The Last Honest Man: A Sports Romance (One Pass Away: A New Season Book 3) Read online

  “Five hours, two nights a week isn’t bad. Besides, I can take anything as long as the pay is decent, and the tips are good.” With a tired smile, Eve nodded toward the bedroom. “Did she cause you any trouble?”

  “My little angel? Hardly. Been asleep most of the evening.” Mrs. Dowd’s beaming smile turned into a frown. “The place where you work worries me.”

  “I’ve seen worse,” Eve said.

  “Hardly something to brag about,” Mrs. Dowd admonished. “Shady Dan’s gets mighty rowdy on Saturday night. Don’t wave me off. I’ve seen the bruises on your legs. No one should be required to deal with groping drunks just to put food on the table and pay the rent.”

  Eve didn’t argue. What was the point when Mrs. Dowd was right? The way she had to fight off handsy customers, her job as a cocktail waitress should have included combat pay. Instead, she learned to bob and weave with expert precision. Occasionally, she still received the occasional pinch or pat—usually when she zigged instead of zagged.

  Resting her hands on her ample hips, Mrs. Dowd shook her head.

  “You should quit. My cousin down at the Shop and Save told me the owner is looking to hire another shelf stocker. Minimum wage, and only a few nights a week. But you get an employee discount on everything in the store.”

  Eve felt a quick surge of excitement. She wasn’t about to quit serving drinks at Shady Dan’s—the hit to her bank account would be more than she could survive. Even with three other jobs, she barely scraped by.

  “Could I start right away?” Eve asked. The chance at another source of income was too tempting to pass up. If she had to squeeze another hour out of her already busy day, she’d find some way.

  “I left an application on the kitchen counter,” Mrs. Dowd said as she walked toward the door. “Go in first thing tomorrow and ask for Dorothy—my cousin. She practically runs the store so you’re a shoo-in to get the job.”

  “Thank you.” Eve hugged the older woman. “I don’t know how I’d get by without you and Mr. Dowd. I wish you’d let me pay—”

  “Quickest way to offend me is to finish that sentence.” Mrs. Dowd patted Eve’s cheek. “Our children live on the other side of the country and helping you gives Tim and me a way to fill the hours since we retired.”

  “You never let me return the favor.” Eve sighed. “Doesn’t seem fair.”

  “Want to know how you can repay us?”

  “Yes.” Eve perked up. “Tell me. Please.”

  “Find some time for yourself.” Mrs. Dowd’s smile crinkled the corners of her eyes. “Work is important. But if you don’t take a moment to breathe now and then, you’ll end up in the hospital. Then what will you do?”

  Once she was alone, Eve thought about the question. What would she do if she became ill? Simple. She wouldn’t because more than her life depended on her mental and physical health.

  Quietly, Eve opened the bedroom door breathing a sigh of relief when the hinges didn’t squeak—thank you Mr. Dowd, and his handy can of WD-40. Her gaze moved to the crib near her bed where a pair of dark blue eyes stared back into hers.

  A little girl, eighteen months in age, blessed with full rosy cheeks and reddish-brown hair that fell in a tumble of natural curls giggled with delight. Holding out her chubby arms, she waited, knowing from her brief time on earth that no adult could resist her request.

  “So much for sneaking a quick look before I jump in the shower.” Eve lifted the girl, settling the slight weight onto her hip. She brushed a kiss across a warm forehead and as she breathed in the heady scent of clean baby, for one precious moment, she felt the burdens of the world lift from her shoulders. “How’s my Petal?”

  “Hi!” the little girl gurgled, patting Eve’s cheek with one chubby fingered hand.

  “You should be asleep.”

  The admonishment died on Eve’s lips when she realized any kind of logic would be lost on the beaming baby. Instead, she briefly put aside her role as a thoughtful guardian and let herself bask in the unabashedly happy greeting from someone who, unlike most of the people in her life, wanted nothing more than a smile and a hug.

  “I don’t have the resources to give you a lot,” Eve said with a tinge of regret. “However, unlike when I was growing up, you won’t ever miss out on all the things money can’t buy.”

