Continuing on before he could answer, Brooke picked up her coffee cup and cradled it in both her hands. “Don’t get me wrong, I love a Denver omelette as much as the next girl. But I’m curious whether that’s your thing, or if you try to change up the routine depending on the specific woman. You know . . . like, green pepper because I have green eyes, ham because I’m so funny, and onions for all the tears you’ll shed after I leave.”

She smiled cheekily when Cade threw her a look. Ha, ha.

“It’s called a gesture,” he said. “One that other women seem to appreciate just fine.” This was not the way the morning-after breakfast routine typically went. Usually, the lady in question saw him working at the stove and was pleased, possibly even a little touched by his thoughtfulness. Often high jinks ensued from there.

He should’ve known, however, that this woman would be tougher to impress.

Maybe he should’ve left his shirt off while cooking.

“So it is always the same omelette. Interesting.” With a teasing expression, she took another bite. “By the way, it’s delicious. I’m just usually more of a grab-an-energy-bar-on-the-way-into-work kind of girl.” She checked her watch. “Speaking of which . . . I really should get going.”

“You’re working today?”

“Unfortunately, yes. Cinderella had her fun at the Cubs game and on the dining room table, and now she must get back to work.” She glanced down at her plate. “Sorry about the omelette.”

Screw the omelette. Cade was more curious about something else she’d said. “Interesting analogy—you as Cinderella.”

She appeared surprised, as if she hadn’t even realized what she’d said. Then she brushed it off. “I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just an expression.” Quickly, she changed the subject. “What about you? Any big plans for the day?”

Cade tensed at the reminder. Actually, yes. Today he was meeting Zach for lunch, something he was both looking forward to and wholly dreading. He’d done a good job of ignoring the situation, of trying not to think about what the two of them would talk about, and pretending as though he didn’t have questions for Zach about the man who, technically, was his father.

He saw Brooke watching him. “No big plans,” he said casually.

“You have the same look you had the night we met at Bar Nessuno.” She studied him with her light green eyes. “Is everything okay?”

Well, since you asked. . . . My father abandoned me before I was born, then abandoned me again when I was ten after deciding I wasn’t worth the trouble. And for years, every time I stepped onto a football field, it was to prove how wrong he’d been about that. But I moved on. Until my kid half brother showed up at my office, stirring up all sorts of crap I really don’t want to think about.

Oh, sure. Because that info-dump wouldn’t leave her sorry she’d asked.

Brooke was a busy woman; she’d already said that she needed to get into the office. She didn’t want to hear his maudlin, angsty tale. Frankly, if he had the choice, he wouldn’t think about it himself.

“Everything’s fine,” he said. “There’s just this thing I have to do today. No big deal.”

Her eyes searched his, and then she nodded. “Well, I really should get going.” She got up from the table, looked around the apartment, and then remembered. “No purse. Right.” She patted the back pockets of her jean shorts. “Money. Keys. It’s like I’m in college again.”

Cade grinned. “I’ll drive you home.”

Brooke waved this off. “That’s okay, I’ll catch a cab. Just, you know . . . text me sometime.”

Text me.

She didn’t need to say another word; every single man and woman knew what those two words meant after a hookup. And if Brooke wanted to keep things casual, that was A-OK with him. Great, actually. He had a lot going on in his personal life right then and didn’t need any more complications.

In the doorway, he smiled at her, charming as always. “Don’t be a stranger, Ms. Parker.”

He watched as she walked away, and then firmly, decidedly, shut the door behind him.

Seventeen

CADE HAD BEEN waiting at a table at DMK Burger Bar for ten minutes when Zach showed up.

“Sorry I’m late.” Zach sounded winded, as if he’d been rushing. “There was some problem on the Blue Line and the train sat on the tracks forever.”

“The Blue Line?” Cade asked. That didn’t stop anywhere close to the restaurant.

Zach nodded. “I had to take that into the Loop and then transfer to the Brown Line. I’m starving after all that.” He picked up the menu and began reading through it.

Cade felt like a jerk, hearing that Zach had taken two trains to meet him. He’d suggested DMK because he’d figured that a place with twenty different types of burgers would be a teenaged boy’s wet dream. But he hadn’t even bothered to ask Zach what neighborhood he lived in—mostly because he’d been trying to avoid hearing anything specific about the rest of Zach’s family.

