The Catcher and the Lie

by Rita Oberlies

  Abby answered the only way she knew how, brushing her hands along the smooth planes of his shoulders. “I’m not that smart.”

  This time her lips found his mouth, coaxing his tongue into a warm dance that spread heat through her body. The thin material of his sweatpants did little to mask his need. It was no greater than her own.

  When his hands slid under her shirt, releasing the clasp on her bra, Abby thought her knees would buckle. The feel of his warm palms cupping the weight of her breasts, while his fingers caressed her nipples, only increased her ache. Without thought she twisted her hips until they were flush against his front. Her breathing hitched. Nick rubbed against her, creating a friction that threatened to send her flying alone.

  It hit her like a brick. Her feelings for Nick went way beyond her experience. They made her relationship with Tyler seem infantile. The connection was physical and mental, and overwhelming. Abby had the urge to cry. Instead she pulled back.

  “Okay,” she said, trying to catch her breath. “You are beyond hazardous to my health.” She tucked her head under his chin, chiding her brain for deserting her in her time of need.

  Nick cupped the back of her neck. “A little scary, huh?”

  Relief washed over her. “Uh huh. I’m not ready just yet.”

  He chuckled. “Honey, I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready for you. But I want you to be the one to make that call.”

  Abby wondered if the time would ever be right to explain part of the reason for her hesitation. It meant opening up another small window into her soul. Not an easy step, especially with someone who wasn’t ready to offer her much beyond a good time. She bit her lip, hoping it might jump start the brain cells in her head.

  She pulled her head away from the security of his shoulder. “If nothing else we’re going to be honest with each other, right?”

  He sighed. “It’s one of the things I find most attractive about you, McCabe. What’s not written on your face flows freely from your mouth.”

  “Good.” Abby inched back until her knees hit the corner of the couch. “Here’s the deal. A lot of people my age have a long track record. I’m, well…I’m not one of them.”

  Nick’s face clouded. “Could you be a little more specific?”

  “Well,” Abby said. “Despite the signals I’m sending, my list of references is short. Really short.”

  Nick reached out, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips. “Why is this conversation making you so nervous?”

  She scowled. Only a man would make light of her discomfort. “I’m guessing your background is quite, shall we say, extensive. I just thought it was fair to warn you that mine is not.”

  He pushed her shoulders slightly, sending her in a heap to the cushion below. “I don’t keep a black book with notes, Abby. Sex isn’t a competition.”

  Even the word brought a blush all the way to the roots of her hair. “Good to know. So, I should probably clear out. Let you get on with your day.”

  He dropped down next to her. “Trust me on this. When we do decide to take that step, it’s going to be better than either of us imagined.”

  “How on earth do you know that, Valente?”

  “Easy.” Nick dragged her legs across his lap. “I’m ready to explode the second you walk into a room. That’s without even touching you. Exploring every inch of your body will be enough to bring me to satisfaction.”

  Abby relaxed. She was going to trust his words. Heck, she didn’t have much of a choice.

  He dragged her legs until her bottom was nestled on his lap. “Want to do some warm-up exercises? I’ve got a couple of hours and nothing will relax me more than a little exploring.”

  Abby hooked her leg around his thigh, straddling his lap. It was an offer she couldn’t refuse.

  Chapter Eight

  It was odd. Nick couldn’t pinpoint a moment in his life, beyond the age of eighteen, when he had felt more at peace. His four years at school had been about chasing his dream. The years immediately following had been consumed with proving he deserved that dream. Alyssa. That had been a strange time. More of an expected step rather than the culmination of his dream about starting his own family.

  Abby had seeped into his blood without warning. She was warm, funny, acerbic and expected nothing from him in return. When they were together, he was happy. It was a friendship that held the promise of everything. Yesterday he had been tempted to tell her the full story about his marriage and its disintegration. He held back though. First he needed to finally cut the last strings with Alyssa.

