A Better Man (3 page)

Without
him
.

His fault, not th
eirs.

Be careful what you wish
for.

In that moment he realized what he'd missed and he wanted it
back.

“I'm in.” He shot a glare around the room before they scoffed. “It's what Mom and Dad would have wanted. All of us together. Working to save what they labored so hard to build. It's not fair for Ryan to try and do this all on his own. He's a single dad with a little girl to ra
ise.”

Yes, he'd been the worst about putting family first. Hell, he'd never put anyone but himself in that top posi
tion.

Right now his team was headed toward the playoffs without him. He'd never let his team down before. He'd worked his ass off for years to win the Cup. But he was thirty-­three years old and for most of his life, it had been all about him. All about hockey. All about what
he
wanted,
he
needed, and
he
desired. He didn't even know the other side of the coin. He didn't know how to give unless there were skates on his feet and a stick in his hand. He had a contract, and the team owner and Coach Reiner expected him to return any day. The team expected him back with his head in game-­winning condition. But right now all he wanted was to grieve his parents and reconnect with the people in this
room.

“I'm in a hundred percent,” he confi
rmed.

“We appreciate the sentiment, Jordy. And no offense, but your team is racking up the wins and it looks like they're headed to the playoffs.” Ryan shrugged. “How can you be
in
with a schedule like t
hat?”

Declan, Ethan, and Parker all shot him looks of doubt. Aunt Pippy sighed. Nicole glared. The attorney suddenly found the papers in his hand fascina
ting.

“I'll work it
out.”

Getting back in his family's good graces was all that mattered. Right now he couldn't pinpoint the moment or exact reason he'd backed off. Hopefully he'd have plenty of time to figure it out and correct the error of his
ways.

He clasped his hands together, dropped them between his knees, and looked his wary family in the eye. “All I need is a cha
nce.”

W
hen the drizzling rain stopped, Jordan stepped outside onto the large stone deck lined with potted plants and trailing flowers that overlooked the acres of sprouting grapevines. Once the fruit ripened they'd create the flavorful white and rich red wines his father had desi
gned.

As a young man, Jordan hadn't been the least bit interested in how the wines were made. Yet his father had insisted that Jordan see and understand the things his grandfather had created. To know the hard work that had been put into the beginnings of something meant for generations of their family to apprec
iate.

Jordan realized now what his father had been trying to tell him. To teach him. And he'd let the importance slip
away.

Never a
gain.

Around him the vibrant green rolling hills merged with the meandering creek in a tranquil scene that brought a calm to his soul. When this place had belonged to his grandfather it had been modest. Nothing fancy. More like hippieville than a real busi
ness.

Jordan breathed in the fresh, rain-­scented air, surprised when memories sprang up and a sting of misplaced jealousy stabbed through
him.

Before he could dwell on it, the French doors opened and Ryan stepped out onto the patio carrying two glasses of wine. He set them on a nearby table and grabbed Jordan in a bear
hug.

“Damn, it's good to have you h
ome.”

Immense pleasure from his brother's powerful embrace surrounded Jordan like a warm security bla
nket.

“It's good to be h
ome.”

“Those brothers of ours can't play hoops worth a shit. At least while you're here tell me we'll play a game or two and wipe the court with t
hem.”

“D
one.”

The backslapping ended and Ryan picked up the glasses. “Try this.” He handed Jordan a glass of deep red
wine.

“What is
it?”

“Euphoria. The Cabernet Syrah Dad's been working on perfecting over the last couple of ye
ars.”

Jordan's throat tightened as he held the glass up to the light. Swirled, sniffed, then sipped. “Nice notes of vanilla and chocol
ate.”

“Yeah. It's almost there.” Ryan drank from his own glass. “Still had too much of a peppery taste for Dad's lik
ing.”

“I'm sure you'll get it figured out.” Jordan looked out over the property again and that sting of misplaced jealousy struck again. “Do you remember when we used to spend summer vacations h
ere?”

“Yeah.” Ryan chuckled. “I figure we climbed about half of these tr
ees.”

