Still holding the knife, I turned around with a smile - and froze.
Nate.
Chapter 11
That son of a bitch. Seeing Nate standing in Jack’s kitchen had me wondering again why I was so bad at reading people. I had judged him to be a nice guy, yet he gave me a fake name – and fake names generally meant “cheater”.
Nate’s look of surprise shifted into a happy grin, but his dimples no longer impressed me. “The Rolling Stones,” he said, somewhat triumphantly.
“Hello….Luke,” I sneered the name and glared at him.
Jack looked between me and Nate. Or Luke. Or whatever the hell his name was. “Angie? What’s going on?”
Nate’s grin faded to a look of bewilderment as he cocked his head slightly and just stared at me - as if I was the one with the problem. Nervy bastard. Then realization dawned and he said to Jack, while keeping his eyes on me, “Jack, buddy, tell Angie my full name.”
Jack eyed us both warily and repeated, “What’s going on?”
“My name, Jack,” Nate/Luke insisted.
“Okay,” Jack said, drawing it out. “Angie, I’d like you to meet Nathaniel Lukas, Luke, Angie Richards. Now tell me what’s going on!”
I sagged a little in relief and loosened my death grip on the knife. Smiling again, I set the knife down on the counter and walked the few steps to Nate, extending my right hand. “Nice to see you again, Nate. And I apologize for all the truly horrible things I was just thinking about you.”
He shook my hand and laughed. “Nice to see you, too. And even nicer to have a name to go with that face.”
“What the hell,” Jack interrupted. “You two know each other?”
“Yeah,” Nate said. “We met at the bar Friday night. But I didn’t know she was your Angie. She wouldn’t tell me her name.”
“She has a rule,” Jack said.
“So I hear.” Nate looked back to me and explained. “Jack is the only person in the whole world who calls me Luke.”
“You have no idea how glad I am to hear that. I was starting to think ‘Psycho’ again.”
We both laughed as Jack just stood there shaking his head. “Why do I feel like I just walked in on the middle of a movie?”
“Poor Jack,” I said, reaching up to rub his bicep. “Why don’t we get dinner on the table and we can fill you in while we eat.”
“Shit!” Jack exclaimed. “My steaks!” He turned and started heading quickly to the door.
“Do you need help with that?” Nate asked.
“Yeah, you can come and bring in the asparagus for me.”
“You’ve got asparagus on the grill?” Nate was asking as they walked out.
“Yeah, that’s Angie’s thing. You’ll like it.” He was already out the door but pulled it back open to call to me. “Angie, can you get us a beer?”
“No problem,” I called as the door was closing again.
I removed the potatoes, which had browned rather nicely, from the oven and put them on a trivet on the table. I pulled two beers out of the refrigerator, discarded the caps and set them by Jack and Nate’s plates.
I knew they were probably already discussing my initial meeting with Nate. I just hoped Nate wasn’t too free with the details. There were things I didn’t want Jack to know and I really didn’t want him to hear them from someone else.
They came back in as I was getting myself a glass of water since I didn’t like to drink beer while I was eating.
“Do you need a glass for the beer, Nate?” I asked, bringing the bread basket to the table.
“No, I’m good. Thanks,” he answered, smiling at me again. I smiled back and took my seat.
We got ourselves situated at the table, Jack at the head, me to his left, Nate to his right, and dug in. I speared the smallest steak off of the platter, cut it approximately in half, and put the bigger piece on Jack’s plate.
Nate watched that move with a quizzical look. “Don’t you like steak?
“I love steak,” I replied. “But I don’t really like to eat that much red meat – and Jack likes to eat as much of it as he can get his hands on.”
“This is true.” Jack was attacking his steak with gusto, even though it was still the only thing on his plate. I pulled his plate right out from under his fork and scooped a large mound of potatoes onto it.
Sliding Jack’s plate back in front of him, I looked at Nate. “Potatoes?”