  He would be her friend, but he couldn’t be her cover. His old teammates, hell even some of his current teammates, thought his relationship with his ex continued. It had but not in the way anyone believed. Up until now there hadn’t been a good reason to set the record straight.

  Abby was the best reason. Her visit last week had forced his hand. She thought of their relationship as friends who were on the brink of sleeping together. He hadn’t tried to alter that perception. It was enough for him to know that his feelings were far from casual.

  Her anxiety over taking things to the next level hadn’t diminished. It surprised him that he didn’t care more. He was having fun. Eating french fries after a game while arguing over the merits of inter-league play was enough to hold his interest. Counting fireflies in her backyard, trying to ignore her neighbors arguing, was a surprisingly good time.

  Kevin had cornered him at practice that morning. Apparently his mood around the park had changed. His hitting was strong and his attitude contagious. Things had come together at the right time. There was less than five weeks left in the regular season and he was at his peak.

  If Kevin had any suspicions about whom he was spending every free moment with, he’d kept them to himself. Abby was still dead set against explaining their circumstances to anyone. Bridget called about a dozen times a day and Abby never mentioned him. Not once. He was partly to blame, so he tried to dismiss the irritation he felt at the slight.

  The remnants of Tropical Storm Roberto had already dropped five inches of rain since midnight. Several more inches were expected to fall, wreaking havoc on the roadways. Nick knew the team would be disappointed. Their latest streak, four consecutive wins, would be put on hold tonight. Tomorrow’s game might also face postponement.

  Against his advice, Abby had gone to her office. With less than a week to go before the new semester began, she was knee deep in meetings. The last hour had brought not only pounding rain but also high winds. Her car was on par with a shoebox, and Nick wasn’t wholly convinced of its safety in tough conditions.

  Impulse had him grabbing his keys and his wallet. Thirty minutes later he sat idling in an employee parking lot. The Norfolk campus was by no means large, but the security guard who had provided directions spoke in a rapid roll of pure Bostonian dialect. The speed always did him in. Even after five months it was daunting.

  He finally spotted her car. Hoping it would lead to her, he hopped out of his truck, narrowly missing a puddle of dubious depth. After a couple of wrong turns he came upon Feeney Hall. Other than a small sitting area, the front hall was barren and deserted. The sound of his boots, still logged with water, reverberated through the entire floor.

  A light at the end of the hall was the first sign of life he encountered. The voice was a familiar one. Two faces met his arrival.

  “Nick,” Abby said. “What are you doing here? There’s a driving advisory. Only authorized vehicles are supposed to be on the road.”

  He shrugged. “Figured you might need a lift home.”

  That brought a smile to the face of the man sitting next to her. His interest was obvious. Nick wasn’t quite sure of the nature. Friend or rival.

  Abby stood, motioning to the window. “It’s getting worse. Ben and I were just trying to decide what we should do.”

  Nick stepped forward, extending his hand. “Nick Valente.”

  The man walked around the desk. Nick figured him to be late thi
rties and judging from his hand, single. “Ben Costello.”

  Abby remained mute. A look of unease in her eyes. It took a moment before he understood why.

  “Well,” Ben said, “excuse the cliché, but Abby has told me quite a bit about you. It’s nice to meet you.”

  Unease morphed into pique. So, Abby hadn’t maintained a vow of complete silence. Nick was perverse enough to be pleased that at least someone knew he had a connection to Abby.

  “Same here,” Nick said. “Abby’s right about the roads. The added wind is moving quite a bit of debris onto the streets.”

  “I live only a few miles off campus, so I should be fine.” Ben turned toward Abby. “What about you?”

  Her eyes moved from one face to the other, before settling on Nick. “Don’t say it. You’re both running through a lecture in your heads right now about my thread-bare tires. If you mention the importance of proper maintenance, I’m walking.”

  Nick rolled his eyes. “Never even noticed the tires, McCabe. But the car looks like it reached mandatory retirement age about five years ago.”

  Ben turned away, a wide grin framing his face. “I’m going to pack up my office. Take it easy.” Passing Nick, he stopped, reached out and shook his hand, muttering something under his breath.

