Fair Catch

by Ruddick, Jessica

  Jake

  THE OPENING OF the bathroom door and two sets of footsteps in the hallway were welcome sounds. It had only taken twenty minutes for Rachel to talk Ashley into coming out of the bathroom. I’d tried unsuccessfully for hours. Maybe threatening to take the door off the hinges hadn’t been my smoothest move. I didn’t understand tween girls, but I guessed I had better learn. Fast.

  I got up off the couch, where I’d been sitting with Emily, and headed toward the hall, nearly running into Rachel, who had come to find me. My arm brushed her breast, and I jumped back. Shit. Should I apologize or pretend I hadn’t noticed? Except I’d sure as hell noticed. How could I not? Her tank top was stretched tight across her chest, and a few strands of her hair were trapped in her cleavage. It was all I could do to keep from rescuing them.

  Christ. I wasn’t a perv who couldn’t keep his hands to himself, but worrying about popping a boner on account of Rachel’s luscious breasts while my youngest sister was only feet away was weird as hell. I hadn’t really focused on how living with my siblings was going to affect my dating life. I’d been a shut-in since my parents died, but before that, I’d dated regularly, though I hadn’t had any serious relationships. But I couldn’t very well bring a girl home now. Could I?

  Not important. Except it was, especially when I was staring at the only girl I’d actually wanted to bring home since my parents died. Fuck me. But it was par for the course. Nothing in the past year had been easy.

  Rachel stepped back, not seeming to notice the intimate contact. “Don’t worry. She’s fine.” Ashley. That’s right. She was my priority, along with Emily and Ben.

  I put a hand on my head. “I feel like I should talk to her or something.”

  Rachel chuckled. “Trust me. She definitely doesn’t want to talk to you about this. At least not yet.”

  “Ah… so you were right.” I didn’t know which was more uncomfortable—talking to a girl I was into about periods or the fact that my little sister had hers. And fuck. She would have it every month from then on. I was so screwed.

  “Yup.”

  “And she’s… okay? Do I need to do anything?”

  Rachel gave me a bland stare. “She might need help setting up the tent in the backyard. And then when her banishment is over, it would be nice if you helped her take it down.”

  I felt my eyes widen for a split second before I realized she was joking.

  Grinning, she laughed. “You should have seen your face. Seriously, half the world’s population deal with it every month. It’s not a big deal. You don’t have to do anything except be cool about it if her clothes or sheets get stained and be secure enough in your manhood to buy her supplies when you go to the store.”

  “That’s the least of my concerns.” Hell, that was what Amazon was for anyway. I could have that shit delivered.

  Rachel surveyed me, trying to determine if I was serious. I must have passed her test because she nodded. “Good.”

  “I appreciate you coming.” I’d said that already, but there was no easy segue from period talk to… hell, anything else.

  “It was no problem.” She paused. “I’m especially glad I got to help you out after you changed my tire even after I acted all snotty. God, I feel so bad about that.”

  I touched her arm. Her skin was nice and smooth. “I told you not to worry about it. It was a misunderstanding.”

  “Yeah.” She sighed. “The last guy I dated used to—you know what?” She smiled brightly. “I’m not dating him anymore, so it doesn’t matter. And you probably don’t want to hear about it anyway.”

  I didn’t want to hear about it, but not for the reason she thought. I didn’t want to be tempted to kick some dickhead’s ass for mistreating her when I was supposed to be acting like a positive role model for my siblings.

  “Do you want to hang out and watch”—I gestured to the TV that Emily was still glued to—“whatever show that is?” Yup, I totally just asked her to stay and watch teeny-bopper TV. I’ve got game. But she was there, and I didn’t want to let her go, not again.

  She glanced at the TV. “Oh, that’s Descendants. I don’t know which one, though. There are a few of them. My little sister was into them.”

  I motioned for her to take a seat on the sectional couch. I sat catty-corner from her. “Five siblings, right?”

  “Yup. Three sisters and one brother.”

  “I thought my family had a lot of kids, but you have me beat.”

