She shrugged. “I was always more fascinated with other people’s work than with my own. My undergrad was mostly studio work, but I did my master’s in art history. I realized I liked studying great artists way more than trying to become one myself.” She drew her knees up into a cross-legged position and asked, “What did you study in college?”
“Sports sciences,” he answered. “You know, kinesiology, sports medicine. And I minored in athletic coaching.”
“Really?”
Her expression revealed nothing, but he got the feeling she didn’t believe him, which made him feel like he was in high school all over again. The kid who’d been written off by his teachers as a big dumb oaf just because he happened to be good at sports. They’d stuck the jock label on him, and no matter how hard he’d tried to tear it off, the judgmental attitudes remained intact. One time he’d even been accused of cheating on an English test he’d spent hours studying for, all because his teacher decided that a kid who spent all his time handling a puck couldn’t possibly finish a book like Crime and Punishment.
Hayden must have sensed his irritation because she quickly added, “I believe you. It’s just...well, most of the athletes I knew growing up only went to college for the athletic scholarship and just skipped all the academic classes.”
“My parents would have killed me if I’d skipped class. They only allowed me to play hockey if I maintained an A average.”
Hayden looked impressed. “What do your parents do for a living?”
“Dad’s a mechanic, and Mom works in a hair salon.” He paused. “Money was always tight during my childhood.” He resisted the urge to glance around the lavish penthouse, which was an obvious sign that Hayden hadn’t had the same problem growing up.
He wasn’t quite sure why he’d brought up the money part, either. He hated talking about his childhood. Hated thinking about it, too. As much as he loved his parents, he didn’t like to be reminded of how hard life had been to them. How his mom used to stay up at night clipping coupons and how his dad walked to work—even when Michigan’s winter was at its worst—each time their beat-up Chevy truck broke down. Fortunately, his parents would never have to worry about money again, thanks to him.
The phone rang, putting an end to their conversation. Hayden picked up the receiver, then hung up and said room service was on its way.
As she headed for the elevator to greet the bellhop with the cart, Brody turned on the television, flipping through a few channels until finally stopping on the eleven o’clock news.
After rolling the cart into the living room, Hayden uncovered their food and placed a plate in front of him. The aroma of fries and ground beef floated toward him, making his mouth water.
He’d just taken a big bite of his cheeseburger when a familiar face flashed across the screen. He nearly choked on the burger as a wave of unease washed over him.
Hayden had also noticed her father’s image, and she quickly grabbed the remote to turn up the volume. They caught the anchor in midsentence.
“—came forward this afternoon and admitted there is truth to the rumors surrounding the Chicago Warriors franchise. The player, who refused to be named, claims that the bribery and illegal betting activities Warriors owner Presley Houston is accused of are, in fact, true.”
SIXTEEN
Every muscle in Brody’s body coiled tightly as he stared at the screen, wondering if he’d misheard the anchor. Next to him, Hayden made a startled sound.
“An hour ago, the league announced they will be launching a full investigation into these allegations.”
The newscaster went on to recap the allegations that Presley bribed players to throw at least two games at the start of the season, and that he’d placed bets on the outcomes. The divorce was also mentioned, as well as Sheila Houston’s alleged affair with a Warrior, but by that point Brody had tuned out the news segment.
Who the fuck had come forward? It couldn’t be Becker. His friend would’ve called him with a heads-up before he did anything like that.
Craig Wyatt, though, seemed like a likely candidate, especially after what Brody witnessed at the arena that day. The reporters had been pretty rough on Sheila, many of them holding the firm belief that she was lying. If he was having an affair with her, it made sense that Wyatt would step in and try to support the woman.
Brody reached up to rub his throbbing temples. Fuck. He wished he knew which one of his teammates had confessed. Whoever it was, this probably didn’t bode well for tomorrow’s home game. How would anybody be able to focus with a possible criminal investigation hanging over their heads?
“It’s not true.”
Hayden’s soft voice jarred him from his thoughts.
He glanced over to see her big eyes pleading with him.
“Right?” she said wearily. “It’s not true.”
“I don’t know.”
He raked a hand through his hair, then absently picked up a french fry. Not that he had an appetite anymore. The news report had destroyed any desire he had for food. He dropped the fry and looked back at Hayden, who seemed to be waiting expectantly for him to continue.
“I really don’t know. So far, there’s been no proof that your father bribed anyone.”
“So far. But if that report is true...”
Her breath hitched, and her pained expression tore at his heart.
“Were you... Did he...” She sounded tortured, as if saying each word took great effort. “Did he offer you a bribe?” she finally asked.
“Absolutely not.”
“But he could have bribed someone else, another player.”
“He could have,” Brody said guardedly.
She grew silent, looking so achingly sad that he reached over to draw her into his arms. Her hair tickled his chin, the sweet scent of her wafting into his nose. He wanted to kiss her, but it was totally not the time. She was upset, and the way she pressed her head into the crook of his neck and snuggled closer told him she needed comfort at the moment, not sex.
“This is such a mess,” she said, her breath warming his skin. “Dad is already stressed because of the divorce, and now...” She abruptly lifted her head, her lips set in a tight line. “I refuse to believe he did what they’re accusing him of. My dad is a lot of things, but he’s not a criminal.”
The certainty in her eyes was unmistakable, and Brody wisely kept quiet. He’d always admired and respected Presley Houston, but experience had taught him that even people you admired and respected could screw up.
“Whoever came forward has to be lying,” Hayden said firmly. “This will all get cleared up during the investigation. It has to.” She slid close to him again. “I don’t want to think about this anymore. Can we just pretend we didn’t see that? And while we’re at it, we can pretend I came home for a vacation rather than to deal with my father’s problems.” She sighed against his shoulder. “God, a vacation would be so good. I could really use some fun right now.”
He smoothed her hair, loving how soft it felt under his fingers. “What did you have in mind?”