Slow Heat

by Jill Shalvis

  Christ, and now Wade could hear Pace’s voice in his head saying, Writing a check won’t solve everything. “Look, you said you were tired of the trailer park and needed a house, so I bought you one. You got tired of the house and decided you needed freedom, so you sold it and lived on a campground with five other homeless guys until you got kicked out of there for disorderly conduct. Then you said you needed to be with others like you, so I found you a nice senior center—”

  “They weren’t like me, they were old.”

  “The median age was five years younger than you.”

  “I got bored.”

  “Ah. And now we get to it. You got bored and thought you’d try me on for a change.”

  “You say that like you were my last choice.”

  Wade let out a laugh. “Dad, I’ve always been your last choice.”

  John was quiet a long moment, and when he spoke, his voice was filled with regret. “I’m sorry for that, you know. I’m sorry for a lot of things. I’ve screwed up, but it was the alcohol, Wade. I’ve been lost in the alcohol.”

  “There are always choices. You made yours.”

  “Yes, and I’m making another one now.” John’s voice dropped to a near whisper, as if he were almost afraid to hear Wade’s reaction. “I choose you.”

  Wade leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. “Because you got sick, and scared.”

  “Better late than never, right? And don’t you ever get scared? Scared of ending up alone like me?”

  “Alone, maybe. Like you? No. I don’t drink like you.”

  “But you push people away like me. Listen to me, Wade. My time is limited, and I’m not getting any younger. I don’t want you to feel bad if something happens to me and we haven’t made peace.”

  Wade opened his eyes, his gut clenching. “Did you learn something new from the doctor?”

  “No.”

  The clenching eased slightly.

  “People make mistakes,” John said softly.

  “Yeah.” Wade ran his hand over his aching ribs. “Like miscalculating the distance between the plate and a fucking fence.”

  “You doing okay?”

  Wade just looked at him.

  “I know. I have no right to ask.”

  “Have you ever even seen a game, Dad?”

  John was quiet for so long that Wade turned away, frustrated and disgusted at the both of them.

  “What if I said I’ve seen every game,” John finally said. “Including yesterday’s?”

  Wade turned back. “I’d say you’re so full of shit your eyes are brown.”

  “Okay, I’ve wantedto see your games, but you never invited me.”

  Jesus.

  “I’ve screwed up, okay? I am readily admitting that. But I want to fix it, I want to change.”

  “Then change.”

  “I’m working on it. Jesus, Wade, you don’t give an inch, do you? It would help if I knew exactly what you’re so mad at.”

  Wade just rolled his eyes.

  “Hell, son, I’ve been drunk for thirty years. Help a guy out, throw me a bone.”

  “Okay. Let’s start with kindergarten, which is the year I understood that no one else’s dad passed out in their front yard every night, too drunk to get inside.”

  John winced. “Okay, my bad on that one.”

  “When I turned seven and reminded you it was my birthday, you gave me a flask of whiskey and then stole it back from me in the middle of the night. The next morning you told me the Easter Bunny did it.”

  “Christ.” John closed his eyes. “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah. I’m sure. And then there’s how you got fired from every single job you ever even halfway held, including the school’s janitor position, because you whipped out your dick to urinate in the principal’s trash can while his secretary was in the room. That was a fun one to live down, by the way, so thanks for that.”

  John grimaced and scrubbed a hand down his face. “That one I remember. She called me a loser.”

  “You were a loser!”

  There was a profound, sudden, thundering silence, and then John sank to the couch, looking sucker-punched. Wade felt like he’d just kicked a puppy, but even sick with it, he couldn’t find it in himself to apologize.

  “I kept you fed and clothed, you could give me that much,” John whispered.

  “I kept myself fed from working at McDonald’s. And I kept you fed, too. I brought home food that I stole from work.”

  John swore beneath his breath and sighed, leaning his head back on the couch, eyes closed. “It’s no excuse, but can’t you see I wasn’t thinking about anyone but myself? It was wrong of me, and I can’t go back and change it, but I’m trying to change now.” John opened his eyes. “I’m sorry that I didn’t realize how much anger and resentment you were holding on to. But I guess I should have, since I’m holding on to stuff, too.”

  “Like what? What did I ever do to you?”

