He shrugged, embarrassed. “Everyone else was thinking food. I was trying to bedifferent.”
Maia collected herself. She’d gotten so caught up in London that she’d forgotten the barriers in place to keep her life private. With a gentle pat to Bob’s forearm, she said, “They’re all brilliant ideas.” She made a show of checking the delicate silver watch on her left wrist. “I have another appointment that I have to hurry off to. April, will you take care of sending something to the Wilders?” And bysomething,Maia meant herself. She hoped her assistant—who knew her moods better than anyone on earth—would pick up on her desire to leave without a news crew on hertail.
“Right!” April nodded and spun on her heel. “Let us through,please.”
The group dispersed enough to allow Maia and her crew to leave. Their nondescript town car pulled to the curb just as they pushed open the glass doors. Kristi loaded her supplies into the passenger seat, where they would maintain a steady temperature in the Texas heat, and they wereoff.
Maia sat as far forward as her seat belt would allow. The damage to The Flower Pot had happened the same night as the premiere. She had a sour stomach of the sourest sort thinking Karen’s place was being torn up while she and London were all wrapped up in gettingcozy.
If the downward turn of London’s mouth and eyes were any indication, he needed her right now. “Excuse me, driver? Can you gofaster?”
He responded by flooring thepedal.
“Whoa!” April grabbed the seat. Kristi started up with those Italian wordsagain.
Maia drummed her fingers on the seat and prayed for the driver to be smart, fast, and keep to his end of the confidentiality agreement. She had no idea what she was going to do once she got to The Flower Pot, but she didn’t want it broadcast—especially after letting the whole high school sweethearts situation out of the bag. That was sure to go viral before she leftTexas.
She pulled against the seat belt, unable to get to London fastenough.
Chapter Eleven
London linedup the two boards and secured them with a nail gun; the loud pop and hiss were muffled by his ear protectors. He’d always worn them when he used the generator and air compressor to protect his hearing. If he couldn’t hear the plays called on the field, he’d beineffective.
He often used noise-cancelling headphones when travelling for away games. The hordes of reporters said some nasty things that were hard to ignore. Blocking them was better than punching them in the face for commenting about his mom. Not that anyone could find a truthful negative name to call her. For a while there, after he’d made it to the pros, his dad put together a fantastic smear campaign—the kind that created monsters out ofmen.
It was a miracle he hadn’t been cut from the team because of the drama, and it took years of exemplary behavior for the fans to see that the true monster was his dad. Of course, they didn’t know the full extent of his monstrosities, and London would keep it thatway.
Today wasn’t his best day, and London felt himself dragging into the darkness his father always managed to bring into his life. It didn’t matter how many years had gone by; the man was a walking ooze of sadness that spread to London despite his efforts to keep it away. What he needed was some oozerepellant.
Something small and warm touched his arm, making him jump out of the deep hole of contemplation like a rabbit out of a fox’s den. “Aah!” He yanked the ear protectors to hang around his neck and glared down atMaia.
Maia? His heart paused, waiting to see if this was forreal.
She giggled. That throaty, downright attractive giggle that undid him. Every.Time.
“Whatthe…?”
She saluted. Her right hand wore a lime-green gardening glove. “Sergeant Maia reporting for clean-up duty,sir.”
He glanced over her shoulder to see April, the traitorous personal assistant, and another woman also wearing gardening gloves. They too wielded brooms and adustpan.
Maia’s down-home wholesome smile lit her face. “I brought newrecruits.”
London’s brain smoked as he tried to make sense of Maia standing right here in front of him, wearing a sweet little dress and a can-do attitude. “Are you serious right now?” He took her slim shoulders in his big hands and kneaded her arms in an effort to convince himself that she was real. “You seriously flew to Texas to help me clean up Mom’s flower shop? That might be the biggest, grandest, most amazing thing anyone has ever done forme.”
She squirmed. “Technically, I was already in Texas when I heard about whathappened.”
Wait—she was inTexas?
“Yeah—but she made the driver break the law at least seven times on the way here,” added the gray-haired woman he didn’t know. She flicked her high ponytail over her shoulder and huffed. “And she put him to work.” She hooked a thumb over her shoulder, sending London’s gaze thatdirection.
A small, round man knelt in a gray driver’s uniform, prying up the cracked pathway stones with a screwdriver. He already had a small pile of them to hisright.
London tipped his head back and laughed before pulling Maia into his arms and hugging the stuffing out of her. She’d come. She came. She saw his need and she brought her bright, smiling face right on over without hesitation. Well, maybe she’d hesitated, but he didn’t care, because the end result was that she was here. During the frog and princess movie, he’d debated asking for her phone number. He was going to do it, too—the bright sparks between their clasped hands were like a coach on the sideline yelling at him to get a move on. Only, Coach wasn’t screaming at him to tackle a receiver; he was prodding London to keep Maia from slippingaway.
And then he’d gotten the text from his mom about the break-in and had to dash to make the late flight to Dallas out of LAX. He hadn’t even stopped at the hotel to pick up his suitcase, instead arranging for it to beshipped.
“London!” Maiasqueaked.