  “I always kind of felt like a freak to have so many siblings when most of my friends only had one or two.”

  “My parents would have had more if they could,” I said. “But there were a lot of mis—” I paused. “Actually, maybe we should talk in the other room if we’re not actually going to watch TV.”

  Rachel glanced at Emily, picking up on my meaning. “Sure.”

  She followed me into the dining room, and once we were seated at the rickety table, I continued. “Sorry. I just don’t want to have to answer any questions from Emily if I don’t have to. My mom had a lot of miscarriages, especially between me and Ben. We’re seven years apart.”

  Rachel covered my hand with hers. “I’m sorry about your parents. I’m not close with mine, but even still, I can’t imagine.”

  Before meeting her gaze, I braced myself for the look of pity that always came when someone expressed sympathy about my parents. But I didn’t see it. Instead, I only found sincerity in her expression. If I had to pinpoint the difference between pity and sincerity, I wouldn’t have been able to do it. All I knew was that I didn’t get the impression she felt sorry for me. It was refreshing.

  I blew out a breath. “Honestly, it sucks.” That was about as honest of a reaction as I could give without going into great detail.

  Rachel nodded. “I bet. If you want to talk about it, you can. Or if you don’t want to, that’s fine too.”

  The fact that she wasn’t pressuring me to talk made me want to tell her the whole story about how I ended up as guardian to three kids, so I did. I concluded by saying, “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.”

  She tilted her head. “You seem to be doing okay so far.”

  I laughed. “That’s because you haven’t looked around too closely. We’re sleeping on mattresses on the floors, and there are no dishes in the cabinets.”

  She gave me an even stare. “So fix it.”

  “Huh?” That wasn’t the response I had expected. I’d been truthful when I’d said I didn’t want her pity, but her tough love was unexpected.

  “Let’s fix the easy stuff that’s making you feel like you’re not doing a good job of being their guardian. I can’t help you with the mattress part, but I can help you with the dishes. Let’s go shopping.” She suddenly looked stricken. “Shit. Unless money is the problem.”

  I shook my head. “Money is not the problem. My parents left us comfortable. It’s more that I’m clueless. I don’t know how to set up a family home.”

  She smiled. “Good thing for you I do.”

  ***

  Rachel

  WHILE JAKE MADE sure Ben was okay with watching Emily and Ashley, I took the liberty of taking inventory in the kitchen. It didn’t take long because there was hardly anything there other than kid food and paper plates. If there was one thing the women in my family were taught, it was how to be a domestic goddess. Granted, I was the least talented at that among my sisters, but I was confident I could help Jake.

  He returned to the kitchen, still wearing sweats and a T-shirt, only he’d added shoes to the ensemble. Good God. No one should look as hot as he did wearing that.

  “Are you ready?” I asked.

  He looked down at his clothes then back at me with a questioning expression. “Should I change?”

  I turned so he wouldn’t see me blushing. He thought I had been passing judgment on his choice of attire when I’d really been checking him out. “You look great.” I closed my eyes, feeling like a big moron and being doubly glad he couldn’
t see my face. He looked more than great. I wanted to run my fingers along the waistband of his pants and tug them lower, inch by inch, until I could answer the question of whether he was a boxers-or-briefs kind of guy. But why stop there? Next, I—

  I mentally doused myself with cold water. Get a hold of yourself.

  “I’ll drive,” Jake said.

  “Okay.” I walked past him, toward the front door, but he grabbed my arm to stop me.

  “Before I forget.” He reached into his pocket, retrieved some bills, and pressed them into my hand. “For the stuff you bought Ashley.”

  I looked at the three twenties in my hand and frowned. “How much do you think that stuff costs?”

  His expression was comically blank.

  I returned two of the twenties to him. “Here.” He looked like he wanted to argue, but I shook my head. “You can buy me dinner after I help you outfit your kitchen.” I spun and walked out the front door. Holy eff. Did I just ask myself out on his behalf? It was the innocent kind of deal I would make with a friend, but with Jake, it seemed different—less innocent and more like I wanted to forget dinner and skip straight to dessert.