“Absolutely,” he said, handing his plate across the table to me. “I feel the same way about potatoes that Jack feels about red meat.”
I smiled and added an extra spoonful of potatoes to the heap already on Nate’s plate.
“Tell me about this meeting at Foster’s,” Jack said. “Luke said you were hiding out from an ex. Which one?”
“Steve,” I answered. I picked up an asparagus spear from my plate with my fingers and bit off the top. “And I wasn’t so much hiding as avoiding.”
“He’s back in town? I thought he was in Vegas or something.”
“Yeah, apparently he’s back. Hopefully not for long.”
“I thought she was going to pass out when she saw him, she was shaking so badly,” Nate said.
I shot him a look, hoping to shut him up, but I was too late. Jack stopped chewing, swallowed and looked at me pointedly. “Shaking? Why were you shaking, Angie? What exactly did he do to you?”
Jack sounded angry and Nate was looking guilty so I tried to smooth it over. “Nothing. He didn’t do anything. I was just surprised, and not happy, to see him. That’s all. Bread?” I asked, handing him the basket.
He took it, but wasn’t put off by my attempts at deflection. I remembered that I had told Nate that Steve had hurt me and hoped he wouldn’t add those beans to the ones he had already spilled.
Jack helped himself to a piece of bread and handed the basket to Nate. “One of these days, you’re going to tell me what happened with him.”
Oh, no I wasn’t!
“Jack, honestly, it wasn’t a big deal. He looked really bad, though.” I distracted him with a description of Steve’s appearance and the conclusions I had drawn about what caused it.
We discussed that for a bit, Nate adding a detail or two, but mostly keeping silent. He was probably afraid to say anything further. As he should be.
The conversation drifted onto more pleasant subjects as we cleaned our plates, enjoying both the food and the company.
“God, that was good.” Jack groaned, stretching back in his chair and rubbing his stomach with both hands. “I don’t think I’ll be able to eat again for a week!”
“Right,” I snorted and we all laughed at that bit of ridiculousness.
“The asparagus was great, Angie,” Nate told me. “I’ve never made it that way.”
“Oh. You cook?”
“Yeah. I’m not good at it, but I do it. I have the boys every weekend and their mother doesn’t approve of fast food.”
“Smart,” I said, realizing he had just partially answered my question about his relationship with the mother. At least they didn’t live together.
“Yeah, she has them pretty well trained; they’ll eat anything you put in front of them. I agree with her in theory - I just wish I didn’t have to do the actual cooking.”
He looked at his watch, then added, “Speaking of the boys, I have to go get my laptop out of my car and get on Skype. I promised to read them a story before they go to bed,” he explained, looking a little embarrassed about it.
“Awww, that’s so sweet, Nate,” I said sincerely. “Some of my best memories are of my mom reading to me every night.”
“Yeah, well, it’s important to me, because I’m not really part of their daily lives. It’s how we stay connected, especially when I’m out of town.”
“I envy you,” Jack said. “I look forward to that kind of thing myself.”
I smiled fondly at Jack, knowing he felt the same way about having a family as I did. Being only children, we both wanted more than that for
our own children. Not that either of us was deprived in any way – we had great childhoods. But it could sometimes be lonely being a singleton, no matter how wonderful your parents were. He was firm in his desire to have at least four kids and I said I’d be good with two - and then I wished him luck in finding a woman willing to keep popping them out for him.
“Well,” I said, standing up. “While you do that, I’ll get this mess cleaned up and then I guess we can move on to the work talk.”
“Sounds good.” He got up and pushed his chair in then walked to the back door. “Be right back,” he added over his shoulder.
Jack got up and we started clearing the table. I was shocked to see the only leftover was a single piece of bread. I started to remove the basket from the table when Jack grabbed my wrist.
“Stop,” he commanded. “That’s mine!”
“So much for not eating for a week!” I teased him.
He laughed and pulled me into a hug. “Thanks for dinner; everything was really good.”
