Called Out

by Jen Doyle

And Lola’s response: “You seriously expect me to believe Fitz just decided to take your Saturday lunch shift out of the goodness of her heart?

  “That’s different,” Deke snapped.

  “In what universe? Oh, wait, in the Handmaid’s Tale one, where younger brothers get to lock their older sisters in chastity belts until they decide which guy to give her to?”

  “That isn’t the point, Lo, and you know it.”

  “No, Deke, I don’t. The point is that I get to decide what I want to do and who I want to do it with.”

  “He slept with his best friend’s fiancée!”

  She barely even faltered. “He spent an entire night taking care of my kids so that I could sleep! Do you know the last person who did that? No one!”

  Not wanting to think about that part too much—the no one doing it or the part about it needing to be done, Jack was just grateful he’d thought to bring up the laundry basket. With as much noise as possible, he came up the last few stairs from the basement and barreled the door open with his shoulder. “So you said I was supposed to put the reds in with the whites, right?”

  They both turned to stare at him, Deke with hate in his eyes, Lola with...not hate. Honestly? Jack could deal more easily with the hate. Even if he hadn’t already dealt with it for years, the last year had been a crash course and he’d built up a skin so thick it barely registered.

  He’d also gotten really good at deflecting it. So when Deke straightened up all imposing and said, “I don’t want you in my sister’s life,” Jack took a breath. Rather than go with the impulse to get right up in Deke’s face and back up Lola with a Where in the hell do you get off thinking you have any right whatsoever to tell her who is or isn’t in her life? or even go the juvenile route and ask Deke to define the “in his sister” part, Jack just leaned back against the doorframe, shifted the laundry basket to his hip, and then lifted his thumb to his mouth and slowly licked it the way he’d done twenty minutes before as he’d lapped up every last bit of her.

  Since Deke was the least innocent of this entire crowd, Jack had no doubt the man knew exactly what that gesture meant, and, yes, his eyes narrowed in a highly satisfying way. Just in case there was any doubt, however, Jack said, “I’m a shitty guy, Deke. We all know that. There’s no chance I’m here for the long haul. But every once in a while, there’s a silver lining.”

  Without a second glance, he walked past Deke and put the basket on the table in front of Lola. “This is all folded and the ironing’s done.”

  Well, he’d needed something to occupy his time while he’d been waiting for his dick to calm down, hadn’t he? And, oddly, he liked to iron. More so than Lola, it seemed, since he’d had to wipe about an inch of dust off the iron. Then, because he really was a jackass, right there, not more than two feet from her brother, he leaned forward and licked a path from her jaw to behind her ear. “I’ll see you at the house on Monday.”

  Bam.

  He left the kitchen, grabbed his coat, and walked out the door.

  Chapter Twelve

  Fury and frustration warred within Lola for the next two days. On the one hand, she was ready to tear both Deke and Jack a new one. She was thirty-six years old. She had four children and had not only been there for their conceptions, but had been a primary actor in their births. Even her badass husband had almost fainted when she’d told the midwife that, hell, yes, she was ready to deliver child number three in a row, so let’s go. She did not need two jackass men challenging each other to a duel at dawn.

  On the other hand, who knew a lick could be so intoxicating, especially after what he’d done with that tongue only twenty minutes before? The fire it had started inside of her was still burning—and had been hot enough since that moment for even Deke to know he’d better take a step back. The double she’d worked all day Sunday had been one of the more enjoyable she’d had thanks to Deke—and Jason, and Wash, who had clearly heard the details—warily staying out of her way.

  Nate had been suspiciously absent. He and Dorie had done their usual late-lunch visit, but he’d put himself on the other side of the guys, keeping Dorie and Fitz between them. When Deke looked—glared—his way, Nate merely raised his eyes to the football game on the TVs above the bar. He didn’t seem particularly happy to see Lola, either, but she made sure the chef gave him extra chicken on his salad because he was the only one behaving even close to normal. That included Dorie and Fitz.

