Called Out

by Jen Doyle

  Pretty much up until he met Courtney and started to become a little too much like Jack. Cold and hard and jaded. That wasn’t Nate. It should never have been Nate. And from what Jack could tell, it wasn’t Nate anymore.

  Thank Christ.

  But, yes, it seemed Nate had almost reverted back to those early years, pure glee and satisfaction on his face as he read Jack’s mind with complete accuracy. He took out a set of keys and tossed them to Jack before saying, “We start Monday.” With a bigger smile than Jack thought necessary, he got back into his truck, did a quick three-point turn and was gone.

  Turning back to look at the house again, all Jack could say was, “Fuck me.”

  * * *

  Some days it was all Lola could do not to just break down and cry out of sheer exhaustion. Physical, mental and emotional exhaustion. It was days like this—when the boys pushed her to her limit from the moment they woke up, at 5:00, 5:15, 5:45 and 7:32 a.m., to the moment she dropped them off at school and daycare, that she wanted to give up. Call out uncle to the universe and let the powers that be know she’d had enough.

  This was all just a phase, she told herself. One day it would all blur into one happy memory of loving hugs and kisses and adorable stories to tell her grandkids.

  Just not today.

  Today, unfortunately, might be a story that got handed down to the grandkids, told by the boys about the day their mom officially lost it. Because here she was, standing in her driveway, holding the boys’ binkies over the garbage can while threatening to throw them out if the boys didn’t get into their car seats, “Right—” the hell “—now!” And now they were all in tears, herself included.

  It didn’t help at all when Mrs. Jessup said from across the street, “More flies with honey, dear,” for once not clucking in disapproval at the fact that the boys still had binkies in the first place. As she had done the other day after their birthday party.

  Bite me, Mrs. Jessup, Lola wanted to snap. Instead she gave a tight smile while leaning into the car to buckle everyone in. “Anyone whose strap comes undone loses their binky for good. Understood?”

  All three boys looked up at her solemnly and nodded, still sniffling. She handed out the binkies and then shut the door. Coming around the front of the car, she was about to climb into the driver’s seat when she realized she was missing a kid. She thunked her head against the window.

  After a deep breath, she took a huge swallow of pride and called across the street. “Mrs. Jessup, could you watch the boys for just one second?”

  She darted back into the house to find Silas sitting in front of the TV. “I just want to watch the end of—”

  “No,” she said, shutting it off and grabbing his backpack. Ignoring his protests, she gently gave him a nudge toward the door.

  Although she’d only been inside for a minute, the triplets were clearly giving Mrs. Jessup a run for her money. Was it awful to be happy about that?

  Yes. Yes, it totally was. Resisting the urge to mention something about honey being completely ineffective except for the sticking-to-everything part, Lola instead thanked her profusely and climbed back into the car. Her eye caught Silas’s as she was adjusting the mirror.

  “Mondays are difficult,” he said, shaking his head.

  “They absolutely are,” she agreed with a sigh.

  Forty minutes later, having dropped off the boys at their respective schools, she was back in the car. Although she usually went straight to work, today she just didn’t want to.

  She’d never not wanted to. She loved her job. She loved it even more now that they were building an office for Fitz above the bar, which meant both Fitz and Deke were around more often. But today she was just so tired. Despite knowing she needed to leave the daycare parking lot before they looked out the window and saw her sitting there, Lola leaned back against the seat and closed her eyes. Just for a minute or two so she could recharge. Except the second her lids came down, the same images she’d been seeing for the last few nights reappeared in her traitorous brain: Jack Oxford leaning against his car and grinning at her. Jack Oxford crouching down to change her tire, his jeans molding perfectly to his legs. Jack Oxford hovering over her, all skin and strength and sinew as he lowered himself until their bodies were aligned just so.

  Oh, God, did she want to have sex again at least once in this lifetime.

  But not with Jack Oxford.

  Lola sat up straight. She hadn’t seen him again since that night a week ago and had very specifically not asked after him. Why would she? As attractive as he was physically, he wasn’t exactly what she’d call a paragon of morality for her boys. If she ever did get involved with a man again he would need to be someone who could set an example. A good example.

  Forcing her thoughts in an entirely different direction, Lola sent a quick text to make sure Deke didn’t mind covering for her this morning, then headed in the direction of her happy place.

  She took the long way, skirting around town rather than driving through it. Coming up through the valley, she savored the beauty of the fields on either side of the road. The trees had kept their leaves for longer than usual this year, but now that they’d reached the first week of November, there were only a few brightly colored leaves hanging on. From this approach, it was impossible to tell that the Iowa Dream Academy was being built right on the other side of the ridge from the farmhouse she’d loved since she was a little girl.

  It wasn’t that she was opposed to the Academy. She was actually pretty excited about the scope of what Nate wanted to do, and she deeply appreciated how much care he was taking to preserve the look and feel of the surrounding landscape. She just wished the farmhouse that sat on the edge of it all had her name on it rather than his. Or that she had the money to make an offer on it right now. Because as much as she loved Nate and knew he was the only person she trusted enough to truly take everyone’s interests into account, he cared a lot less about the house than she did, even though he’d bought it ages ago. He’d barely blinked when she anointed herself the house’s official caretaker, and had had a set of keys delivered to her the next day. He even had a tab set up at the garden center so she could buy flowers for the front garden and keep up appearances from the road.

