Will had never laid eyes on Chris before. The guy had that smarmy look of a tabloid reporter all over him.

“Who the hell are you?” Will growled, handing off Owen to a startled Julianne.

“Chris Masterman of the Sporting News. I just want to ask you a few questions.”

Julianne gasped as Will maneuvered the weasel reporter through the hallway.

“You came into my house?” Will bellowed. “Are you fucking crazy?”

“Hey, your wife let me in. Congratulations on the marriage, by the way. Cute kid, too. If you could just answer a few ques—”

Will had the dumbass reporter in a choke hold and pushed him up against the wall. “You don’t come in my house, Chris. Ever. If you or any of your brethren step a foot on my yard ever again, I will tear you limb from limb.”

“Will!” Julianne cried.

Chris was fighting back now. “It’s all coming out now, Connelly. You’re better off telling your story to someone who can put the right spin on it. I can help you, man, just tell me what you know.”

Will pulled the front door open; big drops of rain were pelting the verandah. “Not on your life! Now get the hell off my property before I call the sheriff.” He tossed the reporter down the steps.

“You’re a maniac, you know that!” Chris yelled. “I’ve got all this on my iPhone video and when the public sees it, you won’t play another down in the NFL!”

Will slammed the door on him, throwing the deadbolt closed. When he turned around, a wide-eyed Julianne stood at the base of the stairs clutching Owen, who was wailing loudly.

“He said he was your friend,” she whispered.

“Damn it, Julianne,” he yelled at her. “They’re gonna say a lot of things to get in front of me. Especially now. You can’t be so gullible. If I told you once, I told you twice, you’ve got to think first! “

He realized his mistake as soon as her eyes narrowed to slits. The last thing he needed to do was take this out on her. Everything was spinning out of control. He thought he could keep the story at bay as long as he remained in Chances Inlet. But if one reporter was ballsy enough to venture to town, others would follow. None of it, though, was her fault. He closed his eyes and counted to ten.

“Julianne.” He opened his eyes and reached for her.

She recoiled, gripping Owen closer. “Don’t you touch me, Will Connelly.” She turned on her heel and scampered up the stairs.

“Julianne!” he bellowed, which accomplished nothing but to make her angrier. The door to the nursery slammed. Will swore. His cell phone buzzed in his pocket.

“Damn it, Roscoe, there was a reporter in my house!” he roared into the phone.

* * *

The storm was in full swing, wind and rain battering the windows. Owen had cried himself to sleep, his little head sweaty under Julianne’s touch. She covered him with a blanket and dimmed the lamp. Tense and rattled from the events of the afternoon coupled with the relentless thunder shaking the house, she longed for the safety of Will’s body.

She settled for a blanket instead, wrapping it around her as she sank into the big chair in her room. Her brother’s words echoed around in her head. Stephen had warned her that Will was capable of harm. That he was aggressive by nature. But Julianne hadn’t believed him. She still didn’t. The stupid reporter had duped her. Will was right, she had been gullible. But Will’s reaction had been over-the-top, too. She wasn’t frightened of him; she was scared of whatever he was hiding, though. Clearly, her brother knew more than she did. Why else would he call her every day? Julianne sighed. Will knew all her secrets. Why was it taking him so long to share his with her?

The door from the hallway eased open. Will slipped in carrying a glass of wine. She curled up further in the chair, clutching the blanket tighter. He ignored her “keep out” posture and placed the wineglass on the table beside her. Silently, he made his way into the nursery, presumably to check on Owen.

Julianne took a fortifying swallow of the cabernet sauvignon, its rich flavor warming her as it slid down her throat. When she looked up, Will was leaning against the door frame, his hands shoved into his pockets. His Blaze hoodie was dotted with wet spots and his hair was damp as if he’d been wandering out in the storm. He looked tense and unsure of himself, more like the wayward youth he’d once been rather than the composed role model he’d become. Julianne was encouraged by this glimpse of his vulnerability.

“I owe you an apology.” His voice was gritty and soft, as if he were trying to convince himself he wasn’t angry anymore.

“No.” Julianne’s heart went out to him, but she couldn’t let him off that easily. “You owe me an explanation.”

