For the past two days, he and Julianne had secluded themselves in the house, taking care of their son and each other. Since her storming of his bedroom, they’d had sex at least a dozen times, and Will still couldn’t seem to get enough of her. What they hadn’t done was talk. At least not about their relationship. That subject seemed to be the elephant in the room, neither of them wanting to disturb it.

That wasn’t the only thing Will had been avoiding. Roscoe had been calling and texting him since their phone conversation the other night, but Will hadn’t bothered to answer. The mess with Bountygate was getting uglier, and Hank and Roscoe had been correct: Will’s name was right in the center of the storm. He needed to decide what to do, but Paul Zevalos wasn’t returning his phone calls, either.

As if all that weren’t enough, finding his mother in the woods outside the house making out with his team’s GM was proof enough that Will’s world was beginning to resemble a busted play. He wasn’t naïve enough to think his mother had remained celibate since his birth; she was young and very pretty, after all. But she’d been discerning of her reputation, and his, for many years, keeping her relationships very private. Much as she kept the rest of her life. Hank Osbourne, on the other hand, cut through a swath of rich divorcées like Brody Janik ran through defenses after a catch. His mother wasn’t on the same level with the socialites Hank wore on his arm. Will still believed Hank was using his mother to gain information on his relationship with Coach Zevalos, and he worried she’d end up hurt.

Julianne’s cell phone buzzed in its charger. Her phone had rung twice already this morning and it was barely nine o’clock. Will handed Owen a mini Blaze football. The baby’s hands immediately clamped around it, his long-fingered hold sparking a burst of pride in Will before Owen brought it up to his mouth and began gumming it.

With Owen now occupied, he meandered over to where Julianne’s phone sat on the desk. He told himself he wasn’t snooping, just curious about whether he should alert her that she had messages. This was the problem with their not having talked. Will was fairly certain he knew all her secrets—surely she couldn’t have more—but her brother was still a major player in Bountygate, and Roscoe’s warnings about not trusting her played like a highlight reel in the back of his mind.

Two missed calls and one text message from her brother. His whole body tensed. The shower was still running upstairs. Damn it! If he didn’t check, Roscoe’s voice would poison every interaction he and Julianne had today, including the sexy one he’d been planning for the boathouse later on. If she had something to hide, she’d keep her phone locked or out of sight. With one finger, he slid the keypad open and read the text from her brother.

Call me. You haven’t checked in for two days. I need to know what’s going on with Will. How’s the baby?

A bead of sweat ran down his back. She was checking in with her brother daily? He didn’t get the impression they were that close. And she was giving her brother updates? On him? No! Will wasn’t going to let Roscoe’s paranoia get to him. He needed to trust Julianne. And not just because he was beginning to need Julianne.

“Dude, are you just gonna let that kid gum that football to death?”

Will jumped at the sound of Brody’s voice, nearly flinging Julianne’s phone onto the tile floor.

“Jesus, Janik, have you ever heard of knocking?” Will gently placed the phone back in its spot.

“I didn’t have to knock. I saw you from the verandah so I knew you were home.”

“What are you, a freakin’ peeping Tom?” Will needed a punching bag to take out his anger on, and Brody had arrived uninvited. “What if my wife were walking around naked in here?”

A slow grin spread over Brody’s face, further stoking Will’s anger.

“So it’s now that kind of marriage, huh?”

Will still wasn’t sure what kind of marriage he had, but he wasn’t discussing it with Brody. He lunged across the kitchen at him, but the agile tight end, adept at avoiding linebackers in pursuit, danced out of his way.

“Dude, I brought breakfast!” He shook a white paper sack from the Queen of Hearts Bakery in front of Owen’s face. The baby squealed in delight. “Do you want a scone, little dude?”

“Give me that!” Will snatched the bag from Brody, his stomach rumbling as the scent of fresh blueberry scones wafted out of the bag. “You’ve done your good deed for the day, now get out.”

Brody turned one of the kitchen chairs around and straddled it, tickling Owen’s bare feet as he sat in front of the baby. “No can do. Roscoe told me I couldn’t leave until I physically saw you call him. Seriously, that guy’s a pain in the a . . . keester.” He winked at Owen. “I may have to look for other representation if he keeps using me as his tool.”

