Called Out

by Jen Doyle

  Bad timing, because Nate was in a pissy mood himself. He opened his front door with enough force for Jack to feel the wind. And, clearly, he was pissed at Jack, because as soon as the door was open, Nate turned on his heel, put his earbuds back in, and headed immediately downstairs to the gym.

  Eyes on the ball, Ox.

  Jack leaned his head against the wall. He was here because of the game. Baseball was all he had; all he had to give. Lola was a nice fantasy, but under no circumstances did he see a future there. She certainly didn’t.

  Holding back a sigh, he followed Nate downstairs, knowing Nate had every right to be angry yet wishing that maybe whatever he was working up to wouldn’t have to happen today.

  Jack claimed total responsibility for what he’d done. He knew it was his fault. He’d just never known how exactly to talk to someone about something of life-altering importance. To say, for example, they were probably his best friend in the world, but they were about to fuck up everything unless they took a step back and truly looked at what they were doing before moving ahead and making the biggest mistake of their lives.

  Since Jack had been 100% sure he would screw up the conversation, he’d decided to go directly to Courtney instead. She’d grown up even wealthier and more isolated than he had, so he figured they spoke the same language. Enough, at least, for him to make his argument that it wasn’t just Nate whose life would go downhill once they got married, but Courtney’s would, too. Jack had been pretty confident in his ability to have that conversation.

  He clearly hadn’t fully thought through his game plan.

  But he still didn’t know how to talk to Nate. Not when it mattered. And right now, although he knew he didn’t deserve this second chance, and he knew he’d never have someone like Lola truly in his life, the idea of leaving Inspiration bothered him—to the point he was afraid he might actually say something to that effect and Nate wouldn’t take to it kindly. In fact, he was dreading these next few minutes, because if he had pushed too far, and if Nate was about to kick him out, for the first time in his life, Jack didn’t want to follow Nate’s lead.

  He wasn’t sure he even wanted to work out, although it usually grounded him. What he really wanted to do was go back to the farmhouse, kick the builder out, and spend another few hours getting lost in Lola. He had absolutely no right to ask for Nate to be okay with that. And yet, taking a deep breath, Jack was pretty sure it was what he was about to do.

  He pushed open the door to the gym, and realized it was going to be an even rougher road ahead than he’d thought. Nate was at a full-out sprint on the treadmill, and given that he hadn’t even seemed warmed up when he’d opened the door to Jack a few minutes before, Jack wasn’t seeing that as a good sign.

  It definitely wasn’t a good sign when Nate powered down the treadmill. “There was only one thing I asked of you. One fucking thing. Do not mess with her.”

  Right. “Trust me,” Jack muttered to himself. “I’m not the one doing the messing.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Did Nate have to have perfect hearing alongside everything else? Yes, apparently.

  Perfect. As if it was going to help matters whatsoever for Jack to explain anything. “It means,” he said, “you were right about the ball-busting. She certainly takes no prisoners.”

  “Wait,” Nate said, fully turning to Jack. He leaned back against the treadmill console. “Please tell me you didn’t have sex with her in the laundry room.”

  Jack and Nate had spent a lot of years together. A lot of years being highly aware of the things each had done behind closed doors, even though, unlike a lot of guys in the locker room, neither one of them generally went around talking about it. But they’d also spent fifteen years having entire conversations without ever speaking a word. And because of that, it was nearly impossible for Jack to hide anything.

  Fuck. “Define ‘sex,’” he said.

  “Any act that would have Deke coming after me if he knew it had occurred,” Nate answered. “Especially if you were down there because of me.”

  Yeah, Jack didn’t think he’d read that situation wrong. Well, if they were using those guidelines, then, “Yes.”

  “Jesus,” Nate exclaimed, snatching a towel off the shelf next to him and scrubbing it over his face. “Could you not even keep it in your pants for a few months?”

