by Jen Doyle
Her hands went to the table behind her and she went into deer-in-headlights mode. “What do you mean by that?” she whispered. They’d already had this conversation and she was pretty sure she’d made her intentions clear. Just in case not, however, she said, “I don’t want a relationship, Deke. I really don’t.” Especially not now, after this weekend’s meeting with Sam and with a ticket out of Inspiration dangling in front of her. This was not the time for distraction.
That damn smile of his came over his face. “I’m not saying a relationship. We already have one of those.” Before her frown could turn into a, That’s not what I mean and you know it, he came up against her again, and nuzzled her neck. “I’m talking sex. Regular, out of this world, I-can’t-see-straight sex.”
“Regular anything equals a relationship,” she managed, closing her eyes.
“No,” he said, his voice muffled by her collarbone. “It’s like... It’s a schmelationship. Sounds like, but not the same thing.”
Laughing, she meant to push him away, but only managed to pull him in closer.
“So?” he said a minute later, after driving her nearly to madness, his hand up her shirt and his mouth on her skin.
“Huh?” He was magic. It made it hard to think.
But think she did. In a way, it was the safest thing in the world. God knew they’d already crossed the line in a big way. And she couldn’t deny it was exactly what she’d wanted—someone she could be as easy with as Nate was with Dorie. Deke was the only person in the world with whom she’d ever come that close. It was still a major leap, though. And if she actually moved away? Regardless of how tempting it sounded, the answer should be no. Absolutely one hundred percent times ten thousand, No.
“Maybe,” she said, instead.
His eyes went soft again as he looked down at her mouth. Then he cupped her cheeks with his hands and tilted her head so he could bend to kiss her one more time.
He pulled away again and stepped back. “You should think on it, then,” he said, backing away from her slowly. He gave her one final grin before heading back out to the others.
Fitz knew she needed to be talking some sense to herself. Yet all that came to mind was that after every time he touched her, the only thing she could think about was how desperately she wanted him to touch her again.
Chapter Twenty
It was Friday after lunch. Deke hadn’t seen Fitz since they’d returned from California early Wednesday morning.
He was not fucking happy about it.
He’d been willing to give her the benefit of the doubt on Wednesday since everyone was lagging, given Nate’s game and the early morning flight, even if it was courtesy of Nate’s private plane. He’d even been okay with her blowing them off Thursday at lunch because, well, she got a freebie. But with Dorie there both for last night’s dinner and for lunch today, the only logical conclusion was that Fitz was avoiding him.
He couldn’t blame her.
Yes, she seemed fully okay with how things had been that night. She certainly hadn’t held anything back and he’d been more than happy to go along with it. But he’d pushed it too hard. Telling her he wanted to see her every night after the crack he’d made about staying home with their babies? Yeah. “Schmelationship” wasn’t exactly going to cut it.
Well, whatever. It wasn’t like there was anything he could do about it at the moment. He’d said his piece and he wasn’t about to take it back. He wanted her; he didn’t want anyone else.
“So,” Lola said, coming up to the bar with a tray of empties. “Is there a particular thing you’re frowning at today, or should I just get used to this new Debbie Downer Deke?”
Deke, yes, frowned before scanning her tray and taking care of the refills. “Debbie Downer Deke? That’s the best you could come up with?”
She shrugged as she rested her elbows on the bar, her eyes on the few occupied tables. Late afternoon was downtime, which meant she was handling waitressing duties until the dinner shift came on and she moved over to the hostess stand. Their only customers at the moment, in fact, were their dad and a few of his longtime friends, a group of teachers from the high school who were there for their usual TGIF drinks, and a table full of women who appeared to be starting early on a bachelorette party if the tiara and sashes were any indication.
“Well, I could tell you that one of the games they’re playing over there is Which Debbie Gets To Do Deke but that would just be gross.”
That wasn’t the kind of statement a guy could ignore, of course. His eyes went directly to the table and his smile was automatic. He couldn’t help it. When anyone of the female persuasion flirted, he flirted back. At the same time, he had to turn away before it became entirely obvious he had absolutely zero interest in actual engagement.
He finished off the new round of drinks and put them on Lola’s tray, not at all expecting her look of surprise. “What?”
“You’re not going to take a walk over there?” she asked, her expression a mix of older sister disdain, with a side order of shock. “Strut your stuff? Put a few more notches on your belt?”
He really wished people would stop talking about his damn belt. Leaning back against the counter, he crossed his arms over his chest. “Oh, so it’s fine to objectify my superlative assets, but God forbid a guy says something like that, and then it’s all let’s go march on Washington time.” There. Hopefully that was enough Lola-speak to shut her down.
Unfortunately, she was totally on to him. Although she narrowed her eyes, it was more like she was examining him than glaring. “What planet are you from,” she asked, “and what have you done with my brother?”
He pushed the tray in her direction. “You’re keeping my fans waiting.”
With a distinct, “Hmph,” she snatched the tray off the bar and went off to deliver the order. If she hadn’t had fifteen years’ worth of practice slinging drinks while giving off attitude he would have been worried. But she was back ten minutes later, having checked in at the other tables so she could sit down and chat. Great.
