Chapter 3
Baked potatoes are significantly less complicated than football players.
TERRI
I peek around the corner. Once I ascertain there are no handsome blond football players, I accidentally had sex with in a closet in the reception area, I scurry through the area to the exit.
As soon as I’m seated in my car, I pause to catch my breath. This is ridiculous. I’m a grown woman. I’m allowed to have one-night stands – closet or no closet.
Except I’m not.
Not when the man is a member of the Steel City Seals – the quarterback no less – and my boss warned us he’d fire anyone who has a relationship with any of the players.
I’d argue a one-night stand isn’t a relationship, but Hudson made himself perfectly clear. No sex with the players. I’m surprised he didn’t have a sign made with the rule and hung it up in the employee breakroom.
It doesn’t matter. I plan to keep far away from Nolan from now on. My body protests. It wants another taste of him. Wants to feel his strong arms lift me up and prop me against a door. Wants to feel how he makes me explode in ecstasy.
I file those thoughts away. I’m on my way to visit my dad. I don’t want to think about sex when I’m around him. Ew.
I drive out of the parking lot at the resort and turn left toward Rogue’s Landing.
There are three towns on the island of Smuggler’s Hideaway.
Smuggler’s Rest is the largest one and where most of the tourists and attractions are.
Rogue’s Landing is smaller and is mostly filled with locals, although there are a few rental cottages scattered around the town.
Pirate’s Perch is the smallest town of them all. It’s more a hamlet than a town. The only people who live there are natives from before the island became a tourist destination. They avoid the tourists like a mermaid avoids a pirate.
I arrive in Rogue’s Landing within minutes. Dad’s house is a bit out of town toward Pirate’s Perch.
I park in the driveway and study the house. The Cape Cod could use some work. The paint on the outside is peeling, and one of the shutters is hanging off. I’ll add the work to my to-do list. Although, how I’m going to fool Dad into letting me do the work is another challenge.
I climb out of my car and Dad steps onto the porch.
I wave. “Hey, Dad.”
I open my trunk to gather the food I brought, but before I can pick up the first bag, he’s there, grabbing them.
“Dad.”
“Don’t you dare dad me, kiddo. I’m old, but I’m not an invalid. I can carry the damn groceries into the house.”
“You’re not old.”
“Tell that to my bones,” he mumbles as he walks to the house.
I shut the trunk and follow him. I hurry to open the front door for him. He brings the groceries into the kitchen and I begin to put them away.
“I don’t need you to buy my groceries.”
I roll my eyes. “You can’t live on canned soup and frozen ready meals.”
He crosses his arms and grunts. “Who says?”
“Everyone.”
“Asparagus.” He scowls as I place the vegetables on the counter. “I hate asparagus.”
“Liar. You love it when it’s fresh and grilled.”
He perks up. “Does this mean I can start the grill?”
I giggle. “Go ahead. We’re having flounder with grilled vegetables for dinner.”
His eyes narrow on me. “What about potatoes?”
I sigh. Dad would lose his mind if we didn’t have some sort of potato with our meal. The first time I met him, he warned me he couldn’t handle it if I was a vegetarian. And if I was a vegan? He was prepared to return me.
He’s a liar. He would never have returned a young girl into the foster care system. By the time I arrived at his house, he already had one girl and two boys he was either fostering or had adopted.
I shake the bag of potatoes at him. “Baked potatoes or wedges?”
“Is there sour cream?”
“Of course.”
He rubs his hands together. “Baked potatoes. I’ll get the grill started.”
He rushes out the back door to the porch. Some things never change. My foster sister and brothers might have left the island without a second glance. And I might not live with Dad anymore. But he’s the same person he’s always been. A sucker for a baked potato and a sad story.
When the food is ready, we settle at the table on the back porch to eat.
“How’s work going?” Dad asks.
“It’s going well. Busy.”
He leans forward. “Is it busier since the Steel City Seals have arrived?”