“At least.” Jordan sipped the wine. “I remember hiking through the forest, wading through the creek, and pretending we were worldly explor
ers.”

“Bunch of dumb kids is what we were.” Ryan turned and leaned back against the stone fence. “You remember that rickety wire net we begged Grandpa to nail up to the side of the old barn so we could play ho
ops?”

“I remember being the only one tall enough to get anywhere near making a basket.” Jordan squinted against the sunshine that suddenly peeked out from behind a fat gray cloud. “And I remember the campfires we built on the banks of the creek so we could toast marshmall
ows.”

“Damn near burned down the forest a time or
two.”

“Remember when Grandma came out swinging her rolling pin at us, then made Grandpa finally teach us how to build a safe f
ire?”

They both laughed at the vision of their grandmother in her calico dress, apron, and snea
kers.

“The thing I remember most about Grandma was her waffles and blackberry syrup,” Ryan said. “And the linen closet she'd clear out so we could build tents with her sheets and sleep out beneath the st
ars.”

Jordan smiled and nodded. “And the ghost stor
ies.”

“Ah, damn.” Ryan grinned. “I forgot about those. 'Bout scared the hell out of Ethan a time or
two.”

“It was a great way to spend a sum
mer.”

Until for Jordan, one day the fun had stopped and the work b
egan.

While his brothers continued to spend weeks away from the suffocating Philly heat and humidity, he'd stayed behind to attend hockey camps. From the moment he'd turned thirteen, his summers had meant waking up at the crack of dawn and hitting the ice to accomplish his dream. Back then he'd never given a second thought to the fact that his brothers all remained together those summers, bonding, while he became a solitary and detached
man.

Caught up in the day-­to-­day survival of the NHL, he'd never given much thought to the consequences of his dream or his actions. Hell, for fifteen years he'd never considered what he'd do after hockey. He'd never given a thought to where he'd live or what he'd do with so much time on his hands. God knew, thanks to the hefty paycheck he brought in and his financial whiz brother, he had plenty of money to do whatever he wanted and never work another day again in his life. But then
what?

If he wasn't a hockey player, what wa
s he?

If he wasn't a brother,
who
wa
s he?

“I miss those days,” he
said.

“Yeah.” Ryan drained his glass. “Good times. Is that what you were out here contemplat
ing?”

“Naw. Mostly I was thinking about the multiple ways I've fucked up,” Jordan answered hone
stly.

“How's t
hat?”

“I walked away from all this.” He waved his empty glass at their surroundings. “From all of you. Guess I've had my head up my ass for a long t
ime.”

Though Jordan was an inch taller and a foot wider than his big brother, Ryan smacked the back of his
head.

“Ow!”

“You don't get to feel sorry for yours
elf.”

“I'm not. I'm just sorry that I missed out on so much. Hell, I barely even know our sister. She looks at me like I've got two fire-­breathing heads. I don't know what kind of music she likes. Or if she has a boyfriend. Or even if she gets good gra
des.”

“Currently she does
n't.”

“That su
cks.”

“Yeah. I can't imagine losing Mom and Dad are going to help her any,” Ryan said. “She was pretty much Mom's little princess. Got everything she ever wanted except .
 . .”

“Except . .
 . ?”

“Dad's attent
ion.”

“You're kidding, right? After five boys you'd think Dad would have finally gotten what he wan
ted.”

“I think Mom got what
she
wan
ted.”

Jordan's head snapped up and he studied the grim look on his brother's face. “What the hell do you mean by t
hat?”

“I don't want to get into this right now. We just buried our parents. It's not the right time or place.” Ryan shook his head, then leaned his forearms on the railing and looked out over the vineyard. “Might never
be.”

“Not fair, Ryan. If you know something, you should sh
are.”

“I don't know anything. Just going by my
gut.”

“Well if your gut is grumbling about something other than Parker's appetizers, then you should definitely sp
ill.”

Ryan turned his head and looked Jordan in the eye. “Are you serious about being
in
to this whole thing a hundred perc
ent?”

