Risk (It's Complicated Book 2) (43 page)

“How you doing?” Ethan asked, nodding.

Wry smile from Toby. “I’m not gonna lie. I’ve had better mornings.”

Ethan had no idea what to say to that, so he just grunted.

Toby hung his head and scratched the back of his neck. “Did you, ah…Did you catch all that?”

Ethan shrugged uncomfortably. “I’m just here to plant trees, man. I don’t get paid to listen.”

Toby laughed and clapped him on the back. To Ethan, the weight of Toby’s beefy arm was like having a boa constrictor laid across his shoulders.

“I like how you think,” Toby said.

“So, I’ll be done with the hydrangeas today,” Ethan said quickly, anxious to steer this conversation back onto solidly professional ground. “Assuming the rain holds off. Tomorrow, I can start on the—”

“I mean, what can you do?” Toby said, still chuckling. “She might be a bitch, but she’s
my
bitch, you know?”

It shamed Ethan to remember it now, but he had also put the B-word and Sofia together in the same sentence earlier, even if it was only in his thoughts. Now, though, hearing Toby use it on her, Ethan had to resist the strong urge to lift the shovel and swing it at Toby’s oversized and possibly steroid-enhanced head.

Ethan reminded himself how many zeroes were on the invoice this guy would be paying when the landscaping job was done and told himself to keep it cool and mellow. But his mouth flapped into action anyway and spoke in the kind of icy tone that tended to get people fired.

“She didn’t seem like a bitch to me,” Ethan said. “She seemed upset.”

Toby stared at him.

“Not,” Ethan added grudgingly, “that it’s any of my business.”

“That’s the thing about these bitches, man,” Toby said. “They’re all over you when the money’s tight, but the
second
”
—
Toby snapped his fingers for emphasis—“you hit a tough spot? They scatter like roaches when you turn the light on. They don’t hang in there with you.”

Ethan hesitated, unwilling to acknowledge, even to himself, that he and Toby might have anything in common when it came to the women they’d chosen. Then Sofia’s words scrolled through his head.

She claimed she would’ve loaned Toby the money for the car note. And that she’d been paying the mortgage, utilities (Ethan shot a sidelong look at the house, which had to be a good five thousand square feet of space to air-condition during hot summers like this) and groceries. That didn’t sound like she’d scattered like a roach when the money dried up. That sounded like she’d stepped up and been a true partner to Toby when the chips were down.

Something Judy hadn’t done for Ethan.

And what punishment had Sofia’s good deeds earned her? A repossessed car and damaged credit.

“I mean, my leg is hurt, man. It’s
hurt
.” Toby tapped his knee, and the gesture knocked something loose in Ethan’s memory. Toby had had a torn ACL. That was it. “What’s she know about going to rehab and coming out the other side? Does that shit look easy? Well, let me tell you: it’s not. But does she support me? Hell to the no.”

Ethan frowned.

Who works her ass off all day, while you sit on your ass all day
? Wasn’t that what Sofia had said to Toby? Working all day sure sounded like
support
to Ethan.

“And what would I look like, being a commentator when I need to be working hard to get back on the field?” Toby asked. “Yeah, it’s a paycheck and all, but why would I divert time from my main goal, man?”

So Sofia doesn’t have to work her fingers to the bone and carry this backbreaking load all by herself,
Ethan thought, fuming because he knew all about backbreaking loads.
That’s why
.

“But, hey, it’s all good.” Toby fished a set of car keys and a remote control out of the pocket of his shorts and clicked the button. The garage door slid open to reveal a gleaming black Mercedes sedan that was the cost equivalent of driving a two-bedroom house on Ethan’s street. “I got another whip. And there’s always another woman. Ain’t that right?”

Toby held up his cantaloupe-sized fist so Ethan could bump it.

Ethan stared at that fist, then at Toby’s smug face and decided there weren’t enough zeroes on enough checks in the world to make him agree with this piece of shit who was too arrogant to know good fortune when it bit him in his buffalo-sized ass.

True, Toby’s entire spiel was nothing more than bravado and posturing from a guy who’d suffered two serious losses this morning: his car and his woman’s respect. Not to mention the fact that Toby’s dual humiliations had been witnessed by an avid audience of three—Ethan, Reeve and Repo Man—and Toby was no doubt on a face-saving campaign just so he could make himself feel like a man again. Ethan knew all that. But it didn’t make him despise Toby any less.

So Ethan ignored the proffered fist, adjusted his baseball cap, and spoke straight from his angry heart. “Better watch out, man. If you’re not careful, someone’ll sneak in and steal her away from you when you least expect it.”

“Sofia?”
Toby laughed and clapped Ethan on the back again. “She’s not going nowhere, man. She knows when she’s got a good thing going. I like you, man. You okay, here? Need some water? No? Okay, then. Good talk. I’m out.”

With that, Toby flashed him the peace sign, slid his sunglasses on, climbed inside his remaining luxury vehicle and got all the engine’s horses fired up. He zoomed off amid the low rumble of powerful machinery, tooting his horn at Ethan as he passed.

Ethan stared after him, too incredulous to scrape his lower jaw up off the ground.

That narcissistic SOB actually thought that
Sofia
was the lucky one in their relationship? Because…why, exactly? Because he’d been somebody once? Because he’d played in the NFL for ten minutes and been a local sports hero for fifteen? And now that glorious history gave him the right to lie to Sofia, sponge off her and damage her finances?

Ethan snorted out a disbelieving laugh.

“What’s so funny, Landscaper?”

Oh, shit
.

It was
her
.

A
recovering lawyer
, Ann Christopher has been published since 2006 and writes contemporary romance and romantic suspense. Her very first book, a tragically bad starter novel, will forever remain under her bed, where it belongs. She’s also written a young adult horror novel,
Monstrum
. Now available, it’s the first in her Bella Monstrum trilogy.

W
hen she’s not writing
, Ann likes to do the following, in no particular order: read; cook; eat; hang out at Target looking for new stuff she doesn’t need; crochet; quilt; play with her 2 rescue dogs and 2 rescue cats; and travel the world with her family. Her favorite cities are Washington, D.C., Venice and Paris, in case you were wondering. She lives in Ohio with her husband and over-scheduled teenagers.

I
f you’d like
to recommend a great book, share a recipe for homemade cake of any kind, or have a tip for getting your teens to do what you say the
first
time you say it, Ann would love to hear from you!

Stay in touch with Ann!

• @annchristopher
  
• AnnChristopherAuthor