Nailed

by Jasinda Wilder

  I cough, suppressing laughter as an inappropriate response to that statement pops into my head.

  Ryder eyes me sideways, obviously correctly interpreting what I was thinking. “Hush, you. We’re having serious guy talk.”

  “Sorry, sorry.”

  He turns back to Nate. “The other reason is because I like your mom, a lot.”

  Nate frowns. “What does that have to do with me?” He pauses, and then his face lights up. “You’re trying to impress her!”

  Ryder laughs. “Sort of, yes.” He taps Nate on the chest. “You are the most important person in her life, as I’m sure you’re aware. That makes you important to me, because your mom is important to me. So, I want to get to know you. I want us to be friends.”

  Nate nods, understanding. “Got it.” He looks away, thinking, and then back at Ryder. “Are you gonna marry my mom?”

  “Nate—” I splutter.

  Ryder holds up his hand to me. “I can answer, Laurel.”

  I have to literally bite my tongue, but I let Ryder answer for himself—and I hang on every word.

  “Maybe someday,” Ryder says. “Right now, your mom and I are sort of just figuring things out, but I do care a lot about your mom, and there may come a day when she and I start thinking about that. I’ll make you one other promise, Nate: if and when that day comes, you and I will sit down and talk about it, man to man.”

  My heart is slamming so hard in my chest I worry it’s going to crack my ribs open. This is too much, too soon. Talking about falling for each other, talking about the future, talking about being open and real and invested…that’s one thing. But this? The way Ryder is talking to Nate? This makes it way, way, way too real.

  Here comes that anxiety attack I promised Ryder.

  I tell myself to keep it together. Breathe. Stay calm.

  “So, what are we gonna do?” Nate asks.

  Ryder stands up. “I was thinking laser tag.”

  Nate seems stuck between excitement and suspicion. “Are you going to actually play?”

  Ryder grins, pointing a finger-gun at Nate. “A better question to ask is do you think you can beat me.”

  Nate’s grin is so broad and brilliant I wonder if it hurts his cheeks, and he’s letting his excitement show, little by little. “Beat you? I bet I can score ten times as many points as you!”

  “Is that a bet?” Ryder asks.

  Nate frowns. “I don’t know what a bet actually is.”

  “It’s kind of like a dare, but with money or something.” He takes out his wallet and hands a ten-dollar bill to Nate. “We’re putting this ten-dollar bill up for the bet—if you beat me in laser tag, you keep the ten bucks. If I win, I keep it.”

  Nate rolls his eyes. “That’s dumb. What am I gonna do with ten dollars? Any time I get any money, I have to give it to Mom for safekeeping, and then I never see it again.”

  “Okay, well…” Ryder pauses to think. “Okay, how about this—”

  “How about you don’t teach my son to gamble,” I say, trying hard to keep a stern expression on my face.

  “Knowing how and when to take a bet is an important skill to learn on the road to becoming a man, Laurel.”

  “Well then, at least teach him right.” I take a ten out of my purse and hand it to Nate. “A real bet works a little differently than what Ryder is telling you. If you’re betting ten bucks that you can beat him, it means if you win, you keep your ten dollars and you take his, but if you lose, he keeps your ten bucks and his.”

  Ryder snorts. “I was trying to keep it simple.”

  “It is simple. But if he comes back talking about poker, we’re gonna have issues.”

  “What’s poker?” Nate asks.

  I sigh. “A dumb card game.”

  Ryder arches an eyebrow at me. “Is this a bad time to mention that the guys and I have poker night at my house once a month, and that it’s this Friday?”

  I laugh. “Of course you do. So you have standing nights at Billy Bar, poker night once a month…any other Dad Bod traditions I should know about?”

  “Poker night is every Friday, we just rotate between James’s, Jesse’s, Franco’s, and my house.” He taps his chin, thinking. “Um…we usually go to Cedar Point every summer.”

  I boggle. “Four grown men go to Cedar Point together every summer?”

  He frowns at me in disbelief. “Hell—I mean, heck yeah! You’re never too old for roller coasters. Plus, watching James try to cram his giant butt into those things is hysterical.”

  I shake my head. “You guys are ridiculous.”

  Ryder glances at my car. “Do I need one of those seat things for him?”