  What the actual fuck? Exasperated, Jack snapped, “I’ve kept it in my pants since—”

  Shit.

  He cut himself off.

  If Jack hadn’t known Nate so well, it would have come as a complete surprise that he was about to blow. By all outward appearances, he was calm and relaxed. But there was this look he got in his eyes. It didn’t come around that often, but when it did, you got away. Fast. Unless, unfortunately, you were smack-dab in the middle of the danger zone.

  “Are you seriously about to bring Courtney into this conversation?” he asked, each word laden with the weight of a thousand suns.

  Jack drew on a decade of appearing unfazed and still only barely managed to stay upright. His heart had just sped up to an unhealthy rate, and the weight on his chest was so heavy he felt like he couldn’t breathe. The entire last year and a half threatened to crash over him, crushing him and sweeping him out to sea.

  “No,” he said over the lump in his throat. He looked down at the floor. “No.”

  Except a part of him wanted to. A part of him wanted to just get it out once and for all, whether it meant walking out of here in one piece or not. But there was nothing he could say to make this in any way okay. So the least he could do was show he at least gave a damn about the woman who was so very important to Nate, a woman who had somehow gotten to him in an entirely unfamiliar way. “I lose my head around her. It’s hard to...think.”

  He knew even that was saying too much. It wasn’t like it would be any more palatable to Nate to know that Jack couldn’t get her out of his head.

  “Lola?” Nate asked. The incredulity in his voice would have been laughable if not such a sorry statement on Jack.

  “No need to worry,” he said, attempting to laugh it off. “She got exactly what she needed from me and has made very clear she’s not interested in anything else.”

  Jack had meant that as reassurance. An acknowledgement of what was really going on between Lola and him, and a promise he wouldn’t ask for anything further. But the words fell heavy and flat, sounding more pathetic than anything else.

  Awesome.

  For a second, Nate just stood there, staring at him, clearly still trying to comprehend what was happening here. “Well...huh,” he then said, and kind of scratched the back of his head before sitting down on the other end of the bench. He looked down at the floor for what seemed like a full minute. Then from completely out of the blue, he said, “You know the first time I decided that maybe my dad’s leaving us to go start another family wasn’t the worst thing in the world?”

  Jack was fairly certain this was a trick question. From Courtney to Lola to...Nate’s dad? “Not a clue.”

  “August eighteenth, our rookie year.” Nate answered so definitively as he stood up, it sounded as if it was a date Jack should have remembered. And yet...

  “Is that supposed to mean something to me?” Jack said after a moment or two of trying to figure out what it was.

  “Since you’ve been used to dealing with it for your entire life, probably not.” Nate picked up a couple of bats that were leaning up against the wall and took a practice swing. “That was the day I had the pleasure of meeting your father. And I decided if my dad was even half the asshole your dad was, I was a lot better off without him.”

  Ah, yes. That was Dad. Making a lasting impression everywhere he went.

  Someone else might have contradicted that statement, but all Jack did was shrug his shoulders and say, “D
on’t expect me to defend him.”

  “Exactly,” Nate said, adding a third bat to the collection. “And do you know why that is?”

  “No,” Jack answered, leaning back against the wall. “But I bet you’re gonna tell me.”

  “You’re sure as fuck right I’m gonna tell you,” Nate snapped, pointing the three bats Jack’s way in order to make his point. “Because you are not an asshole. For some reason you have it in your head that you are.” The more he spoke, the more worked up he got.

  “Unfortunately that reason is your father, so there’s not much you can do about that part. But guess what? It turns out that when you’re not in your personal cone of doom and destruction, you’re actually a pretty decent guy.” And then he came as close to yelling as Jack had ever seen Nate Hawkins get outside of the ballpark. “And the fact that I, the guy whose fiancée you not only slept with but fucking knocked up, am saying this should give you an indication of how fucking highly I think of you, because what I should’ve done a year and a half ago was put a spike through your goddamn head!”