  Which was why she wasn’t overly concerned to see his uncle’s old pickup truck sitting in the driveway. Or heard the music playing in the barn, the thump of the bass so loud the ground was actually shaking. Although, come to think of it, in all the time she’d known him, she’d never thought of him as a fan of music ratcheted up to a head-banging degree.

  Of course it didn’t occur to her that maybe it wasn’t actually Nate, and that maybe Dave had been right in his longstanding belief that it wasn’t safe for her out here all on her own. Not until she rounded the side of the house and plowed right into a wall.

  Except it wasn’t a wall—it was the man whose music was playing. Or, rather, the man’s chest, her hands now flat against it in order to stop herself from falling. The man’s naked, insanely sculpted chest.

  Who had muscles like that?

  And although, yes, it was unseasonably warm for early November, it was still in the fifties, which was far too cold to be naked, even if it was just from the waist up.

  He wasn’t cold, though. Not even close. There was a light sheen of sweat over his skin, and the arms encircling her were so warm something inside her stirred. Rather than freeing herself, as any right-minded woman should be doing, Lola allowed herself a moment to savor the feeling of being in a man’s arms and of being held close, all the while cursing her pathetically needy libido. It had been so, so long. So what if he’d only grabbed her as a reflex?

  She forced herself to pull away, but managed to tangle her feet up with his, tripping them both in the process. He controlled their fall, his arms tightening around her so that she fell into him while he fell back agai
nst the house. And, oh, Lord, that felt nicer than it should. She may even have sighed when his hand went to her hip, steadying them both as he pulled her in closer. But then his thigh hit a very sensitive spot between her legs, and all the melty, comforting thoughts flared into a whole other level of thinking.

  Holy hell. God, please, please, do not let this be Nate.

  Forcing herself to look up, she wasn’t sure whether or not to be relieved or run for her life when she realized the man was Jack.

  Run for her life, she decided as a grin came over his face.

  “Could you remove your hands from my ass?” she asked, resisting the sudden urge to sink down to her knees and lick her way up.

  “That’s your waist,” he answered, his smile widening as his hands went down farther. “That’s your ass.” He gave a brief squeeze and shifted his thigh as he pulled her even closer. “And that’s your—”

  “I’m aware of the finer points of my anatomy,” she snapped, wishing she’d chosen her words more carefully as she realized there were two very fine points, in fact, and her sweater was thin enough for him to feel them against his very naked chest. “Shouldn’t you be wearing a shirt?”

  “Afraid I’ll get cold?” His grin faded and took her breath right along with it. “I can think of all sorts of ways to get warm.”

  The problem, of course, was that she could, too. It was now all she could think about. She gritted her teeth. “I need you to let go of me.” Her voice was as tightly wound as the rest of her.

  He complied immediately, thank goodness. With a twinkle in his eyes, he raised his hands in the air, waiting for her to straighten herself up before pulling away the support of his leg.

  She knew she should take a step back but she couldn’t quite move. All she wanted to do was plaster herself back around him and inhale deeply enough to fully capture his musky scent.

  “Jesus, Lola. Keep looking at me like that and my hands are gonna start acting on their own.” His voice rumbled through her as strong as the beat of the song. Still, she didn’t pull away; instead she raised her gaze to his, a thrill shooting down to her core as their eyes met. Maybe his hands had the right idea.

  Instead of acting on it, however, he broke the stare, stepping to the side so as to move away without touching her again. Closing her eyes, Lola worked at getting her heart rate back to normal.

  What had just happened? Who on earth would have thought it would be Jack Oxford who did the right thing? And what kind of a fool was she to wish he’d have chosen otherwise?

  What the freaking hell was he doing?

  Okay, yes, so Jack had laid it on a little heavy. He didn’t get serious with women but he liked the dance, and he was used to the way things got real friendly real fast with the groupies out on the road. And he didn’t mind the way Lola got all flushed when he pushed her buttons.

  But he’d just had his hands on her, and that was not okay. It was even worse because he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her since the moment he first saw her. Having spent much of the past year avoiding all human contact, however, he’d chalked it up to just that—the temptation of something physical. The yearning for a body with the kind of curves he could truly sink his hands into through that perfect moment of release, and then let go and walk away. The flirting had come as natural to him as breathing. Holding her, though, and feeling the heat of her against his skin... He’d stepped away quickly, not sure if he’d ever moved quite so fast.

  This was Nate’s home. Nate’s family. Jack’s only reason for being here was to get his job back. And the only way to do that was to keep his head down and do whatever the fuck Nate told him to do. That meant not putting his hands anywhere near the women of this town, especially women who had any connection to Nate whatsoever. He didn’t meet Lola’s eyes as he pulled his shirt over his head and turned down the music.

  It took her a minute to turn around. When she did, she appeared as shaken as he was.