  Nick waited until the sound of retreating footsteps could no longer be heard before reaching for Abby. He pulled her tight against his chest. “Was this a good surprise or a stepping-over-the-line moment?”

  Abby slid her fingers through the fine hair on the back of his neck. “This was a you-just-made-my-whole-week moment.”

  The muscles around his chest relaxed. “If we get out of here now, I bet I could change that to a you-just-rocked-my-world moment.”

  Abby’s eyes rolled clear to the back of her head. “Oh please. Does that line ever work for you?”

  “Well, I remember this blonde down in Miami. She was…”

  The sight of Abby’s back, dragged down with a quilted backpack, marching out her office door had his body humming and his mouth praying.

  “Power’s out,” Nick said, slowly navigating through the impotent stoplight just blocks from her home. “I’m guessing outages are pretty widespread.”

  The news was met with an enormous smile. Abby loved storms. Snow or rain it didn’t matter. Nature had a way of slowing the world down. Today she would enjoy the break. She turned, allowing her eyes to absorb the beauty of the man next to her. He was beautiful. In nothing more than jeans and a plain black T-shirt, Nick was breathtaking. The dark shadow of stubble along his chin and jaw matched the determined glint in his charcoal eyes.

  “Well, at least the storms have dropped the temperature down. My house should be bearable.”

  His laugh was explosive. “Honey, I don’t care if it’s a hundred degrees. No place on earth I’d rather ride out a storm.”

  Her stomach flipped. He didn’t have to say the words to know what he was thinking. This moment had been weeks in the making. Clearly, Nick was ready to take the leap from friend to more than friend. The truth was, she was as ready as she would ever be.

  The sight of her front lawn changed her concern back to the storm. “Where’s my beautiful dead grass? I can’t even see the steps to my front door.”

  Nick turned, silently watching her face. “Your neighborhood is definitely getting hit hard. The drainage system is probably pretty old. There’s no way it could keep pace with this weather.”

  “Well, at least it doesn’t look like anybody’s house is in jeopardy. Should I check around and make sure everyone is okay? Most of my neighbors are retirees.”

  If Nick was displeased with her suggestion, he hid it well. “Couldn’t hurt. Let’s move quickly though. This storm doesn’t look like it’s going to let up anytime soon.”

  Forty minutes later they found their way back to her driveway. While Abby had checked in with her neighbors, Nick had done the heavy lifting, moving everything from outdoor furniture to barbeque grills to Pepper Nolan’s doghouse to higher ground. The wet, dirty, slightly smelly man in front of her never looked sexier. Apparently she was not alone in that opinion.

  “Thanks for the heads up,” Nick said, peeling clothes off as he made his way to her back door. “Your neighbors are a little closer to sitcom material than I’m used to.”

  Abby tried hard to keep up with his steps and his train of thought. She was falling behind in both areas. “You’ve lost me. Did the whole celebrity jock thing overwhelm them?”

  “Honey, that was the least of my worries.”

  When they reached the partially enclosed entry way, Abby began shedding her own sopping wet clothing. “I’m hanging by a thread here, Valente. Did Mr. Wallace try to sell you his gold coin collection? Even our mailman gets stuck with that sales pitch at least once a week.”

  His eyes moved from her face down to her white camisole and matching briefs. “Nice look. I’m betting Gus Dewitt is reaching for his binoculars right about now.”

  Pushing past him, she pulled open her screen door and stepped into her kitchen. “Yeah well, whatever gets him through the day. Why don’t we throw everything into a plastic bag for now? Until the electricity is back on there’s not much I can do about our clothes.”

  His eyes twinkled with amusement. “Should I shed all the way down to my skin? I’d hate to ruin the furniture.”

  “Hold it right there, big guy. Let me grab a pair of old sweats. When I get back I expect to hear all the things I missed during our good will mission.”