“You’re welcome – but I think you did most of the work.” I laid my cheek on his chest and gave him a squeeze around the waist.
“Yeah, I guess I did at that.” He was kissing the top of my head and I was laughing when Nate came back in, the laptop bag slung over his shoulder and a small black suitcase in his hand. He stopped for a minute, taking us in.
Jack pulled away, smiling. “I always kiss the cook,” he explained.
“Good policy,” Nate said with a laugh. “I’ll probably be a half hour or so, at the most.”
“No problem; take your time,” Jack told him.
We finished clearing the table and I loaded the dishwasher while Jack helped himself to another beer. He leaned against the counter, buttering and eating the last piece of bread, and we made small talk while I wiped the table and counters, shoving him out of the way with my shoulder.
“I feel steak in my teeth,” I told Jack as he was sitting back down at the table. “I’m going to floss; be right back.”
“You can’t just leave it until you go to bed?”
“Ick.” I walked out of the room to the sound of his chuckling.
I passed one of the two guest rooms Jack had set up in his house, the one I assumed Nate was staying in, since the door was mostly closed and I could hear him inside.
“The…….” He was drawing out the word, as if encouraging a response. I stopped by the door to listen.
“End!” Two little voices cried out in unison, followed by some childish giggling. I found myself smiling at the cuteness.
“Okay, guys,” Nate was saying. “Go straight to bed and don’t give Mommy any trouble.”
“Okay, Daddy,” said one of the little voices.
A loud wail came through the door.
“Michael!” Nate said in a stern voice. “That’s not nice. Give that back and apologize to your brother.”
“Sorry,” a voice I presumed to belong to Michael mumbled.
“Use his name when you apologize,” Nate instructed.
“I’m sorry, Mattie,” Michael said dutifully.
There was no response from Mattie and I heard Nate again. “That’s better. Now, I’ll talk to you guys tomorrow. Daddy loves you.”
“Love you, Daddy,” the little voices responded, again in unison.
“Goodnight, sleep tight,” Nate said, a little louder.
“Night, Daddy!” They sounded like they were leaving the room, so I started to move away from the door when I heard a very lovely, definitely feminine voice say, “Goodnight, Nate.”
“Night, Kayla,” he responded softly and then I heard him clicking out of the program.
I scurried down the hall and made it to the bathroom before he had time to come out and catch me eavesdropping.
When I returned to the kitchen, I found it empty. “Jack?” I called out.
“We’re in the basement. Come on down,” he called back.
I went down the short flight of stairs that led to the spacious walk-out basement, my favorite part of Jack’s house. We had both fallen in love with it when he was looking at houses and it was what sealed his decision to buy this particular house. The basement hadn’t been completely finished when Jack moved in, but he had done a beautiful job of remodeling it.
Some people might call it a man cave, but I thought it was much nicer than that term implied. It had a full wet-bar, with six tall stools lined up in front of it. There was a pool table and one other large, round wooden table with eight chairs, suitable for eating, having a drink, or more likely, playing poker. And, of course, a flat-screen television dominated one wall.
On the other side of the room, set a few feet in front of the sliding glass doors that led to a patio, was a cozy sitting area, consisting of a comfortably large cream and navy blue striped couch and two coordinating armchairs, arranged around a square glass coffee table. It was Jack’s favorite place to read and relax. He had also added a bedroom suite, complete with a full bathroom, but was currently using that space as his home office.
His house was large (five bedrooms, including the one in the basement) but not flashy. The basement, however, was what made the whole house exceptional.
“I think your basement is bigger than my whole apartment,” Nate was saying to Jack as I came around the corner.
Jack laughed. “Well, to be honest, if the house blew away one day and I was only left with this part of it to live in, I would be okay with that. I love this room.”
Jack was standing behind the bar, handing a beer to Nate who was sitting on one of the middle stools. They both smiled when they saw me, the dual hotness of those beautiful smiles doing crazy things to my libido. I wished my hormones would settle down because I could suddenly and vividly see the appeal in threesomes.
