Page 63 of Undeniable
I heard the scratch of claws on the wood floor and a meow before Olivia said, “Uh-oh.”
I glanced to where she was looking and saw a beautiful large gray cat sauntering toward me with a haughty air. Though, didn’t all cats have that same attitude—imperialistic?
“And you must be Luna.” I grinned as she brushed against my leg. I reached down and scratched her chin as she purred with contentment.
“Wow. Um, okay. I didn’t see that coming.” Olivia shook her head as if she couldn’t believe her eyes. “She usually runs from strangers, especially men.”
“Clearly she recognizes my voice.” I turned to Luna. “Don’t you, Lunakins?”
Olivia laughed. “That must be it.” She kicked off her shoes, and I followed suit. “Do you want anything to drink?”
“Some water would be good.”
She turned for the kitchen and busied herself with putting the hydrangeas in a vase, while Luna climbed on the armchair by the window and proceeded to groom herself. I walked over to the fireplace, curious about the framed pictures on her mantel. Olivia walking along the beach as a little girl, with a woman I assumed was her mother.
“Wow.” I picked up one of the frames to get a closer look. “Is this you and your dad?”
It had to be—they had the same eyes, the same chin, the same smile.
Olivia set the drinks on the coffee table but stilled when she saw what I was holding. “Yes.”
“You guys really go all out for Halloween, huh?” I chuckled, amazed by how realistic her father’s football uniform was. He’d really committed—with pads and sweat dotting his forehead. And Olivia was in one of his arms, decked out like a dedicated sports fan.
She frowned. “Halloween?”
“Yeah.” I set the picture back on the mantel. Was I missing something?
“You don’t know who my dad is?”
I glanced at the photo again, then back at her. “Should I?”
She regarded me a moment before a huge smile spread across her face. She seemed incredibly pleased by my response. “Nope.”
“Now I’m curious,” I said. “Is he famous or something?”
“Or something,” she said, but laughter bubbled out of her. “I take it you’re not a football fan.”
I shook my head. “I’ve always been more into soccer.”
“He used to play for the Hollywood Heatwaves. He’s a color commentator now.”
I thought back on our first phone conversation. When I’d been frustrated with rehab, and she’d mentioned how change could be good. And suddenly it all clicked—she could’ve been talking about her dad retiring from football.
“That’s cool, but you say it like it’s a bad thing.”
“It’s not. I mean, I’m proud of him. But being the kid of a celebrity isn’t always as fun as everyone thinks it is.”
“Ah.” I tilted my head back. “I get that. Everyone thinks executive protection is sexy and glamorous, when most of it isn’t.”
“Exactly,” she said. “See! I knew you’d get it.”
“I’m sure there are some perks,” I said, glancing at the photo again.
“Yeah. I guess.” She sighed.
“What’s that sigh about?”
“Apparently, my dad is the key to keeping my job.”
