She saw concern dance across his face then as Rob finally concluded that she might well have the upper hand here, and even a trump card. She could damage him personally and professionally in a heartbeat. His eyes darted around the space, as he thought hard, clearly seeking out the hidden cameras, reality dawning at what they’d just captured.
Then seemed to come to a conclusion.
‘Like I said, you’re not worth it.’ Rob put a hand up, finally conceding defeat, and much to Hannah’s relief, retreated to the door.
When she was certain he was gone, she reinstated the locks, then came back into the kitchen in search of the cat. Who’d since settled itself on one of the wicker Peacock chairs and was nowcasually licking its fur as if it was no big deal; all in a day’s work. ‘I have no idea where you came from or who you belong to, but thank you,’ Hannah said, crouching down to massage its ears. The cat leaned into her hand and elicited a deep purr. ‘Good shot, too. Well played.’
Chapter 54
WARD
Ward had been dodging Hannah’s calls for days now. And then he started to avoid Bernie’s too – according to his agent’s voicemail, she had got in touch to pass on the message that he’d been asked to present an award to a teammate at this year’s NHL ceremony happening at the end of the month.
Whatever … they could set the whole town on him and put in alarms with the NYPD and FDNY if they liked. He didn’t care. He just couldn’t bring himself to speak to her … and he had plenty little to say to his agent too after Bernie had thrown him into Sumners’ den without warning, inadvertently or otherwise.
In fact, Ward had nothing to say to anyone. People in general were welcome to talk to his ass, or his voicemail at least. After all, he had things to do. He’d spent the morning watching the most recent PGA Championship on replay – or rather, watching one player in particular. Hoping to establish whether his instinct about this guy was correct or merely clouded by jealousy.
Not that he realistically could do anything about it if Hannah was still with him, but Ward needed to know.
And so he studied, like he always did with people.
‘Amazing shot,’ gasped the TV commentator now. ‘But only ifhe can chip his ball and miss that bunker, which has proven tricky for the best of them during this tourney.’
‘Agreed, Carl. And even though Kendrick is second on the leader board at the moment, it’s apparent that he’s been somewhat off his game this time.’
Ward snorted, narrowed his eyes at the screen and made a silent prayer. He didn’t believe in manifesting, but if he could retrospectively will the asshat’s ball into the sand by the power of mind alone, there’s no way he would pass up the opportunity.
On the screen, the golfer and his caddie consulted, deciding on the best approach. Then Kendrick sidled up to the ball and made a few dweeby practice strokes. The sunlight glinted off his blond hair, and Ward sat forward and leaned in towards the screen, studying the guy’s face.
Yup, the kind of face you wanted to punch.
Kendrick pulled his club back and made the shot, deftly hitting the ball. Its trajectory propelled it up, up, up – and then the spin took it straight down. Right into the bunker.
Ward jumped up from the couch and let out a whoop as if he himself had just scored a Stanley Cup winner – instead of actively rooting against another athlete in a TV replay of a tournament that finished weeks before.
‘Keep those shots coming, jackass,’ he muttered.
Speaking of...Ward glanced at his crystal rocks glass. It was empty. But a miss like that deserved a celebration.
He went to pour himself another two fingers of bourbon as his thoughts returned to Hannah and he wondered if she’d been there at the tournament. He scowled at the notion that she might even have been there on the sidelines, cheering for Kendrick and encouraging him.
At the very same time she’d been encouraginghim, but in an altogether different way.
Ward conceded to himself now that he wasn’t just sitting there like a loser watching the replay just to wish bad vibes on Kendrick, but also trying to figure out if he and Hannah truly were still together or had been, back at the time the tournament took place here in New York. He’d been scanning the crowds whenever the cameras panned around the course and hadn’t seen her. But that didn’t mean she hadn’t been there.
The significance of Kendrick answering his call to her, and what it suggested, had sent Ward into an even deeper spiral than the one he’d already been struggling to climb out of since that night in the park. The humiliation of that evening overall still burned; public embarrassment aside, it was a night of reckoning overall. With Hannah, he’d missed the signals – or worse, misread them altogether. Had taken her interest, enthusiasm and generosity toward him to mean something more.
Again.
When or if he did feel up to working with her again, and while he figured it was none of his business – no, he knew for sure that it wasn’t any of his business – on some level, Ward was interested to see whether she would address Kendrick answering her phone like that.
But maybe she didn’t care. After all, why should she be embarrassed or concerned about what Ward thought if she and the golfer were together?
She prided herself on being a professional through and through, despite this latest evidence to the contrary, but perhaps he’d read that all wrong too? Maybe she’d got the transfer to the New York office so that there was no longer a conflict of interest, and so she and that dickwad could continue seeing one another.
It was about the only reasonable explanation he could think of. But then that night in the park when she’d said she’d been hurt, how did that tally?
Probably just trying to let him down gently, Ward concluded, cringing at the notion that she was simply taking pity on him. Hannah might well care about him as a person and empathise with his situation, but at the end of the day, all he was to her was a client – nothing more than a pay cheque.
