“Oh my God!” Tina squeaked, her hand fluttering to her chest. “How long have you been sitting there?”
“If you’re wondering whether I heard you and my brother having sex, the answer is . . . kind of. The argument that followed was a lot louder, hence unmissable. Then he storms out of here and drives off without a word. Like I asked before, what the hell?”
“You shouldn’t eavesdrop.”
“I live here. If you want privacy, move your liaisons next door . . . although that’s not much better. The walls are paper thin.”
Tina peered at the book on his chest, and her eyebrows flew to her hairline when she recognized it for what it was.
“That’s a baby book,” she pointed out.
“I know,” he responded drily.
“Why do you have it?”
“Because I’d rather not continue being a shitty father.”
Not sure how to respond to that, Tina stared at him for a moment before slumping, not in the mood to spar with Greyson.
“I have to go. Tell Harris . . .” She paused. There really was nothing to say, and she shrugged helplessly.
“Martine, for what it’s worth . . . ,” Greyson began, and she lifted her eyes to meet his solemn gaze. “My brother would never intentionally do anything to hurt you. Not ten years ago and not now. That ridiculous bet was so out of character that it makes me question the circumstances surrounding it.”
“You knew about the bet?” she asked miserably, fresh humiliation washing over her, nearly crushing her beneath its weight.
“Only after the fact. Jonah Spade spoke of it to me precisely once, and to my knowledge he has never, and will never, speak of it again.” Greyson looked so threatening in that moment that Tina actually gulped. “He was also ostracized from our group immediately after that.”
“Does Smith know?” she asked, terrified of what the answer would be, and when she looked up, she was shocked to find a look of tenderness in Greyson’s usually enigmatic gaze.
“Of course he doesn’t, Tina.” It was the first time ever that she had heard him use the shortened version of her name. His voice warm and so compassionate she had a hard time keeping her tears at bay. “I can guarantee Jonah Spade and his cohorts would all have been permanently injured if Smith ever got wind of it. And, quite frankly, even though Harris sometimes annoys the hell out of me, he’s still my brother, and I dread to think what Smith would have done to Harris if he ever found out. It was selfish of me, but that’s one of the reasons I quashed any and all potential rumors.”
Even at twenty, Greyson Chapman had been a formidably resourceful man. He had only gotten more dangerous over the years. Which was why it was so bizarre to see him still clutching that baby book to his chest.
Before she could think about it too closely, Tina crossed the living room and bent down to drop a kiss on Greyson’s cheek. He looked completely disconcerted by the unsolicited show of affection and blinked at her in shock before flushing like a schoolboy.
“Thank you, Greyson,” she said and left before he could utter another word.
Chapter Twelve
He should go home. Harris had lost count of how often that thought had crossed his mind over the course of the week. Now it was Saturday, and he was standing in the middle of a sports field, freezing his balls off because he’d been dumb enough to allow Spencer Carlisle of Carlisle Sporting Solutions to kit him out in football gear for the big match. Oldies versus young’uns, or something like that. A group of thirtysomethings playing a group of teens from the youth-outreach program, all in the name of charity.
The best thing that could be said about this game was that Tina was here. MJ’s was one of the sponsors of the event and was providing refreshments for the spectators and halftime snacks for the players.
She was sitting in the stands with Spencer’s hugely pregnant wife, whom Harris had met in passing earlier. The woman was the genius who was helping Tina with her marketing. Harris had seen flyers advertising the restaurant all over town, a flattering review in the paper yesterday, and a lot of hype around MJ’s sponsorship for tonight’s event. People were paying attention, and it was showing; whenever Harris had dropped into the restaurant this week, there had been more asses in seats than during those first few days. He was happy for Tina; he knew she had to be relieved. Even though he couldn’t be sure.
They hadn’t spoken since their argument on Tuesday.
He’d returned home from his frustrated drive to Plettenberg Bay and back again to find the pendant on his side table. He had slipped it into the drawer and hadn’t worn it since. He kept thinking of her referring to it as a keepsake of the worst night of her life, and the thought of having it touch his skin after that made him feel physically ill.