Call Me Wild

by Robin Kaye

  “So this is about Andrew?” He blocked the door to the hall. “I thought we had a deal, a partnership, or doesn’t that mean anything?”

  “Fisher, I don’t know what you’re getting at. It was research, and you’ve known about this interview since I have.” She didn’t look at him. She couldn’t. She concentrated on stuffing everything she could think of in her bag and then zipped it up. If she left something, so be it. When she could no longer avoid it, she looked at him, standing like a sentry in the doorway, filling the space, stealing the oxygen from the room. “What’s your problem?”

  “You’re my problem. You’re flying off to LA and staying with another man who is clearly in love with you. You’re interviewing for a job that will put you on the other side of the country, and as far as I can see, you haven’t given any consideration to what this will do to us or to me. That’s my problem.”

  She couldn’t believe he went there. “Andrew’s not in love with me. We’re friends.” Wow, Fisher had that sexy-angry look down. She remembered it, and unfortunately, it had the same effect on her as it had at the foot of the mountain she’d climbed the first time she’d seen him pissed.

  “Bullshit. I saw the way he looked at you when you were Skyping. Hell, he has a veritable shrine to you at his house.”

  Jessie went nose to nose with him, and not in a good way. “You spied on me while I was having a private conversation with Andrew?”

  “You told him you loved him—”

  “I do.” She held her bag in front of her to keep from slugging him. “I love him like a brother. Andrew is my best friend. My only friend.”

  “Some friend. You said he left you.”

  “What the hell did you expect him to do? He got a job and moved to LA.” She threw up her hands, letting her bag flop against her side. “Why am I explaining this to you? This is none of your business.”

  “The hell it’s not. You’re mine. That makes it my business.”

  Jessie didn’t want to be anyone’s anything, but knowing that Fisher got all bent out of shape and possessive over the likes of her, embarrassingly enough, made her want to squeal like a five-year-old spotting her first Barbie Dream House. She tamped it down and channeled her old softball coach. “You don’t own me.” She pushed him back. “You don’t tell me where I can and can’t go.” She shoved him again. “And you sure as hell don’t pick my friends.” This time, she shoved with both hands, pushing him against the wall of the hall. “You are not my keeper.” Jessie turned on her heel and hurried toward the living room.

  “I love you, Jess. I want to be your partner, not your keeper.” Fisher followed, hot on her heels.

  She grabbed her computer and stuffed it into her messenger bag, blinking back tears, unable to breathe as the pain slammed into her. She had to make a clean break. She had to keep him from following her. If he did, she’d never be able to pull this off. Fuckity, fuck, fuck fuck.

  She hoisted the bag over her shoulder and squared off at the front door. “What do you want from me?”

  Fisher took her arms and pulled her up against him. “I want to know what the hell am I to you?”

  “Temporary.”

  Chapter 18

  Temporary? Fisher sank into a chair as the slamming of the door reverberated through his skull. He never knew one word had enough strength to knock the air out of him and cause him physical pain, but that one did.

  Gramps always said, “Boy, never ask a question you don’t want to know the answer to. You’ll surely get it.” Shit. Of all times for the old man to be right—but Fisher had wanted the answer, just not the one he got. Fuck.

  Getting drunk was out of the question. He had early rounds in the morning. Plus, he was depressed enough as it was, and adding alcohol would just make matters worse—if that were possible.

  When the phone rang, he ran for it, praying it was Jess. When he saw Hunter’s name on the caller ID, he let it go to voice mail and did the only think he knew that would keep him busy and from going completely insane. He cleaned. Everything.

  ***

  Jessie dragged her carry-on off the plane, toward the baggage area. She passed the security point, wondering what Fisher was doing. He’d had early rounds, but didn’t see patients until one. She’d thought about calling Karma and asking her to check on him. But after what she’d said to him, the way she’d hurt him, she didn’t think Karma would even speak to her, no less do anything to ease her mind or her guilt.

  She almost walked into Andrew before she saw him. His smile fell as soon as his eyes met her red-rimmed ones.

  “Oh sugar, it went that bad, huh?”

