A Champion's Heart, page 2
Darbi nodded. “I was only codding ya. It’s my underwear suitcase.”
“Darbi,” they said in unison.
“Seriously. Don’t believe me?”
The triplets shook their heads. Violet spoke first, “I choose to believe its faerie magic. Will you teach us how to cast spells? There’s this really mean girl at school. I’d like to cast a spell on her. Give her warts or something.”
Darbi nodded sagely. “Ah. Warts are a trouble for sure. But I’m thinkin’ a little dose of kindness might go a bit farther to resolvin’ your problem.”
“Not with her,” Violet said.
“Come on, girls,” Connie interrupted. “We need to get home. I don’t want to get caught in Tampa traffic.”
They trooped out to a shiny black SUV in the parking garage. A white magnetic sign with the Champions Grove logo stuck to the driver’s side door. Darbi swallowed. Each time she saw the logo, it reminded her of this fabrication she and Connie had cooked up so Connie could join the USO.
Connie glanced at her over the hood of the vehicle. “Stop looking so worried. It’s going to be fine.”
Darbi prayed her friend was right.
Chapter Two
Bishop glanced at his watch. He had just enough time to process his ticket to Dubai. He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket, extracted a credit card and completed the transaction. This trip could mean the difference in Champions Grove having a good year and having a great year. The sheik had seemed very interested in buying both the mare and the stallion Bishop had presented to him. Shipping them wouldn’t be cheap, but the cool million per he would get for them would cover the cost and more. He could build the new brood mare barn he’d been hoping for if this went through.
“Booking your trip?” Quinton Gates, his business partner, stuck his head in Bishop’s office.
“Yeah, hey. Come on in. I’ve got something I want to ask you.”
Quinton ducked through the doorway and stepped into the room. Bishop’s office was built onto the back of the current brood mare barn. The small room smelled of leather, straw, and horses. From his seat behind his desk, Bishop could look down the row of stalls in the barn. He watched everything from his fat, comfortable desk chair. He glanced up at his partner and lifelong friend.
He’d always envied Quinton’s strong frame. When they’d played football together in high school, Bishop always felt dwarfed by the guy, and he was no slouch. Quinton’s dark hair hung in a loosely bound ponytail, and a day’s growth of beard covered his face, but not enough to hide the cleft in his chin. Girls had always gone crazy over that dent. Yet, to this day, Quinton remained single.
His friend’s coffee-brown eyes glanced at him quizzically.
“Connie’s up to something,” Bishop said.
Quinton sat in the maroon leather arm chair across from Bishop. He stretched out his long legs, crossing his booted feet. “What’s new?”
“Nothing, but this time, it feels different. She told me to be sure and be home in time for dinner tonight.”
Quinton waggled his fingers in the air. “Oooh, sounds mysterious. Having you home for dinner on time reeks of conspiracy.”
“Shut up. You know what I mean. She’s been acting weird for weeks. She had Marta clean the suite of rooms in the west end of the farmhouse. Do you think she’s seeing someone? Planning to have him over or something?”
Quinton chuckled. “She’s always seeing someone, but I’ve never known her to bring anyone home. I doubt that’s it. She’s too much of a free spirit to get tied down by any man, especially at her age. She’s what? Twenty-five?”
“Twenty-six. I’ve also caught her closing her door when I walk by her room at night. It looks like she’s got someone on Facetime, but I can’t see her screen. Who would she have coming she wouldn’t want me to know about?”
His friend shrugged. “I really don’t know. I guess you’ll find out at dinner tonight.”
“She hasn’t said anything to you?”
“Not a word.”
Bishop held his friend’s gaze, not entirely sure Quinton told the truth. Usually, when he lied, he’d glance away when stared at so intensely, but this time he didn’t.
“What? I said I didn’t know anything.”
Bishop believed him. “Okay. It’s just making me nervous. She’s seemed so restless and grouchy lately. Complaining, I don’t spend enough time with the girls. And soon, I’m going to regret it.”
