My father is standing in the doorway, his dark brows forming a line over narrowed eyes. He’s in a suit, though it’s rumpled around the edges like he’s come here straight from the airport. I’d forgotten he was coming home today. “Hey, Dad.” Shit. What he walked in on couldn’t have looked good.

“Ivy.” His tone is pissed. Pissed-Off Dad takes things slow and steady. Right before he blows.

Gray tucks his hands in his pockets, as if this will somehow convey innocence. I want to roll my eyes. We are innocent. But he’s not looking at me. “Mackenzie. Hi.”

Dad raises one brow. “Want to tell me why you were on top of my daughter, Grayson?”

“Uh…”

Smooth, Gray. Really smooth. “Dad, stop with the overprotective-father act.”

“It’s not an act. I am an overprotective father, Ivy.”

I shove past both of them and head to the kitchen. “Do you want a beer?”

Dad grunts. “I could take a beer.”

Gray finally finds his voice. “So you just get back in town?”

“Yes. And not a moment too soon, it seems.” Dad’s glaring a hole into Gray’s forehead. “We have things to talk about, Grayson.”

“Yeah, sure.” Gray doesn’t recognize Dad’s I’m-going-to-give-you-a-lecture-from-hell tone, but I do.

“For now, I need to discuss some things with Ivy.”

Great. Cue the needless lecture to me, as well.

“Right.” Gray nods. “I’m headed out anyway.”

I’m about to protest, but Gray edges toward his coat, keeping his gaze on my dad as if he’ll attack when his back is turned. I almost roll my eyes again, only I’m not so sure my dad won’t attack. “See you tomorrow, Mac.” Gray gives me a look that I read well. Don’t argue with him. Just get it over with.

I’ll be good, I answer with my own look. At least until Gray is well and gone.

Eight

Ivy

I’m waiting for the first strike. But Dad goes for my underbelly instead.

“You look good, kid.” My dad gives me a ghost of a smile. He’s pissed but trying to play nice. “Glad you’re here.”

He doesn’t say glad you’re home. He never does. And I’ve never really noticed until now. It hits me; I have places to stay, but not a home. Our family is too transient for that.

Forcing a smile of my own, I give him my standard reply. “Glad to be here.”

Dad tugs on his ear. “Listen, I’m sorry I missed your arrival—”

“It’s okay,” I cut in. I don’t want to hear him make excuses. And because I’ve missed him, I don’t want to fight. Quickly I go to my toes and kiss his cheek. “And you look good too.”

Dad pats my shoulder and gives the top of my head a peck. There are few people who make me feel small in size. Dad is one of them. At nearly seven feet, with a wing span of eighty-six inches, he was a formidable opponent on the court. His size makes him look a bit like an overgrown scarecrow, all long limbs and boney joints.

I step back from him. “Besides, Gray picked me up, and I was happy to see him.”

Maybe I do want to fight because Dad scowls. “Gray Grayson has the potential to be a superstar.” His voice is so low, I need to strain to hear it. Which is exactly what he intends—force your opponent to focus on you and you’re in control.

Like that, our fragile bubble of keeping the peace bursts.

“He’s a superstar now, Dad.” I pop the top on a beer and hand it to him with a little more force than necessary.

Dad simply stares down at me from his great height. He’s more silver-haired than brown now. But his brows are still dark, and this makes his glare more penetrating. I wonder briefly if he’s coloring those damn brows just for that effect.

“You know what I mean, Ivy.” Dad doesn’t drink his beer. He frowns. “I’m this close to signing him.”

“He is my friend.”

“That little show just now didn’t look like friendship to me.”

Chest tight, I flop into a chair. “We were goofing around, and I’m twenty-two years old. I really don’t need a lecture.”

Dad sits as well, only with much more decorum. Setting his untouched beer on the table, he steeples his hands together as he leans back. “No, sweetheart, I think you do. You’re right. That young man is a superstar. With a reputation.”

Heat prickles over my chest, and it’s all I can do not to huff like a child. “I know all about his reputation. It doesn’t matter to me.”

“It ought to if you’re going to fall for him.” Before I can protest, he leans forward and pins me with a look. “Guys like that… Hell, Ivy, my career as an agent is built on them. You know what their live are like. Women at every turn, offering to do anything—anything—they want. These guys will screw their way from game to game and enjoy themselves without a care for who they hurt.”

“Guys like you,” I snap without thought. Instantly, I’m horrified that I’ve spoken so crassly to my own father.

Dad freezes, and his gaze doesn’t waver. “Yeah, Ivy. Guys like me. I loved your mother with all my heart. And I cheated on her constantly. Didn’t even consider it cheating, to tell you the truth. Thought of it as my due for being a star.”

Cringing, I look away, not willing to face him when he’s talking about hurting my mother.