by Jen Doyle
And then they all spoke at once.
“I guess I’ll—”
“We should—”
“Would you like to come to dinner?”
That last one was Dorie, of course, and she’d gotten it all out before realizing they were both gearing up to leave. Not necessarily inviting her along. “I mean—”
“Jason and Deke, too?” Fitz asked, kind of as if she didn’t think she’d heard Dorie’s question right.
“We’re not exactly light eaters,” Wash added. “Just to be clear.”
Dorie couldn’t contain her smile. “I have six brothers, remember?” It would be nice to cook for a crowd again. Plus it had the benefit of keeping her mind off Nate. It was a win-win.
Right?
* * *
Once Nate decided to charter the plane, his life got a lot easier. He’d been able to spend Sunday night with Dorie and then head back to Chicago for another meeting before more time at the hospital with Marcela and Robbie. From there to New York for the show and then his own personal red-eye to Arizona where he’d met with the trainer as requested. He’d come straight to the house he had here and was now happily soaking in the hot tub and...
And...hell. Thinking of Dorie. Trying to be amused rather than irritated that she was trying to blow him off again.
By text, no less. Really?
When his phone buzzed a few minutes later, he hoped it was her coming to her senses. But, no, it was from Deke.
Dude. Poker night. U in?
Nate smiled. He hadn’t been invited to poker night in years. Even when he’d been back for one reason or another, the invites hadn’t exactly been flowing; case in point, the week before. Because at some point he’d decided he had better things to do and had stopped saying yes. What an ass.
Unfortunately, that was going to be case yet again.
In Scottsdale tonite. On to LA in the morning. Next week?
You’re on. Holding you to it. Call if ur back b4 then.
He’d be back on Thursday morning, but he wasn’t making plans with anyone other than Dorie for now. She’d been the one to give February thirteenth as their end date. He was at least getting that. So he’d be spending every moment humanly poss—
Hold the fucking phone. What the hell? He had a plane at his disposal, nowhere else to be until tomorrow at noon, LA time. That was actually doable. And the thought of watching Dorie run the card table again gave him a rush.
On second thought, count me in. Ok to bring a +1?
Is she pretty? was Deke’s return text.
Beautiful. Gorgeous. Funny. Sexy as hell.
There was a bit of a pause. Then, Sounds good as long as she can run the Fitz/Wash gauntlet. C u tonite.
Dorie had already managed the Fitz/Wash gauntlet; Nate had no concerns about her fitting in. Hell, she probably fit in better than he did. He grabbed a towel as he got out, then tried to call her. Her phone went straight to voice mail, of course, which was full. Goddamn it.
Fine. He had no problem just appearing at her door. It had been working for him so far.
Fifteen minutes later he was showered and dressed, his keys in his hand as he walked out to the truck he kept here. He would stop to pick up some food for the crew he’d just roused out of their hotel rooms and then he’d be on his way.
He tried to sleep on the plane, thinking it would help him stop obsessing about Dorie. But closing his eyes just made it worse. He could feel her. Smell her. Hear the sounds she made as she broke apart beneath him. He was afraid he might actually fall asleep and end up jacking off in front of the crew without even realizing it.
Shit. If she really didn’t want to see him again?
No. Visualize success. Just don’t get off on it.
When they finally landed he didn’t even bother trying to call or check in with anyone. He got in the car he’d left at the airstrip the day before and headed into town. It was just past seven when he got to her place, and he was eager enough to see her to take the steps three at a time. Just as he was about to knock, however, he heard a man’s voice followed immediately by Dorie’s laugh. Nate froze.
Could she be seeing someone else?
She laughed again.
Well, tough shit. This was not one-sided, no matter what she said. Texted, for Christ’s sake. Nate wasn’t going down without a fight. Pitchers and catchers was what she’d told Courtney. He still had fifteen days.
With renewed determination, he took a deep breath and knocked. Straightening his shoulders, Nate put on his game face—one of the best in the bigs—gearing himself up for whatever was on the other side of that door.
What he was not one bit ready for was it to be... “Fitz?”
“Nate,” she said, stepping out into the hallway, eyes narrowed and angry. She stuck her head out as though she was looking for someone. The fact that no one else was there seemed to anger her even more.
“What th—?”
“What’s that?” she snapped, cutting off his question. She pointed to the bag he held in his hand.
“Chimichangas,” he answered. “From Arizona.” He lifted the bag up over her head when she reached for it, even though he knew it pissed her off immensely. “For Dorie.”
Frowning, Fitz said, “There’s, like, four containers in there.”
“The woman likes her food.” And he was not above using that fact. As he stepped forward, Fitz put herself in front of him. “What the fuck, Fitz?”
“That doesn’t make up for anything,” she hissed.
He reached around her in order to push the door open. “Am I supposed to know what you’re talking about?” he asked as he went in.
Stopping short, he felt his blood go cold again. Wash and Deke? It was bad enough to think of another man moving in on her—to have it be one of his best friends? Been there, done that. Got the six weeks’ worth of media coverage.