  As Eve twirled the little girl in a circle, she felt her heart expand with emotion. From the moment she took on the responsibility of caring for another human being, she made a promise to herself. Instead of her childhood, the one filled with little happiness but plenty of the stark realities of life, she would emphasize things like fun and hope and joy.

  “You’ll learn soon enough how hard living can be, Petal.” Eve settled the yawning baby into the crib. “For now, you do the smiling, I’ll do the worrying. Deal?”

  Eve didn’t receive a response, nor did she expect one. True, the little girl’s vocabulary was on the rise, but for the most part, she was still at the gurgle and grin stage of life.

  “Talking is overrated,” Eve assured her little sleeping beauty. “You’re a good listener—a skill more people should cultivate.”

  The rush of baby inspired adrenaline fading fast, Eve headed toward the bathroom. Her day began early and the precious minutes, until her next job began, were ticking away with alarming speed.

  Standing under the misty spray of water, Eve indulged in a moment of self-pity before giving herself a mental shake. She had no regrets. None. Every time she looked into that little girl’s blue eyes, she knew without a doubt that she made the right decision.

  “I dare anyone to tell me differently, Petal,” Eve whispered. “Until the day you look me in the eye and tell me to hit the road, I’m yours. Even then, I’ll always have your back. You will be healthy. You will be happy.”

  Eve stepped from the shower. Wiping the steam from the mirror, she gazed at herself. Noticing the stubborn set of her jaw, she shook her head.

  “I made a promise to keep you safe, Petal. And to my last breath, no one will stop me.”

  ▲ ▼ ▲ ▼ ▲

  Seattle, Washington

  “YOUR BROTHER HAS a child.”

  Certain he misunderstood, Dylan closed his eyes and ran his mother’s words through his head one more time. The result didn’t change. Rubbing his temples, he took a deep breath, raised his gaze, and reminded himself of the futility of losing his temper.

  “A baby?” When his mother nodded, Dylan let the air leave his lungs in a slow, steady stream. “Tanner is a father?”

  Sylvie Montgomery skillfully poured tea from an antique porcelain pot without spilling a drop. Reaching across the narrow mahogany, she set the cup in front of Dylan. Slight in stature, her dark hair perfectly styled into a short bob, and wearing a flowing floral silk dress, she looked as sweet as spun sugar. And for the most part, the image she presented the world wasn’t a lie. However, for all her soft-spoken ways, at times—like now—she could be as ruthless as a war-hardened general.

  “Stay calm. Anger won’t solve anything,” Sylvie said.

  Dylan should have known when his mother didn’t chastise him for showing up late in the afternoon, instead of rushing over the moment she called, that a large amount of shit had hit the fan.

  “Where brother dear is concerned, there is no solution,” Dylan pointed out.

  “Tanner does his best.”

  “And God help us all.”

  Dylan almost laughed but quickly lost the desire when he thought of the innocent life his brother had so carelessly brought into the world.

  “I’m not happy. However, we need to stick together, Dylan,” Sylvie said as she offered him a cookie.

  Shaking his head, Dylan wanted to remind his mother that contrary to her hopes and wishes, all the world’s woes couldn’t be solved by baked goods. Instead, he concentrated on not blowing his top.

  “I know Tanner. He doesn’t admit his mistakes unless every other option has fail
ed. What happened? Did the mother show up at your doorstep?”

  “The unfortunate young woman passed away several months ago,” Sylvie told him, her dark eyes brimming with genuine regret. “Tanner only heard the news a short time ago.”

  “What about the child?” Dylan asked. “Where is she? Or he?”

  “A little girl.” Sylvie sighed. “The details aren’t clear, but your brother believes she’s doing well.”

  “Doing well?” Dylan scoffed. “Why doesn’t Tanner know for certain? His daughter is out there, without her mother. He should be frantic for details.”

  “Tanner is worried.” Sylvie bit her bottom lip, a sure sign she wasn’t as calm as she appeared.

  “Where is he, by the way?” Dylan looked around. “Locked in his apartment?”

  When Sylvie didn’t respond, her eyes fixed on her cup of tea, Dylan had his answer.

