“Are you kidding me?” Jen interrupted.

She dropped her sleeve from Cash’s mouth and got right in her brother’s face—well, more like his chest, seeing as Carson was a foot taller than his sister. But she didn’t back down, and her petite frame vibrated with anger.

“You’re such a hypocrite, Carson! Love and honor? Isn’t that what you promised your wife when you recited those wedding vows?”

Carson jerked as if he’d been shot. “What the f**k does Holly have to do with this?”

“You tell me,” Jen snapped. “Were you loving and honoring her when you were sneaking around meeting your little angel?”

Her brother’s face paled.

“Jen,” Cash said cautiously. “Maybe now is not that time to—”

“Now is definitely the time, Cash! He’s standing here passing judgment on us when we both know damn well what he’s been up to.” She glared at her brother. “Who was that redhead you met at Starbucks?”

Silence descended. Carson’s ashen face took on a hint of defeat, and his broad shoulders sagged beneath his white button-down. For a moment, Cash felt a pang of sympathy for the man, which intensified when he remembered the heart-wrenching argument Carson and Holly had been having only minutes ago. He suspected there was more to the story than he and Jen would ever know, but rather than clarify or explain, Carson simply released a ragged breath.

“I’m not talking about this with you,” he mumbled, edging away.

Jen gaped at him. “That’s it? You’re just going to avoid the subject? Cash and I saw you. And I heard you on the phone with another woman. Not even an explanation?”

“I don’t owe you any damn explanations.”

“Well, then apparently I don’t owe you one either.” She looked at Cash. “We should go.”

He touched his swollen lip and his hand came back stained red. “You’re probably right.”

“Why don’t you clean up your face and wait for me here?” she said tersely. “I’ll tell Jane and everyone you said goodbye, that way you won’t have to go out there and scare the kids with all that blood.”

Without sparing a glance at her brother, Jen marched off, her shoulders stiffer than two-by-fours.

The two men remained, eyeing each other like two wild animals vying over territory. Cash cleared his throat, knowing he ought to say something, anything, but he couldn’t bring himself to apologize. Not about his feelings for Jen, anyway.

Unfortunately, Carson didn’t give him a chance to speak. With one final scowl, the other man stalked off and then the front door slammed again.

Shit. This was one headache he definitely didn’t need.

Cash ducked into the bathroom and studied his face in the mirror. He was no longer bleeding, but his mouth and jaw were bathed in blood, making him look like an extra in a horror movie. Sighing, he turned the faucet and bent to wash the blood off. He dried his face using toilet paper, not wanting to use Jane and Becker’s white hand towels in case the cut reopened.

When he stepped back in the hall, Jen was waiting there, her mouth set in an angry line. “I can’t believe him,” she muttered. “I know my brother can be an ass**le, but this was something else.”

“Don’t be too hard on him. I think he was angrier with himself than with me. I kind of showed up at the tail end of his argument with Holly.”

Jen let out a weary breath. “They were fighting?”

“Yeah, and Carson took out his frustration on me. I’m sure he’ll come crawling by with an apology once he cools down.”

At least he hoped so. Because no matter what Carson thought—or wanted—Cash had no intention of walking away from Jen.

Chapter Twelve

Two days passed and Jen still hadn’t heard from her brother. He was going out of his way to avoid her, which she found not only infuriating, but juvenile as hell. She’d left him several messages, ranging from pissed off to apologetic, but truth was, she didn’t feel like apologizing to him. She couldn’t believe he’d hit Cash, his own teammate. And then lecturing her about who she got involved with? Seeing as he’d screwed up his own marriage, he had no right to pass judgment on her relationship with Cash.

Relationship?

Jen’s hand froze over the handle of the pot. She’d just filled it with water to be boiled for the macaroni and cheese she was making for dinner, but now she set the pot down, stunned by where her thoughts had gone.

“Fling,” she mumbled to herself.

Right, she and Cash weren’t in a relationship. They were having a fling. A fling that would be over in less than a week.

So why did the thought of ending it with Cash bring an ache to her heart?

Her ringing phone provided a much-needed distraction from her troubling thoughts. She grabbed it from the counter and looked at the screen, wrinkling her forehead as she studied the unfamiliar number. She didn’t think it was Brendan, since it was a Los Angeles area code, but who would be calling her from L.A.?

She answered with a wary, “Hello?”

A male voice met her ears. “May I speak to Jennifer Scott?”

“This is she.”

“Jennifer, hello. This is Rick Martin. I’m the photo editor at Today’s World.”

Surprise flitted through her. “Oh…hi.”

“Jane Becker gave me your number—I hope that’s okay. She said you wouldn’t mind if I called you directly.”