Broken Play by Samantha Kane Read Free Book Online Page B

Danny Smith,” Cass said heatedly. “You’re the only Rebel they’re talking about on ESPN right now besides him. I’m with Melody Ann. Let’s run with it.”
    She laughed again. “There’s more, superstar,” she told Beau. She went back to the Google list and clicked on a couple more. His sound bite, edited with a beep, just as Cass had predicted, was the lead story on half the sports-news programs in the US. Hell, even CNN had picked it up. Then she clicked on a montage from
The Tonight Show.
Jimmy Fallon had apparently used Beau’s sound bite as emphasis on every joke and comment all night. “How about Twitter?” she asked. She went to the trending topics and damn if his name wasn’t third on the list. “Are you on there?” she asked.
    “I think so,” he said. “But I haven’t posted in ages.”
    “Give me your login and password,” she told him. “I’ll post as you today. You can post, too. I promise I won’t post anything that will embarrass you or get you into trouble. Remember, I’m a professional.” Her last comment made him laugh and she smiled at him. “Beau, I’m serious. You are officially viral. America loves you. Run with it.”
    “Run where?” he asked with a shrug.
    “Leave it to me,” she said, patting his arm soothingly. “I’ll take care of you.” He looked over at Cass.
    “Let her take care of you,” Cass told him. “This is the best thing to happen to this team since…well, ever.” He gave Beau a serious look. “You are the best thing to happen to this team.”
    Beau wasn’t sure he wanted that sort of responsibility. “I’m not good at this shit.”
    “No one is,” Melody Ann told him matter-of-factly. “That’s why God created PR people.”
    —
    Marian looked around and wondered for the fifth or sixth time how she’d gotten into this situation. She was standing in Cass and Beau’s dining room in their Greystone house waiting for Cass to return with plates and silverware. They’d bought Chinese takeout after driving her around Birmingham and showing her different neighborhoods. They’d actually looked at two houses, which Cass had arranged with his realtor that afternoon. Without telling her. She wasn’t sure if she should be pissed off or glad for the help.
    “Fried rice or white?” Beau asked, opening up the cartons on the table.
    “Fried,” she responded automatically. She hated white rice.
    Beau grinned at her. “A girl after my own heart. Cass gets the white.”
    “Did you like any of the houses or neighborhoods today?” Cass called from the kitchen. “And don’t give me the white rice.”
    Marian laughed. “I thought I did. Until we got here.” She looked around at the impressive house. The neighborhood was gated. Beau told her they wanted the extra security. Their notoriety meant they occasionally got paparazzi or kinky stalkers. The house itself was enormous. The exterior was a combination of brick and natural stone that made the house look like it would be at home in the Rocky Mountains. But it was the interior that took her breath away.
    The entire house was hardwoods—the floors, the ceilings, the trim, the built-in shelves and bookcases, even the butcher-block kitchen counters gleamed with a rich mahogany color that was warm and inviting. There were windows everywhere. It was night now, but during the day it would be an impressive sight. It seemed as if each room contained a huge stone fireplace. If she could have described her dream house, this was it. And Cass and Beau lived here. Life was so unfair sometimes. As if they hadn’t already pressed all her “Yes, please” buttons. And she had to say no.
    “You like it?” Cass asked, poking his head through the arch that led to the kitchen. “Thanks.”
    “Yeah, but a giant antler chandelier in the den? Really?” she asked. “Isn’t that a little over the top?”
    “Nope,” Beau said, licking the spoon he’d just used to scoop some crispy duck onto his plate.