by Jen Doyle
Which was the thought he was having when he suddenly realized she was standing there, leaning against the doorjamb as she watched him. He shut off the faucet and dried his hands, a little overcome. “You are so beautiful,” he said, not for the first time. Every time he saw her, though, he was struck all over again.
She made a face. “Well, yes, that’s what you get when you wear Spanx and more makeup than usual.”
Spanx? Was that like trolls? What language did these people speak?
Raising her eyebrows, she shook her head. “You have no idea what Spanx are, do you?”
“Unless that’s some kind of kinky underwear,” he said as she came to him, “then, nope.”
She frowned at him. “That’s what women wear when they’ve had four children and they like to pretend their bellies are still flat.”
Oh. Well that made a lot more sense than anything about trolls and Bingo. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her to him, breathing in deeply so he could take everything in. “I like your belly just fine.” She made a snorting sound. He bent down to kiss the curve of her neck. “It’s like this perfect little pillow I can rest my head on after I watch you come.”
She pushed away from him, her hands on his chest. “You watch me when I come? Oh, God.” Her cheeks were red. “I told myself you were busy doing your own thing and you wouldn’t be looking at me. I have stretch marks! And saggy boobs.”
He looked down at the evidence and shook his head. “No, you really don’t.”
“That’s because I’m wearing a very expensive bra,” she said before closing her eyes. “I’m never taking my bra off during sex again.”
“No worries,” he said, unbuttoning the top few buttons of her blouse so he could see the bra in question and maybe test it out. “I accept all bra-removal responsibilities.”
“That’s not what I meant,” she mumbled, her arms working their way up around his neck as she curled her body into him.
“That’s too bad, because your breasts fit so very nicely in my hand,” he said, attempting to demonstrate.
“Well, that’s a better recovery than calling my belly a pillow.” She slapped his hand away as he started to work the cup down. She raised his chin so he was looking her in the eye. “Just for the record, comparing women’s stomachs to pillows is not the best course.”
“Even if it’s perfect?” He seriously did not understand women.
She looked at him suspiciously. “There goes that sweet talking thing again.”
It truly cracked him up that she thought he had that ability. “Trust me.” He pulled her back against him. “I’ve never needed to resort to sweet talking to get a woman in my bed.”
“So cocky,” she said, but her lips curved into a smile as she relaxed and let him press her body to his, so that was good.
“True,” he murmured, able to get back to kissing her neck. “In fact, that’s what you should have my tombstone say: ‘Cocky, both in attitude and physical stature. All the women say so.’”
She laughed. “I am not putting that on your tombstone.”
He nuzzled her collarbone. “‘Asterisk. Lola McIntire has no responsibility for the words on this tombstone. This is all Jack Oxford, cocky bastard that he is.’ Er, was.” Then he shifted his hips a little, reminding her exactly how cocky he was.
A moan rumbled up through her throat. Except then she suddenly tensed, and not in the good way. He pulled his head back to see a look of horror on her face.
“Oh, my God,” she said. “I was just about to joke about Dave’s tombstone.”
“Was it a good joke?”
“Jack!”
Right. Poor taste. He ran his thumbs over her cheek bones, trying to help ease the tension.
Her eyes closed. “I was just about to say, I’ve already taken care of one tombstone so don’t expect me to do yours, too.” Her eyes opened, but the horror was still there. “Who does that?”
He knew he was out of his element here, and it would be best for everyone if he just shut up. But he hated seeing that look in her eye and he wanted to make it better. “Women who have been good wives to amazing men.”
Except she snapped, “You didn’t know him. How do you know he was amazing?”
And this was why he didn’t do the sweet talking thing. Or, really, the talking thing. Nate Hawkins could handle things like this; Jack Oxford could not. “Because he was a war hero. Because you were married to him.”
She took a step back, her arms coming up and crossing over her chest. “He was a great man.”
Wasn’t that what Jack had just said?
Yes, completely out of his element. “Do you want to tell me about him?”
“No.” Her voice had turned so cold he could practically see the crystals in the air. “I do not want to tell you about him.”
“Okay.” Jack nodded. He let his hands fall to his sides. He turned his back to her to give her some space, picked up a towel and started drying dishes.
“You’re not going to push?”
Even he knew that was the wrong approach. He looked over his shoulder. “I know how to deliver a pitch.” He turned back to the sink.
After a few minutes, or maybe it was a few seconds—he wasn’t sure, because all he could do was focus on not pushing since what he really wanted to do was figure out a way to make her smile again—she took a dishtowel and joined in.
“He was a really great man,” she said. “He was funny and charming, and could be amazingly sweet.” She put the dish aside and took another one. “And he was really protective of the people he loved.”
There was something in the way she said it that had Jack turning his head.
“I didn’t realize quite how much,” she said, her voice suddenly oddly quiet, “until he wasn’t. And I... I didn’t know what to do.” Tears started rolling down her face. “It was my fault,” she whispered, so softly it took him a moment to realize what she’d said.
