by Elyse Riggs
Plus I have to deal with Jake today. Again. I take a deep breath and head out the door, deciding to get a good cup of coffee today for sure, and then figure out the rest of the coffee maker situation later.
That decision made; I head out to Ocean Wave again. I realize how much I've missed it. So much of life depends on getting the day off on a good foot.
As I arrive and throw open the happy door with the pretty blue Ocean Wave logo on it, I find a moment to reflect on why this particular routine means so much to me.
For one, there's the ritual of it all. The cool hipster location, the delicious aroma that assaults my nose as I enter, and the fact that I'm surrounded by nice working people. Not asshole, cocky, stupid, handsome, famous ex-ballplayers.
The smell alone makes me happy. That intoxicating fresh ground coffee smell that mixes with the tangy, buttery smell of still warm pastries.
And don't get me started on the taste. And the caffeine. Okay, so I've missed fancy coffee-house coffee. It's the little things in life that make all the difference.
The line this morning isn't too bad, and a few minutes later I'm walking out caffeinated, happy, and ready to deal with anything. Maybe even Jake.
I pull into my work parking lot like I always do, only something weird is going on.
For one, all the parking spots are taken.
Huh, I haven’t seen this strip mall so crowded since they had that 5K last year. Is another 5k going on? I glance around, but the official Pirate Festival 5k is not until this weekend.
And anyway, none of these people are dressed as pirates. Or have running gear on. Or matching shirts. They're all in shorts and flip flops. As usual.
And some of the people lining up outside my door actually have their pets. Could it be? Is this crowd really here for the meet and greet with Jake and to try out my clinic?
I assumed they'd come to meet Jake, get his autograph and then leave. I was prepared to be completely ignored as usual while sitting in my office curled up in a fetal position thinking about the limited time I have left in the building.
But what I'm seeing out of my windshield is nothing short of a miracle. Exactly the kind of miracle I happen to need, as it turns out.
Since all the parking spaces near my office are taken, I park in front of the Walgreens and get out of my car, making sure to grab my coffee.
I say hi to a nice young couple walking a black lab pup. People are queuing up to get inside my front door. I could get used to this whole line thing. Maybe I should even open the doors early. I’m honestly not sure, as it's never come up before.
Then I remember that I have a key to the back door but I’ve never gotten to use it. I guess I will today.
I'm early, fifteen minutes as usual, and I don't want to disrupt the people waiting in line with their pets or have them think I'm cutting the line or something.
As I make my way around to the back entrance I have to then halt in order to dig the ancient back door key out of my purse. It takes a minute, but then I find it.
Once inside, the blast of air conditioning hits me. I hear voices as I weave around to the front desk and lobby area. The voices get louder and I realize that one of the voices is my front-desk clerk, Mia.
The other voice is clearly Jake's. Whatever I was expecting having to deal with Jake today and confronting him about our past, the last thing I expected was for him to be early.
Mia is rapt, watching him with her full attention, bosoms heaving underneath her circle cut tee shirt. Ugh.
Before even stopping to think, I take a step forward. This time, I make more noise with my cream colored flat.
Then I size up the distance between us, the width of his ridiculously broad shoulders, and account for the flow of the air conditioner before I let the coffee cup fly.
The cup hits Jake square between the shoulder blades. Then it bursts open with a satisfying pop and drips what's left of my Tropical Disturbance down the black tee shirt he's wearing.
There wasn’t much left in the cup. And other than a slight discoloration, nobody will be able to tell and that's a little disappointing. But I know and that’s what really matters.
His head whips around toward me and it’s clear he didn’t hear me approach. “What the hell, Angie?”
I roll my eyes so hard that they must make an actual sound because Jake clears his throat. "And that's the story of how I scored six touchdowns in a single game."
The momentary confusion that flashes across Mia's face tells me everything I need to know. He's lying. Again. Of course.
