by Jen Doyle
Maybe it was the residual panic, maybe it was the shock, maybe it was just the suddenly pervasive cold, but Lola began to shake all over. She grabbed the deck railing to steady herself. “You’re good?” she repeated, her eyes nearly bugging out of her head. She’d been terrified. She’d almost called the police. She was livid enough to tear him a new one and then set in on her kids.
Or at least that’s the path her brain started off on, but it diverted quickly to a reality check: she was standing outside in a T-shirt and fuzzy socks despite the freezing temperatures, about to start screaming like a crazy woman because a man who was known worldwide as the Iceman due to a perceived lack of heart had taken care of her children overnight. And her fatherless sons were now laughing and playing in a way they hadn’t since Dave had been alive.
Only Dave had ever gotten them wound up like that. On his good days, granted, but her husband was the only one who could get the three boys changing from colicky crying fits to big belly laughs in a matter of moments. Not her, not Deke or Fitz, not Nate or anyone else she knew. Just Dave and now Jack. It was completely incomprehensible.
She brought the phone back up to her ear. “Jules, we’re okay.”
“You sure?” Jules said, both relief and skepticism in her voice. “I can be there in fifteen minutes.”
“I’m sure,” Lola answered. She’d never been more sure in her life, in fact. The only thing she needed right now was a few minutes to herself so she could truly process what had just happened. What it meant.
Jack had been here all night. It hadn’t been a dream—he’d truly been taking care of her. And her children. The man who could barely manage to look her boys in the eye was now having a snowball fight. After shutting her down under no uncertain terms, oh, thirty-eight hours before.
“I’m good,” she said into the phone and then hung up before Jules could ask another question. “Just fine.” Rendered otherwise speechless, she nodded to Jack, turned around, and went inside, where she then stood grasping the edge of the sink because it was the only way she could keep herself standing.
She wasn’t entirely surprised to hear the door open behind her and then close gently.
“Hey,” Jack said.
If it weren’t for the fact that she wasn’t sure she could speak without crying, she would have responded. She might even had said something about the irony of them being in almost the same exact positions as they’d been the other night when he’d walked away from her, just reversed.
She understood him exactly, though. Don’t was the word running through her head at the moment. Don’t come near me. Don’t touch me. Don’t be nice to me.
This was not the Jack she wanted. The Jack she wanted was the asshole the whole world hated who was good for only one thing: Hot. Monkey. Sex.
Although she supposed that was three things.
She did not want the Jack who took care of her and her family, even if he’d been forced into it. Which, incidentally, she was sure he had. She had no idea how on earth that had happened, just that it had.
“Lola,” he murmured.
All she could do was shake her head. And tremble a little, although that was completely involuntary.
“Lola,” he said again, his voice closer.
Okay. Maybe tremble a lot.
She was not going to have a breakdown. She rejected the thought entirely. Then she squeezed her eyes shut.
Thinking really hard about it did nothing to stop the man from coming closer. From coming up behind her and, after a moment so heavy with want she could feel it roll through her, caging her between his arms, putting one hand over hers, then the other.
Her breath caught at the contact. She could not want this man. Not as desperately as she did. And yet when he took the step that brought him right up to her, all that hard, male muscle hot and firm against her somehow overheated skin, she sank back into him as his mouth came down to her collarbone. If she hadn’t been working so hard to hold in all the pieces of her that were ready to dissolve into mush, she would have whimpered.
“How can you possibly be this beautiful?” he asked, his mouth running down the slope of her shoulder.
The idea of him finding her beautiful after the night he had should have made her laugh. Except it came out as a sob instead.
Damn it to freaking hell.
Chapter Ten
Jack wasn’t sure he’d ever held a crying woman in his arms. He was absolutely sure he’d never held a woman like Lola, even though once upon a time he’d actually dated. He’d had girlfriends, even. Of course, that was before he’d realized how truly fucked up his family was and decided there was no way in hell he’d drag anyone else down that path with him. That it coincided with his being shot into the baseball stratosphere—and all the bells and whistles and willing women who wanted nothing more than a night or two of a good time—was just a happy coincidence.
Holding Lola, though, made him want the kind of life Nate had. Made him want to be the kind of man Lola deserved, even though that ship had sailed a lifetime ago. He closed his eyes as she turned into his arms, tucking her chin up against his chest. She fit him perfectly. He never wanted to let go.
It frightened the hell out of him.
He was glad she was the one to finally pull away, mumbling something into his shirt.
Uh... “What did you just say?”
She grabbed a dishtowel and scrubbed it over her face. Then she looked at him with those big blue eyes, the corner of her mouth curving slightly into a smirk. “I said, you do realize you’re not supposed to have a hard-on when a woman is falling apart in your arms.”
And now it was his mouth quirking into a smile even though he wholeheartedly agreed with her sentiment. Jesus. He was usually a hell of a lot more in control. “I thought the comforting part was supposed to get me directly into your bed. You mean it doesn’t work that way?”
The light in her eyes dimmed for a second. But then she smiled again, even though her cheeks got a little red. “I’m thinking the last place you want to be is my bed after the last couple of nights around here.”