  “Well, you never liked me much.” John tried a smile to signal he was only kidding, clearly trying to lighten the mood, but Wade didn’t feel light. For once in his life, he couldn’t find the light and easy. Shoving his fingers into his hair to try to ease the pounding in his head, he turned in a slow circle away from his dad, coming to a dead stop at the sight of Sam standing in his opened doorway.

  He’d wanted to see her. He’d wanted to kiss her, touch her . . . definitely lose himself in her, but she’d been standing there listening, soaking in things he hadn’t wanted anyone to hear—

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’ve got to get back, but I came to . . .” She lifted a bag. “Lunch from the hotel.”

  “Ah, what a darlin’,” John said kindly.

  “Not hungry,” Wade said.

  “But you’re always hungry.” She winced, probably because she was remembering what she just heard about his childhood, about him stealing food.

  Which was perfect. Just perfect. Now she felt sorry for him. “Thanks,” he said. “Maybe another time.” Gently as he could, he nudged her backwards over the threshold. Then shut the door in her face.

  “No wonder I’m not a grandfather yet,” John said, then shook his head. “You have some serious issues.”

  Wade rested his head on the door. His dad was right. He did have some serious fucking issues.

  “That rudeness must come from your mother’s side because I’d never have shut the door on that pretty face. Good to know I didn’t screw you up all by myself.”

  Wade felt the muscles in his jaw clench, and he hauled open the front door in time to see Sam power-walking to her car. “Sam.”

  She looked up, gaze shuttered as he made his way to her. He tried not to wince but her eyes narrowed in on his ribs, though she remained silent.

  “Where’s Tag?” he asked.

  “With his tutor. I have to get back to the hotel. I ran out on my meeting.”

  Since she didn’t move, he took advantage, taking her hand so she couldn’t escape. He looked back to make sure his dad was still in the house, and then pulled Sam a little farther away, out of earshot. They stood on the edge of the grassy bluff and looked at the ocean.

  “If you’re still looking for those five minutes,” she said. “I’ve decided not to share them with you.”

  “Can’t blame you.” He closed his eyes and absorbed the sun, trying to find peace. It didn’t come to him like it usually did. “I’m sorry I acted like an ass,” he said quietly. “But you should know, it probably won’t be the last time. My dad brings it out in me, and I think he’s staying. He seems to believe he can’t quit drinking without me. And though I’d love to quit him, I don’t seem to be able to just walk away this time.”

  “You want to believe he’s really quitting.”

  He looked into her slay-me eyes. “Yeah.”

  She let out a breath. “Seems neither of us can cut our dads out of our lives entirely, even though neither of them has been much of a parent.” She surprised him by taking
his hand in hers. “I’d like to believe that makes us good people.”

  He nodded. “I’d like to believe that, too.”

  Her mouth curved slightly as she stepped close and slowly set her head on his shoulder with a sigh. “I suppose I can forgive you for being an ass.”

  He let out his own sigh and wrapped his arms around her. “Thank you.”

  The waves were low and mellow today, the sun the same. Looking down at Sam’s head on his chest gave him the sense of peace he’d been looking for.

  “Too bad we can’t pick our families,” she said, watching the water.

  “Too bad.”

  She cocked her head and looked at him, really looked, as if she could see right through him. Aware that she now knew far more about his childhood than he was comfortable with, he had to resist the urge to squirm. “What?”

  “I feel for the boy you were,” she murmured. “So much. But mostly I’m glad you made it, and very proud of the man you’ve become, Wade. You should be, too.”

  He let out a breath and stroked a strand of hair off her face. “You have this way of getting straight to the heart of the matter, don’t you?”

  “I don’t care that you have bad days. I don’t care that you have a very busy life with lots going on. I care about the fact that all I can think about is how you said you were falling for me, or how in spite of myself, I’m doing the same. I only care that suddenly I feel like I’m hanging out here all alone because you’ve changed your mind.”

  He met her gaze. “I haven’t.”

  “No?”

  “No,” he said firmly. “It’s just that I thought we were moving along nice and slow, seeing where it takes us.”

  “Such as maybe some more elevators, bathrooms, and couches.”

  He let out a little smile. “Well, actually, I’m really hoping for that bed. I’m getting a little old for that back of the car shit.”

  “It’s been a little crazy,” she allowed, not committing.