"Seriously, Angie?" he asks, turning his back to try to see how much of a mess the cup of coffee made on his shirt.
"Oops," I say, "that cup fell right out of my hand."
He turns to face me. His jaw tightens and he fixes me with those gorgeous baby blues. God, I hate him so much that I forget just how handsome he is sometimes. It's just not fair.
"You're saying that you accidentally threw the coffee cup at me?"
"You never scored six touchdowns." I say flatly, knowing that’ll hurt more than anything else I can possibly say.
"I'm not talking about pro," he argues through gritted teeth. "I'm talking about high school."
"I know, I was there."
"No, you weren't. That was the game you had Chicken Pox, remember? You were at home passed out on the couch. I called repeatedly but your mom refused to let me talk to you. She said you had a hundred and four degree fever and it had been three days since you so much as lifted your head off of the pillow and she'd be damned if I dragged you off to some stupid football game to be the death of you."
I fight the urge to laugh out loud. That does sound like my Momma.
Me and Jake stare each other down, at an impasse. The shit-eating grin he wears means that he's one hundred percent sure that he's right. He even looks at Mia and gives her a little wink. Asshole. I wait just another beat longer.
Then I step forward and whisper so only he can hear me. "I was there. And it wasn't really six touchdowns, it was seven, but you were screwed by that dumbass referee, the one with the bad toupee. He hit your team with a bullshit phantom holding call."
Then, after a get your ass in gear, we're about to open look aimed at Mia, I round the corner to finish checking messages so that I can open the office for the day. People are waiting outside, after all.
Chapter 14
Jake
I spend the rest of the morning signing autographs. Cara sent over a large basket of mini footballs with Angie’s St. Tropic Veterinary Practice logo and a few sharpies. She's nothing if not thorough.
Angie, despite being angry, set me up with a comfortable chair and desk over on the side to give plenty of room for people to form an orderly line as they wait for their appointments.
As usual, she has thought of everything. Just like old times. I do feel bad about this morning. Talking to the receptionist probably isn't the smartest thing I've done since I got back.
But in my defense, the smile I used on Mia worked like a charm. It works on everybody. Well, it used to. Now it works on everybody except Angie. And she’s the one who matters most.
I don’t know how I forgot how Ninja-like Angie can be. Damn. It's not the first time she's snuck up on me, either. But I can't let my mind go there right now. Because the truth is, I was just talking to Mia because I had all this nervous energy. I want Angie. More than I've ever wanted anyone.
And I'm not saying I deserve a second chance, because I'm not sure that I do. All I'm saying is that the heart, and the cock, wants what it wants. And right now, both of them want Angie. I’m a professional football player who can get any girl I want. And the one I want is Angie.
A part of me can’t believe she went to my game as sick as she was when she had Chicken Pox. Another part of me, the part that knows how damn stubborn she is has no trouble believing her. I can only shake my head.
I check my watch. Time flies, as they say, and the autograph line is finally dying down.<
br />
But not before hundreds of people came through here. Most with pets. The waiting room is packed. I know Angie's still mad at me but helping her today makes me feel good.
As the last customer leaves before lunch, I watch Angie breeze past me. I watch that ass sashay across the room and I'm hypnotized.
Suddenly I'm grateful to be sitting under a desk. Then Angie turns to face me. Uh-oh. I know that look, and it's not good. What did I do now? I've spent hours getting her new customers and signing footballs until my hand got all cramped up. "What?" Oh shit, this is probably about the receptionist. How could I be so stupid?
"You know what," Angie says as she crosses to one of those office chairs with the wheels, sits down, and then flies back across the room glaring at me the whole time until we're face to face.
I've dreamed about her half a dozen times since I moved to Phoenix. I thought I was done with all this. Right up until I saw her again. Wounded puppy in my arms, her eyes scanning me like she's never seen me before and like I'm coming home all at the same time.
I stand up and stretch out my hands and wrist from all the signing. And then she's on me, like colors on a beach ball.
