Off the Hook

by Laura Drewry

  Jessie opened her eyes wider and blinked rapidly for a second as she shifted into what Liam assumed was her impersonation of Kate. “Yes, well, apparently they didn’t like the fact that I was sleeping with the owner of one of the properties Mr. Foster was trying to buy. Do you think that’ll be a problem here?”

  Liam wanted to tell her she was wrong, that she didn’t know what she was talking about, but the sad fact was, she did know. And she probably wasn’t wrong.

  “Look,” she said, huffing out a breath. “From the minute you guys decided to take this place on, you were the one who said we needed to be smart about this, so that’s all I’m asking you to do now. Think with your head—and I mean the one with the brain in it! If you honestly and truly believe you can have something with her, something that’ll last longer than it took me to say that—”

  “Very funny.”

  Jessie tipped him a “tell me I’m wrong” look, even as she kept talking.

  “—then God bless you both. But I’m pretty sure your brothers would agree that our focus needs to be on the Buoys right now, not on trying to scratch an itch.”

  “An itch?” Liam repeated, then clamped his jaw tight before he said something he’d regret. When he was sure he had it under control, he rolled his shoulders and exhaled slowly. “I am focused on this place, Jessie, but by all means, if you think I’m slackin’ on the job or not giving a hundred and fifty percent, then please, tell—”

  Halfway through his rant, Jessie had covered her face with her hands and sighed.

  “I’m sorry,” she grunted. “I didn’t mean that. I’m just…You’re right. We’re all doing our best here and we wouldn’t be anywhere if you hadn’t stayed on. I’m sorry I bitched at you; what you and Kate do is none of my business.”

  She turned back toward the sink, but her movements were stiff, almost clunky, as she rinsed her cup and set it inside the dishwasher.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah.” She lifted a hand to wave away his concern, but even as she did, her shoulders started to slump. “Tired is all. I’m gonna go to bed.”

  “Come on, Jess, what’s up?” He’d seen her slump like that before, and most of the time it meant she had something else on her mind, something that was the real catalyst behind her unexpected mood.

  Nudging her arm, he pulled a chair out for her, and that’s when he noticed it again: the laundry pile on the table. God, how could they have been so stupid?

  He waited for her to sit, then pulled a chair up next to hers.

  “It’s okay, Jess. Finn’s fine.”

  “No,” she said. “You don’t know. You weren’t there.”

  She worried her lip for a long time before she went on, her eyes filling more and more with each word.

  “He just…oh God…One second he was there and then…and then he wasn’t. He was running so fast and then…and then he couldn’t stop, and I…I don’t know…he slipped or tripped and then…and then he went under so fast and I—I couldn’t move, Liam. I just froze. He could have died, and I—”

  Her hands flapped as she spoke, as if she could somehow brush the panic away before it got too strong.

  “Jess.” Liam took her hands in his and held them tight until she finally blinked up at him. More than the tears, it was the absolute terror in her eyes that worried him the most. “He’s fine. He wasn’t hurt; you know that. You got him dry clothes, remember? And, shit, you know Finn; he could swim from here to Maui and back if he had to.”

  Her head nodded, but he didn’t think for one second she was agreeing with him, especially since she immediately started hyperventilating.

  “Yeah, but what if…what if he’d hit his head when he fell? Or what if he’d taken the boat out for a run and it caught fire out there? Then what? What would I have done?” The faster she went, the wilder she looked. “How would I have gotten to him? I couldn’t—and then the water—and I wouldn’t—but he wasn’t—and I can’t—because it’s—”

  “Jessie.” Liam jerked her hands to get her attention. “Stop.”

  “But he was in the…” she huffed. “Water…and it’s…so…deep…and…”

  “Stop,” he repeated, louder. “Close your mouth. Tighter. Tighter. Good. Now breathe through your nose.”

  She did as he said, but her chest was still heaving.

  “Slow,” he said, his voice mimicking his instruction. “Slower. Good. Look at me. Inhale…deep…good…exhale…keep going…good.”