  Jessie couldn’t even speak. She just nodded and walked into Andrew’s open arms and leaked all over his shoulder.

  “What happened?”

  “I was so scared he’d follow me, that I wouldn’t be able to leave him. I eviscerated him and everything we had together. I was mean and cruel, and I hurt him. I don’t know if I can live with it, Andrew. I can’t sleep—every time I close my eyes, I see the pain in his face.”

  She’d thought what Jamie had done had hurt, but it was nothing compared to what she’d done to Fisher and herself.

  Still, if it hurt this much, she couldn’t imagine what it would feel like a year from now, if she had stayed.

  ***

  At ESPN Jessie was shuffled from office to office. She had three back-to-back interviews with executives, did screen tests of a play-by-play, conducted an on-camera interview, met other commentators, and did a mock sports talk segment. By the time the day was over, she figured they had an hour of footage and enough information about her to know her blood type and the date of her last menstrual cycle.

  Mitch Seibert walked her out of the office and down to the lobby. He stopped just beyond security. “Well, Jessie, it was nice meeting you. We’ll give you a call next week once a decision is made.”

  “Great. Thanks so much for the opportunity to interview. I enjoyed it. You have a great team.”

  “Good. I hope everything works out. Oh, and be sure to tell your grandfather hello for me, will you?”

  “Excuse me? Mitch, my grandfather’s dead.”

  The man blanched and took a step back. “Oh God, I had no idea. I just spoke to him the week before last. What happened? I know he had a heart attack a few years ago…”

  “Hold on, Mitch. You wouldn’t happen to be talking about Joe Walsh would you?”

  “Yeah, he called me and told me I’d be an idiot not to hire you on the spot. Joe gave me my start back when I was at Boise State. He’s the smartest man I’ve ever met. He’s been my mentor since I played Bronco football.”

  Jessie blew out a breath. “Grampa Joe is fine, but he’s not my grandfather. He just kind of adopted me.”

  Mitch wiped his brow with a handkerchief, looked like he was about to cry with relief, and then laughed. “That old coot. Leave it to him to spot the best talent I’ve seen in a long time. But damn, Jessie, you scared the hell out of me.” He took a deep breath and blew it out. “I don’t get out to see him often enough. You give him my love and tell him I’ll have that bottle of his favorite whiskey under my coat next time I come to the house.”

  She laughed. “He’s got you trained too, huh?”

  “Kate would skin us if she knew half the things the old man did.”

  “Guilty. We’ve been hitting the Westside Drive-In pretty hard lately.”

  Mitch put his arm around her. “Next time you come out, bring me an order of steak fingers, will you?”

  “I’ll get right on that. It was a pleasure to meet you, Mitch, I’m sorry about the confusion. I really didn’t mean to scare you like that. I had no idea Gramps had his fingers in this deal.”

  “I had the interview scheduled before he called about you. I told him about my past work with Andrew, who, I might add, is your biggest fan next to Joe. It was a coincidence, but I gotta say, the old man still has an eye for talent. You did great, Jessie. You’ll definitely be hearing f
rom us soon, so don’t go making any long-term plans until you do. Okay? We’ll be in touch with your agent.”

  She reached out and gave Mitch a hug. “That’s great to hear. Thanks.”

  ***

  By the time Trapper got to Humpin’ Hannah’s Wednesday night, Fisher was six thousand calories ahead and two sheets to the wind.

  Karma tilted her head toward Fisher at the other end of the bar and mouthed, “Do something.”

  Hunter came up behind Trapper and stole the beer Karma had just poured. Typical. Trapper did what he always did, patiently putting up with his younger siblings. Shit. He had problems of his own. He was in no mood to deal with Fisher’s heartache, but as usual, he didn’t have much of a choice.

  “Looks like there’s trouble in paradise.” Hunter took a long draw off Trapper’s stolen Guinness. “I’ve been calling Fisher since Sunday, and he hasn’t answered yet. He’s never gone underground that long.”

  Trapper shook his head. It was going to be a long night. “Let’s flip to see who takes him home.”

  Hunter took a quarter out of his pocket. “You call it.”

  “Heads.”

