A Better Man (5 page)

“You don't know jack about what goes on around here.” Dark, arched brows pulled together over her red-­rimmed eyes. “And by the way, if you're trying to convince me you're suddenly a good guy, that's not saying much for yours
elf.”

“I'm not trying to convince you of anything. But one thing you'll learn about me is that I don't lie. It's a complete waste of time. When I've screwed up, I'll be the first one to admit
it.”

He didn't take her silence for submission. More than likely she was just loading up on more ammo to shoot in his direc
tion.

“I talked to your teacher to
day.”

“Which one. I've got seven. But then you wouldn't know that, would you. Because you haven't been home for almost a y
ear.”

“I get it, Nicole.” His hands tightened on the back of the chair. “I've been a bad brother. I haven't been home for almost a year and you hate me. The problem is, none of that negative energy is going to help your grades or help you graduate with the rest of your class. So how about we save the I-­hate-­my-­brother venom for later and move the discussion to why it is you don't do your assignments? Or better yet, let's talk about why you choose to put the effort into whatever the hell you want to write about instead of what everyone else is do
ing?”

“Because everyone else is doing the same boring th
ing.”

“And you don't want to be like everybody e
lse?”

She gave him a look that silently screamed,
Duh
.

“But in order to pass the class you have to do what's expected of
you.”

“And in order to be a part of the family . . . di
tto.”

God, he needed a drink. Preferably something ninety proof with an extra kick in the afterburn. For whatever reason, Nicole was looking for attention. He didn't know from whom, but she was sending a message loud and c
lear.

“Didn't we just have this conversation?” he asked. “I get it. You hate me. Can we just talk about
you
for a min
ute?”

“Why did you come back?” she asked, arms folded again, chin jutted. “For the mo
ney?”

“
Money?
” Was she serious? “Sorry to disappoint you, sis, but I don't need any of Mom and Dad's money. I've made more on my own than I'll ever be able to sp
end.”

“Must be nice.” Her lips curled in a sneer. Since he figured she wasn't about to burst into an Elvis impersonation, he took it for what it was—­another wallop of attitude. “Hope it was a good replacement for your
fam
ily
.”

This was going nowhere. Until she chose to cut him some slack he had to dish out the brotherly advice in small amounts. He stood and pushed the vanity chair back in p
lace.

“Leaving so soon?” The bitterness in her tone scratched through his heart like a rusty
nail.

“Just giving you a chance to pull yourself together so we can talk in a more civil manner.” He took the few steps that brought him right beside her bed, where she glared up at him, sneer firmly in place. “So don't get your hopes up. I'm not going any farther than downstairs. And I'll be back soon to make sure you start doing your school assignments so you can gradu
ate.”

“Good luck with that.” She dismissed him by turning her
back.

“Luck has always been on my side, little sister.” Jordan closed the door behind him, and his shoulders dropped on a long sigh. He felt like he'd just been slammed into the boards by Andre the Giant. When he finally shook off the acid she'd spewed, he headed down the stairs and met Declan at the halfway p
oint.

His twin looked him over. “I see you've still got your hide attac
hed.”

“Barely. She hates me, that's for s
ure.”

“You tell her to get in l
ine?”

The smile on his twin's face told Jordan the comment was in good humor, but at the moment not a damn thing seemed f
unny.

“I know everyone grieves in different ways,” he said, “but Nicki sure seems a lot more angry than
sad.”

Dec's broad shoulders came up in a shrug. “Maybe she's having boyfriend probl
ems.”

“I think it's more likely she's having brother probl
ems.”

His brother glanced up the stairs. “I know you haven't been around much to know all her idiosyncrasies, but if you ask me she's needed a personality adjustment for a wh
ile.”

“You have any idea
why?”

Dec shrugged. “Guess I haven't been around as much as I should have eit
her.”

