw them.”
A vein throbbed in his head and Will thought it might detonate any second. “What?” he croaked out.
“See? A dinner party is a wonderful idea. It will give Hank and your mom an opportunity to see each other. They make a really cute couple.”