Out of My League (The Underdog series Book 1)

by Brea Brown

  “Well, I need to go lie down for about a day,” Gloria quips. “Thank goodness we were on three separate planes. The drive from the airport was enough to kill me.”

  “What’s the deal with the highway construction?” Ned gripes. “The detours were outrageous!”

  Jet says something about winter pothole repair and promises to work out a better route back to KCI before their departure, then follows them with their bags up the stairs, tossing over the banister at me, “I’ll be right back.”

  The rest of the day is a blur of simultaneous conversations and kids running in and out of the house. And laughter—lots of laughter. The Knoxes are happy people. Happy people who like to tease each other constantly, especially Jet and his brothers.

  At the front door, as I’m leaving for the night, Jet brushes my bangs off my forehead and says down into my face, “Thanks for being such a good sport today.”

  “It was good to meet everyone and talk,” I reply, resting my arms on his shoulders and wrapping my hands around the back of his neck. “I have a feeling I’m going to hear a lot of great Jet stories in the next few days.”

  He groans. “I might have to lay down some bribes tonight to make sure that doesn’t happen.” He kisses me, then grabs my hand as I let go of him to open the front door. “Hey, I’ll text you later and let you know the plan for tomorrow.”

  I nod, suddenly nervous about leaving. As soon as the door closes on me, the discussion will open about me. Not that I worry anyone will say anything negative to Jet—or that I’ve given them any reason to do so. It’s just disconcerting to know I’ll be a topic of discussion for part of the evening.

  To avoid thinking about it, I go home and collapse into bed, and fall into a blissful, twelve-hour sleep.

  The plan is for Jet and me to take the ladies and kids to Swope Park to explore the Nature Center and burn some energy outside during the late morning and early afternoon while his dad and brothers spend their kid-free time on the golf course.

  After enjoying some alone time at my place when Jet picked me up earlier, I asked him why he wasn’t golfing with the guys. He paid close attention to buttoning his shirt while sitting on the side of my bed, then answered, “I suck at golf.”

  I tugged on a pair of jeans and a V-neck t-shirt that didn’t seem too wrinkled. “So? It probably makes them feel really good to be better than you at something.”

  “I don’t like being a loser. Puts me in a bad mood. We’ll catch up with them later, when the others go shopping. Unless you want to do that, too.” He zipped his shorts and slid his feet into his suede shoes.

  “No! I mean, no, that’s okay.” I was selfishly relieved when Jet chose not to join his dad and brothers on the links. Not only can I not play, but I suspect I wasn’t even invited, to begin with. That would have put me in the awkward position of bowing out of the childcare duties, also not my forte, at the park, alone with his mom and sisters. But I would have. Because we’re definitely not there yet. I’m not going anywhere with Jet’s family without him.

  We’ve been at his house for nearly an hour now, waiting for the moms and kids to be ready for departure. I try not to think too much about how he and I could have better utilized this time at my place. Rather, I stay out of the frantic fray, flipping through the latest issue of ESPN The Magazine from the coffee table.

  Finally, Gidget, standing on the landing between the stairs to the second floor and the basement, shouts, “The train leaves in five minutes! If you’re not in the car, you don’t get to go to the park. Let’s move!”

  Children scurry from both directions, tripping over each other in their haste.

  Gloria tuts. “Why do you insist on bellowing everything, Gidget?”

  “It gets results, Ma,” she replies, nodding to the line of kids at the front door and tossing a set of keys at Jet. “You’re taking one group. I’ll follow you.”

  He twirls the keys on his finger. “Who’s riding with Maura and me in the cool kids’ car?”

  Five hands shoot into the air. The sixth one is quick to follow, as he blindly imitates his older brother and cousins. “Meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!”

  Gidget pulls her daughter’s hand down. “You’re coming with me, Miss Thing, after that stunt you pulled at breakfast.”

  Jet widens his eyes and winces. “Oops. Guess we missed something there. Okay. Maura and I have the other big kids, then.”

  “You’re probably going to want another grownup in the back,” Lucy suggests.

  “Pshaw. We don’t need no stinkin’ grownups, do we kids?”

  “Noooooooooo!”