Will sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair, further mussing it up and making him look way too sexy for the small room. She loosened the grip on the blanket, in need of cooler air. His eyes darted everywhere except her face.

“It’s complicated.”

“Yeah, well, I might not have gone to an Ivy League school like you, but give me some credit for having survived the school of hard knocks.”

He looked at her then, his eyes unreadable. “That wasn’t meant to be a put-down.”

Julianne nodded. They were about to cross that invisible line—she felt it—and she didn’t want to halt their progress by speaking.

Will slumped down on the floor, his back resting against the chair so that he faced away from her. Obviously, he didn’t want her to see his eyes as he revealed his tale. An involuntary shiver raced through her body. She wanted to touch him, but that could derail them, too, so she reached for the wine instead.

He was silent for a few minutes, and she began to wonder if he’d ever get the story out when he finally spoke.

“Gavin and the rest of the McAlisters were big athletes. Donald, their dad, played minor league baseball once. I did whatever they did. When we were in high school, Gavin was the one everybody thought would be a pro football player. Our team won the state championship twice. We both dreamed of playing together at NC State, but it turned out I was too small.”

Julianne nearly choked on her wine, and Will chuckled.

“I was a late bloomer. I didn’t grow until I got to college. Anyway, I was cool with taking out loans to go with my scholarships and heading to State with Gavin, but my high school guidance counselor had other ideas. He had a friend at Yale who was able to get me a tryout with their football team. They liked me, and my GPA, and suddenly there was a lot of merit scholarship money thrown at me. I wouldn’t have any debt when I got out of college if I went there. It was really the best choice. And I loved it in New Haven. The professors, the secret societies, a college coach who was my mentor. Everything that makes up life on campus was so different than I imagined. Best of all, no one there knew I was the bastard from the Seaside Vista Trailer Park.”

Of its own accord, Julianne’s hand found Will’s head, her fingers gently massaging his scalp.

“Gavin ended up blowing out his knee after one season. He’d never play in the pros. So the torch was passed to me. Only I didn’t get drafted. But Coach Z was hired as the defensive coordinator for the Generals and he managed to work me onto the practice squad. The money wasn’t great, five grand a month. I took a second job working nights as a security guard so I could send money to my mother. She needed to move out of that damn trailer park. It just wasn’t safe for a woman to live there alone. Times were starting to get tough for everyone, and there were a lot of men in town with way too much time on their hands.”

An ominous rumble of thunder shook the house.

“The final preseason game, there were a lot of starters hurt, so Coach Z put me in the lineup. I played my heart out because I didn’t want to let Coach Z down, but mostly because I knew it was my last shot.” Will hesitated. “It was a clean hit. The quarterback fumbled the ball, I landed on it, and we won the game. The next day, I found out the quarterback was out for the season. I’d separated his shoulder. He ended up never playing again.”

He leaned his head onto her lap.

“Even worse, I found an envelope with twenty thousand dollars in cash in my locker that afternoon. When I asked Coach about it, he said it was a bonus for my play. I had no idea they did that in the pros, so I asked a few other players about it. They just slapped me on the back and said it was my reward for delivering a punishing lick to the Broncos’ quarterback. I was sick.” He let out an explosive sigh. “I’d taken a man out of the game and I was getting paid extra for it. I tried to give the money back, but Coach told me to keep my mouth shut and enjoy the cash. The next day, I was cut from the team. I’d like to believe Coach was doing me a favor by cutting me, you know, looking out for me. But now . . . I don’t know.”

Julianne didn’t know what to say, so she just stroked his cheek.

“The Blaze called a few days later. Apparently, they liked the hit, too. I wasn’t sure what to think when I got to Baltimore. I’ve never gotten any more cash in envelopes, though, thank God.”

“What did you do with the money?” she asked.

“You’re living in it. A college friend of mine invested it in a hedge fund and I made a killing in six months.”

She looked around the cozy house, the only thing standing between her and the raging storm outside.

“I feel guilty every time I walk in here,” he whispered.

“No, Will!” She crawled onto the floor beside him, taking his face between her hands. “You shouldn’t feel guilty. You didn’t do anything wrong. It was your job to hit the quarterback. You didn’t know about the bonus. If you did, you wouldn’t have hit him. Will, you would never intentionally hurt someone. I know you wouldn’t!”