It didn’t help that when Dorie turned around and her eyes met his, she glared and whirled away. He glanced at Fitz again, then up at Wash. He hadn’t exactly pictured having an audience.
Deke was either oblivious to the tension or experienced enough at diffusing bar fights that he could pretend that was the case. “Nate!” He came over and clapped Nate on the shoulder, a big smile on his face. “Glad you got my text.”
Uh... “What text?” Nate asked, his hand automatically in his pocket for his phone. Pulling it out, he saw that, yes, Deke had texted. We’ll be at Dorie’s. C u when we c u.
Great.
As Deke turned to head back toward the counter that separated the kitchen from the living area, he whispered, “Women are on the warpath. No clue why.”
Fitz was on her own for the moment. Dorie, however...
Ignoring Wash’s glare, Nate walked toward her. Though every cell in his body ached to touch her, they clearly had a few things to get straight. Going over to the kitchen, he put the bag on the counter. His eyes on her and her alone, he turned his back to the others and quietly said, “What. The. Hell?”
Her eyes flashed. She was the one avoiding his calls, yet she was angry with him. Not flustered, like after the first time he’d refused to let her blow him off. Just pissed.
With a glare thrown in his direction, she neatly walked around him. She reached past Wash—far too close for Nate’s comfort—then, holding a plate heaped high with breaded chicken, turned back to Nate. “I’m making dinner.” With a smile far too bright to be genuine, she added, “Do you like chicken? Maybe you can stay, too.”
Seriously? “I like anything you cook.” He nodded to the bag. “I brought you a present.”
She looked at the bag, then back at him. “Thanks. That was very nice of you.” Then she walked back around him and over to the stove.
Okay. This was The Twilight Zone. Nate ran his
hand through his hair. He had no freaking idea what was happening, but it had better stop soon. He didn’t have time for this shit.
There was another knock on the door—which for some reason made Dorie flinch—and, with a huff, Fitz turned on her heel to answer it. Jason, who got a much nicer reception than Nate had.
“Oh, hey, Nate,” Jason said, a smile on his face as he brought over a six-pack and placed it on the counter. He took a quick look around. “So where’s your date?”
“My what?” Nate asked as Fitz hit Jason on the shoulder and Wash took a step toward Dorie. A protective step.
With a frown at Fitz, Jason rubbed his arm. He’d never been great at reading hints, even entirely unsubtle ones. He turned back to Nate. “Your plus-one. You know, the one you said was—”
“Jesus, Jason!” Wash finally said. “Shut it, ok?”
Nate closed his eyes. He almost laughed. He might have if the relief weren’t so staggering. Because if she was this pissed at the thought of him bringing a date? And she was—he could practically feel the daggers.
Still in business, baby.
“No, wait,” Dorie said, her eyes narrowed. “I’d love to hear about his date.”
With a smile too wide to hide, Nate took the plate out of her hand and placed it on the counter behind him. “Gorgeous. Funny.”
“Nate!” Fitz shouted as Wash, glaring, said, “Really, Hawk?”
Ignoring them, Nate reached out for Dorie and pulled her to him. Inhaling her scent—finally—he ignored her protest as he lifted her up to the counter and nuzzled her neck. “Sexy as hell.”
He wasn’t surprised at the way she stiffened for a second—she wasn’t one to easily let things go. What did surprise him, though, was the hurt in her eyes. It humbled him.
He wasn’t used to vulnerability. Usually, it was just a game. Literally—the one with the list of impossible hookups. He was on that list for a lot of women and he’d even happily played along on occasion. But even if he had given any credence to Pete’s suspicious thoughts about her motives, it was obvious that Dorie’s games were in her own head. She couldn’t allow herself to believe.
Well, he’d just have to believe enough for both of them.
Confirming his assessment, her eyes welled as she whispered, “They said you were bringing a date.” Becoming very occupied with something on his shirt, she wouldn’t meet his gaze. “And since you didn’t tell them about me, I figured...” Her words died off as she shrugged.
He took her hand. “You figured I was bringing someone else.” If it wasn’t for the tears, that would have pissed him off.
Her lower lip quivered. “Because we’re short-term,” she whispered.
“No,” he said into her ear. “We’re not.”
Even more faintly she persisted, “It’s only sex,” still unable to look him in the eye.
He honestly didn’t know what to do to get through to her. Gritting his teeth, he said, “Agree to disagree.” They were going to talk about this. They had to. But now was not the time. And because he couldn’t wait a second longer, he bent down and kissed her.
From the way her hand flattened against his chest, he could tell she was debating whether to push him away. He could even taste the salt from her tears on her lips. But then she grabbed a handful of shirt and pulled him closer.
She was the one to break away, her eyes still closed as she bit her bottom lip. When she opened her eyes again, there was still uncertainty.
So, after running his thumb over her cheek he took a step back. In a voice loud enough for everyone to hear, he said, “So, Dorie. My friends are playing poker tonight. And although I want to spend every minute I possibly can with you, I kind of love them too, so I was hoping you might want to join us.”
Though she huffed a little at the “too” part, she didn’t contradict him. He took that as a good sign.