The answer gave Jordan no new insight, but the burn in the pit of his stomach led him to believe that something bad was lurking beneath the surface. His curiosity and concern deepened. He stuck his hands in his pockets and curled his fingers around the keys to his rented SUV. Before now the desire to run would have been too great to pass up. Instead he let go of the
keys.

“How long are you sticking around?” Jordan a
sked.

“Ryan asked me to look over the accounts,” Dec said. “So I'll be here about a week.
You?”

His team was playing their first game without him tonight. The coach had given him only a week off and he'd already surpassed that. But he'd given his word to the family that he'd be all in and he tried to never break a promise. Although he was sure if you asked Lucinda Nutter, aka Ms. Diamond, she'd probably have a different opi
nion.

And why the hell had she popped into his head at a time like
this?

“I told you,” Jordan said, “I'm all
in.”

“Your team is heading toward the playoffs. How are you going to manage t
hat?”

Jordan shrugged. “Like I said, I'll figure it
out.”

And he hoped to God he c
ould.

Chapter 5

I
n his younger years as a hockey player, Jordan had burned off excessive energy with partying, women, or both. He'd put in his time hanging with his teammates, playing darts, and tilting a longneck until the wee hours—­even if they had a game the next day. He'd gone into more than one battle on the ice with a hangover pounding through his skull and twisting through his sto
mach.

Age had a way of putting your brain cells back to better
use.

He entered Sunshine's twenty-­four-­hour gym prepared to burn off the frustration from his disastrous talk with Nicole. From his perspective their
chat
had been an epic fail. If Ryan weren't such a standup guy, Jordan would wonder if he'd been intentionally set up for the ass kicking his little sister had delivered. But revenge had never been Ryan's s
tyle.

The gym was small by Jordan's standards, but it had the proper equipment to make him sweat out his irritation. An upbeat workout tune played from the overhead sound system as he approached the compact and fit guy at the reception desk. Judging by the patriotic tats on his forearms, Jordan guessed the guy was former mili
tary.

“Army?” Jordan a
sked.

“Yes, sir. Rang
ers.”

“Thank you for your serv
ice.”

“My pleasure. How can I help
you?”

Jordan offered his hand as he introduced himself. “I know it's late but I'd like to buy a members
hip.”

“We're open 24/7, so there's no such thing as late here.” The guy offered a friendly smile. “You looking for a month-­to-­month or long-­t
erm?”

Good ques
tion.

“How about we try a month-­to-­month for
now.”

“You moving into the a
rea?”

Jordan glanced over at the row of elliptical machines. “Really not sure about that yet.” The truth was he'd set something in motion he wasn't even positive he could live u
p to.

He wante
d to.

His heart was i
n it.

But the logistics of his responsibilities elsewhere were going to have to be dealt with before he could make a permanent deci
sion.

Maybe Nicole had been right after
all.

God, he didn't want her to be r
ight.

The guy went over the contract and Jordan handed him a credit card. Minutes later he strolled toward the back of the gym where they had the free weights lined up against a mirrored wall. The closer he got to the weights the more a secondary music thumped the walls. Initially he thought there might be a Zumba or aerobics class going on, but he didn't hear an instructor's voice over the music. Curious, he went to investi
gate.

Through the glass door he saw a woman going one-­on-­one with a traditional full-­length training bag. With her pink gloves ready to strike and the line of sweat down the middle of the back of her sports bra, she balanced her weight in a boxing stance. Though he couldn't see her face he had to admit that not only was her body smokin', her poise and confidence were sexy as
hell.

An amped-­up version of “Welcome to the Jungle” pounded through the speakers as the woman took another step back. Her long ponytail swung across her back as she stepped into a vicious roundhouse kick. When she landed gracefully on her feet, she ended up facing him. Surprise vibrated through his b
lood.

Pink gloves lowered and dark brown eyes wid
ened.

Holy
hell.

The last person he expected to see here beating the shit out of a punching bag and turning him on to the point of pain was Lucinda Nu
tter.