  Especially when he added in a much softer, overly patient, voice, “And so the reason I don’t want you messing with Lola is not because I think you’re an asshole, but because you think you are. And she’s had enough shit to deal with in her life. The last thing she needs is to have to deal with your problems, too.” He emphasized each point with another swing. “So get the stick out of your ass, take a look in the mirror and acknowledge the fact that the guy looking back at you is not your father, and then, please, God, we can all just move on from there.” He planted the bats on the floor in front of him like a dancer with a cane. “Capisce?”

  Uh... What?

  Nate had no clue what he was saying. Jack was a chip off the old block, according to his father. Nate was the best ballplayer Jack had ever had the privilege to work with; smarter than, probably, 99% of the world’s population. But if he didn’t see that, he was clearly off his gourd.

  So, no. Jack didn’t capisce at all. As long as Nate had brought this all up, however... “Just to be clear—you don’t want to kill me for sleeping with Courtney?”

  In the most matter of fact tone, Nate shook his head and said, “The reason we haven’t made it to the ball field yet is because I’m afraid the second I get a bat in my hands and you in front of me, I’m gonna take your fucking head off.” It was almost comical the way he looked down and realized he had not one but three bats in his hands, and Jack standing right in front of him. Closer than he’d be on any ball field, in fact, something Jack didn’t quite want to dwell on at the moment.

  Nate put the bats to the side and quietly added, “Don’t for a second think I’m not aware that I got Dorie out of this.” He turned his head to stare out the window at the rolling countryside. “That I found my home.”

  Then he grabbed the towel again and hung it over his neck. “Could we get some fucking work done?”

  Sitting there, silent and dumbfounded, it took Jack a few moments to catch up, by which point Nate had already moved over to the elliptical. Jack had no clue if he should bring up Courtney again or not at some point, but now definitely wasn’t the time. He got on the treadmill and had been running for half an hour when, out of the blue, Nate turned to him and said, “We’re all having dinner at Deacon’s tomorrow night. You should join us.”

  “We?” As in, Wash and Deke, among others? Not exactly Jack’s idea of a good time. Except Lola would be there. And pissing Deke off was kind of fun.

  “That’s exactly what I’m talking about,” Nate said, reading between the lines again and smiling as if they didn’t still have this huge elephant in the room between them.

  But Nate put his headphones back on and kicked up the speed on the machine, and apparently conversation time was done.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “What’s with the testosterone contingent?” Deke asked as he drew down the tap for table twelve’s new round.

  “What?” Lola asked, looking up. Then she realized who Deke was talking about. “Oh.” She shrugged. “I told Aaron we were having chicken pot pie as one of our specials tonight, so he said he’d stop by.”

  “Really,” Deke said grimly, his eyes going over to the table in the back corner.

  Lola narrowed her eyes. Was he really going to pull this bullshit again?

  Jules slid onto a barstool. She slipped her purse off her shoulder and hung it on the hook under the bar. After being Lola’s best friend since preschool, she could sense the disturbance in the force. “What’s going on?”

  Lola pulled four bottles of Corona from the fridge. “Deke’s getting all protective again.”

  Ignoring Deke’s frown, Jules took in the scene with one glance and said, “Why? Because Mike is gearing up to ask you out?” She unwound her scarf and pulled off her coat. “Car guy, Mike. Not the fireman.”

  “You think?” Fitz asked, piping up from the other end of the bar as she closed her laptop and put her papers away. “I was thinking maybe the new guy at the bank might make a move.” She cocked her head toward the other side of the dining room where there was a table full of guys with suits.

  Popping the caps off the bottles, Lola tried not to laugh. “You’re all delusional. No one here is interested in asking me out.” That state of affairs hadn’t changed since Dave gave wedgies to all the boys who tried to chase Lola when they were playing tag in first grade.

