Page 54 of Heartless As Puck

It was an unknown number. I considered ignoring it but figured it also might be exactly what we needed to take our minds off the article.

I clicked the answer icon.

“Austin Harris’s phone. This is Jane speaking.”

“Put my son on right now.”

My stomach lurched. I turned away from Austin and quietly asked, “Is this Jon Harris?”

“Yes, it is. Now put my son on the line. He made a fool of himself at a high-profile event, and I want to know what he has to say for himself. I know I taught him better than that.”

I hung up.

“Was that my father?” Austin asked.

Crap. I’d hoped he might not overhear.

“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have answered.”

He huffed. “It’s not your fault. He’s my relative, not yours. Anyway, you didn’t know it was going to be him, whereas I should have expected it.”

“Why would you have?” I asked. During my time with Austin, I’d never actually encountered his father until that day when he turned up on the doorstep. I had blocked his calls, but he’d obviously changed his phone number since then because the Caller ID used to show who it was. I needed to record this number and block it too.

“The fact that he was here the other day means he wants something, and when he wants something, he doesn’t just go away.”

While it was at the top of my mind, I blocked the number he’d called from. “Well, he won’t be getting to you through me.”

“Thank you, Jane.” His expression, previously difficult to interpret, was now open and warm. Flutters kicked up in my gut. Ugh, I was going to be in serious trouble if I didn’t get my crush on him under control.

“It’s no problem.”

We finished our breakfast without talking further. I cleared the dishes and then double-checked that we had everything needed for his game. We packed the car, and I started his game day playlist, resisting the urge to plug my ears when Imagine Dragons’ “Believer” started playing yet again.

I drove him to the stadium, and we parted ways outside the changing room. I went looking for the partners of the other players and found three of them behind the penalty box. They’d saved a few seats, and as I approached, Simon Banks, Amir Gadot’s partner, made room for me on the seat beside him.

Simon was a small, bookish man, with round spectacles and the kind of fashion sense that made him look like an absent-minded professor, all tweed jackets with patches on the sleeves. He was an accountant and handled several of the players’ wealth management, including Austin’s. Perhaps if Dad had had someone like him, his money would have stretched further.

“Hi, Jane.” He flashed me a small smile. I was lucky that everyone had been so accepting of my change in position. Maribel was always sweet, so that was no surprise, and Simon had gone out of his way to make me feel welcome too, presumably because, as the only gay man among the wives and girlfriends, he knew how it felt to be a bit of an outsider.

“Hi, Simon.” I sat and rested my handbag on my lap. I may no longer officially be Austin’s assistant, but I was being paid to carry out the duties regardless, and I had my trusty tablet and a few other supplies in my bag in case I needed them.

“What happened last night?” he asked, lowering his voice, but not enough to prevent the other two women from hearing him.

I shrugged. “I’m not really sure. I left to get drinks, and when I came back, Austin was angry with the Milwaukee guys. I don’t know what they did, but it must have been something. He isn’t the type to lose his temper for no reason.”

“Hmm.” He looked intrigued. “You really didn’t hear anything?”

“Unfortunately not.” Although I doubted I’d tell him even if I had. I may like Simon, but I got the sense that he was a gossip.

“Shame.” He sighed, disappointed to miss out on getting the inside scoop.

“How is Amir feeling about the game today?” Better to change the topic than get stuck talking about something I was uncomfortable with.

Simon gazed out over the ice and scuffed his shoe against the floor. “He and Taylor are working well together, but they haven’t gotten up to speed with Fox yet. I can tell he wants to be optimistic, but…” He waved his hand as if it were self-explanatory.

“Yeah, no one wants to get too excited in case it all falls apart.” I got that. Their new management, while not totally warm and fuzzy, was miles better than what they were used to, and the players were probably all afraid that the other shoe was about to drop.

“Jane!”