T
he last person Lucy ever expected to see during her workout was the one standing on the other side of the glass door with his muscular arms folded across a massive chest barely covered by a loose navy
tank.

Seeing his sexy self twice in one day was more than her girl parts could take. The poor neglected things were dying to get his attention. While a smile played on his lips, she hoped he'd just continue on to wherever he'd been g
oing.

He turned the brass knob and opened the
door.

No such
luck.

“Hello, Luci
nda.”

“Lucinda doesn't live here anymore. It's just Lucy
now.”

When his smile burst into a full-­fledged grin, her girl parts began to swoon. To save herself, Lucy turned and delivered a forceful double kick to the bag, then followed up with several strikes of her gl
oves.

“Well then, hello, just Lucy
now.”

Gloves on hips, she turned to face him. “You knew it was me back in my classroom the whole time, didn't
you.”

“It took me a few minutes to recognize you,” he admitted. “After all, it's been a long t
ime.”

“Has
it?”

Chuckling, he closed the door behind him and came fully into the workout room as Kelly Clarkson's “Stronger” thumped through the sound system. “And in all those years, I never pictured you as the kickboxing t
ype.”

“Guess I'm just full of surpri
ses.”

He grinned. “I like surpri
ses.”

The grin undid her. She could totally do without all the flirting. Well, maybe she could handle it if it was genuine. But Jordan had a career-­long reputation for charming the la
dies.

“Was there something you nee
ded?”

His eyes roamed her body. “I could make a l
ist.”

“I wouldn't bother if I were you.” She turned back toward the bag and slammed her gloves into the solid sur
face.

“It's hard to flirt when you won't even look at
me.”

“Like I said, I wouldn't bother.” Her comment was met with several long seconds of silence while she performed a series of jabs, crosses, and hooks. Apparently he didn't quite know what to do with someone who didn't flirt
back.

“You need a sparring partner?” he finally a
sked.

“Yeah, see . . .” She looked down at her gloves, then back up at him. “I don't really condone beating on another person. Even if it's just for sp
ort.”

“Then you must hate football and hoc
key.”

“I'm more of an ice dancing kind of girl. But it was nice of you to stop by and offer.” Refocusing on her workout, she turned her back to him and planted her foot solidly into the
bag.

After several uppercuts and sidekicks, the sensation of being watched tickled the back of her neck. She dared a peek over her shoulder and . . . yep, he was still standing there, head slightly tilted like he was trying to figure something
out.

“Is there something else I can help you with?” she a
sked.

“Hopefully.” He folded his arms and his biceps bulged. “How invested in my sister's situation are
you?”

“Very.” Hadn't she already made that p
oint?

“I hate to ask, but I've hit a roadblock and I could really use some extra help where she's concerned. Maybe we could go out for cof
fee.”

“I'm not sure that would be a good idea.” An understatement, to be
sure.

“Beca
use?”

“Because . . . I'm your sister's teacher and socializing with her relatives is frowned
on.”

“That's not really the reason why.” He took a step closer, and she wondered how the man could smell so good all the time. “Is
it?”

“You're right.” She planted her gloves on the hips of her workout pants. “I don't like cof
fee.”

“Then how about a drink?” The two steps he took brought him even closer, and she realized she'd have to be blindfolded not to be affected by his heart-­stopping l
ooks.

“After a workout it's best to consume electrolytes, not alcohol.” She let her eyes roam his big, strong body. “But from the looks of you I'm sure you already know t
hat.”

“Is that a complim
ent?”

“If you need one, then yes, I guess it
is.”

“Then I'll say thank
you.”

“You're welcome. And as much as I'd like to stand here and chat, I really need to get this workout d
one.”

“Yeah. Sorry about t
hat.”

“No problem. Have a nice ni
ght.”

He turned to leave, then just as his hand reached the door, he stopped and came
back.