  Jake inclined his head toward my car, which was parked at the curb. “New tires, huh?”

  “Unfortunately, yes.”

  “The offer is still good for me to install new speakers for you.”

  I looked up at him in surprise as he opened the passenger door of his truck for me. Then I went on my toes to get close to his ear and whispered, “I don’t want Greta to hear, but it’s not worth it to put any more money into her.”

  He threw his head back and laughed. “Greta the Jetta?”

  I nodded. He continued to laugh as he crossed in front of the truck and got in the driver’s seat.

  “What’s your truck’s name?” I asked.

  He looked over his shoulder as he backed out of the driveway. “Uh… it doesn’t have one.”

  “It?” I shook my head. “First of all, you have to decide if it’s a boy or a girl.”

  “Umm… boy?”

  “Okay.” I ran my fingers along the dash, trying to get a feel for the vehicle.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m learning—you know what? You’re right. Sorry. I can’t name him for you. You have to do it.”

  “Um… Truck?” He laughed. “I’m not good at this.”

  I grinned at him, pleased he was going along with my personal brand of crazy. I fully admitted that it was slightly nuts for me to have named my car and refer to her like she was a person, but in a strange way, it helped me not to get so pissed off when she broke down. I felt like she was a person, just trying to do her best, kind of like me.

  “This is a Ford, right?” I asked. “Maybe start with that as a jumping-off point.”

  “Ford is a name,” Jake replied. “I had a high school buddy named Ford.”

  I pursed my lips. “I kind of feel like that’s cheating a little if you just call it Ford.”

  “Okay.” He squinted as he concentrated. “Okay, I’ve got one, but you’ve got to promise not to laugh.”

  “Dude, I’m the one over here telling you to name your vehicle. I’m just glad you’re not laughing at me.”

  He glanced over at me, and the teasing expression was gone. “I would never laugh at you.”

  I looked down at my lap and fidgeted. “Yeah, well… what’s the name?”

  “Chuck.” He paused. “Chuck the Truck.”

  I burst out laughing.

  “Hey!” he protested. “You promised you wouldn’t laugh.”

  “I’m laughing because I love it. It’s perfect.”

  He smiled, seeming pleased by my approval. “Really?”

  “I’m going to let you in on a little secret,” I said. “This is how I deal with stressful things. I try to make them silly or playful. My car is a constant source of stress. I never know if she’s going to start. So I could refer to it as my lame-ass car or Greta the Jetta. In a weird way, it makes things less stressful. For me, at least.”

  He glanced over at me. “Are you sure you’re not cut out to be an elementary teacher? Because you’re obviously good with kids, and that trick of yours seems perfect for kids.” He grinned wryly. “Or young-at-heart college students.”

  I was insanely pleased he’d remembered that part of our conversation from the draft-watching party. “Don’t get me wrong. I really like kids, but I don’t like teaching.”

  “Huh.” He seemed to be trying to reconcile those two seemingly incongruous facts.

  “I know. Weird, right? I have a summer job helping out at an in-home daycare, and I love it because I love the kids. But I’m not getting a college degree so I can work in daycare.”

  “But if that’s what you like…” He trailed off.

  “It’s not very lucrative either,” I added. “The lady I work for—Melinda—her husband is the main breadwinner in the family. Her income is more or less a bonus.”

  “So maybe the solution is to find a rich husband so you can do what you love.” His tone was joking, but still, the comment rubbed me the wrong way. I never wanted to be in the position that my mother and sisters were in—devalued because they were only women and didn’t contribute to their families financially. I knew all families didn’t work that way, but everyone I was related to did.

  Jake seemed to notice my irritation. “Hey, sorry if I offended you. I was only joking.”

  “No worries,” I said lightly. Luckily, he’d just pulled into the Target parking lot, so we could smoothly move on to another topic.

  He found a spot up front, and we made our way inside. I grabbed a cart and happily steered toward the kitchen section.

  Jake eyed me uneasily. “Should I be worried that you’re so happy?”