  He ran his hand through his hair, wondering where his inner iceman had disappeared to. “So to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

  Of all the things to say, he’d apparently chosen wrong.

  Her eyes narrowed. “Visit? I didn’t come to visit you.”

  She certainly hadn’t been put on this earth to do anything for his ego, that was for sure. “Then why are you here?” Not to be blunt or anything.

  “Why am I here?”

  Yep, there she went, getting all worked up again. He lifted the hem of his shirt as if to wipe the sweat off his brow but mostly so she wouldn’t see him grin.

  “For the love of Pete,” she snapped, “could you please stop showing off all that skin?” Glaring at him, she crossed her arms over her chest. “I was actually wondering the same thing of you.”

  “Me?” He dropped his shirt, albeit a bit reluctantly. “I’m not visiting.” Small town like this, he’d figured word had already gotten out. Then again, Nate wasn’t exactly the share-the-news type, so it wasn’t a total surprise. “I’ll be training with Nate.” And just so no one got any ideas and called the cops on him, he added, “He gave me the keys to this place so I could help him fix it up.”

  If she’d been irritated before, she was downright angry now. “He gave you the keys?”

  Well, technically, Nate hadn’t given Jack the keys. He’d had them dropped off at the hotel in Des Moines that Jack had chosen to stay at, preferring to make the half hour drive each day rather than stay in town. Even just one night here had been too much. Jack liked Chicago, with its stark towers and faceless crowds. He had no interest in getting sucked into a place where they made you think you could one day belong.

  “To the house and the truck.” The keys and a note that said there were enough supplies in the barn to shore up the porch steps before the cold front settled in. Oh, and that the truck tended to break down at highly inopportune times, especially on rarely traveled roads, so make sure he had tools and blankets at all times.

  Lola nodded her head at the pile of rotten wood Jack was stacking. “You’re fixing up the place? Did he give you a reason why?”

  Jack was used to reading faces, and Lola’s was a map. Her skin had gone mostly pale except for bright spots of red on her cheeks. Her lips had become a straight, thin line. There was clearly a subtext here. What it was, however, Jack had no idea. “I assumed so he could sell it.”

  For some reason, that got her even angrier—and he had even less of an idea what to do about it. Which was probably why his, “Anything else I can help you with?” came out in an entirely dismissive tone. He was truly sorry, especially when her cheeks flushed even more, but he had nothing else he could think of to say.

  And apparently it didn’t matter as she answered, “Nope,” her voice cold and brisk. “Thanks for your time.” She gave him a curt nod, turned on her heel and left.

  He refused to acknowledge how much he wished she would stay.

  Chapter Five

  For the next twenty-four hours Lola carefully planned what she would say to Nate. She would start with saying how much they’d all enjoyed watching him and Dorie at the World Series parade on Saturday, and then she’d move on thoughtfully and calmly, with all of her points clearly stated. What happened, however, was that the second she saw him sitting at the bar at lunchtime on Tuesday, she slammed her tray down in front of him and said, “You gave my house to Jack Oxford.”

  Rather than reply in kind, his eyebrows went up and a bemused smile came over his face. It bothered her immensely that it made her think of Jack. “I gave Jack the keys,” he said. “No houses have been given to anyone.”

  Thus reminding her it wasn’t actually her house. “Are you having him fix it up because you’re planning on selling it?”

  His eyes never leaving hers, he took a long draw from the bottle of beer in front of him before placing it
back down much more carefully than she had. “Are you really ready to have this conversation?”

  “About my house?” she snapped, still not quite ready to let it go.

  Except the smile disappeared from his face and the look that came over it was entirely serious. “Yes. About your house.”

  Her heart came to a sudden stop. “Oh,” she whispered.

  There was a reason she never talked about it. Yes, she wanted the house. Yes, she’d been putting money away for years in hopes that one day she might be able to buy it. But she’d never quite been able to talk about it because of how Dave hated even the idea of her farmhouse. He hated the idea of her living out there all by herself, with no one nearby, no one to be there for her if she needed it. She didn’t need someone there for her, something she’d tried to tell him time and again, but it was the one thing she always gave in on because she knew what it meant for him to know she was safe. While he was fighting for his life in various hellholes around the world, he shouldn’t have to worry about hers. So she’d lived in the place he’d chosen for them, put up with the cookie-cutter house and the nosy neighbors and the home association rules, knowing it was the only way she could make his life better.

  She’d also known that although Nate bought it with the first rush of money in his Dream Team basketball days, he’d done it so no one else would. Jules had hinted that if Dave hadn’t been so against it, Nate would have given it to them as a wedding present. But Dave had been against it, and Nate hadn’t given it to them, and for years it had sat there maintained enough not to become a total mess, but otherwise empty and forlorn since the family he’d bought it from had moved away.

  Before she could lose her nerve, she called out to her brother, “Deke, I’m taking a ten-minute break.”

  It was the lunch rush, the worst possible time, but Deke took one look at her and then at Nate before giving a quick nod. With a deep breath, Lola took off her apron and folded it up, then followed Nate to a booth in the back.

  “So you’re really ready to talk about the house.” Nate waited until Lola was seated before he sat down across from her.