Page 16 of Summer Affair
Clay wasn’t an expert in nonverbal cues, but he understood enough to know she was reconsidering a knee-to-the-nuts form of communication. “Just wondering when you were going to come back inside.”
“Holy shit, you’re Clay Easton,” Dirk announced.
Clay was used to people looking at him with a sense of adoration he didn’t understand, but he wasn’t about to accept that from this asshat. “Have been for twenty-eight years.”
He turned to his wife. “Babe, that’s Clay Easton. Running back for the Seahawks?”
“You must be Dick,” Clay said.
“It’s Dirk,” he corrected. “I’m a big fan.”
“Not sure I can say the same.”
“Wow, this is, just wow.” Dirk went on as if they were old friends even though Clay was sending him a look that would have a smart man zipping his trap. Dirk was not a smart man. “If I were to mail you a ball, could you sign it? God, can you imagine the look on Pierce’s face when he sees that behind my desk?”
“Sorry, out of signatures.”
Dirk looked at Jillian. “Anyway, if you could just tell Sammy, I’m sorry.” To Clay, “It was great meeting you.”
He held out his hand to shake, but Clay kept his arm around Jillian, who’d gone completely still. He could no longer tell where her head was at, but he could feel stress rolling off her. He considered dropping his arm and letting her go, but he was already committed and determined to see this through.
It was his ability to commit himself fully that made him such a formidable opponent—on and off the field. And the second she looked up at him with those sad eyes, he was fully committed to righting this wrong. To let her know that she had someone in her corner.
Jillian took a step forward, stopping at the edge of the drive, legs in a wide stance, hands on hips, eyes locked and loaded. She’d morphed into Super Mom. “You broke your promise, you explain things.”
Dirk turned his back and walked to his car. Jillian walked down the drive and caught the top of the car door right as Dirk was about to slam it.
“You want to see him at all this summer, you will go explain yourself in a manner that makes things better and not worse. And you will tell him that you love him and he’s the best son in the world.”
The prick got out of the car and into Jillian’s space, towering a good three inches and fifty pounds over her. Clay shifted his weight forward, on his toes, in case the situation escalated and Dirk needed a lesson in manners. He wasn’t just a deadbeat dad, he was a bully—and Clay despised bullies.
“You might have full custody, but the court granted me four weeks in the summer and Christmas.”
Jillian’s went chin up and looked her ex right in the eye, unintimidated with zero chance of backing down. “You were awarded the first month of summer break, which you are choosing to spend on a boat, without your son. That is your decision, not mine. If you decided to skip your month, that’s on you. Oh, and you would also have to reimburse me for all expenses accrued for food, childcare, and basic necessities for the entire four weeks.” She took in a big breath. “Or you can make his little world and change your mind, Dirk,” she said, and Clay could hear the emotion in her voice—desperation and humiliation.
That she had to beg, in front of a crowd, for her ex to do the right thing hurt his chest. He didn’t know much about her past, but he was starting to get a picture, and that picture made him angry. He considered heading back inside the house to give her privacy, but he still wasn’t sure of Dirk’s next move.
His car door was still open, a signal that when he pulled up, he had no intention of sticking around for Sammy’s meltdown. Or to even hold him while apologizing.
“I already told him. He started crying.” Dirk sounded irritated by the idea that the tike of a kid was crushed by the news.
A neighbor stood on her porch, watching the drama unfold. Jillian’s face flushed with anger, awareness, and embarrassment. It was the last one that pissed him off.
“You know what? Leave. I’ve got this.” Jillian didn’t wait for an answer, she turned and walked away. The door slammed and Dirk pulled out of the drive, his brake lights disappearing down the street in record time.
She marched over to Clay. “What were you thinking? Now they’re going to think we’re dating.”
“What’s wrong with that? The guy’s a dick, so what do you care what he thinks.”
She shook her head. “You’re right. Bad habit.” She looked around and sighed when she spotted three neighbors waiting to see if the fireworks were over. Not wanting her to feel alone, he slung his arm around her shoulders and ushered her toward the backyard to a pair of loungers, right out of eyesight.
She plopped down.
“You okay?” he asked gently.
She met his gaze but quickly skittered. “I’m fine.”
He sat across from her, resting his arms on his knees, and leaned in. “You know, someone told me that part of the reason this place is so magical is the only kind of pretending you have to do is in a fort.”