  Hunter smiled as he spied the coin—of course, he didn’t show it to Trapper. “Looks like you’re it.”

  “Damn, and I just cleaned my car.”

  “Maybe Karma will be nice and send him home with a bucket.”

  Trapper grabbed his beer and looked over to Hunter. “You ready?”

  Hunter took another swig. “Not much choice. Let’s go.”

  Damn, when Trapper got a look at Fisher, he saw himself five years ago. Not a good reminder. “Hey, Fisher. What’s going on?”

  Trapper took a seat beside Fisher, and Hunter flanked him. “You’ve been AWOL lately.”

  “It was temporary.” He shook his head, which rested on his hand, and upset the balance.

  “What’s temporary?” If Trapper hadn’t grabbed his shoulder, Fisher’s head would have hit the bar.

  “Jessica said I am,” Fisher slurred. “She’s got herself a new research partner, and she said she loves him, Trapper. That’s it. I’m giving up women. All of ’em.”

  Hunter leaned over. “Man, that’s harsh.”

  “Damn.” Fisher was never much of a drinker. He’d always been too busy working or studying to spend much time partying. The last time Trapper had heard Fisher slur was on his twenty-first birthday. Trapper had to take him home that night too—and ended up buying a new pair of boots after Fisher puked all over the ones Trapper had been wearing. Trapper looked down—at least he wasn’t wearing his favorites. That was something anyway. He nodded to Hunter. “If I end up losing another pair of boots, you’re buying me replacements.”

  “Gladly. Just as long as they’re not mine.”

  Fisher continued as if he hadn’t heard Hunter. “Jessica’s off in La-La Land with that guy Andrew who’s in love with her. I bet he’s not temporary.”

  Karma slid over to them and reached for the bottle of Macallan 18 sitting in front of Fisher.

  “Hey, that’s mine.”

  Karma was faster. “Not anymore, it’s not. Fisher Michael Kincaid, you’re officially cut off.” She gave Trapper and Hunter the evil eye. “Boys, you need to get him out of here. He’s been holding up the bar too long. God, he’s been here since opening, and I’m not a babysitter.”

  Trapper smiled his best smile. “I don’t suppose I can use your car, can I? I think the fresh air will do Fisher good.”

  “Not on your life.” She wiped down the bar. “I’ll give you a bucket.” She handed him a bucket that once contained margarita salt.

  “Great, thanks.”

  She patted Fisher’s cheek. “Don’t worry, sweetie. Jessie will be back in a few days, and things will be all right. She couldn’t even describe that guy, Andrew. There’s no chemistry.”

  “He loves her, and she loves him. I heard them.”

  Trapper scrubbed his face with his hands. “Shit. It’s gonna be a long night.” He threw Fisher’s arm over his shoulder, helped his little brother off the stool, and grabbed the bucket. Hunter took the other side, and they hustled Fisher out the door and into the Sequoia. Trapper buckled him in, stuck the bucket between his legs, and rolled down the window, before leaning Fisher’s head out. “You’re going to owe me so big.”

  Fisher let out a snore. Great.

  Hunter rocked back on his heels. “You stay with him tonight, and I’ll stop by in the morning.”

  Trapper threw his cowboy hat in the back seat. He’d really hate for Fisher to mistake that for a bucket. “Follow me to his house. He’s already asleep. I might need a hand carrying him in.”

  “No problem. I’ll follow you.” Hunter gave him a wave and walked away. Lucky bastard.

  Trapper made the drive without incident. He walked around the truck and waited for Hunter. “Come on, let’s get him inside. He’s out cold.”

  Hunter pulled the door open, and Trapper thanked God he hadn’t released the seat belt yet. It was the only thing keeping Fisher in the car. Between the two of them, they got Fisher onto the porch and had him leaning against the wall, while Hunter unlocked the door. “You couldn’t have unlocked the damn door before we got him out of the truck?”

  “Hey, I didn’t hear you suggest anything.”

  Fisher looked up. “I don’t feel so good.” He leaned forward, and there went a perfectly good pair of boots.

  Shit. It was going to be a long fucking night.