He shrugged. With the exception of the loss of his sweater, it hadn’t been nearly as bad as he’d expected. “Turns out if you just keep them by the shower with extra pajamas on hand, it’s pretty straightforward.”
Talk about a sentence he never thought he’d say. Except it made her smile again, this time with all the brightness she was capable of, and he wished he could figure out something else to have that look come over her face. Like “peanut butter and jelly,” maybe. Scooby Doo. There had to be other things kids liked.
“Speaking of showers...” Her expression became a little more distant, her gaze going to the window and out into the backyard. “Do you think you can handle them for ten more minutes? I’ll jump in and out. You’ll barely even notice I’m gone.”
“I can manage,” he answered, choosing not to say he’d be entirely happy to be back out in the cold with four manic little people, because he’d otherwise be in some seriously bad shape at the thought of her naked and not being nearly far enough away.
Looking suddenly very unsure of herself, she nodded tentatively and then turned away. Jack did everything possible to keep from thinking about how close he’d been to flipping up that T-shirt, tearing her panties off and bending her over the sink.
Not happening, Ox. Keep your hands to yourself.
But he could sure as hell enjoy the view as she walked away.
* * *
So maybe she took a little longer than ten minutes. She stripped all the boys’ beds and then hers, just to be safe. And even though she knew the train had already left the station, she cracked open the windows in every room just enough to get the air circulating again. Only then did she jump in the shower.
And she meant for it to be quick. She tru
ly did. But after she’d gotten thoroughly clean she pressed her hands against the wall and let the hot water fall over her, the sensation of Jack’s hands on her, of his body against hers; the idea of that very hard, very male part of him pushing into her... It was overwhelming. She rested her forehead against the wall and gave into the temptation to run her hand down her own body, right there, and—
There was a banging on the bathroom door.
She sighed.
Then again, she had left Jack to fend for himself with four kids, which wasn’t fair at all, especially after he’d spent the whole night with them. And she assumed it was him because the boys never bothered to knock.
She stepped out of the shower and pulled a towel around her, trying to hold back her smile as she opened the door. “This isn’t exactly the way I was thinking about us getting naked together.”
The face greeting her, however, wasn’t Jack. Instead it was a very flustered, very animated Jules.
“Getting naked with who?” Confused, she looked back down the hallway.
Oh, dear. Lola pulled her into the bathroom.
After a quick look down the hallway to determine that hell was not actually breaking loose, Lola ducked her head back inside and turned to her friend. “You didn’t have to come.”
“Apparently not,” Jules said, her eyebrows going up. Luckily, Lola’s bathroom was a decent size. Otherwise it would’ve been pretty tight, what with Jules’s pacing. “Is that man really playing with your kids out back? Was he here all night?” And then, with a little more outrage, she came around to face Lola. “Wait—are you seriously thinking about getting naked with him?”
Pulling the towel tighter around herself, Lola leaned back against the bathroom sink. Since those very same questions had been running through her head as well, she shouldn’t have sounded so defensive as she said, “That man spent the night taking care of me and my four sons. And anyway...” Now Lola started pacing. “Aren’t you the one who cheered when the news came out that Nate and Courtney broke up because of him?”
Jules’s eyes narrowed. “It doesn’t mean I don’t think he’s evil, just that Courtney is worse.”
Unfortunately, Lola no longer believed that to be true. “You do realize Nate is the one who’s pushing him to stay here.” In fact, Lola was pretty sure Jack was harder on himself than the rest of the world was, and that was saying something. It wasn’t even December and he’d already made it to several of the year’s Top 10 Most Hated celebrity lists.
Deflated, Jules sat back against the tub. “I know. I want to believe Nate knows what he’s doing. I just can’t quite bring myself to.”
Yes, Lola did know. She’d been struggling with that herself. After a minute of silence, she whispered, “I don’t want to like him, Jules. I don’t need more drama in my life.”
And the boys definitely didn’t need more in theirs.
The sound of happy shrieks indicated outside time was over. Drama was clearly the last thing on their minds, which only made things more difficult. Jules’s eyes came back up, suspiciously sparkly.
“Don’t you start crying on me,” Lola warned. She was already enough on edge.
“Well,” Jules finally said, “if you’re going to go off the rails, I suppose that hunk of man wouldn’t be the worst person to do it with. You know, evil tendencies notwithstanding.”
“He is pretty, isn’t he?” Lola asked.
Jules smiled. “I’ll hurt you if you ever breathe a word of this to anyone, but I think he might be the best-looking man I have ever seen in my life.”
Considering Jules was divorcing her husband, she was free and clear to say things like that. Lola’s situation was a bit different, but she wasn’t about to argue the point. Especially when she came into the living room to see him playing video games with her boys. It didn’t lower his rating on the attractive scale. In fact, it kind of rocketed him up into infinity territory.
This was not good on so many levels. First, she did not want the boys to get attached. That, above everything, was key. But, second, the temptation was already too much and that was without him playing light sabers with her sons.
