Called Out

by Jen Doyle

  She pulled the menu out of his hands. “I didn’t say you could sit here.”

  His smile grew bigger. “And the claws come out again.”

  Lola resisted the urge to smile back. Because, damn him, his grin was infectious. “I assume you’re aware flattery like that will get you nowhere.”

  The façade slipped, although he put it back into place almost immediately as he took the menu right back. “That’s okay. I’ve got nowhere else to be.”

  His delivery was matter-of-fact. He might even have been trying to pass it off as a joke. If she hadn’t been the mom to four boys who had already gotten into enough trouble to last them each a lifetime, she might not have caught the look of frustration and guilt that accompanied his words. It made her want to ask him why he’d done what he’d done.

  But what if there was an actual reason? Even just a confession might make him more human than he’d already become. And although the circumstances had been horrible, Nate was much better off with Dorie than with his former fiancée so it wasn’t like Lola hoped Jack was here to patch things up all around.

  No. No matter how much curiosity Lola had about what that particular look meant, she wouldn’t be asking anything along those lines. She went for sarcasm instead. “And you with that nice, flashy car. Isn’t that a shame?”

  “That most definitely is a shame, Ms. McIntire. A very regrettable shame.” His eyes came into focus in a whole new way. Despite their never leaving her face, she felt the heat of his awareness travel through her body.

  Her throat went dry. That was not the response she’d expected. “Lola,” she corrected for reasons she couldn’t quite name. “My name is Lola.”

  “Lola,” he repeated, his eyes still on hers. “So I’ve earned first name privileges. Then maybe this time it will take. I’m Jack.”

  Automatically taking the hand he offered to shake, Lola let go of it just as quickly. Touching him was not a good idea. In fact, she should be creating as much distance as possible. But hostessing was in her blood. At least that’s the excuse she made for herself when she turned to look for the bartender instead. “Josh, could we get some water over here?”

  Nodding his thanks to Josh when it was delivered, Jack looked down at the list of appetizers. As if what they served at Deacon’s Bar and Grille wasn’t standard.

  “You work here?” he asked, not taking his eyes off the menu.

  Keeping her focus on the menu, as well, which was entirely unnecessary considering she’d done a complete redesign of it a month ago, she answered, “I was a Deacon before I was a McIntire.”

  “Deacon?” His hands tightened on his menu. “Any relation to Max?”

  Of course he would know Deke. In the early years of Nate’s career, Deke had spent nearly as much time out on the road partying with Nate as he had at home. Jack would have been right in the thick of it all. Plus, although Lola had spent the early years of her marriage in Fort Bragg rather than in Inspiration, she knew Jack had been here for a few weeks over Christmas way back when. It stood out at the time because, according to Jules—Nate’s sister, incidentally—he hadn’t been at all bothered about being away from his family over the holidays, whereas Lola had been crying since the moment she’d realized she wouldn’t be able to make it home, the first time she’d ever had to spend Christmas away.

  “Deke’s my brother.”

  Jack’s eyes came up to hers again briefly before returning to the menu. “Interesting,” he muttered, his smile turning overly bright. He spent a few more seconds looking over the menu before laying it down on the table and then stretching his arm out across the back of the booth as he sat back against the seat.

  “Interesting?” That was an odd thing to say.

  His eyes crinkled in the corners as he tipped his chin up to indicate something behind her. Lola turned to see Deke making his way toward them.

  “The boys—?” she started to ask.

  “Mary’s watching them,” he answered, not at all happy as he slid into the booth.

  Lola frowned. They’d had this conversation before. It was one thing for Deke to be with the kids. She never wanted the people who worked for them to feel obligated to do the same. “Deke, we’ve talked about—”

  “Extenuating circumstances,” Deke ground out.

  “Such as?” Lola snapped.

  After a glance at Deke, Jack was the one who responded. “He’s here to warn me off.”

  “Warn you off what? Nate?” Lola assumed Jack had already seen Nate. If Jack was having dinner here, he hadn’t been run out of town yet.

  Not only did Jack seem surprised by her answer, he actually laughed. “Not Nate. You.”

  Lola’s head spun so fast she was afraid she might have given herself whiplash looking at Jack and then back again.

  Deke didn’t do things like that. Sure, he’d always watched out for her—and, as his older sister, she’d always made it clear it was entirely unnecessary. But he wasn’t like, well, Nate, for example. Then again, she and Dave had been together practically since Deke was in diapers and she hadn’t exactly been painting the town red since Dave had died. Hell, she barely had time to paint her toenails. When she had a free night, the last thing she wanted to do was dress up and make awkward conversation. She’d much rather hang out with Jules, Fitz and Dorie, or read a book. She missed reading books.

  She missed sex, too, but reading was a lot less complicated.

  She punched Deke in the arm. “I’m thirty-six years old. If I needed to warn anyone off I’d do it myself.” And anyway, as Jack had just pointed out, Deke knew the game all these baseball guys played. Jack Oxford was not hitting on her. The only reason he was in this booth was because he’d needed a somewhat safe port in the storm.

  At least Deke had the decency to look embarrassed. But it didn’t stop him from saying, “He’s not just anyone.”