  I grab Nate’s booster from the back of my car and hand it to him, and Ryder examines it curiously. “What’s it for, anyway?”

  “So when the seatbelt buckles across him, the strap lays against his chest instead of his neck. It’s safer.”

  Ryder nods. “Ah, makes sense.”

  I frown at his truck. “That thing does have seatbelts, right?”

  He nods, handing the booster to Nate. “Oh yeah. It didn’t originally, because it was made before the federal seatbelt requirement in 1968, but since I’m using it as a daily driver, I installed them as part of the restoration.”

  I have a million things I want to say, but I just sigh. “Please be careful.”

  He smiles at me, takes me by the shoulders. “Deep breath, babe. I’ve got this.”

  I smile back, a little teary. “I know. Whether I’ve got it is the real question.”

  He leans in and kisses me, a quick peck. “You’ve got it.” He taps me on the nose. “Call up your girls. Go have a glass of wine and relax.”

  “You’ll call me if anything comes up?”

  “Of course.”

  I take a deep breath, hold it, and let it out. “Okay. I’m good. I’m good!” I circle around to the passenger side of Ryder’s truck where Nate has already climbed up and buckled himself in. “I love you, Nate. Be good, okay? And have fun!”

  He’s on cloud nine. “This is gonna be awesome!” He looks down at me. “Are you gonna cry when we leave?”

  I nod. “Probably.”

  Nate just rolls his eyes. “So emotional.”

  I cackle. “Where did you learn that?”

  “TV. Dad lets me watch stuff I probably shouldn’t see.”

  I sigh. “Great.”

  Nate looks at Ryder, and then at me. “You know, if you guys want to make out, I can look the other way.”

  “Nathaniel Paul Madison! Where in the world are you getting this stuff? Do I have to talk to your father about what is and isn’t appropriate television for you?”

  Nate shrugs. “Nah, that one I learned from Sheila. She’s a sixth grader, and she was talking about making out with her boyfriend.”

  “In sixth grade?”

  “She makes a lot of stuff up, so I don’t think it’s true. I don’t even know what it means, but I think it’s like kissing or something.”

  I palm the side of his face and give him a playful, gentle shove. “You’re too smart for your own good, buster.” I lean up and kiss his cheek. “Have fun.”

  Nate waves me off with both hands. “Quit dragging it out, Mom! I’ll be fine. We’ll have fun.” He points at me. “No crying!”

  I roll my eyes at him as I back away. “No promises.”

  Ryder checks Nate’s seat belt, waves at me, and then his truck grumbles to life with a throaty chuckle, and he backs out. I keep it together as he drives slowly and carefully out of the parking lot, and I keep it together as they vanish around the corner. I even manage to keep it together as I get in my car and leave the school.

  I only start to lose it once I’m on the main road and heading—well, I’m not sure where I’m going. A weekday afternoon alone is something I rarely get.

  I’m biting down on my lip to keep from crying as I dial Audra. She answers, out of breath. “Hello? What’s up, Laurel?”

  “Are—ar
e you working?” I ask, fighting to keep the emotion out of my voice.

  “Yeah, but I’m almost done.” She sighs. “What did he do now?”

  “No, it’s not like that.”

  “But you’re upset. I can tell.”

  “I need the girls.”

  “Do I get a preview?”

  “Nate and Ryder are out, together…alone.”

  “Ohhhhh shit.” She’s known me long enough to know that’s no small thing. “Okay. Tacos and margs in fifteen.”

  Fifteen minutes later, I’ve been sitting at a table alone for five minutes, and I’m halfway through a giant margarita, and only suffering a minor panic attack. The tequila is doing a pretty decent job at keeping the bulk of the panic at bay. The rest of the girls all file in at once, Audra first, then Imogen, then Nova. They sit, and the server brings three more margaritas—without having to be asked, because we’re here frequently.

  Audra waits until we all have drinks, and then pounds her fist on the table, once, hard. “I hereby declare a quorum. Let the counsel proceed.”

  I laugh, and then hiccup. “Remember when I called you in a panic because I’d fallen for Ryder?”

  Audra nods. “He ghosted on you, as I recall. Seems there’s been some excitement since then.”

