by Jen Doyle
Just don’t show them to your brothers and everyone will go home alive.
To be honest, Dorie hadn’t intended to ever show them to anyone other than Nate. She’d planned to cook him dinner, maybe in nothing but an apron and some completely-unlike-her shoes, and then they’d—
“I’m sorry.”
Dorie nearly shrieked with surprise when she saw Nate standing in the doorway. For goodness sake. “You need to stop doing that.”
He smiled. Damn, he had the most gorgeous smile. He came toward her and put his hands on her waist, bent down to touch his lips to her hair.
She closed her eyes. She was trying not to get used to this. She was trying so very hard. “Sorry about what?”
“Dinner, to start with.” His hands went through her hair and he eased her head back so she was looking into his eyes. Eyes that were even more gorgeous than his smile, if that was possible. “I get that that’s outside the lines.”
She appreciated that. She really did—which was partly why she said she’d go. She wasn’t used to anyone putting her first, and the fact that he was willing to completely throw a wrench in everyone’s plans—for her—meant more to her than she was ready to admit. The other part, though, was that she wanted to be there for him. To be the one person who had no agenda whatsoever except to be there for Nate.
“But I can also stay here. I mean, maybe it’s not such a great idea for you to be seen with me so soon after Courtney.” She wasn’t an idiot. No matter how hard Nate tried, someone would get a picture of them together. She was a freaking trending topic, for heaven’s sake.
Her response did not make him happy. That was clear enough from the glare he was throwing her way. But just in case she didn’t get the hint, he added, “Courtney left me. I don’t give one iota of a fuck if people think it’s too soon. You’re the only one whose opinion on that matters.” He took a step away, his back to her as he paused for a minute before turning to face her again. “I know you don’t believe for a second that what I feel is—”
When she started to hold up her hands to stop him he grabbed her wrists and continued, “...is real. Whatever it is,” he conceded, not saying the L-word. “It’s real. I want you to tell your family. I want people to know.” He let go of her, then ran his hands through his hair. “If you’d rather not come to dinner tonight I totally understand. And, trust me, I get all the reasons why you’d want to stay home. But it would make me really happy to have you there.”
Well, um, okay.
It wasn’t that she thought he was lying about how he felt; she didn’t. He so obviously and wholeheartedly believed it. But he was coming off the rockiest six weeks of his life—and they hadn’t even known each other for a full week. And when he came to his senses, it would be awful. Which was why she was trying so desperately to keep boundaries around it all. If she could keep it physical and with an end date, she could cherish it for what it was and then just move on in the end.
Right. As if that was even close to possible.
But dinner? Yes. If he said he wanted her there, then she was going to take him up on that. She smiled. “I hope a dress from the Gap is acceptable.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “As far as I’m concerned, anything that doesn’t say Red Sox on it is acceptable.” As if to make his point, he fisted his hand in her T-shirt and pulled her closer. “In fact,” he murmured against her neck, “I may need to take care of this one right now.”
“Uh-uh.” Laughing, she pushed him away. “I have some major work to do here. You’ll need to make yourself scarce for a little while.”
She wasn’t lying. She cleaned up pretty well, but it did take some time, especially since it wasn’t something she did on a regular basis. Hair, nails, makeup, dress, heels. It was a good hour before she was ready. Enough time that she was on the verge of making them late. But even with that being the case, she still had to call her family just to be safe. There was no way she was letting them hear about this from someone other than her.
She’d just fastened the buckle on her right shoe and was tapping the call button on her phone as she straightened up when Nate hissed, “Jesus,” from the doorway.
She ended the call before anyone picked up. “What?” she asked, her hand dropping to her side. “Is everything...?”
Her words died in her throat as he came toward her. She took a step backward and would have fallen against the bed if he hadn’t caught her by the elbows and steadied her. Because she saw it. She saw in his eyes how deeply he felt for her.