So many things he didn’t know about his brother. And he was quickly realizing that if he was going to have a relationship with Zach, avoiding the subject of Noah Garrity would be impossible. “You should’ve said something, Zach. We could’ve gone someplace closer to you.”

Zach shrugged. “I don’t want to be a burden to you or anything.”

Was that what he thought? Cade looked the teenager straight in the eyes, wanting to be sure they were clear on this. “You’re not a burden. I want to be here. And the next time, you pick the restaurant.”

Zach grinned, his face lighting up at the reference to them doing this again. “Cool. I’d really like that.”

Glad that was settled, Cade picked up his menu. “So what looks good?”

“No clue. I’ve never even heard of half this stuff.” Zach read out loud from the menu. “‘Roasted hatch green chile, fried farm egg, Sonoma jack, and smoked bacon.’ Or how about this one? ‘Fresh goat cheese, pickled red onions, and blueberry barbeque sauce.’ It says that’s on a bison burger.” He peered up at Cade. “That’s, like, a buffalo, right?”

The waitress showed up at their table before Cade could answer. “Are you guys ready to order?” She turned first to Zach, who squirmed in his seat.

“Oh. I guess I’ll have, um . . .” he trailed off while looking at the menu uncertainly.

In hindsight, Cade realized the place was a little trendy for a sixteen-year-old. What did he know? He hadn’t hung out with a teenager since he’d been one. “While he’s thinking, I’ll have the number eight. Cheddar cheese, and let’s do ketchup and mustard instead of mayo. Just a plain old, regular cheeseburger.”

Zach looked relieved as he handed his menu to the waitress. “I’ll have one of those, too. And a chocolate shake.”

After the waitress left, Cade watched as Zach ripped open a straw and sucked down nearly half of the glass of ice water sitting in front of him.

“It’s like an awkward first date, isn’t it?”

“What is?” Zach pointed between them. “Oh, this? Yeah, I guess.”

“Just with a man who’s half my age and happens to be related to me.”

“That would be awkward.”

They both grinned, and some of the tension was broken. Cade fell back on lawyerly instinct—he was good at getting witnesses to talk, to open up and feel comfortable. With that in mind, he started with one of the few things he did know about Zach. “So you like football, obviously.”

Zach toyed with the straw wrapper. “Yeah, I’ll be on varsity this year.”

“What position do you play?”

A voice from the past echoed in his head. What position do they got you at?

He really needed to figure out how to shut that voice up.

“Wide receiver,” Zach said. “I’ve been running a lot of drills this summer, trying to shave a few hundredths off my forty. Coach is always saying that my hands are my strength, not my feet. But I’d still like to be a little faster.”

“Have you tried overspeed drills?” Cade asked.

Zach shook his head. “What’s that?”

“Training that reduces resistance when you sprint, allowing you to run faster than normal. Wrap a towel around your waist and have a teammate hold you back while you start to run. He lets go after a few steps, and you get a burst of speed, quicker than what your body normally can do. And you could also run sprints downhill.”

They talked football for a while, with Zach asking enough questions to make Cade curious. “Noah played wideout in high school. I’m sure he’s had lots of tips for you, right?”

“Oh, yeah. I’ve just, you know, been trying to come up with a few ideas on my own, too.” The waitress brought Zach his chocolate shake, and he seemed grateful for the interruption. He took a long draw of the shake and smiled. “That’s a really good shake.”

Cade’s prosecutor instincts were on alert, sensing that something was not quite right here. “Can I ask you something, Zach? Do you want to play football?” He could easily imagine Noah, looking cool with his leather jacket and cigarette, trying to relive his glory days by pushing his son—the one he acknowledged, that is—into the sport.

Zach relaxed, as if he’d been bracing himself for a different question. “Heck, yes,” he said emphatically. “I love the feeling I get every time I strap on those pads, the rush of adrenaline in the locker room, and then that smell when I first step on the field. It’s like a combination of freshly cut grass, sweat—”

“And gasoline,” Cade finished.

“Exactly.” Zach studied him interestedly. “Can I ask you something? How did it feel when they told you that you couldn’t play anymore?”