  ***

  “Gramps, you have to do something.” Karma couldn’t believe she was begging. “I promised the guys I wouldn’t interfere again, but someone has to. I can’t stand to see Fisher like this. It’s all my fault.”

  Gramps got up from behind his desk and walked to the window to look out over his empire—part of it anyway.

  Karma hated coming to Gramps’s office. Since she was out of diapers, her mother had always insisted she “dress appropriately.” In mom-speak that meant wearing a skirt or dress and the toe-strangling shoes that came along with it. Needless to say, it took a major family emergency to get her up to the twenty-ninth floor of the Walsh Building.

  Gramps crossed his arms. “Karma, first of all, this isn’t your fault. Jessie and Fisher have to find their own way. If they don’t want it badly enough, maybe they’re not meant to be together.”

  “Oh, come on, Gramps. You know they’re perfect for each other. They just have their timing screwed up, which is amazing, because I really thought they were on the same circadian rhythm, you know. They were constantly running into each other. But it turns out when it comes to love, Jessie and Fisher are on opposite sides of the bell curve. He’s fast, she’s slow, and that spells disaster.”

  Gramps let out a laugh. “Jessie fell just as hard and fast for your brother as he did for her, even an old fool like me could see that. She’s just been hurt. That girl’s as skittish as a sixteen-point buck on the first day of huntin’ season. She’ll come around.”

  Karma threw herself into one of the big leather chairs in front of Gramps’s desk, almost forgetting she was wearing a skirt. Damn, she really hated keeping her legs crossed. “I don’t know, Gramps. Jessie really hurt Fisher. You didn’t see him last night. Trapper and Hunter had to pour him out of the bar.”

  “That boy’s never much of a drinker.”

  “And Fisher tossed his cookies all over Trapper’s boots.”

  “Why’d you let him drink so damn much?”

  Karma stood and stomped over to the old man. “Have you ever known any one of my brothers, or Ben for that matter, to ever listen to me? Why do you think I always have to trick them?”

  “I always thought it was because you can, and you enjoy pullin’ the wool over their eyes.”

  “Okay, you’ve got me there. You’d think they’d know by now not to underestimate me. But it doesn’t change the fact that they never listen to a word I say.”

  “I assume you have a devious plan brewing in that pretty littl
e head of yours.” He slicked back what was left of his white hair. “What’s it gonna be this time?”

  “Nothing. It would be too obvious. They’ll be expecting me to do something. But you, on the other hand…”

  “Jessie will be back in town on Friday.”

  Karma rubbed her hands together. “And my sources say she starts training at Starbucks on Monday.”

  “Well, shit. If I knew she needed a job that badly, I would have hired her myself.”

  “She’s writing a book, and she’s just doing the Starbucks thing for the health benefits. Plus, it will give her time to write.”

  He sat down. “I know plenty of people in publishing. What kind of book is she writing?”

  “Promise not to tell anyone?” Karma sat forward.

  “Scout’s honor.”

  “Yeah, like you were ever a Boy Scout. But it’s too good not to tell you. Jessie’s writing a romance.”

  Gramps let out a guffaw. “Now that’s one book I’ve got to read. The girl doesn’t recognize love when she’s up past her waders in it, and she’s writing a romance? You know, now that I think about it that might make some kind of strange sense after all. Sometimes you have to know something in here.” He pointed to his head. “To figure things out in here.” He pointed to his heart.

  He walked around his desk and pressed the button for his intercom. “Shamus, get me Mitch Seibert on the phone.” His eyes sparkled. “Okay, girly, get out of here, so I can formulate a plan.”

  “I knew I could count on you.” She went around his desk and kissed his cheek. “After all, I learned from the master.”

  ***

  “You’re cleaning?”

  Jessie turned away from the kitchen sink she was scrubbing to find Andrew staring at her. “I got into the habit at Fisher’s. He’s a neat freak right down to the way he folds his towels.” She took the kitchen towel and folded it in thirds. “See, the man is sick. He folds the kitchen towels in thirds lengthwise and then in half, but the bath towels have to be folded in thirds and then thirds again. And you can’t just stuff them in the closet. Nooo, you have to put the rounded edge facing out like a display at Neiman Marcus.”