It was infatuation, she’d been trying to tell herself. Lust. Even a little bit of I-can’t-believe-you-just-said-that. But just now she’d seen love. Honest-to-God, he-might-be-telling-the-truth-about-how-quickly-he’d-fallen love.
“You’re stunning,” he said. “Beyond beautiful. If you believe nothing else I tell you, at least believe that.”
To be honest, having been adored by six older brothers and the best parents in the world, she did believe that—she’d felt it all her life. She’d even had men tell her that, had them show their appreciation in intimate terms. And yet she was entirely unprepared for the emotion that nearly choked her. She could not fall in love with this man.
“I do,” she said. “Believe you, that is. When you look at me like that I do.”
His hands went to her jaw; he angled her head up so gently—touched his lips to hers so tenderly—that the tears fell. Again.
Thank God she’d gone for the waterproof mascara.
As his kiss deepened, her arms went around his neck and she pulled him close. Maybe for just this one night she could pretend that he was right. That this would never end.
But before she could get too far into the pretending, he broke off the kiss. Not to create a distance between them—if anything, the way he held her to him, his hand at the small of her back, was even more intimate. Then his other hand came up between them and—
“What’s that?” Her entire body went still as her eye caught the flash of Tiffany blue in his jacket pocket.
“Had to do something with myself while you were making me wait.” There was a twinkle in his eyes.
She’d never in her life been given jewelry by a man. Not even from her father, whose special gift of choice was a pair of tickets to a Red Sox/Yankees game.
What was he thinking? “I can’t accept this.”
With a laugh, he muttered, “I’ll pay you to say that again in front of Pete.”
She glared at him.
“Would it help if I told you it cost me less than what I lost to you last night?”
Her mouth twitched before she could stop it. “Marginally.” Except she was lying. It helped a lot. And it scared her out of her wits that he understood that. With a deep breath she pulled at the end of the ribbon and opened the box.
It was the most beautiful necklace she’d ever seen. A rope of tiny pearls that joined together in a tassel of even tinier beads. It took her a minute to speak. “This is for me?”
His voice was gruff—almost irritated—as he answered, “Of course it is.” His touch was gentle, though, as he turned her to face the mirror on the wall, her back to him as she lifted the hair off her neck. She watched as he undid the clasp and then brought it over her head, letting it fall gently to her chest. Never in a thousand years would she have picked this out for herself—and yet, somehow, nothing had ever suited her more perfectly. He suited her perfectly.
Oh, God, no he didn’t.
When he looked up and caught her eye in the reflection, he smiled. His arm draped down the front of her as he pulled her against him, his fingertips brushing the hollow at her hip. Though he didn’t speak, she could see every word she wouldn’t let him say aloud written on his face.
Afraid that she might say something that would betray everything she’d managed to hold back so far, she
murmured, “This is so not the Julia Roberts movie I thought I was living.”
“Careful there, Donelli,” he said softly, laughter dancing in his eyes. “I know how every one of those movies ends. The odds are in my favor.”
Her phone rang. She reached for it blindly, her voice barely a whisper as she said, “Hello?”
“Luce... Fuck. Are you okay?”
“Sean.” It came out a croak. Eyes still on Nate, Dorie cleared her throat and tried again. “Sean. Hi.”
“You’re okay?” he snapped, the background noise of the restaurant a dull roar. “You’re not in the hospital or anything?”
Dorie tore her gaze away from Nate’s so she could focus on, say, speaking. “Um... I’m fine. Is—”
“You’re fine? Goddamn it, Luce.” He must have put his hand over the phone because his voice was muffled as he said, “Did you hear that? She’s fine. No. Hell. Yolanda. Don’t get my dad. I’ve got it.” His voice louder, he came back on the line. “Luce. Please tell Yolanda you’re fine.”
Yolanda. She’d been the hostess at the mother ship since the restaurant had opened. “Hi, Yolanda. I’m fine.”
“But why would she call us on a Saturday night and then just hang up?” Yolanda said, clearly unaware that she could ask Dorie directly rather than go through Sean. Phones weren’t her thing.