My heart races at the reminder of the football players. Knock it off, heart. There is nothing happening between me and a certain quarterback. We’ve had our fun and now it’s over. My stomach dips but I ignore it.
“I can’t believe Hudson managed to get the team to stay at his resort during training camp.”
Dad is a football fan through and through. I spent every Sunday during football season while living in this house watching games and pretending to listen to him analyze every play, every step, every decision.
Dad played in college and loves the sport. I love him, so I sat on the sofa across from him every Sunday.
“Hudson used to play on the team,” I remind him.
“It was a damn shame when he was injured.”
The entire island mourned when our local hero had to retire early due to his injury. When he came home, the smugglers tried to embrace him. He was having none of it. He practically became a hermit at his resort. Until Nova shoved her way into his life.
“Have you met any of the players yet?”
My hands shake at the question. I set my fork down and fold my hands under the table until the shaking stops.
I go for nonchalant. “They’re around.”
“I should come for Sunday brunch at the resort. Maybe I’ll meet one.”
I perk up. I’ve been trying to get Dad to come for brunch since I started working at the resort a few years ago. He always declines. No brunch is worth fifty dollars unless they serve steak.
“You can come next Sunday. We’ll have brunch instead of dinner.”
“Maybe.”
“It’s my treat.”
He scowls. “I’m not letting you spend your hard-earned money on me.”
“What else am I going to spend it on?”
“You should go out more. Have a good time. Buy yourself pretty dresses. Maybe escape this island once in a while.”
I reach across the table to pat his hand. “I love this island. I have no desire to go anywhere else.”
But I do have a reason to stay. And he’s sitting across from me.
Dad isn’t in the best of health, and he doesn’t have anyone else to care for him.
Scott and Ricky, my foster brothers, left the island as soon as they graduated from high school.
They visit for holidays and summer vacations but not enough to care for Dad.
And Olivia, my foster sister, isn’t around either. She joined the military and is often in places she can’t tell us about. She visits once a year, but she can’t care for Dad either.
Which leaves me. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not resentful. Dad was there for me when no one else was. I refuse to abandon him.
And I truly do love living on Smuggler’s Hideaway. I’ve loved it since the first time I travelled over the bridge to the island when I was twelve. I belong here. It’s my home. And I don’t plan to ever leave.
“You don’t have to stay here for me.”
“Who said I’m staying for you?”
He points at me with his fork. “You come here for dinner every Sunday, bring me groceries, and do repairs on the house you think I don’t notice.”
I widen my eyes. “How do I do repairs you don’t notice?”
“Don’t play innocent with me, young woman. I saw you eyeing the shutters and paint when you arrived.”
Busted. I don’t give up. I don’t care how he caught me.
“The house could use a new coat of paint.”
He frowns. “I won’t have you climbing on a ladder painting.”
“Why not? You didn’t seem to mind when I was a teenager.”
“That was before I realized you have balance issues.”
I roll my eyes. “I don’t have balance issues.”
“And you didn’t break your arm either.”
“It was a hairline fracture. It doesn’t count.”
“You were in a cast all summer and complained about not being able to swim the entire time. It counts.”
“Whatever,” I mutter. “I wouldn’t paint myself anyway.”
“Hire someone to paint? It’ll cost a fortune.”
I groan. Dad is kind and sweet and always there for me, but he’s also a penny pincher who thinks spending money is a sin.
My phone pings. I quickly read the message and frown. “Sorry. I should get back to the resort.” I love putting events together, but mermaid save me from bridezillas.
He shoos me away. “Go ahead. I’ll clean up.”
I kiss his cheek. “I’ll see you Wednesday for your doctor appointment.”
“I can drive to my doctor appointment by myself.”
I fist my hands on my hips. “And will you ask your doctor follow-up questions? Will you ask what the side effects of any medicine she prescribes are?”
“You get dizzy one time,” he mutters. It’s his way of giving in without admitting it.
“See you Wednesday.”
I hurry away before he can complain again. He gave in. I’m winning. It’s time to go.