Dinner was amazing, of course. The ease with which she handled four big men and one not-so-big woman who had fairly decent appetites shouldn’t have surprised him but did. And, after about half an hour of settling in, she even started looking happy.
He liked that her gaze kept sliding toward him when she thought he wasn’t looking. And the way she entwined her fingers with his when he let his hand fall down to her leg.
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell us,” Fitz said, glaring at Nate as she gave his shin a hard kick under the table. “And you,” she said, jabbing a fork in Dorie’s direction. “If you replied to even one of our messages...”
Dorie’s face flushed again as she looked away.
Which didn’t stop Fitz, who turned back to Nate and said, “At least she was replying to you.”
“Not quite.” Nate let out a bark of a laugh. “You think I would have let her for a second think I’d be bringing someone other than her? She was too busy breaking up with me.”
“We’re not together,” Dorie insisted, shaking her head.
He grabbed her hand and deliberately placed it on the table—with his. “We are.”
Their eyes met and he held her gaze until she relented, murmuring, “February thirteenth.”
Hell, yes. “Now that’s what I’m talking about,” he said, leaning in to kiss her. A quick touch to her lips—nothing more than that. And yet it felt so completely natural that it wasn’t until he pulled back that he felt it ripple through him and take root somewhere deep inside. He smiled as she gave an exasperated sigh.
Pulling her hand away, she changed the subject. “Does anyone want more chicken?”
As everyone else went for the food, Wash murmured, “Holy shit.” Sitting back in his chair, he looked from Dorie to Nate. Despite the distance that had been there over the past few years, he knew.
“It’s only been a week, man,” Wash said.
“It only took two days,” Nate answered.
He felt like he’d shouted the words. Roared them. But it was something only Wash heard; everyone else had moved on.
Even Fitz, who was usually more in tune to things like that, was saying, “Well, how the hell were we supposed to know? All we knew was that he was off gallivanting in Chicago with some new girl. And you’d disappeared for days so we thought you went and locked yourself up so you could avoid us.”
“Hey—I haven’t gallivanted in a while now.” Nate reached out for Dorie’s hand again, taking it in his.
Wash, back to being happy-go-lucky Wash again, smiled and lifted his beer to Dorie. “Just say the word and we’ll bust his ass if he gets out of line.”
Before that could go any further, Nate steered the conversation away from anything relationship-related. They were already too far down that road. “So are we playing poker tonight or are you all just stalling so I won’t take you to town?”
As everyone stood up and started gathering dishes, Deke turned to Dorie. “I guess we should have asked before. Do you know how to play poker?”
With a smile that hit Nate like a bolt of lightning, Dorie looked up and into his eyes. “Poker? Is that the one with the chips?”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Every day of the next week and a half was like Christmas. Dorie got to know the local UPS and FedEx deliverymen so well that she was trading marathon training tips with one and helping choose between engagement ring choices for the other. Mrs. Grimes had been processing the books as fast as they could come in, and Mr. Grimes—with help from Wash, Deke and Jason—had assembled the new shelves. Even Mayor Gin had gotten involved, heading down to Des Moines with Dorie and Fitz to buy new furniture for the children’s area.
Plus, even though the library wasn’t open yet, it felt like half the town had dropped by to welcome her. She’d apparently made quite a name for herself at trivia night—that tended to be what they opened with—but they also wanted to meet “Nate’s New Girl.” Awesome.
Because that was going to be so freaking fun the first time he showed up in the press with another woman on his arm.
Though she felt a little like the main attraction of a road show, it gave her a chance to show off the library. And she kind of loved making up batches of biscotti every night for the hordes. She was getting into this whole small-town-life thing.
And then there were the photographs. They’d been delivered yesterday, huge panels with frames that fit the trim on the library’s windows. It took a whole day to hang them throughout the building. They were beyond beautiful. With the exception of some trivial prettying-up, they were actually ready for next week’s reopening. So, workwise, things were just fine.
It was Nate that had her in free fall.
Dorie frowned as the butterflies took one of their increasingly frequent rolls through her stomach. Although she’d tried to convince herself it was about the ceremony, she knew full well her nerves had nothing to do with that. No, they were all because Nate had not let up his attention one bit. And because she was falling for it.
After showing up at her door the night she’d had everyone over, he’d been back five times. And despite swearing to herself after every single one of those times that she was not letting him in again no matter what she’d said about February thirteenth—that she was fully capable of keeping her heart tightly encased in a protective titanium box—she hadn’t once been able to turn him away.
And now she was stealing glances at her watch because she’d agreed to go away with him for another weekend. It was yet another in a long line of mistakes—she clearly hadn’t gotten the How To Manage a Proper Fling handbook. But she simply hadn’t been able to bear the thought of a last time with him.
She was just finishing up an email when she heard him beep. Snapping her laptop shut, she put it in her tote and slung it over her shoulder. She was going with him on the condition that he’d let her do work on the plane. His condition was that she do it naked. They were still working out the details. She grabbed her suitcase on the way out of her office and detoured into the reading room to see if Mr. or Mrs. Grimes needed anything before she left. “I can tell Nate he has to—”