  Neither moved for a long time; they simply sat there breathing in sync until most of the panic faded from her eyes and her hands relaxed in his. He didn’t let her go, though, not yet.

  “He’s okay, Jess. You’re okay.”

  “Mm-hmm.” This time when she nodded, it was much more believable, even though she looked completely mortified. “Oh my God, Liam, I’m sorry. What I said about you and Kate…I didn’t mean—”

  “There’s nothing to be sorry for,” he said. “You’re just a little freaked out, is all. It’s fine.”

  “I really like Kate,” she went on. “But I want you both to be okay.”

  “Ha,” he laughed. “Don’t you worry about us. Worry about yourself, because we all need you to be okay. This place’d crash and burn without you.”

  That at least earned him a fraction of a smile.

  “I’m okay.” She pulled one of her hands free, swiped it across her eyes, then half-pointed, half-waved toward a second mug, over near the sink. “But Finn’s not.”

  From where Liam sat, he could see it was filled almost to the rim, but there was no steam, so it had to have been sitting awhile.

  “He wouldn’t open the door.”

  Liam ground his teeth together, then pushed to his feet and pulled her up, too.

  “He’s fine, Jess. He’s just being Finn.” Wrapping his arm around her shoulders, he steered her toward the back staircase, which led down to the family living quarters. She might not be family, but she’d had a room down there for as long as Liam could remember. “By tomorrow morning he’ll be back to normal and driving you crazy.”

  After opening her door, she turned and leaned up to kiss his cheek. “I’m really sorry I bitched out at you.”

  “Forget about it,” he said with a shrug. “You sure you’re okay?”

  A short nod and a forced smile: Not very reassuring, but it was probably the best he was going to get for a while, so he forced his own smile, too.

  “All right, then get some sleep, ’cause I’m going to work your ass off tomorrow.”

  The second her door closed, he marched down to the other end of the hall and shoved that door open without so much as a knock.

  “What the—” Finn sat straight up in bed, shielding his eyes from the sudden burst of overhead light. “I’m sleeping here.”

  “Too bad.” Pushing the door closed, Liam leaned against it and tried not to growl. “I know you’re pissed about the boat, but get over it. We don’t have time to mope; it was an accident, shit happens, move on.”

  “Fine. Whatever. Now screw off so I can go back to sleep.”

  Liam wasn’t even listening to him.

  “You scared the shit out of Jessie today and then freaked her out again when you wouldn’t let her in to check on you. It was a stupid cup of tea, for God’s sake; would it have killed you to just open the door, say thank you, and then hermit back up again?”

  Sitting straighter, Finn brought his knees up under the blanket and wrapped his arms around them, but when he didn’t say anything, Liam cursed under his breath and reached for the doorknob again.

  “And Jessie thought the drama was going to come from Kate and me.”

  “You should’ve seen her face.” Finn lifted his head a little, but he kept his gaze fixed on the blanket. “I’ve never seen her that scared before, not even when the old man fell off the roof.”

  “Yeah, I bet; just took me half an hour to get her to breathe past the panic that’s been clawing at her all night.”

&nb
sp; “Aw shit, really?” When Finn finally looked up, there was nothing but regret in his eyes. “I wasn’t even thinking. Once I got her calmed down on the dock, got her focused on getting me some dry clothes, I thought she’d be good.”

  “Well, she wasn’t. The problem with Jessie is that she’s so strong with everything else, we forget what she’s like with shit like this.”

  “Yeah.” Finn’s cheeks puffed out with his next breath. “What do you think I should do?”

  “Buck the fuck up, that’s what you do. Quit moping over the damn boat and focus on what we have to work with.”

  Finn nodded slowly, then shoved back the covers and reached for the closest pair of jeans. “Think she’ll ever tell us why the water wigs her out so much?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.” Liam shrugged first, then shook his head. “No, probably not. We’ve known her twelve, thirteen years and she hasn’t told us yet, so I’m not holding my breath.”