He reached for the dish she was holding and took it out of her hands, placing it on the counter. It had been an accident, from what Jack remembered. “How could it be your fault?”
“We were fighting,” she said, tears flowing. “He wouldn’t help me put the kids to bed. They were all crying and...I was just so tired. And angry. And I...” Her voice trailed off as she clearly tried to regain some control. “I said something about knowing I’d be a single parent when he was deployed but not expecting it to stay that way when he got back.”
Jesus. “Lola...”
Ignoring him, she continued, “I heard the door slam and the bike start up, and I told myself that when he came back, I would be the perfect wife. The woman he married instead of...” Her entire body crumpled. “Instead of the shrew he came home to.”
Jack pulled her into his arms, unable to keep from holding her any longer. For so long he had thought he didn’t have a heart. And now he knew he was wrong, because he felt it break in two. “People fight, Lola.” Well, his parents didn’t, because they didn’t actually like each other enough to talk in the first place, but that wasn’t relevant here. “And I have to be honest,” he said, “your inner shrew is really hot.”
She made a sound that could have been a sob, but he was pretty sure there was a laugh in there, too.
“Wait,” he said, “were you wearing your boots?”
Another laugh erupted, this time laced with outrage. She hit him in the chest with a surprising amount of force.
“This is serious,” she snapped, and yet she couldn’t erase all the traces of the smile from her face.
But, yes, he knew. He took her hands in his. “It was his choice to leave the house. Hell, to go on a motorcycle ride in the middle of November. That doesn’t seem like the best...” His voice trailed off as he looked out the window at the ice and snow outside. A
nd then he caught her staring at him.
Oh, shit. He tipped her chin up. “You think he did it on purpose?” She jerked away so quickly that the answer was clear.
“Lola.”
“I don’t know, okay?” she said, her voice trembling. “Tuck said it was an accident. I need to believe it was an accident.” Her whole body started to shake. “And I can’t believe I even said any of this to you. You can’t ever say a word to anyone that we even had this conversation.”
Jack was really adept at not showing his thoughts on his face. But it took a hell of a lot of work to conceal this. “You’ve never told anyone?” Not Deke? Jules? “You’ve kept this inside all this time?”
“He was such an amazing man. But those last few months...” she said, shaking her head and not looking at Jack. “He’d never seemed fragile to me before. I didn’t understand that’s what it was until it was too late.”
Jack was, honestly, stunned. Close to speechless. “This happened three years ago, right?” She nodded. “And Silas was, what, three?”
“Four,” she said, grabbing the dishtowel and wiping her face.
“So you had a four-year-old and three babies,” he said.
She sniffled. “They’d just turned one.”
He actually laughed. “Because that’s so much easier.” Even he knew they got worse once they started walking; he’d witnessed family days at the ballpark to understand that much. “Lola, he may have been an amazing man. But you are an incredible woman. And whether he was in his right mind or not, he still knew you were everything he ever wanted you to be. And if you weren’t, then, he was crazy.”
Her head came up quickly, her eyes clear and focused on his. And in that moment, he realized something had changed. Not that she was everything he’d always wanted, because he’d never really wanted a woman in his life, but he’d already figured out that if he had, she’d be it. But for the first time he thought that maybe, just maybe, he might give her something, too. That what he had to give was something she needed.
She took a step back. “I think it’s time for you to go,” she whispered.
He didn’t want to. Not because he hadn’t had the chance to touch her yet in the way he wanted to. It was worse than that. He wanted to hold her and let her cry, or be angry, or not even do anything at all. And he didn’t want to leave.
Ever.
“Yeah,” he said, folding the towel and placing it on a hook. “I know I should.” He threaded his fingers through her hair, and tilted her head up to him. “But I’m not going to.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
She let him into her bed.
She’d already made so many mistakes when it came to this man, she decided she just didn’t care about one more. It didn’t even feel odd to take him by the hand, lead him through the house and shut the lights off along the way, almost as if he belonged here and it had always been like that.
Unlike the other times, this wasn’t a feverish coming together. Instead, once they were upstairs, he closed her bedroom door behind him and twisted the lock. Then he put his hand in her hair again and cupped her jaw. “This was an emotional night. I want you to be sure.”
Silas had gotten it right, hanging this man’s poster on his wall. She turned her head to kiss the inside of his wrist. “I’m sure.”
She’d thought it would be strange to have him in her bed. To have him lay in the same place Dave had, be here with him behind closed doors. But it wasn’t. In fact, it felt so right that she even forgot the whole...
“Ah,” he said, after unzipping her skirt and pulling it down her legs. “This must be the Spanx of which you spoke.” As she began to wriggle away from him, he stopped her. “You know, make that rubber and it could be very intriguing.”
