And look how well that had worked out for him. Snapping his teeth closed, he tore a vicious bite out of the dog.
Intellectually, he knew one thing had nothing to do with the other. And yet—
Damned if he would ever allow himself to get caught in a trap like that again.
* * *
“GOOD GAME. GOOD GAME. Good game.” It was all Austin could do not to laugh like a lunatic as he and the rest of the Bulldogs filed in a line past the players on the opposing team, slapping hands and chanting the postgame wrap-up ritual with each man. ’Cause, jeez. It had been good game quadrupled. They’d kicked some serious ass today, winding up the final inning with a score of six to two.
He didn’t even mind that his old man had come. Okay, maybe he was the smallest bit glad that he had.
Because the guy had been crazy enthusiastic. He knew his baseball and totally got it when Austin’s team did something good, even if the fielding strategy of the moment didn’t result in a base gained or a point scored. He’d yelled his support over every single play the Bulldogs had pulled out of their hats, and whipped the surrounding parents into a cheering frenzy. He got them to chanting, “Hey, batta, batta, batta,” with each new batter up. That was probably some old nineties thing, but he had to admit, it was a little cool.
What was maybe cooler, though, was the way Jake had vocalized a singsong “Sling it in there, oh babe, oh babe!” every time he had winged a ball toward a baseman, then yelled, “Way to go, Austin!” And the three times his plays had failed, he’d called, “Good try!”
Then there was the photography. That was in a category all its own.
At the bottom of the third inning, his old man had climbed down from the stands with a big deal-looking camera slung around his neck. And, man, he’d been all over the place, the camera apparently an extension of his eye, one hand supporting the long lens. Whenever Jake—as Austin had caustically begun referring to him when he was forced to name him at all, since he was damned if he was going to call him Dad—was anywhere near, he was accompanied by a constant click-whir, click-whir.
Dude had also all but worn a path parallel to the foul lines, stalking up toward the outfield and back to the infield, with stops in between to take shots, often sinking down to squat on his heels. One time, when Daniels took that dive for third base in the sixth inning, his father had dropped full length on his stomach, only his elbows keeping him from doing a face-plant in the grass.
Austin was surprised he hadn’t climbed the damn backstop to take a few bird’s-eye-view shots.
His friends thought the whole deal was completely bitchin’, saying stuff like they could see how he stalked tigers and shit through the jungles. If someone held a torch to Austin’s feet, maybe, maybe he’d say that he thought it was pretty bitchin’ himself.
Maybe.
* * *
JENNY TURNED TO TASHA the minute they climbed into her car to head over to Bella T’s. Reaching across the console, she poked her friend in the arm. “What the hell was all that about?”
“Huh?” Tasha blinked. “What was what?”
“That whole let’s share the hunk and put him in the middle crap?”
“I thought, that is...” Tasha trailed off, giving Jenny a perplexed look. “You aren’t attracted to him, then?”
She blew an incredulous pffffftt. “Of course I am—have you taken a look at the guy? He, however, is not attracted to me. Which, trust me, made that whole shoving us together thing awkward as hell.”
The strawberry blonde snorted. “Please. I saw him looking at you that night at the Anchor—not to mention the fact he was practically in your lap way before I pushed him there—and he is definitely attracted!”
“No, he really isn’t.” The last thing she wanted was to go into this morning’s Three Stooges reference, so she cut to the meat of the matter. “He thinks I’m amusing.”
Indignation dawned on Tasha’s face, and Jenny straightened in her seat before it could solidify.
“The truth is,” she said with a surprisingly decent imitation of cool disinterest, “the only reason I’m all hot for Bradshaw’s body—aside from it being eminently hot-worthy—is this embarrassingly long dry spell I’ve been in. That and the fact men aren’t exactly thick on the ground around here.”
“At least until the summer people start trickling in,” Tasha agreed gloomily. She crossed her arms over her breasts. “Although there is Max Bradshaw. He’s almost as tasty as Jake, if you go for the whole brooding Heathcliff type.”
“Which, unfortunately, I never have. He’s way too self-controlled. I like ’em a little more—well, not hot-blooded, exactly, because under all that discipline, I’m thinking he has serious potential in that department.” She glanced across the console at her friend before turning her attention back to the road. “I guess I just like a little more spontaneity in my men.”
“I agree. I get Max’s sex appeal as well, but it simply doesn’t call to me.”
“So who does that leave?”
“Wade Nelson?”
Jenny shook her head. “Nah. He’s still waiting for Mindy Neff to come back to him.”
“Seriously, he’s got to get over that. She and Curt just celebrated their seventh anniversary.”