  “Yeah. You’re probably right,” he said, as he reached past Liam and pulled open the door. “Must have been something pretty bad, though.”

  “Where’re you going?”

  “I owe her a cup of tea.”

  “You owe her a hell of a lot more than that,” Liam grunted. “But I guess it’s a start.”

  Chapter 8

  Building a baseball team is like building a house. You look for the best architects, the best builders—and then you let them do their jobs.

  —Pat Gillick

  It didn’t matter how hard Liam worked them rebuilding the fish shack over the next few days; all Kate could think about were the things he said to her in that damn rowboat.

  He wasn’t the only one who remembered things, but saying them out loud was only asking for trouble, wasn’t it? Sure, she could have admitted that every time she looked at him she remembered exactly what it felt like to smooth her hands slowly over his chest, to feel the warm texture of each muscle under her fingers and his heart thumping under her palm. Sure, she could have told him how she still heard the way he used to suck in a shaky breath every time she touched him, or how the sound of him murmuring her name as he ran his fingers up her bare spine had made her love him a little more.

  And God help her but she had loved him. She knew it sounded crazy because they’d only known each other such a short time, but it was true. Over the years she’d tried to pinpoint exactly what it was that made her fall in love with him, because if she could narrow it down to one thing, then she might be able to counter it with the things she didn’t like about him.

  Good plan, except she could never narrow it down to just one thing.

  It was the first night she met him, when they were walking down the Strip and he switched sides with her so she was on the inside of the sidewalk. It was the way he held her hand, firm yet gentle, making her feel safe and mushy all at the same time.

  It was the way he’d made everything fun, from the endless pictures Kate had taken, to playing lurker around the slot machines, to holding her purse and chatting up the salesladies while Kate tried on clothes they both knew she couldn’t afford. It was the way he’d ducked into a café to buy a couple of sandwiches—one for the homeless guy sitting against the back of the bus stop and one for the guy’s dog.

  It was the determination in his eyes when he talked about playing ball, and at the same time it was the way he didn’t let baseball dominate every conversation. It was the way he seemed truly interested in what Kate had to say, no matter what it was about. It was when she told him she’d never graduated high school and, instead of blowing it off as no big deal, as her mother had, he’d engaged her in a long conversation about things she liked doing and came up with different ideas on how she could turn those interests into a career she liked.

  He’d even told her she was smart, and no one had ever done that before.

  And just thinking about all of it again, for the millionth time, kicked her pulse up a notch.

  It was a good thing she wasn’t still in love with him.

  “I’m not,” she muttered.

  “You’re not what?” With a carpenter’s pencil sticking out from behind his ear and a Kelly Clarkson–tune dancing across his lips, Liam glanced up from the plywood he was marking, his frown of concentration melting into a slow smile.

  “What? Nothing,” Kate said, but the rush of heat over her face surely gave away some of what she’d been thinking.

  “Mm-hmm,” he chuckled. “All right, but you better stop blushing, ’cause it makes it look like your ‘nothing’ was actually something, and it sounds like Jessie’s on her way back.”

  “Damn it.”

  Ever since the night in the rowboat, Jessie had been looking at Kate a little differently, as though she was searching for something, a clue that would prove what Jessie seemed to already be thinking.

  She was wrong, of course; Kate and Liam hadn’t so much as brushed shoulders since the other night, but if Kate couldn’t wash the memories from her mind fast enough to stop blushing, she was going to have some explaining to do right quick-like.

  Jessie’s footsteps clicked faster down the dock.

  With no other way to explain her red face, Kate forced herself to cough, quietly at first, then ramped it up into a good-quality choking fit, which topped out just as Jessie stepped inside their newly built fish shack.

  “Three more reservations! Yay!” Her excitement faded when Kate kept coughing. “Are you okay?”