  Shaking his head, Jason said, “Word’s out, Lo. I’m pretty sure everyone was giving you the full three years, but now that you’ve got this whole thing going on with Jack—”

  What? “There’s nothing happening between me and Jack.”

  Not currently, at least. “Whole thing” implied something ongoing. She’d slept with Jack once; that did not a relationship make.

  Continuing as if she hadn’t spoken, Jason was saying, “The sharks are circling. But Aaron’s totally in the lead.” Then he looked past Lola. “Oh, hey guys.”

  She glanced over her shoulder to see Nate and Dorie take seats next to Jules. Right behind them was Jack, of course. The air around Lola got a little crisper; nerve endings started to buzz. It was ridiculous. She rolled her shoulders and let her body shiver off the Jack effect so life could move on.

  “In the lead of what?” Nate asked, always the competitor.

  Jason tipped his head toward the tables in the back. “Well, now that Lola and Jack are doing their whole dance-around-each-other thing, we’re speculating who’s gonna make the first move.”

  Although she rolled her eyes, Lola couldn’t help but notice Jack grin as he shrugged off his coat.

  Looking around the bar, Nate raised his eyebrows. “There does seem to be a stronger Y chromosome presence than usual.”

  “Right?” Deke grumbled as he polished a wine glass with a little too much gusto.

  “Totally delusional,” Lola repeated, snatching the glass out of Deke’s hands before he broke it.

  Not once in the last three years had anyone shown the slightest hint of interest, and Dave had been deployed for as much of their marriage as he’d been home. Lola would have given almost anything for a man who was not related to her to shovel her sidewalk. Or mow her lawn. Or let her—oh, God, the idea was almost orgasmic—sleep. She had enough fellow Army wife friends to know that if someone were truly interested, he’d do everything possible to make himself known—and that was definitely not something Lola had ever experienced.

  Until Jack.

  Another shiver threatened to run through her, although this one she fought off. She was trying not to dwell too much on the actual orgasms he’d given her. Although it was hard not to since he was freaking good at it, damn it. She took a lime out of a bowl and started cutting. “Maybe we could find something to talk about that’s not my sex life.”

  “Whoa... No one said anything about
sex.” Deke glared at Jason before turning to Lola. “It’s about asking you out. On a good, old-fashioned date.” His next glare was directed at Jack. “With the love and respect you deserve.”

  Was he serious? Honestly, she was going to kill him. She had enough love and respect to last her the rest of her days; she’d already told him she didn’t want a relationship. Clearly she needed to drive the point home. Wiping her hands on the towel tucked into her apron, she turned to Deke. “What I deserve is a good, hard fuck against a wall every now and again.” Resisting the urge to see if it was Wash or Jason who had just choked on his drink, she chose to direct all her energies to the icy, death stare she was giving Deke.

  “Just one?”

  Her heart thudded up into her throat, not just at the sound of Jack’s voice, but at the way laughter and heat warred within it. She had to blink in order to speak. “I’m sorry?”

  Continuing on in the face of certain death, Jack ignored the steam coming out of Deke’s ears. “The first good, hard fuck against the wall is always over way too fast. I tend to find that one isn’t enough.”

  “Oh, my.” Jules fanned her face furiously with the menu. Thank goodness, because Lola’s entire body had just heated to a thousand degrees and she needed the air.

  “And how many would you say is the proper number?” Lola asked, amazed that the voice coming out of her mouth sounded even close to normal. Because she was suddenly transported directly back to the kitchen in her farmhouse, her skin heating even further at the thought of the way he’d kissed every inch of her when, yes, he’d taken her thoroughly and oh, so slowly the second time.

  “Against the wall? Just twice. After that it’s time to switch locations if at all possible.” He opened up his menu. “Did I see on here that somewhere you had broccoli and cheddar bites? I could go for some of those.”

  Jesus. He was going to get himself killed. Even worse, he was going to get Nate killed. And what kind of thanks was that after all the guy had done for him, including—no, especially—asking him here tonight.