Free Power Play (Play Makers Book 4) by Kate Donovan Page B

romantic, Uncle Wyatt.”
    “Yeah,” one of the boys told him in a
serious tone. “If she was my girlfriend, I’d pick her first
for sure.”
    “I’d kiss her,” another voice, also
male but childlike and adorable, insisted.
    It sent the group into gales of laughter,
and Darcie found herself laughing too. These Bournes just got cuter
and cuter.
    Bea was already on the porch, sitting in one
of the wooden rocking chairs near a table laden with sandwiches and
salads. Darcie had had a few bites from the buffet earlier and
could easily have eaten again, but wanted to save herself for
cakes, so she gave the table a wide berth as she joined the
matriarch.
    “Hi, Mrs. Bourne. Thanks for rescuing me
from the football game. I dreaded getting grass stains on my
favorite jeans.”
    “I’ve never seen Wyatt play with all of them
before.” Bea motioned for her to sit in a matching rocker. “Usually
he just works out with Danny and Joe. This must be your influence.”
    “Probably not, but I’ll take the credit.”
Opting for a straight-back chair and pulling it up close to the old
woman, she said cheerfully, “Bourne parties are the best. Lots of
food, expert cake-decorating lessons, friendly people and a
beautiful landscape. Have you lived here since your wedding
day?”
    “Yes. It was still a working ranch when we
moved in with my in-laws. They worked Tony sixteen hours a day, and
I did all the housework and cooking. He likes to say: he was his
parents’ retirement plan.”
    “A working ranch? For olives?”
    “They were already phasing that out. It was
oranges back then. And horses. Tony loved horses, and so did our
Matthew. It wasn’t particularly profitable . . .”
Her voice trailed off. “I wonder if Wyatt remembers that. We sold
off most of the stock when he was just a little boy.”
    Darcie wondered if Tony had sold them
because Matt moved to New Jersey and wasn’t around to help anymore.
No retirement plan for Tony, apparently.
    Bea recovered her good spirits quickly,
saying, “So, tell me a bit about yourself.”
    Darcie had fielded this question a dozen
times in the last two hours, so she recited her stock answer about
an idyllic childhood, which wasn’t far from the truth. Wonderful
parents, one older sister, one younger brother, Emily, college, law
school, the dead judge, and finally Murf, agenting and the NFL.
    To her surprise, the sports-agent part
captured Bea’s imagination, so the conversation stretched on and
on, with Darcie sharing such tidbits as her woeful lack of football
knowledge to the likelihood that Bam Bannerman would be her first
client.
    Hilariously, the matriarch knew all about
Bam and insisted, “He seems like a handful. But he wins games for
those darned Lancers, doesn’t he?”
    Darcie laughed. It hadn’t occurred to her
that the Bournes would be anti-Lancer, but of course it made sense.
The family probably believed Wyatt had been robbed of the Super
Bowl championship!
    When Bea asked if she knew any other famous
players, and Darcie mentioned Johnny and Sean, along with Alexi
Romanov, the older woman peppered her with questions and
observations, some of which Darcie filed away for future use. In
particular, Bea knew a lot about the career of Johnny’s father,
Aaron Spurling, who had been a famous college coach, then moved to
the NFL, then retired for health problems, only to resurface when
Los Angeles finally scored an expansion team known as the Rustlers.
“Tony was so excited that we were finally getting a team again,”
she said wistfully. “And with Coach Spurling in charge, he expected
great things even for the first season. And they did pretty well.
But by then, my poor husband wasn’t really paying attention. He
watched Wyatt in the Super Bowl of course—we all did—but I’m
not sure he knew what was happening.”
    “It’s tragic. You guys have football in your
blood, right? Wyatt says his dad was a quarterback too.”
    “Our Matthew,” Bea agreed,