Roscoe was getting desperate if he was resorting to forcing his other clients to do his bidding. Not that Brody had to be forced to butt into Will’s business. He’d seemed to make a career of it. Will pulled out his cell phone and texted his agent, telling him he’d call him when he was damn well ready.

“Done.” He shoved the phone back into the pocket of his shorts. “Now, you can go.”

“Jeesh, your daddy is grouchy in the morning,” Brody said to the baby.

Will rubbed the back of his neck. “Look, Brody, you were right the other day. This . . . thing could get a little ugly before it gets resolved. While I appreciate your lapdog determination—”

“Hey!”

“—you’ve got a good career going and I don’t want it to get tarnished by a bunch of gossips who want to take down a good coach.”

Brody looked him in stony silence.

“Really, Brody. For yourself and the team, you need to distance yourself from me right now. Get out of here. Go back to Baltimore. And please, take Hank Osbourne with you.”

Brody chuckled. “Sorry, dude, but the Wizard of Oz is pursuing his own agenda here in town. I have no pull with him. But I am leaving today, and it has nothing to do with you bossing me around.”

Will was relieved, and not just because Brody was always underfoot. He’d meant what he said about protecting his teammate’s career and the reputation of the Blaze. “When’s your flight?”

“You’re leaving, Brody?”

Julianne breezed into the kitchen, clean and sweet-smelling in a V-neck T-shirt and jean shorts. Her hair was still damp, pulled back from her face in a big clip. She looked fresh and bright-eyed and Will wanted to throw her over his shoulder, carry her upstairs, and muss her up until her lips were swollen and her scent was musky.

“And look who’s still up!” She nuzzled Owen’s toes while Will groaned behind her. “Ooo, give me that sloppy, yucky ball, sweetie.” The baby shrieked as she tried to take the football from him.

“Hey!” Both men yelled at the same time.

Julianne rolled her eyes, handing the ball back to a screeching Owen. “I hope Carly has a girl,” she mumbled.

Will handed her a cup of coffee from the Keurig. “Are you going back to Baltimore?” she asked Brody.

“Cape Cod, actually. My whole family gets together for a three-day party at the beach every Memorial Day weekend.”

“Well, by the time you get there, you’ll have missed most of it,” Julianne pointed out.

Brody shrugged. “They can be a little . . . overbearing en masse like that. My sisters invite all their single friends and I feel like I’m at a cattle auction or something.”

Julianne peered over the top of her coffee mug at Brody. “Some guys would love all that attention.”

“Yeah, well, it’s impossible to make everyone happy, and by the end of the weekend, one or all of my sisters will be gunning for me. It’s better to keep my visit as brief as possible.”

“Oh! Speaking of your sister . . .” Julianne put down her mug and went to rummage around the desk. Will tensed for a moment, thinking she’d notice her phone wasn’t as she left it, but she tossed it aside to pull out a large envelope. The same one that Brody had brought his sister’s picture in.

“Here.” She handed it to Brody, a shy look on her face. “I finished the design.”

Brody’s jaw dropped. “You did?”

“I don’t know if she’ll even like it, but if she does, I know a seamstress in Boston who can make the gown.”

He pulled the sketch out of the envelope and a wide grin broke out over his face. “Wow, Julianne, this is perfect. I know she’ll love it because it’s . . . her. You’re a genius.”

“Sophie had some ideas for jewelry pieces, too.” Julianne lifted a now-whimpering Owen out of the bouncy seat.

“Huh, merging the two businesses already,” he muttered low enough for only Will to hear.

Will glared at him.

Brody laughed. “Well, my business here is complete. Connelly, I’m going to kiss your wife now, so you might want to turn your back so you don’t go all caveman again.”

“Like hell I will.”

“Stop it, both of you!” Julianne pulled Brody in for a hug. He kissed her cheek and bussed Owen’s head.

“See you both back in Charm City. And Will, don’t forget to make that call,” he called as he went out the door.

Owen was rubbing his eyes as Julianne turned to him. “What call?” she asked.

Will hesitated. Why was she interested? “I need to call Roscoe, my agent,” he finally answered.

“Oh.” She smiled at him. “In that case, I’ll take this little guy upstairs and put him down for his nap so you can have some privacy.”

He felt like an idiot for not trusting her. “No, I’ll take him. It’s a holiday weekend. I don’t need to talk to Roscoe today,” he lied.