“Well, she has a point about the girls. When was the last time you did spend time with them?”
“Et tu, Brute? I thought you were on my side.”
“Bishop, there are no sides here. You’ve got three beautiful little girls who need their father. You’ve relied on Connie a lot these past years to handle them and be their mother. While Connie’s great, they need you. You’re their daddy, and you need to be a part of their lives.”
“Come on, Quin, you act like I totally ignore them.”
His friend raised an eyebrow.
Guilt washed over him. Spending time with three little girls who mirrored the looks and personality of their dead mother wasn’t easy for him. He sighed. He’d loved their mother, Laura, with all his heart and soul. Losing her during the birth of the triplets had rocked his world. His sixteen-year-old sister, Connie, who’d lived with them at the time, had bravely stepped up and taken care of his daughters…for the last ten years. His sister had sacrificed a great deal, but he needed her. He couldn’t take care of three girls on his own. What did he know about fingernail polish and putting hair up in ponytails? Every time he saw those angels asleep in their beds, it reminded him so much of Laura it nearly stopped his heart.
“Bishop,” Quinton said. “It’s been ten years, man. Don’t you think you’ve punished them enough?”
Anger surged through him at his friend’s words. “How dare you say I’m punishing my own daughters for their mother’s death.” He rose so fast the heavy chair slid into the window in the wall behind his desk, rattling the pane. “Where the hell do you get the right?”
“I don’t have the right. I’m just calling it like I see it. You travel to avoid spending time with your girls. You see them for a few hours at night for dinner, you manage…sometimes…to get to their games or dance recitals, you give them presents for their birthdays and Christmas. But what they need is attention and affection. They need to know they matter to you, Bishop.”
“They do matter to me,” he roared, but inside, he shrank from the truth of his partner’s words. “All this travel is to secure the business, which ensures their future. It will pay for their college, keep a roof over their heads, feed their bellies.”
Quinton sighed. “Listen, man, I’m not the one you need to convince. All I’m saying is one day, you may look around and wish you’d done things differently. Time slips away awful quick.”
“I don’t need this from you. I get enough of it from Connie.”
Quinton rose and held up his hands, palms out in surrender. “Okay…I’m going home. Listen, you need to think about hiring a new hand. We’ve been short since we lost Johnny Rodriguez.”
“I know. I’ll put an ad out. Can you interview while I’m gone?”
“Sure thing. See you tomorrow.”
“Yeah. Tomorrow.”
Quinton shook his head as he left the room.
Bishop’s cell phone rang, Connie’s face lighting up the screen. “Hey. I’m on my way.”
“Hurry up, it’s getting cold.”
“Okay, okay.”
He shut off his laptop and slipped it into his brief case. He’d work on the figures for the new brood mare barn some more tonight after dinner. He rose, pushing his chair under his desk. Now, I’ll have to apologize to Quinton. He knows how much that riles me up, but I shouldn’t have taken the bait. I’ll call him after dinner.
He stepped out of the barn and glanced up toward the house. Yellow-orange hues streaked the sky as the sun set. A figure walked out onto the deck off the kitchen and glanced down at the stables. Who is that?
The dying rays of the sun flashed in her coppery hair. She wore jeans and a long-sleeve green sweater. A sweater? In this heat?
She wasn’t very tall but was slender. He couldn’t see her face, but if it was anything like the hair and the rest of her figure…holy cow. Constance must have brought home a friend for dinner. Was she the one all the fuss had been about with the guest suite? He’d find out soon enough.
He tossed his briefcase into the passenger side of his pickup. Most days, he walked from the house, but today, he’d needed the truck to haul supplies. After sliding into the driver’s side, he started the engine. Despite Connie’s passable cooking, dinner might be fairly interesting tonight. He whistled as he drove the short distance home.
