A Better Man (27 page)

Still, her behavior made him cur
ious.

Ryan frowned. “We hired an investigator and a fresh pair of accounting eyes. We should have a report in the next week or so. Until then, we need to discuss what we're going to do about having someone live here in the main house with Nicki. Obviously she needs a full-­time in-­house guardian. She doesn't turn eighteen for several months, and even then, until she goes off to college, she can't be left alone. I can't uproot Riley from her home and routine. She's had a tough time of it alre
ady.”

“No shit,” Ethan said. “Poor
kid.”

“I can stay the nights when the food truck doesn't run,” Parker offered. “But driving here every single night from Portland and being back at four a.m. would be a bi
tch.”

“I can come back in a couple of weeks and help out,” Declan
said.

“I can stay for a few weeks.” Ethan ran a hand through his newly cut hair. Jordan was happy to see the beard gone too. “Fire season doesn't start for a little while. I got an offer to fight fires down in Florida this month but I'll just take a leave of abse
nce.”

“I want to help,” Jordan said. “But everything rides on what's going to happen next week in Dallas. If we win the series we go to round one of the playoffs. Then there's a game every other day for almost a week at a time. But I don't want to let Nicki or you guys d
own.”

“We're big boys,” Ryan said. “We can take care of ourselves. The playoffs are a big deal for you. We'll manage until your season is over. Then we'll reestablish where we st
and.”

“You sure? I'd walk on my contract but it would cost me around four mil. And I figure we could probably use that money around here for upgra
des.”

“Jesus.” Declan's eyes widened. “Four million? Don't you dare walk away from that. We'll make this w
ork.”

“I'm just worried about Nicki feeling like we're tossing her around like a ball,” Jordan said. “Like none of us can stick long enough to make her feel like she's important. But she
is.”

Aunt Pippy wandered back into the room without a new pot of coffee, giving them all the idea that she'd been in the kitchen eavesdrop
ping.

“You boys have got your hands full right now. Best thing is for me to stay with her,” Pippy said. “She's a might touchy these days. Maybe having a woman around full-­time will give her someone to talk
to.”

It made sense for their aunt to stay with Nicole. She'd been retired for several years and didn't work at anything other than keeping up with the local gossip. But that didn't make Jordan feel any less guilty for not being able to step in to help out like he said he would. He was doing exactly what he'd sworn he wouldn't do because he'd yet to find a way to make everything
work.

Maybe Lucy was right. Maybe he needed less to focu
s on.

Only one problem with
that.

Walking away from Lucy took away a whole lot of inspiration. He not only wanted her in his life, he needed
her.

B
eing home felt good, but odd. Lucy hadn't slept in her own bed for almost a week. That had
never
happened before. And she never thought she'd hate sleeping alone. But she did. She missed having Jordan curled up against her, his warmth, and feeling safe when he had his arms around her. She'd only been with him a few days, yet it felt like a lifetime. She'd have to get used to things without him. And that didn't sound like much fun either. Even poor Ziggy looked a little sad. Not that he'd liked being in an apartment, but the extra attention he'd gotten from both Jordan and Nicole had been pretty g
reat.

But life now had to go on without Jordan, and in order to handle that reality, Lucy needed to streamline her focus on things other than tall, dark, and h
unky.

She needed to check on Mrs. B. Yes, Lucy knew the sweet old lady's children could take care of her, but that didn't stop Lucy from worrying or caring. The stack of mail and newspapers on top of her kitchen table weren't going to get any smaller if she kept walking by and ignoring them, so she grabbed a cup of coffee and sat down to go through everything. Junk mail, pizza coupons, and other delightful garbage were stuck in between her gas and electric bills. When her phone rang she considered it a saving grace from the rest of the envel
opes.

“Do
not
read today's issue of
Talk of the Town
.” Claudia's voice on the other end of the line sounded pani
cked.

“Why?” Curiosity soared; she pushed aside the mail to grab the local paper buried beneath. Reading the headline, she choked on a
gasp.

“I told you not to l
ook.”

“Oh my God.” Her eyes scanned the article but she couldn't comprehend anything past the shock. Her nightmare had come
true.

“I'm so sorry, Lucy. I know you're a very private person. Although I can't help being a bit miffed that you didn't tell me there was something going
on.”

“There isn't. I just went along to help out with his sister.” Lying really wasn't her thing, and yet, in this circumstance, telling the truth would only hurt
more.

“That's not what the look he's giving you s
ays.”

“Don't misinterpret that for anything other than gratit
ude.”

“Sure, go ahead. Ruin my fantasy that you finally found someone to l
ove.”

She
had.

Her chest tightened as she tried to end the call before she broke down in tears. “I guess I'll see you on Monday.
If
I still have a
job.”

“You didn't break any rules,” Claudia said. “You're an adult. It was spring break. You're allowed to spend the time any way you w
ant.”

She'd slept with a student's brother. There had to be a rule against
that.

“Even if you say otherwise, I do hope you managed to have a little fun,” Claudia added before she hun
g up.

For once, she'd had more than
fun.

And now she had to pay the p
rice.

Hot tea burned her throat as she reread the article. When she read the part the editor/pathetic-­excuse-­for-­a-­journalist had interjected into the story, the words burned like acid around her h
eart.

For some reason, Margaret Brickridge had dragged the Kincade family name into the slop by questioning the behavior of
all
the brot
hers.