"What are you really doing here, Jake?"
I grin. "What are you talking about? I’m signing autographs, Angie. I’m helping you out if you must know."
"Helping me? You ruined Puppy-Thon, tried to ruin Pirate Fest, and then, yes you volunteered to help me. And none of that answers the question. Why. Are. You. Here?"
Her gorgeous eyes get half a size bigger as frustration pulses through them. If anything it only makes her hotter. My gaze falls from those intense eyes to the curve of her neck, to the breasts I've seen in my dreams over and over again. They're amazing. Also, it looks like she started working out.
"Jake!"
"What now?" I ask, curling my lips into a smirk.
"Why are you here. Here in town. Here wherever I happen to be all the time? Why are you here, here? In St. Tropic?"
"Oh," I say, surprised that's really her question, "don't you ever read the internet? I got hurt. I'm back for rehab."
"And to massage his image," Mia chimes in from behind the desk. “He got cut from the team.”
Angie and I both shoot her a look.
Mia doesn't take the hint. "What? He's all over TMZ. Half-naked, all drunk, lots of women, a couple of legal citations, and two lawsuits."
"Thanks, Mia, that'll do." I say. Normally I don't give a shit what people think of me, but right now I'm actually a little ashamed of it all and I'm wilting under Angie's fiery gaze. Man, she's the firecracker I've been missing all this time.
Mia's right about all of the things I've done, but not once have I run into a woman like Angie. She has no idea the pull she still has over me.
"Oh my God," Mia exclaims triumphantly, her voice a full octave higher than before, "are you guys, like, exes or something?"
"Yes," I answer.
"No," Angie chimes in a fraction of a second later.
Angie's answer hits me like a sledgehammer. And I know it's not the time for it, I know she won't listen. But I can't hold it in any longer, not when I'm looking at the hurt in the face of the only woman I've ever loved. The woman I'm still in love with. The thought crushes me. It's something I've never admitted, not even to myself. And yet it's been there all along.
Angie crosses to leave, but I grab her gently by the arm. She turns, eyes shooting daggers into my soul. I have one last play.
"I tried to say goodbye." It's true.
She crosses her arms. "What stopped you, Jake? Because from where I'm standing, nobody's ever kept you from doing a single damn thing you wanted to do your whole fucking life. So if you wanted to say goodbye to me so badly, then why didn't you?"
"You're dad."
She pulls her arm out of my grip. She's still as strong as I remember. "That's a lie and we both know it, my dad always liked you."
Mia's eyes dart back and forth between us in rapt attention like she's watching a movie.
Angie might have pulled away. Again. But I'm not nearly done with this conversation. "He liked us dating, sure. But remember the night after we were together, when I was flying out to Phoenix to join the team? I drove out to your house. Only your dad must have gotten wind of it. He had his pickup truck, the green one. And he parked it there at the intersection of Maple and Vine. Right in the middle of the intersection, blocking all the traffic, not just me. He only got away with it..."
"Because of Baker being sheriff," she finishes my thought.
"That's right. Nobody crosses Baker. Not then and not now. So I stopped. Had no choice. Your dad might not have hated us dating, but he asked me right there in the middle of the street if I was willing to give up my entire pro career to keep seeing you."
Angie looks surprised. Whether she likes it or not, I can read her as well as she can read me. I know for a fact that she's never heard this side of the story before. At least she's listening.
"And?"
I run my fingers through my hair and shift my weight. "And, when he asked me, I hesitated. Angie, I worked my whole life for that phone call from the Cardinals. And you know what? When it finally came, my first thought was of you. And I'm sorry, but I couldn't give it all up. Hell, I was a kid who never thought more than ten seconds into the future."
"That part's true," Angie says for Mia's benefit.
"So you turned and drove away," Angie says, trying to finish my sentence, to finish my story.