  Lola was so irritated with all of them that she’d almost given them a detailed rundown of exactly what Jack had done to her and her ideas of what he could do next time around. It was Sunday, however, and after Deke had run off the entire Jaycees contingent a few months before, they were making an extra effort to ramp up their reputation of a family-friendly restaurant rather than just a bar and grille, and they were finally gaining some traction. She wasn’t about to mess that up no matter how tempting it was.

  But she was in fighting form when she pulled up to the farmhouse on Monday morning, not nearly bright and early enough since the boys had taken their sweet time getting ready for school this morning. As per usual.

  What she was ready to fight about, she wasn’t sure. She hadn’t been happy with Jack for rising to Deke’s bait—licking her, for heaven’s sake—and then walking out the door. He’d replied Sure to Nate’s group text setting up the meeting with the architect this morning, but hadn’t otherwise been heard from again. So it was probably a good thing Nate’s Mustang was in the driveway alongside of Jack’s truck, indicating at least one other person was present. It was hopefully also enough to keep her from jumping Jack’s bones the second she saw him, which would be completely embarrassing. Or maybe not, but it at least gave decorum a fighting chance.

  Hearing the low, throaty laugh of another woman threw decorum directly out the window. The flash of jealousy was nearly blinding—which made no sense—and it only magnified when Lola caught a glimpse of a very attractive woman leaning her dark head of lusciously corn-rowed hair against Jack’s much lighter one. And he was laughing. Laughing!

  She pushed open the front door so hard it slammed against the wall.

  Everyone’s eyes came up.

  “Sorry I’m late,” she maybe kind of snapped, even though she wasn’t late even by a little bit. They were all majorly early and she was pretty sure they knew that; Jack and Nate did, at least. Rather than have the grace to look guilty, both men wore looks of amusement in their eyes.

  Damn men. If only she could do without them.

  The woman was clearly smarter than both of them, which seemed par for the course as far as Lola was concerned.

  “Ms. McIntire?” the woman said, releasing her arm from around Jack’s waist—really?—before coming around the makeshift table he’d set up in the living room and reaching out to shake Lola’s hand. “I’m Chantal Murphy. It’s so nice to meet you.”

  “You, too,” Lola replied. Provided the woman kept her hands and arms to herself, of course.

  Unfortunately, Lola wasn’t known for keeping her thoughts to herself, even when she attempted to do so. And Nate knew her well enough to read her face. He sat back against a sawhorse, those eyes of his taking in far too much. “Chantal worked in the clubhouse when we were starting out. We all go back a bit.”

  “Okay,” Lola said, not quite able to budge further than that even though it shouldn’t have mattered.

  No. Not that it did matter.

  “Did you have a chance to go over the drawings yet?” Chantal asked, reaching down for a long, leather cylindrical case. She undid the end, pulled out a set of blueprints and spread them out over the table.

  Lola suddenly realized what Silas must feel like whenever she asked if he’d done his homework and he had to say, “Uh, no. Sorry.” Although Nate had brought them over on Saturday morning, no one had mentioned it until Sunday afternoon, when Deke r
ealized he’d been supposed to convey the message but forgot to because of his snit. And Lola had fallen asleep in the boys’ room after going in to give them their hugs and kisses for the night. She hadn’t even remembered to grab the copies she had on her way out the door this morning. Not that she had overwhelmingly high expectations; Nate had said this was only a preliminary thing. Some sketches to map out potential ideas.

  Choosing to ignore the tension in the room, Chantal just smiled brightly. “No problem. I’m happy to go over them now. I know we haven’t had a chance to talk yet, so these are just some things I came up with after talking to Nate and Jack.”

  “Nate and Jack, huh?” Call her crazy, but considering it was Lola’s vision, of her house, she would have liked to have some preliminary input at the very least.

