Page 56

A man exits the car in the driveway and walks up the drive.Please don’t be a lawyer here to tell me I’m being sued or that he was sleeping with my husband too.
Cason leans into me, almost protectively. “Who’s he?”
“I don’t know.” I glance over at the proximity of our bodies and laugh. “You act like you’re going to defend me.”
“Look at me.” He gives me a look like, bitch, please. “You know I would.”
“Cute.” The man approaches, and I ask, “Can I help you?” With tense shoulders, I stare into the man’s eyes. Are they honest, or is he about to tell me something I don’t want to hear? Nervousness works through me, a steady thump of my heart pulsing in my ears. He’s wearing jeans and a polo shirt. Collin played golf every weekend. Or he said he did. What if he was embezzling money with one of them and putting it into an offshore account and then using it to purchase a mail-order bride? Or smuggling drugs over the border?
I think I’ve been watching too many crime shows.
The man’s attention shifts to Cason, his brow knits together, and then he glances my way. He probably thinks we’re together. Why am I not disappointed by that thought?
“Is the room still for rent?” he asks, shielding his face from the low afternoon sun peeking over my neighbor’s roofline.
Relief washes over me. He’s not here for more bad news.
“No,” Cason tells him, slipping his arm around my shoulder.
You know what I do? Leave it there. It’s nice. I don’t want to move away from him. “How’d you get this address?”
“Oh, the girl on the phone told me.”
Freaking Sadie. Giving out my address to everyone and didn’t even tell me someone else was coming by.
The man smiles at Cason. “Hey, aren’t you Cason Reins? I’m a big fan of your dad’s.”
His dad? Reins. I rack my brain, trying to recall where I remember hearing that name.
Cason’s entire body tenses at the question, a distinct frown settling on his face. “Wrong guy.”
The man examines Cason’s face and the ASU hat he’s wearing. “Really, you look familiar.”
“It’s not me.”
“Okay, well, so the room isn’t for rent?”
“Nope. I rented it already,” Cason tells him confidently.
I’m too caught up in the change in his demeanor to correct him. The mention of his dad really threw him, and I can’t place who his dad is. Reins. Hmmm. Professional baseball player maybe? I know one. Lucas Reins. A pitcher for the Seattle Mariners. Is that his dad?
The man steps back off the porch, turns around, and leaves. Just like that. I wait until he’s in his car, Cason and I standing there, his arm slung across my shoulders like we’re an old married couple watching their kid leave for college.
One of my neighbors walks by, notices, stares, and then continues walking her dog.
“Who’s your dad?”
Chuckling, he drops his arm when the guy’s car is out of sight. “You don’t know?”
“I never thought about it until now.”
He shrugs one shoulder and then runs his hand down his jaw. “Luke Reins. Plays for the Mariners.”
“Looks like the apple didn’t fall too far from the tree there.”
“I suppose not.” He half grins, searching my face. Sighing, he steps forward, eyeing me carefully. Placing a finger under my chin, he lifts it so we’re eye to eye. “So will you rent the room to me?”
My stomach jumps when he bumps his shoulder into mine. “I can’t.”