But I'm not done yet. "Wrong," I say with no small amount of satisfaction. "I refused to leave. That’s when he pulled a shotgun on me. I guess you could say it was the opposite of a shotgun wedding. He pulled a gun on me and told me to leave town. Gave me the whole speech. You're not good enough for my daughter, now get the fuck out of this neighborhood. I never want to see your sorry ass again. Because if she gives up her full scholarship to vet school because of you, I'll shoot so many God Damn holes in you, they'll be firing that football jugs machine right through your left pec, son. Is that what you want?"
Angie’s face turns white. She turns and sits down with a pout on her face that's threatening to bring out an even bigger tent in my jeans.
After a pause, her voice is softer. "Damn it. That sounds exactly like something my daddy would do. He told me he was going fishing that day. Don't wait up, sweetheart,” he said, “I should have known better."
"Whoa," Mia exclaims while excitedly looking down at her cell. "A new blog post says you two are back together. There's a super-hot pic of you cavorting on the beach and everything. The picture’s real, right? Because I have to tell you, it doesn’t look photoshopped."
Mia's gaze leaves her phone and roams over Angie and I before a smile crosses her face. "You two look good in paparazzi photos. But you don't seem like you're back together to me."
"We're not," Angie snaps.
God, she's infuriating. Then I remember the Pirate Ball. Unfortunately, this meet and greet is the last thing Angie and I have to do for publicity purposes. I won't see her again, and the thought of walking out that door without another opportunity feels awful. I need her. The one woman in this little town who won't even give me the time of day.
"Now, hold on a minute, Angie. Since everybody thinks we're back together anyway, why don't you come with me to the Pirate Ball?"
"Sorry, I already have a date."
"You hate those things. Have since we were kids. You'd never go to a dance unless forced to."
"Things change, Jake," she stares me down again, or at least she thinks she is. Only those angry brown eyes turn me on, and the curve of her lips bring back the best memories. I studied her face for years. I know every inch of her. And I want more.
And now I feel a surge of anger wash over me and feel like punching something, anything. Jealousy. Holy shit. I haven't felt jealous since before I left for college.
"Do you really have a date?" I ask suspiciously.
"That's what I said, Jake. Why
are you going to the ball? They never seemed to be your thing either."
She has a point. They weren't then and they aren't now. "I have to go because I'm a Quartermaster, remember?"
"Oh yeah," she smirks, "well, I guess I'll see you there."
"Great, I guess you will."
Chapter 15
Angie
The flickering lights of the Beaky Tiki are a welcome sight after the afternoon's events. Of course, I'm late again. Actually having lots of clients is a good thing, but it means extra time spent closing up.
Getting anything done today was nearly impossible anyway, since I spent the entire day thinking about Jake. I can’t believe he really did try to say goodbye. In a way it changes everything. And in another way, it really doesn’t. He’s still Jake, after all. It’s a lot to process.
And thanks to my big mouth, now I have to find a stupid date to that dumb pirate ball.
The familiar silhouttes of Fi and Kaylee sitting at our favorite table along with the ocean breeze puts me at ease for the first time today.
I get to the table with a big smile on my face. Fi and Kaylee get up and give me a hug.
Abigail comes over and joins in, only she has an eye patch on and a new skull and crossbones nametag. Ah, Pirate Festival week. I love it.
“Arrr.” I tell her.
"Arrr, yourself,” Abigail answers before raising an eyebrow at us. “Looks like you guys could use a pitcher of Beaky Tiki Punch and the usual appetizers."
“Oh yes, please. I so need that punch.”
We sit down.
"What were you two talking about?" I ask, sitting and scooting my chair across the sand and closer to the table.
"Wedding stuff," Kaylee says.
"Oh, I love wedding stuff. What'd I miss?"
"You'll never guess," Kaylee says, taking a moment to finish her sip before putting the glass down. I can tell by the gleam in her eyes that it's good news. "We got the Maldives Wedding Venue we wanted."
