by Natalie Ann
Maybe he needed a distraction. Not a job. He wasn’t thinking much about a job but a little bit of companionship might not hurt.
The problem with that was, he didn’t want to use her and if he contacted her, then he’d have to have a reason for it.
Was he really considering going back up in the air? Or was it that he wanted to just get out of the house and not spend it with a family member?
The night before he’d been out with Grey, thinking he wanted to get out. It didn’t give him the results he’d been looking for either.
“Glad you called me,” Grey had said when they met up at a bar for dinner and drinks.
“I needed some air.”
“How are you doing?” Grey had come right from work still in his pants, pinstriped shirt, and tie. Anyone looking at them would know they were brothers by their dark hair, brown eyes, and sharp features. Jake was in old Levi’s and a flannel shirt though. He wasn’t out to impress anyone.
“Fine,” he said. “Wish everyone would stop asking.”
“We’re going to keep asking. You lost your best friend in a horrific way. By your admission you’re having nightmares and you look like you haven’t had a good night’s sleep in months.”
“It’s been longer than that,” he said picking his beer up and taking a long sip.
“Any other issues? Loss of focus? Staring into space? Rage, memory lapse?”
“Don’t we all have those issues from time to time?” He appreciated Grey’s concern, but this wasn’t a medical appointment.
“I suppose. We haven’t all gone through what you have though.”
“No,” he said, looking down at the wings that were placed in front of them with the plate of fried cheese curds. He helped himself, gathered his thoughts, and decided to try a different tacit. “Tell me about Rachel Chapman.”
“Who?” Grey asked, filling his own plate.
“She’s a headhunter for Albany Med.”
“Oh, that Rachel. How do you know about her?”
“She paid me a visit a few days ago.”
Grey stopped the wing from going to his mouth. “Why?”
“They’re looking for a Medevac pilot. A part timer to fill in.”
“How did she find out about you? Or that you were home? I hope you didn’t think it came from me. I didn’t even know they were looking. I don’t keep up on job postings,” he said, laughing.
“I knew it wasn’t you. You wouldn’t dare.”
“Oh really?” Grey said. “Why is that?”
“Because I’d break a few of your fingers if you got that involved.”
“You probably would and I need my hands, thank you very much. So are you considering it?”
“You didn’t answer my question about Rachel,” he said, ignoring what Grey was trying to find out.
“I don’t know much about her. I see her around, it’s hard not to. Her job is to find talent. Not nurses and office staff and such. Higher level positions.”
“A pilot is a higher level position?” he asked.
“Specialized too. You know what I mean. The point is I’ve seen her around giving tours, schmoozing potentials and all. I don’t know how she does it because it would drive me insane, but she always has a smile on her face even when I’m sure she’d like to deck someone.”
He frowned. “Why’s that?”
“You met her. She’s beautiful. I’m sure she is dodging comments, looks, and innocent touches more than she’d like.”
Jake hadn’t thought of that. “I get the feeling she can handle herself.”
“I think so. Others think she’ll do what it takes to sign someone, but not me. She comes from money. She doesn’t need to prove anything to anyone. I think it’s more about the thrill of the hunt for her. The reward of getting what she wants on her own.”
“I don’t remember her from school,” he said.
“She’s younger than you. Her brother graduated with Colt, right?”
“That’s what she said.”
“Why all the questions about her?” Grey asked. “You still didn’t say if you were interested in what she had to offer.”
“I’m interested in something, but not sure if it’s what she is offering,” he said, smirking.
“There’s the brother I’ve come to love and be jealous of.”
Jake snorted. “Jealous? You’re jealous of me?” What was he missing?
Grey looked around. “Hell yeah. Open your eyes. I’m the doctor here and all the chicks at the bar are eying you like some bad boy they want to reform to bring home to Mom for Sunday dinner, then flip back to your nasty ways behind closed doors.”
Jake started to laugh. He needed that. “Nasty ways? Bad boys? Are you reading romance novels and keeping that secret from everyone?”
“Not quite. I work with a lot of women in the office. I hear talk.”
“So that is what women want now? Someone to bring home to Mom?”
He’d never paid much attention to those things. When he was with a woman he knew it was short term. He didn’t have the lifestyle that catered to relationships for years.
“No clue. I’m just saying, when it comes to picking up women, you’ve put Colt and me to shame, baby brother and all. You’re bigger than us. Stronger than us. Meaner than us if you want to be.”
“Better looking than you guys,” he said, enjoying the conversation more now. He knew Grey was just feeding his ego...maybe. Or was there some truth behind that?
For years Jake felt he’d never measure up to his older brothers. Grey, the doctor. Colt, the lawyer. He had no desire to do either of those things. Nor did he want to sit behind a desk.
He needed to be out and moving. He needed to feel a purpose in life that neither of those careers could provide. That most careers he’d looked at could provide.