“I know, right?” Jenny shook her head. “Guy Wilson is another rebound guy. The ink’s barely dry on his divorce.”
Tasha drummed her fingers on her thigh for a moment. “How about David Brill?”
“Are you kidding me?” Jenny said hotly. “Mr. Globe-trotter Bradshaw might be a little out of my league, but at the very least I deserve a guy with all his teeth!”
“Crap, you’re right. We’re scraping bottom here. There’s only one thing for it. You know that, right?”
I do.” She gave her friend a solemn nod. “The next chance we get, you and I are heading into Kitsap.”
“Damn straight. And find us some new blood.”
* * *
EVERYONE GATHERED at Bella T’s after the game. When Tasha deserted her for the kitchen, Jenny gravitated toward some of the other parents, making sure to grab a seat as far away from Jake as she could.
Not that he noticed or would care if he did. He was too busy just charming the hell out of everyone left, right and sideways.
“You guys played an excellent game,” she heard him say now, then went on to discuss points of the various plays.
Points that totally went over her head.
That wasn’t the case with Austin or his friends or several of the fathers and Coach Harstead. She could almost hear the sucking sound of them being pulled into a spirited discussion.
Sneaking a peek while simultaneously carrying on a conversation with Rebecca Damoth, she watched as Jake homed in on his son.
“You’re a really good shortstop,” he said unreservedly.
Austin was obviously trying to play it cool, but she could tell he was pleased. “Yeah?”
“Definitely. I do have a few suggestions for improving on what you’ve already got,” Jake continued. “Maybe we could talk about them one of these days.”
The boy’s shoulders lifted and dropped. “Maybe.”
God. Jake was doing so much better than she’d expected. He had been way more engaged in Austin’s game than she ever would have given him credit for, his uninhibited enthusiasm for the team and the game firing everyone else to a near frenzy.
Which was saying something, considering how crazy this town already was about its team sports.
She should be glad that Bradshaw was more dedicated to getting to know his son than she’d anticipated...and she was.
Mostly. Because the only way a momentous change, like Jake taking Austin to New York, could be less traumatic was if the teen was fully invested in the relationship when the time came.
&nb
sp; But knowing the boy she’d come to love like a little brother would soon be living on the other side of the continent—
Damn. That was a cold dread in her stomach, an honest-to-God ache in her heart that just felt way too permanent.
The unwanted sexual pull Bradshaw exerted on her wasn’t helping, either. It sucked that, at the best of times, it was damn hard not to notice the man. And today had been far from the best of times. Between this morning’s fiasco, that lightning-fast, electric shock of a body mash in the bleachers, and Jake’s engaging gusto both then and now...
She sighed. It was hard not to be attracted.
Her shoulders squared. Well, she’d just have to motor past it. She was a big girl, and big girls—no, grown women—minimized their exposure to things that weren’t good for them. Especially if those things hammered their egos into paste.
She’d found out the hard way that nothing pulverized an ego faster than being all hot for someone who not only felt zip attraction in return but found you amusing.
So, it was settled, then. Minimizing her exposure to him was exactly what she would do.
Unfortunately, that merely left room for her to think about the letter from her father that had come just before she’d left for the game. In it he’d said he had good news to share and wanted her to visit him sooner than she’d originally planned.
A familiar apprehension tugged at her. Because she knew from experience that what was good for him wasn’t necessarily good for anyone else.
No. She sat a little straighter. She wasn’t that sixteen-year-old kid who’d been ripped from the life she’d known—and hadn’t been for a long time.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jake lean into the table.
“Hey, Austin,” he said to his son, who sat a few seats away. “Jenny tells me the boat you took out this morning is a Bayliner Bowrider?”
“Coolest ride ever, dude!” Austin’s friend Nolan decreed.
The boys bumped fists before Austin turned his attention to his father. “Yeah, it is.”
“And you got it for your birthday?”
“Uh-huh.”
“I’d like you to take me out on it.”
The teen’s mouth dropped open. “Say what?”
“That’s a lot of boat for a thirteen-year-old. Now, I’m sure, having grown up on the water, that you’re more than up to the task of controlling it. I’m also sure that you must be a responsible boater.”
Austin’s face went stony. “But?”
Jake gave him a level look. “But I wouldn’t be a responsible parent if I allowed you free rein before checking you out. So, when’s good for you?”
“How ’bout nev—”
“Jenny, of course, will accompany us.”
Say what? She jerked upright, grateful she hadn’t chided Austin when he’d said the same thing, because she totally got it now.