  For the first time since he’d appeared earlier today, that I-am-about-to-annihilate-you look came into Jack’s eyes. The one that had earned him his nickname. No lie, it made her shiver a little, although, not entirely out of fear.

  She glared at her brother. “I am well aware who he is. Amazingly, he is, too. And I am totally on Nate’s side here. I’m, like, the president of the Kick Jack Oxford out of Inspiration Fan Club.”

  “Just so you know—” Jack leaned forward as if telling Deke a secret “—she’s made that clear. Abundantly so.”

  Now it was Deke’s turn to be thrown. He sat back, his gaze traveling from Lola to Jack and back. “Well, uh, good,” he said, running his hand through his hair. To Jack, he asked, “Nate knows you’re here?”

  Jack nodded.

  “He hasn’t killed you yet?”

  “I’m still awaiting word,” Jack answered. “Might be awhile.”

  Deke’s eyes narrowed as he stared at Jack for a few moments before turning to Lola. “My break’s up in ten minutes.” He nodded at both her and Jack as he stood, and then after only a moment’s more hesitation went back to the office. Good. Because she might have killed him if he did anything else that fell under the “warning off” category.

  But whatever. It wasn’t like she was about to stay and have a chat.

  “There’s a bed-and-breakfast across the town green,” she said, putting the menu to the side. “In case you need a place to stay.”

  Jack put his menu down. He was quiet as he watched her, the silence going on almost long enough that she worried she’d missed something big. Like maybe he’d asked her to leave and she’d happily said You betcha but then forgotten to move. She started to say she’d put his order in for him when he spoke instead.

  “I’m not exactly the bed-and-breakfast type,” he said, a touch of wickedness in his eyes.

  For a moment, she wondered exactly what type he was. She put the thought out of her head immed
iately. “No need to get stuck on the breakfast part, Jack. Even in Iowa sometimes we just go for the bed and then we’re done with it.”

  The surprise on his face was replaced almost immediately by a smile so slow and sinful it should have had a triple-X rating plastered all over it.

  “Do you now,” he said, his low drawl a shot of gasoline to all the sparks skipping down her spine.

  Damn it. And here she went again. It had been too long since a man had looked at her like that, though—certainly not anyone since Dave had died. She was still his woman as far as the men in this town were concerned. Either that or she just scared the shit out of the menfolk of Inspiration. The latter was a definite possibility.

  She clearly hadn’t scared Jack away. Not even one bit. And being in his presence even one moment more would be playing with fire of a different kind, reminding her he was in a whole other league.

  She slid out of the booth and nodded curtly. “Someone will be over to get your order shortly.”

  Then she turned on her heel and walked back to the office, not at all happy about how good it felt to know his eyes were on her the whole way.

  Chapter Four

  My, my. Mama Bear had teeth. For a moment there, Jack had thought she might take a bite out of him. He was absolutely thinking about taking a bite out of her, except there would have gone an entire lifetime’s worth of careful control and single-minded drive right down the drain.

  Since the moment he was seven years old and had played his first Little League game, Jack had had one purpose in life: play ball. Thanks to Nate’s willingness to hear him out, salvation was potentially within reach. He’d fought his way to where he was. He had one chance left, and he wasn’t about to screw things up further—especially not with Max Deacon’s sister Hauling her across the table and into his arms would not be a strategic move.

  Once Lola left his table, people’s attention turned back to what they’d been doing before he came in, so he was able to eat a surprisingly good meal without anyone bothering him. Only Deke seemed to notice he was still here, and Jack was able to ignore those glares with no problem.

  Almost no problem. It did take him a good half hour to realize that the churning in his stomach had nothing to do with the chicken-fried steak and mashed potatoes he’d ordered, the kind of meal he only allowed himself once a month or so. Once he’d thought about it, though, he realized it might have been emotion of some kind, also not something his system was used to. He hadn’t come here tonight hoping to see Lola. He hadn’t even known who she was. The best thing was to avoid her entirely, especially now, when there was something about her that drew him in. Although maybe it was more the reminder of the tight-knit community that gathered around Nate, of the way this place had welcomed a young rookie who’d never experienced anything even close. The way Nate’s friends and family had accepted Jack as one of their own the second Nate had introduced him.

  Jack would do well to remember he didn’t have the right to hope for any of that to resurface. He’d been welcomed here because he’d been Nate’s friend. Past tense. While Nate hadn’t kicked him to the curb today, he hadn’t welcomed Jack back in either, and Jack had no expectation he would. Jack’s only hope was that Nate would give his blessing, because when the two of them played together they were untouchable.

  He paid his check, nodded and smiled at Deke because there was no need to piss him off any further, and walked out.

  It wasn’t late when he left—a few minutes to nine—but this definitely wasn’t Chicago. He could see the lights of a Mexican restaurant and those of a pizza place a few blocks down, but everything else seemed locked up nice and tight. He got into his car with every intention of heading back to one of the chain hotels he’d seen right off the highway. As he drove past the Lansing Family B&B, however, the hand-lettered Vacancy sign called out to him, and against all reason he found himself turning in. The sixty-something woman who came to the desk as he was opening up the front door gave him a welcoming smile that didn’t falter when he gave her his name.

