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Hope climbed out of the water again, this time João keeping pace with her. At least she wasn’t the only one soaked.
“You bring out the child in me,” he said, shaking his head and spraying her with water from his hair.
She rolled her eyes as she shoved him right into the water and kept walking toward where their cameras were.
As he stomped toward her, she sidled closer to his camera and he shook his head. “Hope. You wouldn’t.”
“Of course not,” she said. “Just like you wouldn’t.” There was a bit of warning in her tone.
He scoffed. “Why do my sisters think you’re so nice?”
She grinned. “Because I am.”
Her phone rang—her new phone—and she sighed. Sometimes calls came through and other times they didn’t. Duty called.
A duty she’d been extremely focused on since the explosion in Rock Falls. She’d taken any jobs she could out of the country, hadn’t rushed, and had come to Brazil for downtime. It was too hard to ignore the pull of Rock Falls, Vermont, and the reclusive ex-basketball player who had come out swinging with his new company, Inicio.
The amount of pride she felt at his success couldn’t be quantified. No matter how hurt she was by his actions toward her.
She understood his concern but the fact he’d not given her a chance to explain had been the nail in the coffin. Now he deserved no chance to do so.
With a wry expression to João, she bent to pick up her phone from the pile of things on the ground. Behind João she noticed more people coming into the area around the waterfall.
“This is Hope.”
“Dr. Roman, my name is Hank Garfield. You’re a hard woman to get ahold of.”
João picked up his things and shouldered her camera bag before tipping his head to the side in silent communication. She fell into step with him.
“What is it I can do for you, Mr. Garfield?”
“I’ve been trying to reach you about Mr. Jones’s will.”
Despite the heat of Brazil, Hope was suddenly encased in ice. “What for?”
“I know you were at the funeral but you vanished before we could talk. Then all of my calls to your cell went unanswered.”
She gulped and struggled not to choke on the air she’d taken in. “I was in an accident and all my things went down the side of a mountain. Then the storm stalled over us.” And when she’d finally gotten it into her possession once more, a pissed-off alpha male had stomped on it like he’d had every right.
Right, moving on from that. And him.
“I know, I’d been told you were in an accident. I’m glad to know you’re okay.”
Am I, though? Really? Some sort of sound escaped her throat. She didn’t know what to call it, but whatever it was, João turned toward her with his eyebrows raised. She gave him a small headshake.
“Thank you. What did you need from me? I don’t know how I can help with the will.”
“You’re mentioned in the will. I need to meet with you so we can go over what Mr. Jones left for you.”
“I don’t need anything from him.” And she didn’t. He had been an incredible friend and mentor. She’d not lied to Naomi. He was the father she’d never had.
“He was very insistent that you get this, Dr. Roman. Are you able to come meet me?”
“I’m in Brazil right now, Mr. Garfield. Where do you want to meet?”
“Rock Falls.”
No way to miss the mental image of Mitchell Anderson that hit her. She closed her eyes, as if that helped, and groaned.
“Of course you want to meet there.”
“It’s where my office is, Dr. Roman.” There was a hint of censure and confusion in his comment.
“I won’t be in the country for nine days, Mr. Garfield. I’ll give you a call when I’m in town.”
“I look forward to seeing you.” Then he was gone.
João halted and placed a hand on her arm. “Who’s Mitchell?”
Brows furrowed, she shook her head. “What? I was on the phone with Mr. Garfield.”
Her friend grinned and she swore.
“I know most of your tones, Hope. That low moan of hate-lust isn’t one I’ve ever heard from you. Like two seconds after you ended the call, the moaning started. Mitchell fell from your mouth. Why do you make me repeat myself?” He removed her camera bag from his shoulder and slipped it on her own. “Who is he?”
“Mitchell Anderson.”
He huffed as they began walking again. “See, I’m a huge NBA fan and when I hear that name I think of the multiple championship winner Mitchell Anderson who played for—”
“The Monterey Leviathans. Same guy.” She flattened her lips in annoyance.
João froze, slapped a hand on her arm to pull her to a stop. “Are you fucking kidding me? You’ve been holding out on me. You know him?”
In a biblical sense.