Darbi stepped out onto the massive deck surrounding the entire house. Her home in Ireland didn’t hold a candle to this place. Connie said there were nine bedrooms and twelve bathrooms, counting the half baths. Her home only had five bedrooms, and they were crowded with the Brennan brood of three girls and three boys, not including her. This farmhouse had two wings. She believed Greek Revival coined the correct term for the architectural style. The six tall columns across the front created an imposing yet welcoming feel. The west wing, as Connie had called it, held her suite of rooms. She’d been gobsmacked at the opulence. The king-sized canopy bed could easily sleep six. The soft lavender comforter had enveloped her when she’d flopped on it earlier. She’d stared at the tray ceiling painted white, then had let her gaze drift around the room. The eggshell color of the walls added focus to the mahogany furniture. Lavender accents filled the room in the form of decorative upholstery on the chairs, chaise lounge, and pillows. Directly across from the bed, a fireplace nearly filled the wall, its white face and white granite mantle gleaming in the soft light of the room. When she’d ever use it escaped her, but she loved it. And the suite was all hers. No sharin’. How grand.
The closet where she’d stored her clothes had been the size of one of the bedrooms in her house in Ireland. But the best part had been the bathroom. Its size overwhelmed her. She couldn’t wait to take her first shower in the huge stall with the six jets and rainfall showerhead, or a hot bath in the clawfoot tub big enough to hold three people. This man must be pullin’ in the pounds, as her father would say.
Guilt briefly pricked her heart, but she shoved it away. She had more to worry about than her da’s feelings. She stood in the sweltering heat and humidity, wishing she’d changed for dinner. She plucked at the green sweater she’d worn for the trip. Connie had tried to warn her about the warm temperatures in fall and winter. One disappointing thing was the lack of autumn colors. Florida just seemed to stay green. The palms and beautiful flowering plants all around the farm were lovely, but the hardwood trees had no sign of color change at all. Spindly moss hung from the branches of the largest oak trees she’d ever seen. She breathed in the scent of night-blooming jasmine and lilac wafting on the slight breeze. The pictures Connie had sent her hadn’t done the place justice. Champions Grove took her breath away.
The slamming of a door at the stables caught her attention. A tall man wearing jeans, a white short-sleeve button-up shirt, and cowboy boots strode away from the barn. He shoved his Stetson to the back of his head as he approached his truck. Mid-stride, he stopped and turned toward her. His sandy hair stuck out around his ears, just like she’d seen in the photos Connie had sent. Bishop Champion. Her breath caught. She couldn’t see his facial features from this distance, but she remembered the hazel eyes, sculpted nose, and strong jawline. She hadn’t expected the height or the brawn. She’d only seen a picture from his neck up, so the size of his well-toned muscular chest impressed her.
He stood squinting against the setting sun. She wondered if he could see her clearly, her body frozen to the spot. She forgot about the heat and the sweat trickling down her back and focused on her nerves. This man would decide her fate in the next few minutes. Her stomach churned with dread. She wished Connie had prepped him before she’d arrived. Why wait and have her witness what would surely be the fight of the century in the Champion household. She clung to the confident expression on Connie’s face when she’d shown her to her rooms.
“Stop worrying. If he gets mad, it will be at me, not you.”
“You’re not nervous about this at all?” she’d asked her new friend.
“Nah. His bark is a lot worse than his bite. He won’t like it, but he’ll come around.”
Connie sat in one of the chairs by the long floor-to-ceiling window in Darbi’s room. She gazed out wistfully for a moment, then faced Darbi. “One thing I hope you can accomplish, which I haven’t been able to in ten years, is to get Bishop to spend more time with the girls. He took Laura’s death so hard, and they remind him of her so much. Their personalities are similar to their mother’s, full of life, love, and quite spirited. You’d think after ten years, he’d be over his grief.”
“That’s tough to be sure,” she’d commented. “Does he not spend any time with them at all?”
“He does the obligatory fatherly things, like attending school events, having dinner with us at night. Occasionally, he’ll take them riding, which they’re over the moon about when they return. But he travels a lot. I’m not sure how much it really benefits the business or helps him assuage his guilt for not wanting to be with the girls.” Connie plucked at a piece of lint on her shorts.