  “Of course!” she said instead, pulling a key off one of the hooks behind her. “Now you just follow me.”

  He’d had enough etiquette lessons forced upon him to manage not to express his surprise at her friendly welcome even though she had to have known who he was. He maneuvered it so he was the one carrying the tray of milk and cookies upstairs—milk and warm-from-the-oven oatmeal cookies, for God’s sake—as he followed after her. “Uh, thank you.”

  “It’s no problem at all, Mr. Oxford,” she answered heartily, unlocking a door at the top of the stairs and then handing him the key. She walked ahead of him into the room, turning on lights and cracking open a window as she chattered away. “We have one other family with us this week. Sweetest little children ever. So friendly and inquisitive! Would you like to join us in the dining room for breakfast or should I bring a tray up?”

  He stared at her for a few seconds. “Friendly and inquisitive?”

  She nodded.

  “A tray in my room would be great.” The last thing he needed was to deal with more kids.

  Her eyes brightened with humor. “Does eight-thirty sound okay?”

  He didn’t know what time the summons from Nate would come, but it probably wouldn’t be that early. “Perfect.”

  Not only didn’t it come early, Nate kept him waiting for almost half the day. Since Jack always had his workout bag with him, he’d had a change of clothes. He knew Nate had appearances tonight, though, so he hadn’t expected to stick around for so long. He’d foregone stopping in at the local café during his morning run because he remembered it was owned by Nate’s sister and that wasn’t a reception he wanted to test out. Lucky for him, Mrs. Lansing had provided enough food for both breakfast and lunch.

  When he did hear from Nate, it was via text: 82 Oak Bend Road. 2:00.

  The GPS took Jack back out to the Academy and then another half mile past it. There was a curve in the road up ahead, a white farmhouse at the bend. As he took the turn, the road dipped down into the small valley that could be seen from Nate’s house. Captivated by the view, Jack almost missed the F150 parked in the driveway to the house.

  Jack pulled in just as Nate got out of the truck.

  “I talked to Sam. The bastard,” Nate said, leaning back against the hood as Jack came to stand next to him.

  “Pretty sure that’s the reason you always liked him,” Jack answered.

  “I seem to have an affinity for arrogant pricks.” Nate folded his arms across his chest and looked out over the fields. “Not sure what that says about me.”

  Jack laughed. “Your problem is that you have an affinity for everyone.” It was a long-standing joke between them. Nate had been friends with everyone, Jack with no one. Jack hadn’t ever been sure why he’d rated so high with Nate, but he’d known well enough not to question it.

  “True.” Nate frowned. “Too fucking true.”

  “Nate, I—”

  “We do this on my terms.”

  Okay, then, no small talk. Definitely no Courtney talk.

  Jack supposed it was a good thing Nate was approaching this as all business because otherwise he probably wouldn’t be standing here. He was absolutely fine with that, especially if it gave him a chance to play again. At least he hoped that was the case. Given this last season, Jack had felt the doubt come creeping in. If he couldn’t find his groove again with Nate, then that was it for him.

  “Anything,” Jack said, only barely managing to keep the emotion out of his voice.

  The second Nate smiled and nodded to the house behind him, Jack knew he was going to pay dearly, though. “This is one of your jobs for the next three months.”

  What?

  Jack turned to look at the house. Charming—once you got past the cracked windows, the rotted steps leading up to the
porch, and the overgrown vines growing up and around the front door. “Sorry?”

  “We’ll train at the academy most afternoons during the week. You help fix up this house in the mornings.” Nate was seemingly oblivious to Jack’s shock. “I don’t give a fuck where you spend your nights, as long as it’s not in my fiancée’s bed.”

  “I... I wouldn’t...” Fuck. Jack was actually sputtering.

  The fiancée jibe, he deserved. But the house...

  Yes, he was handy with a hammer and saw. He could do the basics—frame a ceiling, for example. Fix a stair tread. He enjoyed the hell out of demo. He’d had his first taste of it here, in fact, the Christmas he’d visited. Nate’s uncle had taken them along to help rebuild that old barn. It probably would have ended there if Jack hadn’t said something proudly to his father, only to be told how idiotic it was to work with power tools when his entire livelihood—“If that’s what you call this baseball thing”—depended on his hands. Jack had adopted Habitat for Humanity as one of his preferred charities the next day, and thrown himself into whatever job the various foremen handed him over the years. So, yeah, he could find his way around a worksite, although he sure as hell hoped Nate had a site supervisor in mind who wasn’t him.

  But staying here in Inspiration? Being in Inspiration had been bad enough when everyone welcomed him; three months here when they were ready to tar and feather him didn’t seem the best idea for his health. People hated him in Chicago, too, but unlike in a small town, he could get from the stadium to his condo without anyone noticing, much less giving a damn. Plus, he was used to city life. He had round-the-clock access to anything he wanted, be it Kobe beef and Beluga caviar or company for the night. He had a housekeeper, a personal chef and a masseur named Klauss who came twice a week.

  Nate knew that. Nate had ribbed him about it for years.