  Rummaging through her closet, she finally found an old pair of navy sweatpants that she had permanently borrowed from her brother Tim. Tossing them, along with an oversized T-shirt commemorating Norfolk College’s centennial celebration, on the bed, she turned back toward her dresser. Pulling on a fresh pair of panties and a matching peach bra, Abby briefly thought about what the proper attire should be for possible seduction. Finding nothing even mildly provocative, she finally selected a loose-fitting cotton dress that stopped a few inches above her knees.

  When she re-entered the kitchen she was surprised to see Nick in the middle of a phone call. Apparently cell towers were still functioning. She almost made it back into the hall before Nick’s hand shot out and halted her departure.

  “Okay, not a problem. Call my cell if you need to reach me.” When the call ended, Nick loosened his hold on her arm. “That was Kevin. I wanted to let him know that you were fine and that I was going to stick around here until the storm passed.”

  “That will give my cousin something to talk about for the next few hours. She’s probably already begging Kevin to call you back.”

  A full smile flashed across his face. “Well, give us a few hours and she’ll really have something to talk about.”

  Abby broke eye contact. “Here. This is the best I can come up with.” She handed over the small pile of clothes. “Feel free to use the bathroom.”

  “I’m fine right here.”

  As soon as his fingers reached the waist band of his boxers, Abby turned away. “I’m going to grab a couple of sodas.”

  “Chicken,” he taunted. “Most women can’t find the strength to turn away.”

  “So funny, yet I’m not laughing.” She reached into the dark refrigerator, relieved to find it still cold despite the loss of power. “Diet root beer or diet ginger ale?”

  “That freakish calorie obsession has diminished your ability to be a good hostess.”

  “I’m guessing that translates into no thank you.”

  He smirked, completely unruffled. “A diet root beer is fine.”

  She placed one at the table, settling in a seat against the wall. “So, time to spill your secrets. What did I miss earlier?”

  He straddled the chair closest to her. “Oh, where should I start? Let’s see. The lady with the beehive, Trudy Gallstone, had a rather unusual request. She…”

  “Gladstone,” Abby said, trying hard not to laugh at his serious expression.

  “What
ever,” Nick said, waving his hand in dismissal. “Not exactly what I expected.”

  “What’s wrong with Trudy? Everyone loves her. She made me a chocolate cake to cheer me up after my breakup with Tyler.”

  “Hmm,” Nick said. “I’m not sure I’d be eating anything that comes out of her kitchen.”

  Abby didn’t like where the conversation was headed. “Obviously you have something useful you want to share.”

  “Little Miss Trudy is growing enough pot in her backyard to keep the whole neighborhood happy well into the next decade.”

  Abby choked on a mouthful of soda. “Are you sure?”

  “Honey, I’m not into that stuff but it’s kind of hard not to recognize it.”

  Abby swallowed back a burp. “Maybe it just looked…”

  Nick lifted a hand. “Stop. Your naiveté is embarrassing me.” He moved his hand down, resting it on her thigh. “She asked me if I could move the pots somewhere safe but far enough away from the house that no one would see them.”

  “Well I’ll be dipped. I guess it’s true you never really know people as well as you think you do.”

  Nick reached for the can in front of him and took a long swallow. “That brings me to the tall, bald guy in the grey house.”

  “That’s Len Falcone. Moved in last winter. His wife left him after twenty years of marriage.”

  Nick nodded, playing the moment for all that it was worth. “Maybe she didn’t share his obsession with blow-up dolls.”

  “Now you’re just messing with me.”

  He raised his hand. “Scouts honor. And before you ask, no I was never really a scout. I dropped out after I saw the dorky uniforms.”

  “How do you know he has a thing for plastic?”

  “Well, he asked for help moving his picnic table into the garage. Apparently he wasn’t the least bit embarrassed by his collection. He actually seemed sort of proud.”

  Abby tried to come up with a good reason why a grown man would make a hobby of collecting plastic dolls. Her brain came up empty, leaving a sour taste in her mouth for dear old Len. No more summer solstice parties in his backyard.