“Well, that’s an excellent question, Yolanda,” Sean answered in his well-honed, annoying I-am-the-oldest voice. “Especially since she knows that even just calling the restaurant on a Saturday night is grounds for calling out the National Guard.”
Pulling out of Nate’s arms, Dorie turned away from the mirror as her brother went on, going so far as to recite Golden Rule #1 from growing up. “Do not call the restaurant during dinner rush unless you’re bleeding. If it’s during Saturday dinner rush, then it better be because you’ve lost a limb.”
Dorie sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed. She was glad when Nate leaned against the dresser rather than joining her. Sitting next to Nate on his bed while talking to anyone in her family was a singularly bad idea.
Sean finally closed with, “...so you’d better have a hell of a good reason for calling on a Satur—”
“I got the point, Sean,” she snapped. “Can I—”
“Oh, shit,” Sean muttered. “It’s the shoes. Crap, Luce. It’s a guy, isn’t it? Are you pregnant?” With every question, Sean’s voice grew more belligerent. “Is he at least man enough to—?”
“Geez, Sean! I’m not pregnant.” Nate’s head jerked up at that last part. Great. Trying to get the upper hand in the conversation, she added, “And how do you know about the shoes?”
Nate stifled a laugh. He was enjoying this.
“My wife is the most beautiful, smartest, sweetest woman in the world,” Sean replied, “but the woman says three Hail Marys if she forgets to tighten the top of the milk. She practically gave herself a nervous breakdown trying to hide those pictures from me.”
Dorie looked down at her feet. She stuck one leg out and twisted her foot a bit so she could get a decent look. “For heaven’s sake,” she muttered. “They’re just shoes.”
The words nearly died in her throat when she realized that Nate was looking at the shoes, too. And then at her ankle. And then her calf. Her thigh...
A whimper escaped as heat pooled between her legs.
“What the hell, Luce?” Sean sounded even more irritated than before. He was growling, too, except not in a good way. “His hands better not be on you right now. I will—”
“I need to talk to Daddy,” Dorie snapped, cutting him off. “Now, Sean.”
There was a moment of silence before Sean said, “Fine. I’ll call you from my cell. We’ve already tied up this line long enough.”
Yes, that was true. The problem was that she had known it was an awful time, and that no one in her family would pick up their phone right now, so she’d needed to call the restaurant’s main number. Dorie very specifically did not look at Nate as she waited. She was already close enough to losing her nerve.
When her phone rang again she was ready for it, about to launch into an explanation immediately when her father’s voice boomed in her ear, “Lucinda? Is that you? How’s my baby’s new job? How is Kansas?”
“Iowa, Daddy,” Dorie said, rolling her eyes. He knew, of course. He just refused to get it right. “And I’m actually in Chicago this weekend.” It was as good a non sequitur as any. “Which is kind of what I needed to talk to you about.”
“But Sean says you’re okay?” This time it was Dorie’s mother speaking.
“Hi, Mom. Yes, I’m okay.” For the love of Pete. “Please tell everyone I’m okay.”
“You can tell them yourself. It’s report card night. Everyone’s here. I’m putting you on speaker.”
What? “No, Mom. Please don’t—”
“Oh, wait. Look at that! I can see you! Don’t I have the smartest grandson?”
Groaning, Dorie said, “Mom, no. I don’t want to FaceTime you.”
“Dorie!”
At least her mother had remembered not to call her Lucinda. That was something.
“Is that your bedroom? Are you in a hotel? Why are you in Chicago?”
Without thinking, Dorie glanced over at Nate. Except that made everything worse. “I’m, uh—”
“Are you there with a friend? Is it someone you met at your new job?” Forgetting she was on FaceTime, she put her hand over the phone as she turned to Dorie’s father. “She’s there with a friend. Do you think it’s a man?”
“Mom! Dad! Sean!” At least her brother would have some sense.