Military service called his name. Not because he liked taking orders or falling in line. Not because he wanted or needed a big family that he’d never had.
But because he wanted to make a difference in life. In the world.
Well, he’d made a difference, only it was not one he was sure he could live with.
“We’ll let you think that for now,” Grey said, going back to eating.
The two of them finished their dinner, each had another beer in the three hours they’d sat there and talked, then went on their way.
He’d slept more last night than he had in a few weeks, but he wouldn’t call it a successful night’s sleep either. He just didn’t have a nightmare, but he spent plenty of the hours staring at the ceiling and trying to work his plot out in his head. At one point he’d even gotten up and started to write.
So why was he still holding Rachel’s card in his hand? Was he going to call her? And what would he say?
Only one way to find out.
Control is Overrated
“This is Rachel,” she said, reaching for her phone and picking it up with one hand while she flipped through her notes from a staff meeting in another.
“Rachel. Jake.”
He didn’t say his last name and didn’t need to. She knew it was Jake Baxter. Not that he was cocky, which he probably was, but because she recognized his voice.
Deep with a vibration that was sending waves of thumping currents through her body, making her want to grab a mirror and see if her face was as red as the heat she was feeling.
“Jake. What can I do for you?” she said, keeping it businesslike. She was pretty sure after she’d left his apartment a few days ago that she wouldn’t be talking to him anytime soon. Not if he thought he was getting her in the air.
“I’m not quite sure,” he said, sounding like he might be baffled he was on the phone too.
She leaned back in her chair, starting to enjoy this conversation more. “Really? Well, you did call me.”
He laughed and there was another rush of heat flooding her body. Good lord, how the hell was this happening? She wasn’t some lovesick fool like she was in high school when she
idolized him from a distance the same as every other girl.
“I did,” he said.
She waited a second and when he didn’t say anything else, she asked, “Are you considering the job?”
“Are you considering going for a ride with me?”
Her body was reading more into the ride comment than she should be and she had to fight the urge to tell him yes. “Well now. I think we know the answer to that.”
“Are you afraid of heights?” he asked.
“Not particularly.”
“Flying?” he asked.
“Flying doesn’t bother me.”
“Then not being in control?” he asked.
She grinned. “That might be a tad part of it.”
“Closed-in spaces?”
Bingo. “So this call is about finding out my issues rather than a job offer?”
“This call is about getting together for a drink and some conversation,” he said.
Hmm...interesting. “As in a date?”
“It might be considered as such.”
She had to be dreaming. No way Jake Baxter was asking her on a date. “So let’s make this clear. You’ve got no intention or interest in the job, but you want to take me on a date?”
“For the moment, the answer to the first is yes, no interest. Answer to the second is a definite yes.”
She didn’t care for the way he explained himself. “I don’t play games. One is separate from the other,” she said firmly. “No need to muddy things up. If you are interested in it later on, we’ll deal with that. If you are interested in the other, we’ll address that now.”
“You do like to have control,” he said, a shitload of humor in his voice.
“I’ve been told that a time or two. I’m sure it’s no different than you.”
“Control is overrated,” he said.
She hadn’t heard that before, but knew now wasn’t the time to bring that up. “You didn’t answer me. Or I should say didn’t clarify.”
“A date yes. The job, no.”
But something told her that might change. Since she knew it was going to take her a while to find someone, she’d push it off for now. If the truth was told, the date was what she’d been hoping he say once he’d brought it up.
“So I’ve got to ask, what prompted this call? When I left your place a few days ago I never thought we’d be having this conversation.” Even if she dreamed it so.
“I’ll tell you about it when we get together.”
So he was teasing her. Dangling a carrot. Taunting. Lots of words she could use and the question was would she fall prey to it? Yeah, she would.
“You’ve managed to pique my interest,” she said.
“Then why wait?” he said. “It’s Friday.”
“Maybe I’ve got plans.” She didn’t but wasn’t about to let him think she’d jump at his offer.
“Do you?”
She could play hard to get, yet didn’t she just say she wasn’t into games? It wasn’t her way. “No.”
He laughed again. “How about making plans?”
“Like I said, you’ve piqued my interest and now I’ve got to know what made you call me. So yeah, plans sound good. What did you have in mind?”
“Nothing elaborate. Dinner and a few drinks. Some conversation.”
“Sounds good to me,” she said. “Are we meeting somewhere?”
“If you’d prefer that to me picking you up,” he said.
“Since we have no clue how busy a place might be until we get there,” she offered, “picking me up might be easier than both of us driving around.”
“Practical on top of being in control,” he said.
“If I was in control so much, I’d say I’d pick you up since I already know where you are staying.”
“Good point. What time works best for you?” he asked. “I’ve got nothing but time on my hands.”
“How about seven?” That would give her more than enough time to get home, change, and play with Frank before she left him again. Not that he’d mind since he slept more hours than she’d ever thought it was possible for a dog.
“Seven works. I just need an address.”