“Beer, Angie?” Jack asked.
“Yeah, sure, thanks.” I hopped up on to the stool to Nate’s right, my short legs dangling.
“Are you okay?” Jack asked as he turned from the refrigerator and handed me a beer.
“Yeah. Why?”
“You look a little…are you blushing?” Jack’s worried look turned into a grin.
I felt Nate’s attention turn in my direction and the blush deepened.
“No, of course not. Don’t be ridiculous.” I busied myself with taking a cooling drink of my beer and went for distraction. “Could you turn on some music?”
“Sure,” Jack replied, winking at me. There was no way (I hoped) he could know what I had been thinking but that rat was acting as if he could. He picked up a remote and music blared from the speakers set up around the room. Nate and I both jumped before Jack quickly adjusted the volume so the music played quietly in the background.
Jack and Nate discussed the boring intricacies of the sound system while I sat quietly, chugging my beer and trying to think of anything, anything at all, that didn’t involve either speakers or me in the middle of a Jack and Nate sandwich.
When Jack suggested we take our beers over to the table, I was surprised to find my bottle empty. Jack noticed and pulled another from the refrigerator. “Luke?” he asked, holding up the bottle.
Nate declined and we sat down at the table where I was, ironically, sandwiched between Jack and Nate. I squirmed a little, flushed a little, and drank some more beer.
Jack started the conversation by teasing me. “By the way, Angie, I like the way you took the initiative in that memo and changed your new job title.”
“Oh. Well, I just thought Executive Assistant sounded better than Personal Assistant. I could just hear the conversations everyone in the office would be having about what personal duties I would be performing. I just took away the sleaze factor.”
Jack and Nate laughed and Nate asked with a wink, “Didn’t want to titillate them?”
“Exactly,” I laughed. “Those people are a little too easily titillated as it is.” Jack looked somewhat confused at our amusement. “Sorry, Jack – private joke.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You tw
o already have a private joke? What the hell went on in that bar?”
We all laughed again and, just like that, our intentions of discussing work went out the window as they both seemed to decide teasing me would be more fun. Nate filled him in on the conversation at the bar and then Jack informed Nate that I had somehow fallen through a wall in my closet and landed on a rock.
I finished off my second beer, already feeling a little more buzzed than was probably advisable, while explaining how the closet falling and the rock landing were two separate events. Jack got up while I was clarifying the details of my bad day and returned with three more beers. I took the one he handed to me, knowing three was definitely a bad idea.
My period and alcohol did not usually mix well and it was never a sure thing how it might affect me. Sometimes I could drink and drink and not feel even the slightest buzz, but since I was already feeling that, I knew my remaining options were that I might get sentimental and weepy; I might pass out right in the middle of a sentence; I might get goofy; or I might get impossibly horny. It was unpredictable and all of those things had happened at one time or another. Sometimes all on the same night. And sometimes after only one drink.
I took the beer anyway and hoped for goofy.
Nate teased me about my Sponge Bob bandage, which I was, in fact, still wearing and Jack related the bird poop story, which was interesting since I hadn’t provided him with the details of how it had happened. He didn’t let that stop him, though, throwing in some fabricated details and making a shitty story hilarious. By the time he was done telling the nearly unrecognizable tale, we were all laughing so hard I was having trouble remembering why a little bird poop had upset me in the first place.
When Jack got up again, to get me a fourth beer, I was feeling no pain. I was laughing at anything and everything and saying things that were both off-color and totally off the wall. I may have even mentioned a hypothetical sandwich. Even in my drunken state, I knew I was going to hate myself in the morning - but they both kept smiling those smiles (that were getting hotter by the minute) and egging me on.
Halfway through the fourth beer, my ears caught the opening sounds of I Want You Back by The Jackson Five.
Isn't It Time Page 11