“Lucy? I'm really in a bind. And, no bullshit, I could really use some help. I've tried to talk to my brothers but they seem to be as clueless as me when it comes to our baby sister. I spoke with my sister and I really need a woman's take.” A hesitant smile tipped the corners of his sensuous masculine lips. “I know nothing about teenage girls. And as much as I hate to admit it, you're also right about me not knowing much about my sister. I'd like to change that. I really do want to help her. I'm afraid if I don't act now .
 . .”

He shook his head, leaving the unsaid lingering in the
air.

Lucy didn't want to feel anything for this man. But the sincerity in his eyes and the crinkles of concern in his forehead told her he really was perplexed on how to handle the problem. She was sure even seasoned parents had issues with their troubled teens, so an unmarried brother who had no experience would be even more at a
loss.

“It means a lot to me that you want to help her,” he said. “That you recognized a problem prior to the loss of our parents. I respect your insight and your opin
ion.”

His unnerving gaze cut right to the core of why she'd become a teacher. She wanted to help students, the same as she had when she'd been a student herself. Education was the lifeline people used to propel themselves out into the world. Without it, they'd be at a standstill. Along with that, a little kindness and understanding never
hurt.

Lucy cared about Nicole Kincade. Beneath her recent obstinacy, she was a bright girl. With the sudden loss of her parents, she was going through a tough time. So even if Jordan Kincade rattled her in ways she never imagined, now wasn't the moment for Lucy to turn her
back.

While Jordan continued to look at her with something akin to defeat in his eyes, she caved like a sou
fflé.

“All right,” she said. “How about tomorrow? Four-­thirty at The Muddy Cup? I can spare an hour before another appointment I h
ave.”

“I'd really appreciate that.” With the sincerest of smiles, he turned and proved that some men looked good any way they chose t
o go.

That admission had Lucy slamming her gloves into the punching bag. She had no business looking at Jordan Kincade as anything other than a man she'd known from her past and the brother of a student in
need.

So why were her girl parts suddenly dan
cing?

T
he day had gone from interesting to disastrous and back to interesting again when he'd run into Lucy at the gym. If you'd ever asked him what he thought the woman did in her spare time he'd have said jigsaw puzzles or volunteering at a hospital. He'd never have come up with kickboxing to heavy metal m
usic.

This new Lucy surprised
him.

In a good
way.

Back in the day she'd been quiet and reserved. She'd dressed down instead of up. She'd hidden behind a pair of heavy framed glasses that did nothing to disguise her pretty face. She'd rarely smiled, and when she was deep in thought she'd snag her full bottom lip between her teeth. Talking with her brought back some good memories and somehow made him feel connected to her again. Like maybe down deep they had something more in common than being old schoolmates. He'd never been much of a talker, but with Lucy he couldn't seem to get his fill. He liked the way she gave as good as she got, as opposed to the old Lucy who'd never say a word in defense of her
self.

Crazy that he remembered all that about her. But that was then and this was now. And finding the new Lucy all heated up in a skin-­tight sports bra and workout pants, kicking the shit out of a heavy bag, did something funny to his
gut.

Or maybe he just needed a distrac
tion.

It had been a hell of a week. Watching the urns that contained his parents' ashes being placed inside a marble vault for eternity had shaken him to the core and rocked the ground beneath his feet. His curiosity with Lucy really could be nothing more than a need for interference from all the emotional weight he'd been carrying. Or maybe he just needed to finally apologize to her for graduation night. Get it over with so the guilt no longer held his conscience in a strangle
hold.

No.

It was
more.

Something about Lucy intrigued the hell out of him. Maybe it was only because she didn't seem to respond to his flirting the way most women did. He didn't know what to do with that. Yes, she'd always been more of the serious type, but even old ladies responded to a wink and a compli
ment.

He wondered what she'd been doing all these years besides becoming a schoolteacher and changing her last name. Had the name come from a marriage? Once he'd recognized her, he'd immediately looked at her hand for a ring. But her long, feminine fingers, painted with some light blue nail polish, had been jewelry-­
free.