  “I let Ryder take Nate to play laser tag.”

  Imogen’s eyes widen. “Oh, wow. That’s a big step.”

  Nova nods. “My sister is a single mom, and she’d never ever let a boyfriend take her son anywhere. I believe her words to me once were, ‘not even if he was Jesus.’” Nova’s vivid blue eyes go to mine. “How’d you go from ‘convince me to not like him’ to this so fast?”

  A tear slips down my cheek, and I hiccup again. “I—I don’t know. That’s the issue.”

  Imogen pats my hand. “If it’s any consolation, all four of them are really great guys, and I’d trust each of them.” She shrugs. “I do trust all of them.”

  Audra snickers. “I mean, I wouldn’t leave a baby with any of them, except maybe James, since he’s had experience with them.”

  I glare at her. “Not helping.”

  Audra’s snicker turns to a laugh. “Oh come on, Laurel—you try to picture Jesse with a baby.”

  I can’t help a laugh at the image of big, burly Jesse with a tiny baby. “That is a funny thought.”

  Imogen isn’t laughing. “It’s…it’s not that funny.”

  We all zero in on her.

  Imogen is pale, eyes wide, lip caught between her teeth.

  Audra gasps. “No. Uh-uh. No way. You fucking are not!”

  Imogen nods. “I am,” she whispers.

  “NO.” Audra shakes her head, grabbing her best friend’s hands in a death grip. “You tried for years with Nick!”

  “I know.”

  “You’ve been with him, what…a year?”

  “Barely.”

  I blink. “Wait…Imogen, you’re pregnant?”

  She nods. “Six weeks.”

  Nova eyes the water Imogen has been sipping on, and the untouched drink in front of her. “Does Jesse know?”

  Imogen shakes her head, and then drops her eyes. “I’m forty-one years old. I’d given up on having kids. We’re not even engaged, and we’ve never even talked about kids!” She looks at me, tears boiling in her eyes, as yet unshed. “I’m sorry, Laurel. I’m totally hijacking your panic attack.”

  She’s sitting beside me, with Audra and Nova across from us, and I wrap an arm around her. “No, no, no. This is way more important.”

  She leans into the hug. “I just don’t know what to do.”

  “Um, tell him?” Audra says. “The man loves you like crazy. He’ll be happy, once he gets over his shock.”

  “Did you guys not use condoms or something?” Nova asks.

  Imogen’s grin is shy, and small. “Yeah, we sort of stopped, since I thought I couldn’t get pregnant. I mean, Nick and I literally tried for years—literally everything, including IVF.”

  Nova snickers. “You and your ex fuck for years—no baby. Jesse fucks you a couple times—BAM…baby.” She laughs, and it’s contagious. “He must have super swimmers.”

  “I mean, it has been more than a couple times,” Imogen says, trying not to laugh. “Jesse and I have had more sex in the last sixty days than I think Nick and I ever had in our entire marriage.”

  “Still, some guys just have super-potent sperm, and that man is a picture of vitality and virility.” Nova shrugs. “But then, all four of those guys are.”

  We all turn to look at Nova, then.

  “If anyone is a picture of virility, it’s James,” Audra says, wiggling her eyebrows comically. “Have you tested his virility yet?”

  Nova shuts down, right on cue. “Nice try. The counsel has not been called into session to discuss my life.”

  Audra huffs. “You are seriously no fun.” She pokes Nova in the arm. “One of these days, Nova, you’re going to talk to us.”

  Nova narrows her eyes at Audra. “Don’t poke me,” she says. “And I talk to you guys all the time. I’m talking to you now.”

  “I mean about you,” Audra clarifies. “You’re, like, Fort Knox. You give nothing away.”

  Nova shrugs. “I’m private. And there’s nothing to know, anyway. James and I are acquaintances at best. He’s handsome, he’s interesting, and I’m physically attracted to him, but that’s all there is and all there ever will be. The end, amen, and let it be.”