“I can’t imagine losing the love of your life but to want to shut out those three darlin’ girls. I’m sorry for him.”
Connie smiled, slapped her thighs, and rose. “Me, too, but there doesn’t seem to be much I can do about it. He’s a stubborn donkey’s butt.”
Darbi laughed. “I’ve been told I’m one as well, so perhaps I can take him on in time.”
Connie nodded as she approached the doorway. “You’re the perfect gal for the job.” She stepped across the threshold. “I’ll leave you to unpack. See you downstairs after a bit. Dinner’s at six.” She entered the hallway and then glanced over her shoulder. “And stop worrying.”
Easier said than done. Darbi watched the man turn on his heel and approach his truck. He tossed a briefcase into the passenger side, then strode around to the driver’s side, whistling.
“I hope you’re keepin’ that happy mood in a few hours,” she said, stepping back inside the house.
The warm, tantalizing smell of food assaulted her nostrils when she entered the kitchen. Connie stood over the stove, stirring a pot of mashed potatoes. A platter of golden fried chicken sat on the marble countertop.
“Could you put the chicken on the table, Darbi? I just want to give these potatoes one last whip.”
“I saw your brother get in his truck and head up this way,” she replied, setting the platter of chicken on the table as requested. “How are you goin’ to introduce me?”
“I’ll say you’re visiting from Ireland, and once the girls are finished eating and off to their rooms, I’ll tell him.”
Darbi sighed. “I really wish you’d done this before I came. It’s sure to be awkward.”
“There you go. Worrying again. Here, take this. I’ll bring in the carrots.” Connie handed her a huge bowl of mashed potatoes.
As Darbi placed the bowl on the table, she heard a door open toward the front of the house.
A man’s voice yelled, “I’m home.”
“Daddy!” three young voices yelled at once. Footsteps thundered through the house from all directions as the girls met their father at the door.
Darbi peeked around the doorframe of the kitchen in time to see the girls collide with their father. He took a few steps back and hugged all three, kissing the tops of their heads. This didn’t look like a man who neglected his children, but then again, he probably knew he had company. Their reaction to each other seemed genuine. Time would have to tell.
She stepped back toward the table and stood awkwardly while Connie put the rest of the dishes on the table. Bishop clomped into the room, two daughters clinging to one arm and one clinging to the other. His gaze settled on her. Those hazel eyes were far more intense in person. She squirmed under his scrutiny, brushing damp palms on the thighs of her jeans.
“Everybody sit down.” Connie pointed to a chair on the opposite side of the table. “Darbi, you can sit beside Ivory.
“Yay,” Ivory said, grinning at Darbi.
At least the triplets seemed to like her.
Bishop’s lips curved. He held out her chair, and she sat. “Connie, are you going to introduce our guest?”
“Yes, as soon as I sit down.” She brought in a few more items and then took her place at the head of the table opposite Bishop. She puffed out a breath, her cheeks pink with the effort of pulling together such a meal. “Okay. Bishop, this is Darbi Brennan. She’s here from Ireland.”
“Oh.” He sounded surprised. “Ireland?”
Darbi nodded.
“You’re a long way from home.”
“Aye. But you have a beautiful farm here. It’s a bit green for this time of year, isn’t it?”
“Not really. We don’t get the change of seasons here like in other parts of the US. Do you see the leaves change in Ireland?” Bishop passed her the carrots.
“Oh yes. Fall is my favorite time of the year. Some years are prettier than others.”
The girls started to pepper her with questions about Ireland. Bishop held up a hand. “Girls, enough. Let the lady eat her dinner.”
They enjoyed a wonderful meal, with Bishop updating Connie on the recent interest of the sheik in the breeding pair he wanted to sell them. “I go to Dubai in two weeks to try and seal the deal.”
“Bishop, how fantastic. You’ve been trying to get him to buy Sophie and Pistol Shot for a while now. What changed his mind?”