  But the second she looked down at the drawings, her eyes went wide. There was no way this stranger could have the same ideas Lola had for the space—they’d never exchanged so much as an email. She looked up at Nate, only to find he was watching Jack. Lola’s gaze turned to Jack, too. Their eyes met for the first time since Saturday and she only barely managed not to take a step back from the force of it.

  “You were pretty clear what you wanted when we did our walk through,” he said, watching her carefully.

  “Was I?” She was actually having a hard time remembering anything at the moment. It didn’t mean a damn thing that Jack had not only understood her vision for what this house could be—something Dave hadn’t even been willing to even entertain—but had conveyed it much more thoroughly than Lola would have ever been able to. There was not a deeper connection running between them.

  More flustered than she should have been, Lola looked back down as Chantal explained the drawings. She could feel Jack’s eyes on her; Nate’s eyes on them. Even though she knew Nate was watching, she couldn’t help but glance at Jack again, and as soon as their eyes met, pressure began building up inside of her and everything else faded away.

  She vaguely registered Chantal’s comments about each room, and it took every ounce of concentration she had to focus on the plans in front of her. Her dream house was literally unfolding in front of her and all she could think about was how it had felt when Jack had touched her.

  “Wait,” Lola said, snapping back to attention as Chantal turned one of the pages over. “Can I see that again?”

  Chantal paused for a second, most likely because Lola had been useless so far. She returned to the page for the kitchen, and Lola stared at it. “Is it possible to make it commercial grade?”

  “We absolutely can look into that,” Chantal said, making a note in the small leather book she carried. “Commercial appliances, or a full commercial kitchen? Because if it’s an actual commercial kitchen you’re looking for, rather than change the footprint of the house, I might suggest taking a look at the barn and seeing if there’s any potential there.” But her eyes went to Nate as she asked, “Would you like me to do that?”

  Really?

  Lola should have known that although he agreed she’d pay for this, he’d totally primed the pump beforehand. Possibly even gone and talked the architect firm into giving her a particular price that might be thrown out of whack if there were, say, something like a commercial kitchen involved—something, of course, he never would have mentioned since it was an idea Lola kept very close to the vest.

  It was just that every once in a while her thoughts drifted to something...more. Her farm-to-table dream that, if Deke didn’t go for it, maybe at some point Lola would go off and do on her own. Or even a bed-and-breakfast down the line. Since she hardly had time to brush her teeth, much less take on something of that scale, it wasn’t a topic she raised in general conversation. Even Jules had no idea. It absolutely wasn’t anything she’d explored further, partly because she was afraid she’d panic attack herself right out of her own dreams. And yet she was so infuriated at the moment that she didn’t think any further before spitting out, “Yes. And please make sure to send all the bills to me directly.”

  Because she was glaring at Nate when she spoke, she didn’t miss the look of both concern and determination come over his face. He chose the wrong approach. “Why are you asking about a commercial kitchen?”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, not being at all so. “Was there some kind of sure-Lola-can-have-the-house-but-Nate-gets-to-make-all-the-decisions clause in the contract you sent me?” Although, actually, there might have been. Lola hadn’t looked at it yet, due to that whole no-time-at-all thing. However, “Do I need to remind you—?”

  “That I was your first kiss?” he asked, bringing up a completely unnecessary issue.

  Was that because of Jack? Because if so, it was even more irritating.

  She loved Nate. One hundred, thousand, million times loved him. But he needed to decide if he was okay with Jack being in his life or he wasn’t; Lola had enough gray areas to contend with. She didn’t need to deal with Nate’s, too, no matter how well-intentioned they were.

  “That’s not what I was about to say, since I was your first kiss, you weren’t mine.” She ignored the surprised and nervous laugh from Chantal’s direction. Nate was the one who brought it up, not her, so she wasn’t going to pull any punches either. “What I was going to do was to remind you about our whole conversation the other day about me being a fully functional grown-up who would maybe someday like to be more than a glorified waitress in her own family’s bar—and who doesn’t need any more big brothers than she already has. Especially because they’re not big brothers in the first place!”

