“You’re asking too many questions, darlin’.” A man with a wiry build, boyish features and thick blond hair that looked expensively cut joined them. He was dressed in crisp khaki slacks and a shirt with an alligator over the pocket. “I’m Kevin Pinckney, Terry’s husband. I’m sorry she’s freaking you out.”
“I am not,” Terry declared. “Jazz, am I freaking you out?”
Kevin held up a hand, but he was laughing. “Enough. Cut the woman a break, will you, Ter?”
“I’m simply trying to figure it all out,” Terry said. “So, Jazz, are you into my brother or aren’t you?”
Just like that, Callie’s problems took a backseat.
Jazz had enough of her own.
MATT WATCHED Carter line up an imaginary putt and slowly pull back the golf club, stroking through the short blades of grass in the backyard.
“Yep, I could do some damage with this baby.” Carter tossed the club a foot or so into the air and caught it in the middle of the shaft. “I’ll definitely have to get me one.”
“You know it,” Matt said, his mind still on the woman in the kitchen. Not Jazz this time, Callie. How long had Carter been seeing her? The other man had never mentioned her. “But you’re going to do more than golf in Florida. You have a job lined up, right?”
Carter’s face changed, his usually affable expression growing dark. “Yeah. As an assistant A.D. at a private school. I would have taken some time off if the bitch wasn’t being so vindictive.”
“What bitch?” Matt asked.
“Lilly,” Carter growled. “She’s trying to rob me blind.”
Lilly was Carter’s soon-to-be ex-wife, a pleasant woman with a great laugh who’d been married to him for twenty-seven years. Matt had never heard Lilly say an unkind word. Even though the backyard was secluded, Matt looked around to make sure nobody had overheard what Carter had called her.
“That’s pretty strong, Carter,” Matt said.
“Yeah, well, Lilly found out I was seeing Callie before we separated. Except she never uses Callie’s name. She always says that child. She’s jealous, I tell you. Just because I’m fifty doesn’t mean my life is over.”
Matt remembered the good-natured ribbing and gag gifts the coaches at school had given Carter last spring when he’d hit the milestone. The track coach even had a wheelchair waiting in Carter’s office, although Carter hadn’t thought that was funny.
“I almost didn’t bring Callie along today because I know how things get twisted. Look what happened with that teacher.” Carter sounded as though he expected Matt to commiserate with him.
“You never told me the details,” Matt reminded him. “You only said the story wasn’t true.”
“Damn right it’s not true.” A warm wind blew through the yard, wreaking havoc with Carter’s comb-over. “That teacher, who doesn’t even work at Faircrest, came on to me. She emailed me first. Yeah, I emailed back, even met her for a drink. But that was it.”
Matt digested the information, which wasn’t far removed from the gossip. He suddenly had to know the rest of the story. “Everybody’s saying the school board was about to launch an investigation.”
Carter’s hand tightened on the putter. “Only because of the vindictive bitch. Turns out the teacher—her name’s Karen—plays tennis with Lilly. I don’t know exactly how it went down but Lilly must’ve convinced Karen to file a complaint.”
The conversation was moving too fast for Matt. “Why would Lilly do that?”
“Because she found out about Callie!”
“But why would it matter if this Karen filed a complaint if there was no evidence?”
“You’re forgetting the emails.” Carter sounded exasperated. “They came from my work computer. Taken out of context, they don’t look so good.”
The pieces were starting to fit together in a shape Matt didn’t like. “So you did resign because of the investigation?”
“What else could I do?” Carter threw up the hand not holding the putter.
A rabbit dashed across the yard for the woods. Matt wished he could run away too so he didn’t have to hear what Carter would spew next.
“I probably should have gotten a lawyer and fought the whole thing,” Carter said. “That job in Florida is a crap job. I better not have much trouble getting a better one.”
Motion inside the house caught Matt’s eye. He was absurdly grateful to see more guests arriving. Matt had never spent much time with Carter socially. Obviously Matt didn’t know the other man as well as he’d thought he did.
“We should be getting back inside,” Matt suggested.
They walked in silence for a few steps before Carter asked, “You’re not seeing anyone, are you, Matt?”
Matt wondered what that had to do with anything. “Nope.”
“Not even the caterer?”
“Not even her,” Matt said. Yet.
“Then listen up.” Carter sounded like his old self, full of bluster and confidence. “Take a good long look before you leap.”
“Excuse me?”
“Make damn sure you don’t get involved with the wrong woman.”
The French doors opened and Callie stepped out side, the sun shining down on her and highlighting the lines around her eyes. She was older than she’d first appeared, but still substantially younger than Carter.
“Hey, honey.” Carter’s voice softened. “Miss me?”
Tom Dougherty had been on to something at the track the other day, Matt thought. Fair or not, people who dealt with high school students were held to higher standards than others.
Don’t get involved with the wrong woman, Carter had said.
The former A.D. didn’t seem to realize which woman in his life that was.
JAZZ CLOSED HER MOUTH, which meant jaws really must drop. She tried to compose an answer to Matt’s sister’s question about whether she was into Matt.
“Oh, honey. You should see your face.” Terry clapped her hands. “You really just need to tell me to mind my own business. Everybody else does.”
“I can vouch for that,” her husband, Kevin, said.
“My curiosity got the best of me,” Terry said. “I’ve never met one of Matt’s girlfriends before.”
That was an easier topic for Jazz to address than her opinion of Matt.
“You still haven’t. I did meet your brother at the park but I really am the caterer.” Jazz indicated the tray of food. “Here. Try something.”
Terry picked up a stuffed mushroom, took a bite and fluttered her eyelids as though she were in ecstasy. “Okay. You convinced me. These are divine.”
Robbie appeared at his mother’s side and wrinkled his nose. “Mushrooms! Yech!”
“Robbie, mind your manners.” Kevin flashed Jazz a grin. “Sorry about my boy. If it’s not a hot dog or PB and J, he won’t touch it.”
“Hey, that’s not true,” Robbie protested. “I like Pop-Tarts and mac and cheese.”
Kevin ruffled his son’s red hair. Callie had left the kitchen but the room seemed much too small for a caterer and a family of four. Especially this family of four.
“I’ll take this tray of food onto the deck,” Jazz