Which he did. Too much of it, in fact. He took the phone out of their mother’s hand, positioned it so that Dorie could see that, as her mother had said, practically her entire family—right down to the niece and nephews—was sitting at the huge table in the private room in the back, all staring expectantly at Dorie as Sean laughingly backed away.
“Oh, Mommy,” Dorie could hear her niece saying in a hushed yet overly loud whisper in the background. “Auntie Luce looks like a princess.”
“Not with those shoes,” Sean muttered, his arms folded across his chest.
“So what’s your big news?” her father was saying. “I gotta go back to the kitchen, so you’d better spit it out.”
Right. Dorie took a deep breath and once again deliberately did not look at Nate. “So there’s this guy...”
The questions erupted before she could get even those few words out. Most of them had already been asked, the are-you-pregnant one being the clear favorite. And when Dorie once again gave a resounding, “No!” there was clear puzzlement as to why she’d be calling otherwise, since there wasn’t anything else that could be quite as momentous enough to call right now.
“Is he...” Her mother looked over at her father with concern. “Is he a Yankees fan?” With an apologetic look at Claudia, she added, “Sweetie, you know your father has a hard time with that.”
Sean falling for a Yankees fan had broken their father’s heart. Literally, at least according to Dad. After Sean’s announcement that he was marrying Claudia, their father had gone into cardiac arrest. Though the doctor insisted it had everything to do with the blockages in his arteries after eating pizza almost every night for fourteen years, the family was suspicious. And Claudia, after spending almost a whole year in church for penance, was now converted.
“No, Mom.” Dorie checked on Nate. To her relief, he appeared to be amused. “But he is, actually, really into baseball. Which is why I’m calling.”
Her family was looking at the phone expectantly.
“He’s kind of, well, I think you’ll recognize his name.” Understatement of the year, given that she’d spoken of him nonstop from the ages of thirteen to seventeen. “He’s pretty...famous.�
�� Her heart started pounding. “And there’s a little bit of a chance that you might hear about it, so I wanted to make sure that I was the one who told you first.”
“Then maybe you should actually tell us,” Christopher yelled from the back of the room, his grin far too wide and evil.
“Yes.” Dorie nodded her head. That’s exactly what she was planning to do. “I’m, um...” What? Seeing? Sleeping with? The woman-of-the-moment for? “I’m...I guess you could say that I’m going out on a date with him, um, Nate. Nate Hawkins.”
There was a moment of stunned silence. And then nearly every single person in the room burst into laughter. Sustained laughter. So much so that she couldn’t get a word in edgewise.
“Great one, sis!”
“Best. Punk. Ever.”
“I just snarfed my spaghetti. Spaghetti just came out of my nose. Did you see that? Did anyone see that?”
Dorie glared at Nate. This was all his fault.
No longer nervous and now supremely irritated, Dorie stood up. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you!” she shouted into the phone. Oh, how she wished she had one of those ancient phones where you could slam the receiver down in its cradle. People were actually crying they were laughing so hard. She’d been thinking she might have him wave to everyone but there was no way in hell they were getting that now. “I have to go!” She couldn’t help but add, “And I love you all, damn it!”
“Oh, sunshine,” her mother said, having recovered enough to only hiccup once as she spoke. “You’re my favorite daughter in the whole world. Have a wonderful time in Chicago. Call me when you’re back at home.”
Okay. So maybe she didn’t blame them. Even she found this situation entirely laughable in a ludicrous sort of way.
“They’re adorable,” Nate said, coming over and wrapping her in his arms. The fact that he was shaking with his own muffled laughter did nothing to help matters. At least he was trying to hide it, Dorie supposed.
He took the phone from her and she expected that he’d put it on the dresser or throw it on the bed. But instead he sat down on the bed, pulled her into his lap and held it up over them. It was second nature for her to try to snatch it back—that’s just what you did when someone decided to play keep-away. But the moment she looked up for it, he snapped a picture.