  So maybe that had been a bit too much. And, she probably shouldn’t have said the thing about the bar, although she couldn’t deny it was a bit of an issue for her. She did have a point, though, and she needed to hit it home. More softly, she said, “I love you, Nate. I know you’re just trying to look out for me. And I can’t tell you how grateful I am for the terms you’re willing to give me on this house. But if they come with strings attached, then I can’t take it.” It hurt to say it, but she meant it with all her heart. Either it was hers or it wasn’t. And if it wasn’t she’d cut bait and move on.

  There was a grim expression on Nate’s face as he looked at her, then at Jack, and then out the window. It was a few long, heavy moments before he turned back to her. “I don’t want to see you get in over your head,” he said, the statement clearly as much about Jack as it was about the house.

  And since she was just as clear-headed as he was, tired or not, she stated in no uncertain terms, “I know exactly what I want—for this house and for me.”

  She didn’t mention that part of what she wanted was for this discussion to be over so she could have sex for the first time in a ridiculously long time. She knew it might make him think her priorities weren’t quite what they needed to be, but he would be seriously wrong. They were at the part of the trip where the oxygen masks were coming down out of the ceiling and Mama had to save herself first.

  “If I feel I need to call you for help,” she said, “I will do so and you’re equally free to choose not to take that call.” He wouldn’t choose that; she knew it as well as he did. But she would also never call. She’d sell her soul first. “Now could we move on so Chantal can make the changes and we can all get on with our lives?”

  Nate jammed his hands in his pockets and looked down at the ground. When he looked up again, he gave her a smile. Then he turned to Chantal. “You heard the woman. Just make sure she approves the budget before you move forward with anything.” To Lola he said, “Anything else?” A twinkle appeared in his eye. “Am I allowed to talk to Chantal on my own without you accusing me of more backroom deals?”

  Right. Because he’d said Chantal worked for the firm doing the Academy, so Lola needed to remember it wasn’t all about her. In fact, the Academy was the main business between Chantal and Nate. Lola should really back down completely. Plus she had other th
ings on her own agenda for the morning. “Of course.”

  A bit reluctantly, Nate straightened up, looked from Lola to Jack and back to Lola again, and said, “So I guess we’ll leave you two to decide what to do from here.”

  Sex. Sex was “what to do from here.” Lola’s body was nearly vibrating with the energy of her anticipation and she might be ready to hurt someone if she didn’t get alone with Jack soon.

  “Sounds like a plan,” she snapped, gripping the plywood tabletop tightly.

  Realizing he’d boxed himself into a bit of a hole, Nate looked over at Jack. “You sure you don’t want to join us for brunch?”

  Lola had to admit, she hadn’t given as much thought to what Jack was thinking. She assumed he was on the same page even though he hadn’t so much as glanced back when he’d left her kitchen the other morning. She might be about to witness that whole “assume makes an ass out of u and me” thing. She couldn’t quite bear to look at him because if he did say yes—and it was clear Chantal was a friend, so why wouldn’t he?—she’d have a problem with her face for sure.

  She tried not to visibly show her relief when he said, “Nah. You two should catch up. I told Lola I’d stand ready and willing for whatever she needs.” Lola just barely smothered the laugh that bubbled up in her throat. She may have squeaked a little as he added, “Wouldn’t want to go back on my word.”

  Nate knew them both well enough to know there was a subtext; luckily, he didn’t call them out on what it was. “Okay, then.” He shrugged before leaning in to give Lola a hug; to Jack he just gave a level stare. “See you guys later.”

  Chantal, on the other hand, looked from Lola to Jack with barely contained glee. She kept it professional, though, reaching her hand out to shake Lola’s. “I’m really looking forward to working with you.” Then she leaned in for a hug, too, saying in an exaggerated whisper, “Anyone who can take down Nate Hawkins like that is up there in my book.”

  “I heard that,” Nate grumbled.