“I'm many things, but never a liar,” Jordan said, knowing he couldn't get pissed about his brother asking such a question or doubting
him.

“What about your car
eer?”

Jordan shrugged. “I'll figure it
out.”

“Good to know. Because Nicki's going to need some guidance. Not that I don't love her and not that she isn't important, but I've got my hands full with business and dealing with Riley. She's devastated about losing her grandparents and she needs all my focus and attention right
now.”

“I can imagine.” Jordan figured after being abandoned by her mother, little Riley didn't take losing people lig
htly.

“If you're truly going to stick around for a while . . .” Ryan reached into his back pocket, pulled out a folded piece of paper, and handed it to Jordan. “How about you be a good brother and handle t
his.”

“What is
it?”

“A good time guaranteed.” Ryan touched two fingers to his forehead in a salute. “If you need me, I'll be at the off
ice.”

Jordan set his empty wineglass down on the patio railing, unfolded the note, and began to
read.

“No. Fucking. Way.”

Chapter 3

F
or the second time in a matter of minutes, Lucy Diamond nudged the pencil holder on her desk a micro millimeter to the left. The movement was so infinitesimal no one except her would ever notice. She swept her hands across the ink blotter that covered the battered desktop, then settled a thick file folder in the middle. With a sigh, she flipped open the binder and reread the entry on the top
page.

Most students took Lucy's creative writing class in their senior year because they thought it would be an easy A grade. A fun class where you didn't have to work hard or study things like frog guts or whether two circles both of radii 6 had exactly one point in common. No homework. Easy assignm
ents.

And they were r
ight.

For the most part it
was
a fun class, but during the three years Lucy had taught at Sunshine Valley High, her students had continuously been disappointed to realize it wasn't an easy A. And yes, there was home
work.

Seventeen-­year-­old Nicole Kincade was a prime example of a brilliant mind with crappy follow-­through. The girl had potential most didn't discover until their later years. But it seemed lately that Nicole was more distracted than ever. Quiet. Despondent. Teenagers were often moody and withdrawn, but when a normally bubbly, outgoing girl suddenly became introverted and sullen, red flags started waving. Lucy genuinely cared about the girl, thus the reason she'd put in the call to Nicole's par
ents.

Mrs. Kincade had informed Lucy that she and her husband were about to leave for a Hawaiian vacation, so she'd made an appointment to conference when they retu
rned.

But they weren't coming
back.

And that changed everyt
hing.

Lucy's heart broke for the family. Even more for Nicole, who'd already been living deep in a well of teenage a
ngst.

A few days after Nicole's parents' funeral might seem the wrong time to discuss the future of her education, but Lucy believed it was important. Nicole was important. And finding out the reason behind her behavioral change was vital. Lucy was thankful and relieved to know that Ryan, the oldest of the Kincade brothers, intended to follow through with the meeting even though his burdens and grief must be overwhelming right
now.

A quick glance at the clock told Lucy he was late, but due to the nature of the situation she didn't mind. She'd wait until however long it took for him to show. To pass the time she got up and walked around the room, nudging the whiteboard eraser into place, straightening the books on a shelf, anything to keep her busy until the single dad, who now was most likely Nicole's legal guardian, arr
ived.

Behind her the door creaked
open.

She turned with a smile that immediately faltered when she found not Ryan, but Jordan Kincade, standing in the doorway to her classroom, wearing dark sunglasses, a black leather jacket, a gray chest-­hugging T-­shirt, and jeans. At least a day's worth of scruff darkened his strong jawline, and the man looked like he should either be on the cover of
Badass
magazine or starring in a woman's fan
tasy.

An army of unwanted memories marched up the back of her neck. She pushed her glasses a little higher on her nose and breathed deep to calm the sudden onslaught of ne
rves.

The last time she'd seen the man he'd been a boy. A really cute boy who'd been nice to her, had even flirted with her a little, and then had rendered her speechless when during one of their tutoring sessions he'd asked her to the after-­graduation dance. Of course she'd immediately turned him down because no way had he been ser
ious.