“I’ll text it to you. Your cell number came up on my caller ID.”
“Then I’ll see you tonight,” he said and hung up the phone.
Holy cow, how the heck did that happen? She’d never considered herself lucky before, but now she was looking around her office for four leaf clovers, leprechauns, or horseshoes.
***
Jake tossed his cell phone on the couch next to him and picked up his laptop.
That call went easier than he thought it would. Especially after he admitted he wasn’t sure why he was calling her.
He’d never been one to be unsure of anything in his life before. Life taught him there was so much up in the air he couldn’t control.
Which was wrong. He could and had controlled plenty in the past nine months.
Like leaving the job and career he’d thought suited him the best.
A job that had fulfilled him in a way nothing else ever had before.
And then he decided to come home when the decision to leave the army and travel wasn’t giving him the results he’d hoped for.
Nor was the writing that he told himself he could do.
Yeah, he could do it. And do it well. He had a wealth of experience. Life experience. Not that he planned on writing about war, but he did plan on writing about crimes and mystery. Secret agents, special ops, missions. Things he’d done. Learned. Talked to his buddies about. So many ideas and not enough focus to grab one and run with it.
He didn’t think he had writer’s block. He wasn’t really a writer at this point.
It wasn’t even like he couldn’t get the thoughts in his head.
It’s he had too many of them and they were getting jumbled while they fought over who was going to win.
Someone was going to win though, because his mind was latching onto one and his fingers were itching to type, so he was going to go with it and he’d question the motivation later.
It was almost too scary to think this second interaction with Rachel was a driving force to get back to work. To get focused and set a goal.
But that was what he was doing. He was going to write at least two chapters today if it killed him. And he wasn’t going to get up from this couch until he did.
How He Operated
Five hours later, Jake had written his two chapters plus three more, then put together an outline of where the story was going. And when his mind started to drift into other storylines, series, characters, lines, actions, and plans, he opened up a file and started to jot them down.
Rather than write to stay on track, he was going to organize what he could.
It was a productive day in his mind. Though he still wanted to start another book, bring in another character, or change his plot, he didn’t.
He told himself one book at a time. Finish the first one and see if he could do it.
Correction, he knew he could. It was see if it was any good. Unfortunately, he was closing in on the time he allowed himself to write this book before he made any other career decisions.
The end of the year, he’d told himself. Get the book done and off to an editor, then find an agent, or a publisher or whatever the hell the next step was. Things he wasn’t stressing on until he completed his goal.
And it was a goal because that was how he operated. Without an ending, he had a hard time starting. He’d always been that way.
He looked at his phone and saw it was five-thirty and figured it was time to get up and shower. After he’d gotten Rachel’s text and address, it was decided he’d pick her up at six-thirty so they could get someplace by seven. Guess he should have a few places picked out in his head too since this was his idea.
He pulled into her driveway in a development in Loudonville. The houses were close but not so much on top of each other as he’d thought they’d be. Some of the dev
elopments in the Capital Region were like cookie cutters with houses all lined up like soldiers at bed check. Here they were set up close to the road or further back, different styles, colors, and materials.
He got out of his SUV and made his way to the front door, rang the bell, and heard a bark.
Rachel pulled the door open within seconds, his eyes taking in the red-and-tan print blouse that was fitted and tucked into a pair of brown jeans that could only be described as needing to be peeled off. She had one hell of a body on her that he hadn’t realized.
His eyes drifted down to the brown-and-white tank with four legs and two eyes staring up at him with his jaw protruding from his upper lip.
“Come on in, Jake,” she said, opening the door wider.
The dog didn’t leave Rachel’s side, but it wasn’t making much noise either. “Big house,” he said.
“It is.”
“Your family built it?” he asked, looking around and knowing the answer. The foyer had an open ceiling, easily twenty feet up with skylights, a staircase to the right off of what looked to be a formal living room. The left was an office with glass doors wide open. This place reeked of money and he wondered what the heck he was doing here now.
“Of course. Would you like a tour before we leave?”
“It’s up to you,” he said. “We’ve got time.”
“This is Frank,” she said, squatting down and petting the beast sitting by her ankles.
“He’s not going to bite me if I scratch his head, is he?”
She laughed. “I guess there is only one way to find out.”
He squatted down next to her, let his nostrils be filled with the citrus scent that was floating around her and reached his hand out for the dog that was currently giving him the stink eye. The minute his hand went to Frank’s head, the dog’s jaw relaxed and his tongue flopped out to hang off to the side.
“I guess if I pictured you as having a dog it would be a little fluffy one.”
“One that I could dress up in annoying little outfits? I’m not sure whether I’m insulted or not.”
He looked up and met her light brown eyes, saw the sparkle behind them and had the strongest urge to wrap his hand around her neck, crush his lips to hers, and cover her on the floor. The dog would surely bite him then, if Rachel didn’t knee him in the groin.