  Audra snorts derisively. “Aaaand I call bullshit on that, but we’ll let it go for now.” She points at me. “So, Laurel—you’re finally realizing you’re head over heels stupid in love with Ryder, to the degree that you allowed him to abscond with your one and only son. Smart move—the guy is awesome, funny, hard-working, cool, and sexy as hell. You have a well-fucked flush going on, by the way, so I’ll expect details in a moment.” Next, she points at Imogen. “You, my lovely dumpling—you’re pregnant, and I couldn’t be happier for you. I know you’re scared, but you don’t need to be. Jesse will probably faint dead away when you tell him, but when you wake him up, he’ll be excited. Give him time to process it, and then watch as he turns into the most ridiculously overprotective grizzly bear of a papa you could possibly imagine.”

  Imogen pales, hand over her mouth. “Oh…my…god. He’s going to literally carry me everywhere,” she breathes. “He’ll wrap me in bubble wrap! He’ll make me quit working—he’ll probably try to hand feed me.”

  We’re all laughing now, because Jesse is already insanely protective of Imogen—insane being the key word, here. He walks her across parking lots as if waiting for thugs to jump out at any minute. If she so much as stumbles, he tries to pick her up and carry her the rest of the way. It’s adorable, and Imogen eats it up. I think she humors his protectiveness because it makes her feel so loved, and because it’s so novel for her. But the thought of Jesse in overprotective new father mode? Oh my.

  “Don’t laugh!” Imogen insists. “He’ll never let me leave the house!”

  “He knows you’re not actually that delicate,” Nova says. “He just loves you, and it’s new for him.”

  “He’s going to be impossible,” Imogen moans.

  We can’t help snickering, but then the eyes all turn to me, and I shift uncomfortably. “What?” I ask.

  “You—Ryder—spill.” Audra points at me, stealing Imogen’s untouched margarita.

  I shrug. “It just kind of happened. I gave him a chance to explain, and that turned into a date—”

  “And then he fucked you six ways to Sunday?” Audra suggests.

  “More like he fucked me six ways on Sunday,” I say, giggling.

  “Holy shit, no wonder you’re glowing,” Audra breathes. “Was it as amazing as I’d like to think it would be?”

  I frown at her. “What does that mean?”

  She shrugs. “I mean if I hadn’t met Jesse first, I’d probably have wanted to fuck Ryder. He’s hot, and I’ve always had a thing for gingers.”

>   “Do I need to be jealous?” I ask, eyes narrowed.

  “God no!” She waves a hand. “I’ve got all the sexy times I can handle, honey-buns. Franco gives it to me all night and all day, and then some. He literally followed me into the shower this morning. I was late for work, so all I had time for was a kiss and a handjob, but still. He’s insatiable.”

  I roll my eyes at her. “A handjob? Really?”

  She shrugs. “What? The handjob is underrated.” She makes her voice sound like an old-timey radio commercial. “If your guy is hounding you for sexy times and you just ain’t got the time, the trusty, quick, reliable handjob is ready for action.”

  Imogen groans, slapping her forehead with her palm. “Oh my god, Audra. You are so wrong!”

  Audra just raises her eyebrows, arch, prim, and self-assured. “So right, you mean. Have you tried it?”

  Imogen blushes. “Well, no. Not since I was a teenager.”

  “Do you blow him?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “Next time he’s all ‘me so horny’ and you’re just super not in the mood for the energy expenditure of sex or the jaw ache and aftertaste of a blowjob, try a handjob and thank me later.”

  “And do what with the…um…mess?” Imogen asks.

  Audra shrugs. “Depends. If you’re at home, just lead him into the bathroom and have him finish into the toilet. Or the sink.” She winks.

  Imogen fakes a gag. “The sink? That’s so gross!”

  “Or, just let him go on your titties and make him clean you up with a washcloth.” Audra waves a hand. “The options are endless—limited only by your imagination, my dear.” She gestures at Imogen’s belly. “And honestly, you’ll probably be thanking me in a few months—when that baby is near term and you’re big as a whale and can barely move and he’s going crazy ’cause you’re too pregnant for anything fun, the ol’ handjob will get him off your case for a few days. Or…hours, at the very least.”

  “Or…” Nova raises a finger. “And I’m just spitballing here—but he could just, you know, suck it up and deal with it for a while?”

  Audra looks at Nova like she’s sprouted a second head. “Are you crazy? Men are so impossible to deal with when they’re horny. Get them off, and they’re so much more…pliable.”