Throughout high school she'd never had a boy ask her out. They'd barely even looked at her. She'd never gone to a dance. Heck, she hadn't even known
how
to d
ance.

Thanks to her father's inglorious swan dive into a never-­ending bottle of cheap whiskey and her mother's choice to follow, Lucy didn't openly trust people back in those days. Her parents had given up on life and given up on her. Their lack of interest and constant berating hadn't served well as a confidence builder. Instead of each other, they targeted her with their ugly, slurred remarks. To survive she'd become a stealth ninja in the art of being invis
ible.

Invisibility offered her protection from the vicious words and heartache that often kept her awake at night. It made the mean girls at school look the other way. When someone else became their victim, Lucy felt a slap of cowardly guilt because she was thankful that at least it hadn't been
her.

So for someone as good-­looking and popular as Jordan Kincade to ask
her
to the dance when he could have had any girl in the entire school didn't make sense. It had to have been a t
rick.

Stubborn to the bone, he hadn't accepted her rejec
tion.

He'd asked her again and again, flashing her a smile so honest and sincere she'd finally chosen to climb out of her cocoon and pretend she could be like any of those other girls. She wanted to believe that he could really see beyond her average looks, her thick glasses, and her thrift store clothes. She'd wanted to trust that he truly wanted to be with
her
. Not Priscilla O'Neal, who wore the newest fashions and had the ta-­tas to fill out her tight-­fitting blouses. Not Amy Henderson, who had a quick smile to match her fast reputation. And not Leslie Meyer, who was gorgeous and was actually very
kind.

After Lucy finally accepted his invitation she'd been so excited she hadn't been able to sleep. She'd broken into her college savings and bought a brand-­new dress for the dance. She'd had her hair professionally cut and styled, and she'd learned how to apply makeup without looking like a streetwa
lker.

During the graduation ceremony, which her parents had been too drunk to attend, Jordan had caught her eye several times and given her a smile that had sent a crazy spiral of happy through her heart. After the ceremony ended she rushed home to get ready for the d
ance.

He never showe
d up.

Wearing the pretty blue dress she'd spent hours selecting, she'd sat in her room until midnight. Waiting. Wondering what she'd done wrong. Wondering if his invitation had just been a cruel prank. Feeling miserable in her teenage heart that she could so easily be disregarded. Feeling sad that Jordan Kincade had disappointed her by being just like all the
rest.

Above all, she'd felt stupid for falling into the
trap.

Sure, she knew her place in the school hierarchy. She was the quiet, smart girl everyone needed as a tutor but no boy wanted to kiss. She wore glasses, a ponytail of mousy brown hair, and an ever-­present backpack of books slung over her shoulders. At the time she'd been more concerned with studying her way out of her living situation than she'd been with catching anyone's
eye.

Some things never cha
nged.

She still preferred glasses to contacts, felt more comfortable pulling her now red and gold highlighted hair back in a ponytail or messy bun, and opted for her trusty Keds over classic pumps. But today, she was a different person. Stronger because of the things she'd lived through. Smarter because she'd found a way to survive and come out the other side in a happy place. She knew
exactly
where she belonged, and that was teaching and helping students like Nicki. Which was why, right now, she was going to pull on her big girl panties and face the boy who had disappointed her hea
d-­on.

Lucy managed to pull herself together as Jordan removed his sunglasses and slid them to the top of his head. His smile lifted a masculine pair of lips that somehow managed to look cruel and sexy at the same
time.

The boy had turned into a man times
ten.

Tall and broad-­shouldered, he had a chest that looked a mile wide. Judging by the smooth ripples beneath his snug shirt he was packing muscle, not pounds. Jeans, worn and frayed at the stress points, accented his long muscular legs and trim waist. His longish, nearly black hair gleamed beneath the overhead lights. And his sharp blue eyes focused intently on
her.

It was all she could do to keep her heart at a normal pace and her legs solidly beneath her. If ever a man could be described as
delicious
, Jordan Kincade would be a menu's specialty of the
day.

Too bad he was such a
jerk.

