Page 39 of The Secret of Emerald Cottage

Chapter Twenty-Two

Molly swallowed a gulp. Oh, yes, the picture was emblazoned in her brain from the moment she’d researched Miss Lilly’s wayward nephew way back when. Her jaw had dropped as she stared at one of the most handsome men she’d ever seen, passed out in the front seat of a Ferrari with shirt half off and belt unbuckled.

A player with a capital “P.”

When she’d read the articles, she quickly learned that Breccan “Striker Man” McGill, star forward for the Dublin Devils, was a “devil” all his own.

“And the icing on the cake?” he continued, looking for all his usual energy and charm, as limp as the dishrag she’d wrung out in the sink. “Everybody believed her story over mine, which is when Coach benched me for the season, a move that reinstated the team captain to his former status of fame and glory.”

“But didn’t you demand a drug test?”

“Sure I did,” he said, huffing out a noisy sigh as he laid his head on the back of his chair, “but she spiked my tea with GHB.”

“Gamma hydroxybutyrate?” Her brows shot straight up.

“Yes, ma’am, otherwise known as G, Georgia Home Boy, Goop, Grievous Bodily Harm, Easy Lay, Liquid X, or Scoop.”

“B-But that’s a date-rape drug, so wasn’t that proof enough for the police?”

“Nope.” His weary sigh carried across the table as he pinned her with a defeated look. “I’m a professional athlete, remember?”

“Ohhh …” Her mouth plunked open, the significance of his statement finally dawning on her. “Because it’s also an illegal performance-enhancing drug abused by bodybuilders and athletes,” she said with a slow nod, suddenly understanding the full impact on his career.

Brec’s mouth tipped off-center. “Bingo. So, as much as he wanted to, Coach may not have been able to suspend me for hitting on his witch of a wife, but he sure in the devil could for illegal use of performance-enhancing drugs.”

“Oh, Brec, that’s horrible!”

“You’re telling me. And the worst part?” He sat up and reached for his fork, dragging the plate over to dive back in, pausing to give her a smile as flat as his mood. “Although she didn’t press charges out of and I quote—‘the goodness of her heart’—telling the police she wanted to ‘forgive and forget’ and give me a second chance? She then resorted to blackmail, informing me that if I didn’t give her what she wanted, she’d ruin both my career and my life with rape charges.” He grunted and stabbed at a piece of the pie. “Some second chance.”

Molly’s jaw distended so much, she thought it was broke. “What a horrible woman!”

“You have no idea,” he said, taking a bite and pausing to chew. “She’s an absolute knock-out. One of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen and as rich as she is pretty, so she’s used to getting what she wants.” He shook his head as he shoveled more pie in, finally swallowing hard. “But a heart as black as night. Found out after the fact that she had an affair with the team captain before she threw him over for me, which I guess made sense since they’re two of kind—rotten to the core.” He lifted his coffee mug in a mock toast. “Lucky me.”

Molly could only stare, stunned that any woman could stoop so low to ruin a person’s life for her own selfish lust. Shame warmed her cheeks when she realized how badly she’d judged him herself, as harshly as the rest of the world. Who would have thought there could be such an ugly consequence to being such an attractive man? “Did your fiancée believe you at least?” she asked, almost afraid to hear his answer. Most of the articles she’d read said Lana Ricci—up-and-coming Hollywood star—refused all interviews except to say she and Brec were taking a break, but the news couldn’t be good.

Brec halted mid-chew, staring at her like she’d sprouted a third eye before he gulped his pie down. “Lana? Believe me? After the whole train wreck with Cal and Lucy? Are you kidding? Would you?”

Her chin rose. “Well, I’d certainly try to give you the benefit of the doubt, for heaven’s sake—”

He jutted a thick, dark brow, a ghost of a smile tugging at the edge of his mouth. “Oh, I see. Like you did the night I arrived, lass, and the month after?”

“That’s different. After all, before your engagement, you were somewhat notorious for being a womanizer, and the tabloids did paint a pretty awful picture. And besides, I wasn’t engaged to you.”

“Nor would you be, lass, because you’re way too smart.” He lifted a forkful of pie in the air before wolfing it down. “I’m a player, remember?”

“Was a player,” she said gently, suddenly alarmed that it didn’t seem to matter all that much anymore. At least not given the crazy pinging of her pulse.

His gaze softened as he studied her with affection. “Providential,” he whispered.

“What?” She reached for her own pie, pulse accelerating at the tender look in his eyes. She methodically and carefully trimmed a generous piece of crust off, desperate to focus on anything but his face. Putting it in her mouth, she closed her eyes to savor it.

“That’s what my agent called it—Aunt Lilly’s needing me to come home, and I agreed at the time.” There was a heavy pause. “But not as much as I do now, lass.”

The husky tenor of his tone ramped the alarm even more as she swallowed hard, squinting while she zeroed in on her pie. She methodically portioned off another bite with her fork, unwilling to meet his gaze. “That’s good because if ever Miss Lilly needed you, Brec, it’s now.”

“And you?”

Eyelids drifting closed, she slowly put the fork down on her plate, her breathing shallowing considerably as her voice trailed off to a whisper. “Brec …”

“After all …” he said, stuttering her pulse after his chair scraped back and he rounded the table. Her eyes popped open when he briefly gave her shoulder a light squeeze on his way to the sink to rinse his dishes while her gaze tracked him all the way. “I couldn’t leave all the cleaning, gardening, and caretaking to you, could I?”—he tossed a wink over his shoulder as he opened the dishwasher door—“or leave Aunt Lilly to your cooking, lass. What kind of nephew would that make me?”

Her lips quivered into a smile, relief slowly seeping out on a frail breath. “A wonderful one, Brec McGill, so don’t sell yourself short.” Her chin rose as she shifted in the seat to face him directly, hoping he could read the caution in her eyes. “I certainly don’t intend to judge you ever again because you’ve become too good of a friend.”

Hand lingering after he closed the dishwasher door, he bowed his head with a faint smile, peering up with a knowing look. “Message received, lass, loud and clear, so you don’t have to worry, aye?”

Her throat muscles worked hard. “Thanks, Brec. I appreciate that. Our friendship is too valuable to me.”

“Aye, and to me as well, Molly girl.” He strolled back to his seat to pick up his mug, giving a nod toward hers. “Refill?”

“Sure.” She handed him her mug and idly picked at her pie with her fork while he dumped out the cold and rebrewed the new. She suddenly felt compelled to dig a little deeper into this dear friend who seemed very much in need of a friend more than ever before. “Brec?”

“Mmm?”

She hesitated, not exactly sure how he would receive what she wanted to say. How well she remembered the resentment and unforgiveness that had blackened her heart after Tyler and Heather had betrayed her, and she so desperately wanted to do for him what Miss Lilly and Chase had done for her. To help him battle the demons inside left over from all the hurt and betrayal. Especially from Lana, the woman who was supposed to love and support him. She paused to swallow the hesitation in her throat. “Are you … bitter toward her?”

The K-cup finished pouring with the usual loud whoosh before he dosed it with cream, mouth leveling flat. “Who, Lana? No. I don’t blame her one bit for not believing me—I wouldn’t either after some of the shenanigans I’ve pulled, so she had every right to toss me out on my ear.” Ambling over, he set her freshly brewed mug in front of her before cutting loose with a long, heavy sigh that followed him all the way back to the Keurig. “Which is exactly why I broke off the engagement.”