And what did she say when she walked into the living room? “Anyone want some hot chocolate?”
Jules snorted when they all said yes. “You are so screwed,” she muttered under her breath as Lola headed into the kitchen.
No sooner had she left the den, however, than her doorbell rang.
Now what? She glanced over at Jules.
The thing about Jules was that she couldn’t for the life of her wear a poker face. Although she attempted a look of innocence, the guilt was painted all over her. So Lola wasn’t entirely surprised to find Deke at her front door.
“Hi. What brings you here today?” she said, although she was highly aware the answer started with a J and ended with U-L-E-S. She tried not to glare.
“Hi,” he answered, not even attempting the same as he looked past her at Jack and the boys in the den before turning back to her. “Really?”
Taking in a deep breath, Lola told herself they were doing this because they loved her. And anyway, maybe it was for the best. At the very least, it would allow her to get some distance from the situation.
Deke hung up his coat and went into the den. “Hey, guys.” He grabbed one of the remotes off the table, sat down at the opposite end of the couch from Jack and said, “I want in.” As the younger boys settled around him, he muttered, “Aw, man. You let him be Han Solo? That’s just not right.”
Lola didn’t even bother to hide her smile. One more hot chocolate, she supposed. By the time the milk had heated and she’d gotten around to melting the chocolate into the mugs, Nate and Wash had shown up, too.
“They do all realize the boys have been sick,” she said to Jules at one point. “Don’t they?”
At least having the grace to look guilty, Jules answered, “Pros and cons were weighed.” She offered up a smile. “But the good part is that you can go back to bed if you want.”
That was the last thing she wanted. Or, at least, doing it alone was the last thing. She couldn’t exactly say that, though, could she? But having a house full of people occupying her children felt like something she couldn’t quite pass up. It was like a unicorn sighting—completely unheard of. She could read a book. Take a nice, long bath. Or, yes, a nap. Her to-do list was long, however, and duty called. Cleaning out the boys’ backpacks it was.
* * *
“Dude, do you mind?” Deke whined. “When do I get to be Han Solo?”
Wash leaned in with a sweet hit. “Well, I’m sure as hell not gonna be Jar Jar.”
“Jesus Christ, Deke,” Nate said. “Give it a rest. Some days you’re just not cool enough.”
“I am always cool enough,” Deke muttered.
Somehow the group had grown throughout the morning, and Jack was now sitting here among Nate, Wash, Jason and that Tuck guy. “Don’t any of you work?”
“Saturdays are sacred time,” Wash said. “If it weren’t for you, we’d be playing basketball.”
Despite his grumbling, even Wash didn’t seem overly unhappy. To his surprise, Jack felt kind of the same. He wasn’t about to admit it out loud, but he was actually enjoying himself. Still... “If only someone hadn’t decided you all needed to come check up on me.”
“What?” Deke threw his arms out to the side as they all looked at him. “It wasn’t me. Hell, if it weren’t for all of you, I’d be beating Ox up by now.”
“I am all for the beating up,” Wash muttered.
For a long time, Jack had wished someone had done that very thing. Nate’s sucker punch had actually been a relief, and things had been a lot less tense between them ever since. Nate still wasn’t talking to him much, of course, but next week they’d start throwing and watching tapes. That would be th
e true indication of how Nate really felt.
“Who’s beating up who?” Silas asked sleepily from the corner of the couch. He’d conked out a few hours ago and no one had had the heart to wake him up and move him up to his bedroom. Jack refused to acknowledge he was a little bit jealous Silas had gravitated to Deke almost immediately. Usually he couldn’t wait for the parents to come and take over again, but he was beginning to like the kid. He’d even had fun—a concept he wasn’t overly familiar with—with One, Two and Three this morning.
“No one is beating anyone up, buddy,” Nate said, ruffling the boy’s hair. “Trash talk. That’s all it is.”
“Well,” Silas said in that self-righteous way only little kids could, “it’s not very nice trash talk. If my mom were here you’d all be in trouble.”
“Yeah,” Deke said, looking around. “Where is your mom?” The question came with an extra special glare in Jack’s direction, even though Jack had been overly careful to not pay any attention to where she was.
Scratch that. He’d paid very careful attention to appear as if he wasn’t paying any attention to where she was.
“I think she’s in the kitchen,” Jason answered, grabbing the remote out of Deke’s hand to take his turn. “With Jules.”
She wasn’t in the kitchen. And Jules had left forty minutes ago.
“I don’t think she’s in the kitchen,” Nate answered. “And Jules went back to the café.”
“Maybe up in the bedroom?” Wash said, switching the game over to ping-pong.
She wasn’t in the bedroom, either.
Deke shook his head and looked out toward the hallway. “No. I know she’s not upstairs.”
“You think she’s okay?” Tuck asked.
“Well, if she isn’t, I don’t want to talk about it here,” Deke answered with a glare that was clearly conveying something, whether it was because of Jack’s presence, or Silas’s, he wasn’t sure.
“Maybe she took the boys outside,” Nate said, his arm stretching out across the back of the couch as he watched Wash school Jason by acing three serves in a row.