“Ms. Diamond?” He came forward and stretched out his very large hand. “Jordan Kinc
ade.”

And clearly he didn't remember
her.

Lucy smiled as a funny little tickle moved through her chest. Maybe this was going to be fun after all. Rarely was she ever given the upper hand or the opportunity to have even the slightest
edge.

When he moved closer his warm palm engulfed hers, and her triumph died with a si
zzle.

Close up she got a better look. She inhaled his sexy scent of worn leather and warm man. Every square inch of her female DNA perked up like it was party time. She hated to disappoint the little darlings but today was all about helping someone
else.

“Please.” She kept the handshake brief and formal before she disengaged and motioned toward the chair in front of her desk. “Have a s
eat.”

He glanced at the standard school chair with a you've-­got-­to-­be-­kidding-­me lift of his brows. When he sat down, the orange plastic chair creaked and seemed ridiculously small beneath the scope of his height and mus
cles.

Lucy took her own seat and noticed that the difference in chairs made her tower over him and seemingly give her another advantage. But when he leaned back and crossed an ankle over a knee, he appeared completely comfort
able.

So much for one-­upman
ship.

“I apologize if I seemed taken aback just now.” She opened the folder and pulled out Nicole's progress report as well as several exams and the few assignments Nicole had actually turned in. Late, of course, but complete nonetheless. “I expected your brother R
yan.”

“He had business at the vineyard and sends his regr
ets.”

She couldn't help noticing how very deep and smooth his voice had become. Like hot buttered rum on a cold winter night. He had the kind of voice a woman could imagine whispering sweet nothings in her ear while he caressed her in places that tingled beneath his t
ouch.

“I understand.” Snapping out of the fantasy, she imagined the enormous scope of duties Ryan Kincade must need to tend to after the death of their parents. Her heart sank a little further for the family. Especially for Nicole, who was so young and really needed the love and guidance of her mom and dad. “I hope you'll accept my condolences. And I sincerely apologize for having you come down at this sorrowful time to deal with what might seem insignificant
but—­”

“Anything regarding my sister is important, Ms. Diamond. Now more than ever.” His brows dipped in a no-­nonsense fashion. “So don't judge me when you don't even know
me.”

Oh, she knew
him.

Knew he was the type who'd make a promise, then shatter it without ever looking
back.

But that was then, and this was
now.

“My apologies, Mr. Kincade. That was certainly not my int
ent.”

His piercing eyes perused her face for a long, uncomfortable moment and she had to admit that the look did something funny to the beat of her h
eart.

Especially when with a slight tilt of his head he asked, “Why do you look so famil
iar?”

“Do I?” That erratic heartbeat kicked up another notch as she let go a chuckle to cover up what was really going on inside. “People say that all the time. I guess I just have one of those fa
ces.”

She pushed Nicole's schoolwork in his direction. “If you'll take a look at these projects, you'll see that even though she didn't complete the assignment exactly as it was defined, Nicole has an enormous g
ift.”

“I'm pretty sure that's a
lie.”

“Excuse me?” Irritated, Lucy's gaze shot up to the slight smile curling his lips. “How can you say that without even reading anything? I guarantee your sister has a multitude of tal
ent.”

“I'm not talking about my sister's work. I'm talking about
you
just having ‘one of those faces.'
” He uncrossed his long, muscular legs and leaned forward without even looking at the papers she'd put in front of him. “So now I'm wondering why you sidestepped my quest
ion.”

Good God, the man was intense. There was something in the combination of that nearly black hair that fell over his ears and his nape in perfect waves and those deep blue eyes that seemed almost otherworldly. She could imagine how he'd intimidate an opponent on the
ice.

And it had nothing to do with his
size.

But as far as admitting who she really was? Not going to happen. No need to dredge up a bad memory when all she really wanted was to help his si
ster.

“I apologize.” Her heart beat erratically as she avoided the intensity of his gaze. “But I would like to stick to the subject of your sister's grades—­or lack thereof—­that may prevent her from graduating with the rest of her class. I genuinely care about her, which is why I noticed a problem way before the loss of your pare
nts.”