Never in her life would she have thought she could feel like one of the sexiest women in the world after that exchange, but he pulled them off as if they were the smoothest, lightest silk. When he settled over her, all that delicious weight between her legs, he brought her hands up over her head, holding them there as he kissed her and stroked her, making her feel precious and cherished and loved. Then he entered her in one deep thrust, groaning as he bent down to kiss her again. Her eyes closed and her head fell back as he began to move inside her. It took no time for the pleasure to roll through her, a languid, liquid, caress over her skin, embers flickering and flaring and then erupting into flame.
She opened her eyes to see him watching her. That in itself set off another wave. His hands tightened around hers as he held her through it, but then his head dropped to her shoulder. She could feel the muscles in his arms begin to shake. When his release came, and he collapsed down on top of her, she wished they could stay exactly where they were forever. She’d loved Dave for a lifetime, and she couldn’t remember when or how it had started. But as painful as this was going to be with Jack, she knew that after today she could no longer fool herself that there was any way other than forward.
It wasn’t until after, though, when he’d disposed of the condom and come back to hold her in his arms that she found the nerve to say, “I figure that after what you allowed us to put you through today, you don’t scare easy.” She could feel his eyes on her, but she decided she preferred to focus on running her hand over the dusting of hair on his chest. “So I think I need to be completely honest and say that I tried really hard not to, but I—” Oh, God, she was really going to admit this. Although after everything else she’d told him tonight, it hardly seemed consequential. It wasn’t just the words he’d said, or that he truly seemed to believe them. It was that she’d trusted him enough to tell him in the first place. So she was going to trust him with this as well. “I think I might be falling in love with you.”
His entire body went still for a few moments and he didn’t say anything. For some reason, though, it didn’t bother her in the least. Maybe it was because his arm tightened around her shoulders and he gave no indication he’d be letting go anytime soon.
“Do you know, I’ve never seen my parents kiss?” he said after a few moments.
That seemed inconceivable. Why, just tonight her parents had had a mini make-out session in the kitchen after dessert had been laid out on the table. It had been downright embarrassing, although Deke hadn’t hesitated to remind her of all the places she and Dave had managed to get creative.
“I figured I wasn’t capable of falling in love,” Jack said. “I’m still not entirely sure that’s what this is.” He twisted a strand of her hair around his finger as he looked down at her. “But I think about you constantly. I want to be with you all the time. And when I’m finally with you I never want to leave.”
Lola’s breath caught. She knew him well enough now to be sure he wouldn’t run; it hadn’t occurred to her he’d be willing to admit he felt the same. In a way, that made it worse. “But you are going to leave,” she said, not sure if her heart could handle loving another man who spent his life somewhere other than with her.
Unfortunately, her heart had already taken that leap, so she was going to have to deal with it regardless. She was ready for the crash when he gruffly said, “Yeah.”
“Will you come back?” She was pretty sure she already knew the answer.
Except she didn’t. Because what he said was, “I don’t know.”
She lifted her head up and narrowed her eyes. “Don’t lie to me, Jack Oxford.”
“See?” he said, smiling as he wrapped his arm around her and moved her over him. “That right there is why.”
“Right wh—?”
He silenced her with a kiss that could only be described as dizzying. She must have looked a little dazed when he pulled back because he laughed as he brought her head down to rest on his chest. “Yep. It is definitely the problem.” Then he took her head in his hands and kissed her again. “When it comes to you I can’t seem to say no.�
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She didn’t even bother teasing him. Oh, sure, he was a sweet talker whether he admitted it or not, but there was truth in every word he said. And she was taking his statement to be about a hell of a lot more than kissing her.
He should have said no, of course he wasn’t coming back. His life was baseball, not the wife and 2.2 kids—most definitely not four kids. But he seemed as unable to call an end to this as she was, so, as slim as it may be, there was still a chance.
She smiled to herself. She’d take it. There was just one thing. “The kids can’t know.”
“I know,” he said quietly. “I really hate it, but I know.” There was a pause before he asked, “Can I still see them if I promise to keep my hands off of you when they’re around?”
Now it was her turn to go still. She closed her eyes, hoping to squeeze back the tears before they escaped. She was already in deep enough with this man; she did not need any pushes to make her fall harder. But that was exactly what he’d just done. “Be extra careful with Silas,” she whispered although it was probably already too late there, too. Taking her words to heart, Jack left before the kids were up the next morning and kept away for the next two days.
It didn’t help one bit.
“But why can’t Jack come to our house for dinner?” Silas asked tearfully on Friday and then again on Saturday.
It took everything Lola had to not give in. It was overwhelming to the point of distraction. And what she blamed entirely for her weakened defenses when, Sunday morning, Jack unexpectedly showed up on her doorstep.
“Jack,” she said, both pleased and surprised.
“So I was thinking about what you said the other night.”
The falling in love part? Him leaving? Dave? “Okay,” she said, cautiously as she looked at the odd lump underneath his jacket.
“And I...” He frowned. “I was thinking that maybe if you and the kids had, well...” He unzipped his jacket, revealing a—
Oh.
My.
God.
“I mean, who doesn’t like a puppy?” he was saying.