  “Haven’t you ever been to Target with a girl before?” When he shook his head, I continued. “Target is a happy, happy place. Watch and learn, my friend.”

  ***

  Jake

  BY THE TIME we were back in my truck on the way home, I was more exhausted than if I’d gone to work out with Carson. While Rachel had happily perused the aisles of Target, Walmart, and Home Depot, I’d lagged behind, pushing the cart, doing the heavy lifting, and inserting my credit card at the checkout. But I was grateful. She seemed to know how many pots and pans I needed, which dishes were sturdy and washed well in the dishwasher, and what kind of sheets my siblings would like.

  Once back at the house, I forced Ben off the computer long enough to help carry in all the goods. His eyes widened at the amount of stuff I’d bought. The back seat of the truck was full, and we’d also put stuff in the bed. Rachel had assured me that all our purchases were necessary items.

  Ashley was hiding in her bedroom, which was one-hundred-percent preferred to her hiding in the bathroom, so I left her alone. Ben skulked back to his computer, but Emily pranced around the kitchen, pulling things out of bags. When she discovered the hand mixer we’d bought, I would have thought it was Christmas and that she’d gotten a pony.

  Christ. Please don’t let her ask for a pony. My youngest sister had me wrapped around her little finger.

  “Does this mean we’re going to bake cookies?” She was so giddy that I didn’t have the heart to tell her I’d never even so much as baked prepackaged refrigerated cookie dough.

  “Sure,” I said. “Maybe tomorrow or next weekend.” It couldn’t be that hard. I could figure it out.

  “Good thing we got these!” Rachel pulled a pair of baking sheets out of a bag with a flourish. When she’d added them to the cart, I’d shrugged. I hadn’t had any at my apartment, and I’d gotten by just fine. But now I was glad I’d given her free range.

  “What’s your favorite kind of cookie?” Emily asked. “We can make those.”

  Rachel only hesitated a split second. “I like chocolate chip, but maybe it would be nice to see what kind Ben likes.”

  “He likes chocolate chip,” Emily said. “Everyone likes chocolate chip.
”

  “True. Here.” Rachel hefted a box of dishes onto the counter. “You can help me load these into the dishwasher.”

  “But they’re new, so they aren’t dirty.”

  “They are new, but they went straight from the factory into this box, so they’re not exactly clean either.” Rachel handed Emily a plate and pointed to the correct place in the dishwasher.

  Emily got tired of helping after half an hour, so Rachel and I spent the next hour putting the kitchen together. I tried not to be an asshole, but I couldn’t help but watch her as she bent to pick things up. If she was facing me then I highly enjoyed her cleavage. When she was faced away from me, her luscious ass was displayed. Then when she stretched to put items on a high shelf, her tank top rose, revealing an inch of creamy skin at her midsection.

  Note to self: don’t wear sweatpants around this girl. It was just an embarrassment waiting to happen.

  I was into her, and I couldn’t help but wonder where we might be right now if my life hadn’t been thrown into chaos. I didn’t regret taking my siblings out of their horrible living situation, but I did regret the missed opportunity with Rachel. Regardless, meeting her had snapped me out of the fog I’d been living in. And hell, not all was lost. I’d just spent several hours with her, the last of which had been spent enjoying the view, for lack of a better description.

  She hopped up on the counter, bracing herself with her hands on the edge. She looked at me and chuckled. “You’ve got a sticker on your back.”

  “What?” I stretched my arm over my shoulder to my back. “I don’t feel anything.”

  “Come here, and I’ll get it for you.”

  I moved closer, and she ripped the sticker off my shirt. When I turned to face her, the label to one of the plastic storage tubs I’d bought was stuck to her finger.

  Rachel slowly peeled it off. “Thanks.” I stood between her thighs. A gentleman would have removed himself from her personal space, but as I looked at her parted lips, being a gentleman was the last thing on my mind. I wanted to press against the v of her legs.

  “You’re welcome.” Her face moved a fraction of an inch closer to mine, and then she held her breath.