  Which was usually his MO, the not committing. “Yeah,” he said, wondering where this was going. “Just a little crazy.”

  “And not quite the easy and light and fun you expected.”

  Unease settled in his gut like a lead ball. “True.”

  “Problem is, you didn’t see the fatal flaw in your plan,” she said, watching him carefully. “That nothing is easy and light and fun all the time.”

  “Also true,” he admitted.

  “As is the fact that you’ve never tried to manage a relationship during a season, correct?”

  “Not so much as a pet snake.”

  “And yet here you are with a woman looking at you,” she said. “One with an impressionable kid in her care, taking a serious bite out of the light and easy. Not to mention a father who needs your attention.”

  Yeah, he thought a little bitterly. Let’s not forget him.

  Sam turned to face him, staring deep into his eyes. “Maybe it’s a good thing you only have a week left on your sentence, and then your biggest problem is over.”

  The words tugged low in his gut. “Is that what you want? For it to be over?”

  “This was never about me, Wade.” She took his hand and walked with him down to the beach. They kicked off their shoes and sat on the big rocks, hidden from the rest of the world. “Since you’re unnerved and I’m not that far behind you,” she murmured, leaning back, tipping her face up to the sun, “maybe for now we should just stick with what we’re good at.”

  “Which is?”

  She smiled. “It’s more of a show than tell thing.”

  “Yeah?” Just her sultry smile made him feel better. It made him hard, too. “Show me then.”

  She shrugged out of her jacket, leaving her in just that little tank top he loved. Her breasts strained against the material, her nipples hard. “You have my full attention,” he murmured.

  She very carefully peeled his T-shirt off over his head. “Good to know.”

  “Even though I was a jerk?”

  “The fight’s over, Wade.” Her finger ran down his chest, his abs. “Now we’re making up.” Her mouth curved warmly. “Keep up.”

  She undid him. Completely undid him.

  And clearly knowing it, she just smiled. “I’m quite sure this will put us back on that light and fun and easy track.”

  “Tell me more about this making up.”

  “It involves me having my merry way with you.”

  He pulled her in against him, the circuits in his brain blowing. “I’d like that. I’d really like that.”

  She smiled and straddled him, a move that had her skirt hiking up, revealing a pink silk thong that made him groan. He stroked a hand up her thigh, letting his thumb brush across the center of the silk.

  She was wet. “God, Sam, is this for me?”

  “Well, there was this really cute guy back at the hotel—” She started to crack herself up but it backed up in her throat when he slid a finger beneath the wet silk and inside her.

  “Wade,” she gasped, wriggling her hips for more, which he gladly gave. She leaned over him and nipped his bottom lip, sucking it into her mouth as she rocked into his touch. “How am I doing on the making-up thing?” she asked breathlessly.

  With his free hand, he tugged the thin straps of her tank down, baring her breasts. He kissed first one, then the other, stopping to suck a nipple into his mouth. “Good. God, so good.”

  Her eyes were fixed on the bulge in his shorts, which she liberated. “Inside me. Now.”

  He wanted that, too. Leaning back against the rock, he lifted her up so that she could sink onto him, inch by inch. When her muscles clenched around him, his eyes drifted shut. He was breathing like he was running his five miles, but then she began to ride him, grinding her hips against his, increasing her pace with the steady pounding of his heart, and he stopped breathing entirely. “God, Sam.” He groaned, his fingers digging into her hips to slow her down, probably nearly bruising her in his attempt to keep himself from coming too soon.

  Curving her body over his, she put her mouth to his shoulder, kissing him, softly breathing his name over and over, panting for him, and when he reached between them to stroke his thumb over her in just the right rhythm, she burst, her explosion triggering his.

  They leaned against the rocks together, out of breath. He brushed her damp hair out of her face and pressed his mouth to her temple, then lifted her face so he could see into her eyes.

  She smiled.

  And just like that, everything truly was okay in his world.

  Chapter 26

  Well, boys, it’s a round ball and a round bat and you got to hit the ball square.

  —Joe Schultz

  The Heat played San Francisco at home for two more nights, which Wade was forced to sit out.

  They lost both games.

  The following day, they flew to Florida, where he was finally cleared to play. They lost that first game, and frustrated, Wade