  Gidget sniffs. “Jet’s right; it’s best that all the kids go with him. It’s only fair. As a matter of fact,” She pushes the breakfast troublemaker back in line. “I’ll think of some other punishment for you. Go ahead with Jet and Maura.”

  Jet sticks out his tongue at Lucy. “It’s unanimous. You have to go in the boring car. Better luck next time.”

  She rolls her eyes at him and smirks. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  Jet grabs my hand and pulls me through the crowd to the front door. “Okay, dudes and dudettes. Let’s roll.”

  After the longest twelve minutes of my life, we pull into the parking lot of the Nature Center. Jet parks the SUV, pulls the keys from the ignition, and simply stares at me while the bedlam continues behind us. The look of utter betrayal on his face both breaks my heart and cracks me up. He soon follows my lead, but his laughter sounds more rueful.

  Realizing the vehicle has stopped, the little monsters spring their seatbelts, hop down from their boosters, and start banging on the safety-locked doors and windows.

  “Ow! Gage pulled my hair!”

  “Patience stepped on me!”

  “Milo’s looking at me!”

  “I’m hungry!

  “I hafta poop!”

  “I want my mommy!”

  “Sounds like the locker room back there,” Jet says, making me laugh harder. Then he shouts over his shoulder, “Hey! What the heck? Everyone sit down and shut up.”

  “Ummm! Uncle Jet said ‘shut up.’”

  “That’s a bad word!”

  “You’re mean!”

  “You’re not my friend!”

  “Tell that weird girl to stop laughing at us!

  “I hafta poop! Now!”

  Jet runs his hand through his hair. “This is unbelievable. They all used to be so cute, and they loved me. What happened?”

  “Oh, how quickly the tide of popular opinion turns,” I half-joke.

  Without warning, Jet whirls in his seat and startles the malcontents silent with a wide-eyed glare and flared nostrils. Outside the vehicle, the adult females peer through the windows.

  “What’s going on in there?” Gidget says through the glass next to Jet’s shoulder.

  He ignores her and continues to stare down the backseat contingent. Finally, after several seconds, he opens his mouth to make his proclamation, then closes it, sniffs, and says, “Aw, man! Did someone have an accident?”

  A little voice replies, “I tole you I hadta poop!”

  Jet and I spring from the vehicle like it’s on fire and pull open the back doors, ushering out the kids.

  With stiff arms, Jet hands the pooper to Tammy. “I hope you brought a change of clothes for this one.”

  Chagrined, she hands off her younger child to Gloria and frog-marches her oldest toward the Nature Center. Holding his hand against a disturbing bulge in the back of his pants, Milo whines, “It was a accident! Uncle Jet wouldn’t let us out of the car!”

  Still reeling from the entire experience, I stand, shell-shocked next to the car. Gidget sidles up to me. “And that, ladies and gents, is the best form of birth control ever.” With a nudge and a nod toward her little brother, she walks away.

  On the other side of the vehicle, Jet fans the back door to air out the interior of the SUV.

  Gidget turns and walks backward, winking and calling out, “You’re welcome!�
�

  We spend an hour in the echoey Nature Center, then head back outdoors for a picnic lunch and exercise on the playground until the golfers meet up with us for their turn with the kids. Going shopping with the women would mean a break from the loudest children I’ve ever encountered, much less had to spend any significant amount of time with, but the thought of traipsing along The Plaza after the past couple of hours nauseates me. I keep reminding myself that I get to go to work tomorrow. I’ve never looked so forward to a Monday in my life.

  While Tammy, Gidget, and Lucy take the kids to the restrooms after lunch, Jet, Gloria, and I clean up our picnic trash and return the coolers to the SUV that we’ll take back to Jet’s. He sets up a chair for his mom, then sprawls on his back on the nearest blanket, feet flat on the ground, legs apart and bent at the knees. I sit next to him and lean back on my straight arms, tilting my head toward the warm sun and letting the breeze tease my ponytail.

  “Mom, those kids are crazy,” Jet says, arranging his hands behind his head.

  Gloria clicks her tongue. “They’re babies. That’s how babies are, Jet.”

  “No. When they were babies, they were cute. Now they’re beasts. Milo pooped his pants to spite me.”