Lucy wasn't a person who normally lost her temper, but at that moment she needed a fire extinguisher to put out the fl
ames.

T
he old building on Main Street that housed
Talk of the Town
had a deceptively businesslike exterior. Yet most of the garbage they printed was nothing but outrageous tales and gossip without any verification. As Lucy pushed open the door, she wondered why anyone would want to lie and stir up a hornet's
nest.

Margaret Brickridge appeared as ancient as the mountains surrounding the town when she came to the front desk with a walking cane and a stiff back. The woman had been editor of the gossip rag for over fifty years, and from what Lucy could see, she needed to re
tire.

“What can I do for you?” Mrs. Brickridge asked in a bitter tone that let Lucy know she was accustomed to people showing up in her office ready to un
load.

Lucy set the morning's paper on the counter and gathered up her courage. No wimping out. No backing down. No taking no for an answer. “You need to retract this st
ory.”

“Now why would I do that?” The woman looked up through squinted hazel
eyes.

“It's garbage and l
ies.”

“Says
who?”

Lucy gritted her teeth. “If you're going to print such absurdity you should probably be more aware of who you're writing about and take the time to get some clarification on matt
ers.”

The woman leaned closer, took a good look at Lucy, and snickered. “So you're the teac
her.”

“Yes, I'm the teacher who has nothing romantically going on with Mr. Kincade.” At least not any
more.

“Well, once a story is inked I've got no recou
rse.”

“Of course you do. You can print a retract
ion.”

“The article originally ran in the
North Carolina Observer
. So why would
I
want to retract
it?”

“Because you added to the original story. Why would you do t
hat?”

The woman shrugged her stooped shoulders. “It's a local interest story. I've always had a hankering to be one of those
Weekly World News
journalists. Figured I'd just spice it up a lit
tle.”

“At the detriment to a local fam
ily?”

“Haven't you heard the old sayings, ‘If it bleeds it leads' and ‘Scandal sells'? A retraction now won't mean s
pit.”

The door opened behind her but Lucy was too fired up to
care.

“A retraction
will
matter.” Lucy inhaled a deep breath. “Look. You can make up all the lies you want about me, I'll survive. But I won't let you drag the Kincade family's good name through the mud. They're nice, respectable people who've recently suffered an unspeakable tragedy. They run a successful business in this town and they don't deserve your acid tongue. Why do you want to be so mean anyway? Does causing people heartache make you happy? Do you sleep well at night knowing you've made someone's life misera
ble?”

The newspaper editor opened her mouth, then snapped it shut when Lucy continued her
rant.

“If you don't print a retraction and apologize to the Kincade family, I will personally sit outside your office and protest, as I'm sure will some of the others you've offended over the years. Gossip is vicious and the damage done never goes away. Someone needs to show you how it feels to be on the receiving end. I don't mind being that per
son.”

Lucy exhaled, straightened her shoulders, and gave the woman her nastiest glare. “Now what do you have to
say?”

“I say bravo.” The comment came not from Mrs. Brickridge but a deep male voice directly over Lucy's shoulder. Though she'd know that voice anywhere, she spun ar
ound.

“What are you doing h
ere?”

S
omething crazy fluttered in Jordan's chest as he smiled at the woman who seemed to have changed everything in his life. “Watching you stand up to a town men
ace.”

“Some people deserve it.” She turned back to the newspaper editor and pointed a finger. “I meant what I said. Push me and you'll find out how fast I'll push b
ack.”

A wave of emotion washed over Jordan as Lucy stepped around him and marched out the door. His immediate instinct was to follow. But like her, he'd come to the newspaper office for a re
ason.

“You run this place?” he asked the elderly woman with features so pinched he couldn't imagine that face would ever crack a s
mile.

“That's right. Don't tell me you've got a gripe
too.”

He gave her his negotiating face—­the expression he used when he found himself sitting across the desk from someone he knew was going to try and screw him
over.

“I'm not the type of person to
gripe
.” He planted his hands on the counter. “I'm the type of person who takes action. I don't know how you've gotten away with spreading lies and gossip for so long, but it's time for it to s
top.”

The woman folded her sagging arms across her drooping breasts. “Is that
so?”

“Yes. That's so. Tomorrow I expect you to print a special edition of your rag paper with a retraction for your addition to the story and an apology to Ms. Diam
ond.”

“And who are you to tell me what to
do?”

“You really should know the subjects of your lies better. Like, maybe take a look at the photos you pr
int.”

The woman looked down at the paper lying on the counter. When she looked up at him, he knew she had it figured
out.

“The way I see it, I don't figure many people have the means to hire the biggest badass attorney on the planet to sue you. I do. And if I don't see that apology tomorrow, I'll shut you down so fast you'll see stars spinning over your h
ead.”

He didn't give her a chance to respond. He'd said his piece, now it was time to catch up with the woman who, at her own expense, had taken a bold stand on his family's be
half.

L
ucy unlocked her front door, threw her purse in a nearby chair, and flopped down on the sofa. Her heart pounded like a trapped rabbit and her throat felt as dry as a summer day in Death Valley. Ziggy wandered in and settled his big head on her leg, waiting to be pe
tted.

She hadn't given much thought to what she'd say or do once she got to the newspaper office; she'd been running on pure emo
tion.

Something she seemed to be doing a lot these
days.

Since Jordan had come back into her life, she'd been jumping in all different directions. Behaving like she normally wouldn't. Stepping outside her comfort zone. Agreeing to things that were a huge
risk.