  “He left town?” Disgusted, Dylan ran a hand through his hair. “Tanner is thirty-six years old and his go-to response to any crisis is run away from home. Unbelievable.”

  “Your brother has always needed time to process things.” As always, Sylvie was with an unwarranted defense of her oldest son’s actions. “Not everyone is as strong as you, Dylan.”

  Knowing from bitter experience that nothing he could say would penetrate his mother’s thick layer of self-denial, Dylan saved himself the headache and moved on to more important matters.

  “How old is the child?” He kept his voice even-keeled and his expression blank. “And how long has Tanner known about her?”

  “She was born eighteen months ago. He’s known for almost a year,” Sylvie insisted.

  “A year?” Dylan’s fingers curled into a fist. “And he didn’t do anything?”

  “Tanner sent money. A little here. A little there. Ten thousand dollars just before the mother died.” She lowered her chin. “I know what you’re going to say.”

  “And yet, I feel the need to speak the words anyway. Look at me, Mother.” Dylan waited until Sylvie raised her eyes to his. “Tanner isn’t independently wealthy. He doesn’t have a steady job. Where would he get ten thousand dollars?”

  “From me.” Sylvie rushed to explain. “I didn’t mind.”

  “Of course.” Dylan’s head fell forward.

  “You take care of me, Dylan. The house, my expenses, the money deposited into my account each month. All are because of you.” Sylvie’s distress was palpable. “You’re angry.

  “No,” Dylan assured her. He was furious. “The money is yours to spend as you wish. But the fact that you let Tanner pay child support without finding out about your grandchild’s safety and wellbeing is a shock.”

  “Tanner told me he needed the money to invest in a business venture,” Sylvie insisted. “How can you believe I would be so cavalier about my flesh and blood?”

  Dylan’s mother could be flighty and sometimes she wasn’t the deepest person. However, where family was concerned, she was fiercely steadfast. Her love was unconditional, her loyalty absolute.

  Unfortunately, left at a young age to raise a pair of sons on her own, Sylvie Montgomery hadn’t been equipped to play the role of disciplinarian. Tanner and Dylan were left to develop a sense of right and wrong and decide exactly what kind of men they wanted to be.

  Dylan chose the structured world of sports—football to be specific. The daily routine kept him grounded and to reach his goal of playing professionally, he didn’t have time to get into trouble.

  On the other hand, Dylan’s older brother had nothing but time and Tanner used every second to get into one mess after another. And now, after a lifetime of self-indulgent carelessness where he walked away without a backward glance, his crimes had finally come home to roost.

  “I can’t solve the problem this time, Mom.” Dylan was determined not to cave. “Another human is involved. An innocent child. His child. Tanner needs to step up.”

  “I’ll talk to him.” Sylvie held up a hand before Dylan could argue. “I won’t let Tanner walk away from his responsibilities. Not this time.”

  “Good.” Dylan wanted to believe her.

  “However…”

  “No!” Dylan shook his head. “Nothing you can say will make me get involved. Nothing.”

  “I know how unfair Tanner and I have been to you,” Sylvie said with genuine regret. “Without your father, I was weak. For too long I’ve relied on you to make my problems—your brother’s misdeeds—disappear.”

  Dylan didn’t respond because he had nothing to add. When he was younger, he used his brains whenever possible to pull Tanner’s butt from the fire. When necessary, he used his fists. After he signed his first contract with the Seattle Knights, he could afford to hire professionals to ease his burden a bit.

  However, Dylan finally hit his limit when Tanner was arrested for driving under the influence. Putting his own life in danger was bad enough. What if someone else had been injured? What if someone died?

  Dylan told his brother then and there to get help. He paid for rehab. If Tanner screwed up again, he was on his own. No more get out of jail free cards.

  “You’re an uncle,” Sylvie said when Dylan was about to leave. She pulled out the blood is thicker than water card without an ounce of shame. “Aren’t you worried about your niece? Don’t you want to make certain she—an innocent child—is okay?”

  “How can you be certain the child is Tanner’s?” Dylan asked. Feeling his resolve slip, he grasped at the only straw he had at his disposal. “Do you expect me to swoop in and play fairy god uncle when I have no proof the girl is related to me?”