She jumped right into it. “So what gives?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said, wishing that someone—anyone—would come in for a drink and stay a while. He got really busy wiping down the counter.
“How many blondes are there at that table?” she asked.
Although he had no idea why he was even responding to her, his eyes flicked over to the table with the bride-to-be and her friends. “Three. Why?”
Her eyes narrowed again. “Which ones are wearing wedding rings?”
“Jesus Christ, Lola.” With a glare, he grumbled, “How the fuck am I supposed to know?”
Then her gaze went somewhere over his shoulder. “Oh, hi, Fitz.”
If he hadn’t been so on edge about the woman for, oh, the last month, he wouldn’t have been caught dead falling for something so obvious. But, goddamn it, he swung his head around, only to swing it back when Lola gave a triumphant smack to the counter. “I knew it!”
Fuck.
This time his glare had some serious ice in it. He grabbed the bin of dirty dishes out from under the counter and brought it back to the kitchen, thinking she’d get the hint and get back to her job by the time he returned to the bar. Since it took him all of two minutes, and since not one freaking person in the whole town needed a drink at that moment, it didn’t do him one iota of good.
“Does she know?” Lola asked, a gleam in her eye.
She was asking about Fitz. Obviously. What Fitz was supposed to know, however, was the question.
That every minute of their night together had been playing back on an endless loop since the moment she’d left his bed on Sunday morning? That he’d relived every kiss? That he couldn’t recall ever, not even once, being so affected by a woman that just getting through the day
was a struggle because of how badly he wanted her again?
Fuck, no.
The woman had gone pale at the word boyfriend. Since he was having a hard enough time reconciling what was going on inside his own head, he wasn’t exactly going to push the point. Nor was he going to utter a word of any of that to Lola. “Since I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about, I’d have to say no.”
“Oh, God,” Lola whispered, as though the most awful thing in the world were happening. “Please tell me you’re not thinking about sleeping with her.”
Since Lola was clearly speaking in hypothetical terms whereas Deke most certainly was not, he knew this was dangerous territory. Yet he found it harder than expected to not just come out and ask, Why? Was the idea of him and Fitz being together really that bad of a thing?
“You... You can’t, Deke. It wouldn’t be like it is with all the rest of your women.”
His women? Really?
“She’s...”
He leaned back against the counter, his arms across his chest. “She’s what?” He loved Lola. He’d lay down his life for her without a second thought. She’d better be careful, however, of what she was about to say.
And she did seem to be choosing her words very deliberately. But the one she came up with was, “Fragile.”
“She’s not freaking fragile. And I’d recommend not mentioning to her that you think so.”
Clearly as taken aback by the vehemence in his tone as he was, Lola sat back, an odd smile on her face. “You’re right,” she said. “Fragile wasn’t the best word. I guess I just meant you need to tread carefully. She deserves someone who will treat her right.”
“You think I won’t?” he snapped. He took care of people. Damn right he would take care of Fitz, whether he was sleeping with her or not. He sure as hell hoped his freaking sister would be aware of that.
“Okay, Max,” she said softly.
Goddamn it.
Yes, okay, he’d overreacted. Yes, maybe he had a little bit more riding on this—this being his ever-so-eloquently proposed extended booty call proposition—than he’d realized. But in no way was he looking for a relationship. He was definitely not looking for a relationship with Fitz. Because, yes, he loved her.
And...fuck.
Now he understood what she’d meant when she’d said that very thing to him after that first time in the Jeep.
He turned his back to the room and rested his hands on the counter, leaning heavily. A few seconds later he felt Lola’s hand on his shoulder. Then she rested her head on his back as her arm went around him. “You’re an amazing person,” she said. “Any woman would be lucky to have you.”
Deke snorted at that. Fitz clearly didn’t agree.
A cheer went up from the bachelorette table and they begin chanting his name. For maybe the first time in his life, he hated his job.
With a sigh, he said, “Duty calls,” and made sure there was a smile on his face.
Are we still on for dinner?
The message came late Friday afternoon, reminding Fitz that she had planned to have dinner with Mama Gin. Those kinds of things didn’t usually slip her mind, but she’d been on the go since the moment they got back from San Francisco thanks to a conversation with Nate that wasn’t even supposed to be a conversation.
It had been specifically meant as a distraction, in fact, since Nate had come upon her standing there after Deke had left her and Nate wanted to know what was wrong, clearly thinking the worst. She hadn’t exactly wanted to tell Nate that Deke had told her he wanted to have sex with her every night and that she was actually considering it, so she’d made sure to take the conversation in a different direction. One thing led to another and here she was, sitting on the news that Nate was going to retire.
That was huge. As in, start the Sports Illustrated retrospective huge.
And after that he was coming back to Inspiration instead of staying involved with professional baseball in the way everyone expected. Since he wasn’t exactly one to be idle, he had big plans for when he was done. He wanted to build a mini-city, it seemed; all sports, all the time. It would have everything from fantasy baseball weekends for the older set right down to a year-round training academy, complete with actual dorms for kids who were there for more than a weekend.