  I snicker but stay out of it. Or try to. But Jet has other ideas.

  “Ask Maura. It was terrible. They yelled at each other the entire way here. Sometimes they weren’t even mad about anything. They were just… yelling. Like, they only have one volume.”

  Gloria arches an eyebrow at me. “Well? Was it as bad as he says?”

  Aw, hell no. I’m not saying a damn word against this woman’s grandchildren to her. Then again, I can’t very well call Jet a liar. Because he’s not. At all. As a matter of fact, he left out a few things. Before we made it to the main road, the girls insisted on singing along to the Disney soundtrack playing in the vehicle’s CD player. At top, screechy volume. The boys covered their ears and demanded the girls stop. Then, when Jet turned off the music, the girls started to cry and scream at the boys.

  Now he lifts his head from the blanket to see what’s taking me so long to answer. Finally, I say, “I’m not around kids a lot, so I wouldn’t know what’s normal.”

  “This isn’t normal,” he says. “What’s going on? Even Gidget’s kids are nuts.”

  “They’re on vacation,” Gloria says. “That’s what happens. Children need stability and routine. They’re not as portable or adaptable as your little dog. They act out when they’re out of their element, off their schedules. “

  “Off their rockers, you mean.”

  “Give it a couple of days. They’ll settle down. Now, shush. Your sisters are coming back. One day, when you two have kids of your own, you’ll understand how difficult it is, and you won’t want childless know-it-alls to judge you every time one of your little darlings acts out.”

  “I guess,” he grumbles.

  Wait, wait, wait a minute here! Did just she call me a “childless know-it-all”? And create a bunch of future mini-Jetauras? How did that happen? I didn’t say a single judge-y thing! I was anti-judge.

  Unjustly rebuked, I sit motionless with my hands in my lap while the other women return and shoo the independently ambulatory kids toward the playground. Tammy opens a bag chair, settles into it and unceremoniously whips out her boob to feed the baby.

  The others talk about their upcoming shopping excursion (the first of many, I bet), but nobody consults me on anything, so I zone out and watch the kids climb, swing, and run, hoping all the activity wears them out.

  After a few minutes, Jet’s legs twitch and fall farther open, and when I glance down at him, I see he’s fallen asleep. Lucky guy. He looks so peaceful and sweet. While I’m fantasizing about how amazing it would feel to snuggle up to him for a nap of my own, I hear my name.

  My head snaps up.

  Gidget chuckles. “Sorry. Didn’t realize you were off in your own world. I was just saying, it feels like we already know you, because we read so much about you and Jet online.”

  I wince. “Oh. Yeah. I guess that’s kind of weird, isn’t it?”

  “Not as weird for us as it probably is for you,” Lucy replies. “I’d feel so paranoid about leaving the house looking anything less than flawless. Like, I really admire that you’re out here in jeans and a t-shirt with no makeup and your hair in a ponytail. What if someone takes a picture of Jet, and you’re in it?”

  Reflexively, I reach up and touch my face. “I— I’m wearing some makeup.”

  “You are? You look so natural! And don’t get me wrong; you’re adorable. But I couldn’t pull that off. Keith makes fun of me, because I won’t so much as go to the mailbox without a full face on.”

  Before I can say anything else on the topic, something catches Lucy’s eye over my shoulder, and she says, “Oh, no. The kids are fighting again. Lands, I’m gonna end up killing them by the time this vacation’s over.” She stands and stomps toward the playground yelling a string of first, middle, and last names to let them know she’s coming and means business.

  Tammy sets the now-sleeping baby in a patch of shade on the blanket next to me and cranes her neck to see into the distance. “Uh-oh. Milo’s crying now. Keep an eye on Teddy, will you?”

  Gidget watches the scene unfold for a few seconds, then heaves herself to her feet. “They’re all in it now. Better go mediate.”

  Left alone with Gloria, essentially, since the other two humans with us are sleeping, I shrug. “Never a dull moment, huh?”

  “Don’t let Lucy bother you. She’s from Texas.”

  I chuckle at that explanation, appreciating the support.

  “You’re exactly the type of woman Jet needs in his life. A stable, grounding force. Not some bimbo trollop who’s going to cheat on him and leave him for someone else on the team.”