  “Tanner swears a DNA test was performed.”

  “And you believed him?” Dylan asked.

  “Why would he lie?” Sylvie cleared her throat.

  “Drink some tea before you choke on your words,” Dylan instructed. When Sylvie did as he asked, he continued. “Tanner and the truth have never been on good terms. Why should now be any different?”

  “I want to take his word. But we aren’t talking about a minor infraction. A child’s life doesn’t equal a fender bender.”

  Dylan sensed when the metaphorical knife slid into his gut. Looking into Sylvie’s eyes, filled with a lifetime of disappointment and regret, he felt the blade twist. The pain was sharp, the result inevitable. The only bit left of his crumbling resolve disappeared like the proverbial dust in the wind.

  “What do you want me to do?” Dylan asked.

  Sylvie didn’t gloat. Dylan knew she didn’t relish dipping into her arsenal of maternal guilt. But as always, to protect her own, a mother did what a mother had to do.

  “Find the little girl. Make certain she’s truly a Montgomery.” Steel entered Sylvie’s gaze. “If she’s ours, no matter what, bring her home.”

  ▲ ▼ ▲ ▼ ▲

  CHAPTER ONE

  ▲ ▼ ▲ ▼ ▲

  SATURDAY NIGHT AT Shady Dan’s was exactly what Dylan expected for a tavern on the outskirts of a small, working-class town. The room was full, the air ripe with the smell of alcohol and warm bodies. The waitresses—five that he could count—had to shout to be heard over the din of voices and a honky-tonk jukebox turned up to an earsplitting level.

  “I have a sudden flashback to my misspent youth,” Levi Reynolds yelled. “The memory is not a good one.”

  “Because you’re old,” Dylan told his best friend with a grin.

  “We’re the same age,” Levi reminded him.

  “Unlike you, I think young,” Dylan said with a chuckle. His gaze landed on a shapely redhead whose backside filled out her jeans in a very pleasing manner. When he noticed his friend doing the same, he placed his hand over Levi’s eyes. “I promised your wife that I’d bring you home the same way you left—healthy and unsullied.”

  “Piper doesn’t mind if I look at other women,” Levi assured him. “The secret is keeping my hands to myself. Which, since I’m a completely devoted husband, isn’t a problem.”


  “I see an empty table,” Dylan said.

  “Across the room.” Levi nodded. “The crowd is thick. Think you can make a path to the other side?”

  Sending Levi his best, are you kidding me look, Dylan squared his shoulders.

  “Follow me and watch your throwing arm. If our quarterback gets hurt, any hope of the Knights repeating as Super Bowl champions goes down the crapper.”

  Dylan was only half-joking. While football was a team sport, success lived and died on whether the right person received the snap of the ball. He’d suffered through too many dismal seasons with mediocre to flat out bad play-callers. Last season, after years of moldering on the bench, Levi lead Seattle to the top.

  As Dylan had always suspected, the air on top was a heady mix of clean and clear. Bringing home the Lombardi trophy consecutive years wasn’t easy. But the Knights had a shot—and a damn good one. He wouldn’t risk their chances by something as foolish as letting his QB sustain an injury while walking across a barroom floor.

  Dylan’s confidence that he could keep Levi safe wasn’t an empty boast but a simple statement of the facts. He was one of the premier tight ends in the NFL and was paid a ridiculous amount of money to knock three hundred-pound linebackers on their asses. If he couldn’t move a few average-sized locals out of the way, it was time to hang up his cleats.

  “Nice job,” Levi said when they reached their destination without incident and in record time. “I thought for certain someone would take the table before we could stake our claim.”

  “In case I didn’t say, I appreciate you coming with me.” Pushing aside an empty beer bottle, Dylan took his seat. “Goes without saying a trip to New Mexico isn’t the way I want to spend any part of my off-season.”

  “What are friends for?” Levi asked. He flashed the smile that had graced the cover of at least a dozen magazines in the past few months. “Besides, Piper had to go out of town on business.”

  “And you needed a playmate?” Dylan asked.

  “I miss my wife,” Levi said with a nod of his dark head.