All of which was awesome. Beyond exciting. The only downside was that he was talking about leaving Chicago right as she was beginning to finally get some traction on moving there. Not that it changed her overall plan. It was just that there’d been a reason for choosing a headhunter based in Chicago. She wanted to leave Inspiration, yes. She’d just always assumed she’d be doing it with him nearby. Thinking about it all gave her palpitations, though, so she was more than happy to distract herself with Nate’s plans. The past few days had been full of brainstorming with Dorie and Nate, lists upon lists of things to get ready for the board meeting, and the presentation she’d have to make.
“Did you hear that, people?” she called out to the empty office around her. “Year-round. Classes and clubs and everything. It would be amazing!”
Since the office around her was, in fact, empty, she received no response. She didn’t expect one—she wasn’t actually going crazy. At some point along the way over the last few weeks, however, being alone had begun to bother her. She blamed it on Deke and what he’d said to her that day at the cemetery. She did like being alone. When you were alone, no one could disappoint you. It did get a little too quiet sometimes, though, so she’d started to noisy things up.
“That’s right,” she said, directing her comment to the copy machine. “Noisy it up.”
The copy machine refused to respond.
Whatever. She loved this project. It was crazy. Overwhelming. And so freaking fun that she actually looked forward to waking up each day so she could get to work faster. She’d never felt this way before.
Okay. Maybe it was a little bit about Deke, too.
No, damn it. It was more than a little bit about Deke. More like a lot.
She shouldn’t want him. The idea of being with him felt like opening up herself to everything she’d tried to guard against for most of her life. But he said all the right things, and, God, the things he’d done to her body had been more than right. Plus, although he had his faults, he knew her better than almost anyone in the world.
No. That was not a point in his favor.
With a sigh, she looked at the clock. She took the full forty minutes she had left, hoping there’d be enough of a crowd on a Friday that Deke would be fully occupied. And to her shameful yet great relief, he wasn’t anywhere in sight when she walked in. Looking around for Mama Gin, Fitz headed to the bar only to be ushered to the back office by Josh, Deke’s backup bartender.
As she rounded the corner in the hallway, she nearly ran into Lola.
Lola, who stopped suddenly and gave Fitz the strangest look before gathering Fitz up into her arms. Trying not to noticeably tense up, Fitz just smiled back. “Is everything okay?”
Lola’s smile turned overly bright. Kind of forced, which was even stranger because it seemed as though she was also tearing up a bit. Then she gave Fitz another squeeze before releasing her. “Mama Gin’s in the office with Deke and my dad. How about I send some dinner back? The usual?”
“Uh, sure,” Fitz said. This was...weird. “Thanks.”
Lola gave another one of those forced smiles before moving briskly down the hall.
Okay, then. Gearing herself up, Fitz gave a quick knock on the door before opening it and...
“Deke.” He was sitting with his hands clasped behind his head, his legs stretched out in front of him and his boots on the desk.
God, she loved those boots.
God, she loved his legs and his head and his hands, too.
Her body’s reaction to him was as e
xpected as it was instantaneous. Doing her best to ignore the blood that was stirring up for its inevitable descent to her lady parts, she gave what was probably an overly bright smile.
“Hey, Fitz,” he said, dropping his feet to the floor and sitting up straight.
Yep, there all that blood went, stubbornly settling in her core.
She couldn’t act on it, of course, because they weren’t alone. But the electricity arcing between them was so strong she wouldn’t have been surprised if Mama Gin and Mr. Deacon felt it, too. The only thing that pulled her out of it was Mama Gin saying, “Hi, honey. We were just talking about your dad.”
Fitz’s head snapped up. “What?”
She glared at Deke. He gave a small shrug and raised his eyebrows a bit as he shook his head, kind of a small, Believe it or not, it wasn’t me. Fitz was not inclined to believe it, actually, until Mama Gin nodded her head toward the TV that was on top of the bookshelf. “Hank and I were saying how much Nate looks like him.” Fitz’s eyes flew up to the TV to see the Watchmen taking the field.
It wasn’t that Fitz didn’t know what her father looked like, of course. She didn’t have any pictures of him, though, The night he’d died she’d been fifteen and in the car on a ride she didn’t want to be on. It wasn’t like she’d carried photo albums around on a regular basis in the event that her parents were, say, torn away by a tornado before they got home. Since the house Fitz had grown up in had been destroyed that same day, there wasn’t much beyond the memories left to pack away.
And no matter what Deke thought, there wasn’t any way in hell that Fitz would ask Mama Gin if she had any pictures lying around. Which meant that Fitz had never really had much to compare to. “He does?”
Mama Gin drew her hands into a steeple and raised them to her mouth. With tears glistening in her eyes, she murmured, “Oh, baby.” And then she took Fitz’s hand and yanked her directly into...
Yes, another hug. Another moment of trying not to tense. An unexpected moment of realizing Deke had touched her over and over again, in all sorts of places, and not once had she minded. In fact, even now, being in his presence after very specifically avoiding him didn’t feel even the slightest bit strange. It felt comforting. Safe. As if he’d catch her no matter how far she fell, even if he wasn’t happy she’d gone radio silent for two whole days.