  Huh?

  Oblivious to my befuddlement, she plows on, “And it’s nice that you have your own career. It displays an important sense of self and independence. But it’s good that you’re not too committed to it, since you won’t be able to keep it forever.”

  I gulp, hardly able to believe what I’m hearing. “Okay. Thanks. I mean…” I scratch my head near the base of my ponytail. “Hm.”

  “Being the CEO of a brand like Jet Knox is a full-time job.”

  Blinking, I replay that sentence in my head and verify that, yes, she called her son a “brand.” And put me in charge of “it.”

  I nervously chuckle and trace my finger along the pinstripes in the picnic blanket. “Well, he has people for all of that.”

  “None of them will be more important than you. You’ll be his main person.”

  Past the lump in my throat, I say, “Wow. So. You’ve thought a lot about this, I can tell.”

  She shrugs and says, while watching the tableau on the playground, “I’ve worked hard to get my son to this point. I can’t have all my hard work undermined by someone who doesn’t take his gift seriously enough. He’s better off alone than with the wrong person.” She smiles down at me. “But the good news is, you would be perfect. I’ve told Jet that.”

  “Oh. Uh, great. Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome. My opinion is important to him, especially since I was right about that woman. But she had him fooled, and he loved her, so he had to learn the hard way. He won’t make that mistake again.”

  Oh. My. Gosh.

  The mama’s boy rolls onto his belly and turns his head sideways on his arms, his eyes fluttering open, followed by a sheepish smile. “Oops. Was I snoring?”

  I shake my head, wishing my nausea would abate. When it doesn’t, though, I scramble to my feet and mumble, “I have to use the bathroom. Be right back.” Putting some distance between myself and that blanket helps somewhat, so by the time I get to the cement block public toilet house, I’m no longer in danger of puking or hyperventilating. I use the facilities, wash my hands, and splash water on my face.

  As I’m patting my cheeks, blotting my forehead, and swiping the m
ascara from under my eyes, Gidget enters the building with her oldest, Brianna.

  “Bladder the size of a pea,” she explains, pushing her daughter toward an open stall, before looking more closely at me.

  I smile shakily.

  “Uh-oh. What did Ma say?”

  Instinctively, I shake my head. “Nothing. No. It’s not—”

  She tilts her head in a mannerism so reminiscent of Jet it makes me want to cry. “You’re freaking out.”

  “It’s nothing. I must have gotten too much sun.”

  “No, you were fine before we all left you alone with her. We agreed ahead of time not to let that happen, and here we’ve failed on the second damn day. I’m so sorry.”

  Brianna emerges from the stall and tries to run out without washing her hands. Gidget stops her and oversees the scrubbing before giving her daughter permission to return to the playground without us, since the path between here and there is in full view of our party.

  Then Gidget leans against the sink, crosses her arms over her chest, and demands, “Tell me.”

  “It’s all a little intense, that’s all.” I toss my damp paper towel at the trash hole in the counter. “A few months ago, my life was ridiculously simple. That’s how I liked it. Now, I’m half of ‘Jetaura.’ A name I hate, by the way.”

  “Isn’t it the worst? I guess it’s better than Met or Jaura. But I wish those couple names would die a swift death. When I saw yours and Jet’s, I actually said, ‘Ew!’ out loud.”

  I laugh, relieved amusement is still a possibility and grateful to Gidget for reawakening it. Riding that gratitude, I say, “I love your brother.”

  “That much is obvious.”

  “What’s not to love, right?”

  She chuckles. “Well, he’s stubborn, spoiled rotten, and has a horrible memory. Don’t expect him to ever remember your anniversary. You know, if it ever comes to that,” she adds quickly.

  “Yeah,” I say to my shoes.

  Snapping her fingers, she says, “That’s it, isn’t it? Ma’s already married you off to him?”

  I nod.

  “That’s just her way. She’s been trying to offload him since college. Don’t let her—or anyone—rush you. Marriage is a big commitment. Marriage to someone like my brother comes with a whole set of issues the rest of us don’t have to worry about. It takes a special person to handle that. Only you know if you’re that person.”