Page 80 of Hard Hitter
Hugh looked up. “How can I help you, Ari?”
This was going to be incredibly embarrassing. “You said I should tell you if I had any more security issues.”
“Yeah,” he nodded. “I want to know.”
“Well...” She cleared her throat. “My ex-boyfriend is demanding access to my home, claiming he left something behind. And I really don’t like the sound of it.” She told him about Vince’s call, and everything he’d said. “I wonder if your security guys could refer me to a private investigator. My lawyer suggested it, and I didn’t want to listen. But now I think I just need to know what he’s involved me with.”
Hugh nodded. “Right. I’ve already green-lit an investigation.”
“You’ve... what?”
“I’ve already asked the PI we use to look into it. That picture he sent to Patrick was awfully...” He stroked his chin. “Personal. I decided it wasn’t going to go away on its own. So my team is looking into the perpetrator. I’ll call them when we land and see what the PI turned up. We can set up a meeting for later this week. We’ll all sit down and have a status update.”
Ari’s cheeks burned from the knowledge that the team was expending resources to investigate her ex. She could only imagine what Hugh was thinking right now.If only wehadn’t hired this chick... She pushed her hair out of her overheated face. “Thank you, sir. I sure am sorry that’s necessary.”
“Me, too, Ariana. It’s a shame you’re dealing with this. I wish all my team members had trouble-free lives as the play-offs approach. And yet...” He grinned. “I’ve been doing this twenty-five years, and haven’t had an easy season yet. You’d think I’d get used to it.”
She tried to return his smile, but the effect was probably more like a cringe. “Thank you, sir.”
“We’ll talk more after I hear from them,” he promised, pulling his work closer to him on the tray table.
Ari slunk back to her seat once more, wondering what on earth the PI would say to explain Vince’s craziness. The flight to Ottawa was only ninety minutes, and Ari dug into the duffel bag at her feet for her book. But when she lifted it out, she saw an unfamiliar glint of color there. Leaning forward, she plucked a small box, wrapped in purple paper with a white bow.
“What’s that?” Georgia asked, peering over her own book.
“I don’t know.” Ari pulled one end of the ribbon, untying the silky thing. She slid a thumb under the paper’s edge and freed the unmarked box.
Inside, on a little velvet pillow, lay a green crystal pendant, roughly faceted into a cushion shape and set in a hammered silver bezel.
“Pretty!” Georgia breathed. “That’s so...you. Is that a note?” Her seatmate pointed at a little square of paper in the lid of the box.
Ari unfolded it to reveal a brief message.This is a peridot, and I thought it would look good on the chain you wear.—P.
“Aw,” Georgia said. “Somebody really likes you.”
“It’s awfully nice,” Ari agreed, fingering the stone. It was the size of her thumbnail. And, damn it, itwasher taste—more like an earthy crystal than a flashy jewel. “He makes it hard to stay single.”
“No comment,” Georgia said, a smile in her voice. “But let’s put that on your chain, because it will look nice there. Here, turn your head. I’ll take it off you.”
Ari lifted her hair, but then dropped it again. “I can’t,” she said.
“Why not?”
She blew out a breath. “He’s great, and I really like him. And all the things he’s done for me are so sweet. But my life is a mess right now, and I’m giving him mixed signals. I have to cut that out.”
Georgia made a sad face. “I think you guys would be really great together. And I’ve never seen Doulie go after someone before. I think he really cares.”
That just made Ari squirm. “He askedyouout, right?”
“Once. Barely. But I’ve never seen him like this.” Georgia tapped the box in Ari’s hand. “And forget the present. The way he looks at you is so sweet. He’s softer when you’re around. Like his rough edges are worn away.”
Last night she’d gotten a better glimpse at Patrick’s rough edges. The story of his childhood was so harrowing it had given her chills. But that just made her decision even easier. Patrick deserved someone who could love him without reservations. And she was not a good candidate for the job.
Reluctantly she put the pretty little box back in her bag and zipped it up tightly. She wouldn’t string him along. It just wasn’t fair.
TWENTY-THREE
There were certain places that always made O’Doul feel like a punk kid again, and the hotel in Ottawa was one of them.