  With her fist pressed against her mouth, Kate nodded frantically, then pointed to the door and ducked outside, the sound of Liam’s laughter chasing after her. By that time she’d done such a good job of forcing the cough, it wouldn’t stop, so it took her a few moments to rein it in.

  Finn popped his head up from the stern of Buoy O’Buoy. “Lord thunderin’, woman, are you all right?”

  “Yeah,” she finally managed between dwindling chokes. “I’m fine.”

  “You don’t sound fine.”

  “I’m just gonna…” She started to point toward the lodge, but Finn had already ducked back down. “Go get some water.”

  As she trudged up the path, she took the time to reason it out. The fact was, the brain was a crazy thing, and memories tended to get distorted over time, sometimes for the worse and sometimes for the better. So it was entirely possible her memories of everything she’d felt for Liam, how freakin’ amazing it felt to touch him—to be touched by him—were nothing more than heightened elaborations of what it was actually like.

  Because, truly, if it had all been as great as her memory wanted to believe it was, he wouldn’t have left.

  Still trying to convince herself of that, she downed the first glass of water, then refilled it, but instead of drinking, she leaned her elbows on the edge of the sink and slumped her stomach against the edge.

  “Nothing can be that good,” she muttered.

  “Depends on what you’re talking about.”

  Squealing, Kate dropped the glass in the sink, sending the water shooting straight up as she whirled around to see Liam leaning on the doorframe.

  “God almighty,” she gasped. “You scared the crap out of me.”

  “Apparently,” he said, laughing. “What can’t be that good?”

  “Nothing.”

  As Liam took his first step, Kate turned to start mopping up the spilled water, which was now running over the edge of the counter.

  He pulled a glass out of the cupboard and purposely reached in front of her to get to the tap. “And again, it sounds like ‘nothing’ might mean something.”

  “ ‘Nothing’ means nothing.”

  “You sure about that?”

  He was toying with her, baiting her as he leaned back against the counter, but she wasn’t going to be reeled in like one of his fish this time. Oh no, if anyone was going to be doing the reeling, it was going to be her.

  “I guess there’s one way to find out.”

  Tossing the dish towel into the sink, she didn’t give him time to resp
ond, just curled her fingers around his neck, pushed up on her toes, and touched her lips to his. Warning bells screamed to life inside her head, clanging as if there were a five-alarm blaze somewhere, but she didn’t care; she was going to prove her memories wrong.

  But, oh God, his mouth really was as firm and gentle as she remembered. And the warmth from his skin really did seep into her fingers. Oh crap, this wasn’t good; she needed to stop kissing him—and she would.

  Anytime now.

  Maybe after she had one little nibble of his bottom lip…or maybe after one quick swipe of her tongue against his…or…ohhh…

  Slowly—because if she let him go too fast she’d probably crumple right there on the floor—she eased her hands forward, dancing her fingers over his Adam’s apple and down to the neck of his faded navy sweatshirt as she forced her lips away from his.

  “S-see?” she said. “That wasn’t—”

  Something crashed to the floor but she didn’t know what it was, because she was busy kissing him again, deeper this time. No…wait…he was kissing her, and, holy crap, her memory wasn’t even close to remembering how good this was.

  There was nothing timid or unsure in the way he kissed her, just strong, hungry, and tender. His lips moved over hers as if they’d never been apart, as if he remembered exactly where to touch, where to tease, and where to taste to make her whole body melt. And when it did, he simply eased her arms up around his neck, urging her to hang on while he took them deeper yet.

  He cupped the side of her face in his hand, smoothing his thumb over her cheek while his other hand slid down her ribs, taking its sweet time, as though each and every inch of her mattered, and when he reached her hip, he fisted the waist of her jeans in his grip and pulled her closer.

  She knew it was going to end, it had to, but before it did, she curled her fingers into his hair, his messy, sawdust-covered hair, and held on as he slowly, carefully loosened his hold on her.

  Pressing her hands against his chest, Kate scrambled for a fraction of sense as Liam blew out a low breath and rested his forehead against hers.