Jake flashed her a guilty grimace, to which she responded with a What the hell? look of her own—until she noticed Austin turning in her direction. Quickly rearranging her expression, she turned her lips up into what she sincerely hoped was a composed smile. She feared it was probably more a sickly contortion than the calm and collected Madonna-like serenity she was shooting for—but it was the best she could come up with on short notice.
Speaking of shooting, though, when it came to Jake that sounded downright appealing, and for a nanosecond she indulged the fantasy. Sans the blood-and-death thing.
“Jenny?” Austin demanded.
Her mind cleared. Because the truth was, aside from the part where he’d dragged her into it, she didn’t need to see a couple of parents’ looks of approval to know Jake’s decree had merit. Her smile turned genuine.
“You have to admit it’s a reasonable request. Unreasonable would be Jake becoming your legal guardian and not caring if you know what you’re doing on the water. So what’s the harm of giving him a demonstration?”
“Jeeez.” All the same, Austin gave Jake a terse nod. “Fine.”
His father flashed him a white, white smile. “Excellent. When’s good for you?”
Looking hunted, Austin shot her a beseeching look.
“Why don’t we look at your practice and my work schedules when we get home?” she suggested smoothly. “We can decide from there.”
And you, she thought darkly, shooting death rays Jake’s way when Austin turned back to his friends, had better prepare yourself for an earful. Because you and I are gonna have us a little talk about boundaries.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“CAN WE GET THIS OVER WITH, already?”
Jenny looked at Austin where he stood on the dock next to his boat, the sun slowly sinking toward the Olympic peaks at his back. With his arms crossed militantly over his narrow chest and his eyebrows meeting above the thrust of his nose, he broadcast in high def just how bored and put out he was about having to prove his boating abilities.
She swallowed a sigh because, truth to tell, she was still less than thrilled with Jake for sucking her into his arrangements without so much as a would-you-mind? But in unspoken agreement, the two of them were acting like the adults they were and studiously ignoring the teen’s pique. Instead, as they’d walked over to the dock, they’d discussed the Bulldogs’ practice, which Jake had watched this afternoon, although she’d had to miss it due to her work schedule.
Apparently, however, they’d exhausted Austin’s already limited patience.
She drew in a quiet breath, then eased it out. They needed to work on his manners.
She had to give Jake his due: he merely gave his son a nod and said, “Sure,” with no discernible dissatisfaction over Austin’s attitude. “Run me through your pre-takeoff safety check.”
“Dude, this isn’t an airplane.” But Austin waved them aboard his boat and squatted to untie the stern line from the cleat attached to the dock. He coiled the nylon rope with quick efficiency and leaned to tuck the line into a tiny side cubby in the boat before crab-walking to the forward cleat. Unlooping that line, he slid into the open bow of the Bayliner and stooped to stow it away, as well.
“Still,” he conceded as he straightened, “you gotta put on a life vest. I guess that qualifies as a safety thing. ‘No vest, no ride’ is a hard and fast rule of boating.” He shot Jake a defiant look as he entered the hull through the folded-back split windshield. “My grandpa taught me that.”
“It’s an excellent rule,” Jake said mildly.
“Yeah. It is.” The boy’s tense shoulders relaxed slightly. “You’ll find some under the seats back here.” After leaning over the driver’s seat to insert the key into the ignition, he edged past Jake and Jenny where they stood in the space between the captain seats and the back bench. Austin hauled his own vest out of the compartment beneath the bench cushions. Shrugging it on, he glanced at his father as the older man came to stand alongside him, then waved a hand at the other flotation devices in the storage he’d opened.
And displayed the first flash of his usual humor since Jake had arrived at the cottage this afternoon. “The orange-and-yellow youth-sized one is Jenny’s.”
The two males exchanged grins and Jenny flicked Austin’s forehead with her finger. “Brat.”
He laughed, clicked closed the triple belts on his vest and snugged up the straps, as Jake tossed Jenny her vest and donned his own. “You know it’s true, short stuff. Everybody buckled up?”
They finished fastening their vests, and Jenny waved Jake into the passenger seat as the teen slid into the driver’s chair and started the inboard-outboard. She went into the open bow, closed the windshield behind her and, zipping up her fleece hoodie, sat on the padded bench with her feet stretched out in front of her.
Easing the throttle out of Neutral, Austin slowly backed the craft from its berth.
Emmet
t truly had taught him responsible boating, and the teen kept the speed of the craft down until he reached deeper water. Then he steadily pressed the throttle forward until they were flying across the canal at top speed.
Jenny grinned and gathered her blowing hair at her nape to tie it into a knot before pulling her hood up. When she hadn’t been out for a while, she always seemed to forget how much she enjoyed boating and how thrilling it was to race across the canal on days like today, when the water was mirror flat and other boats were few and far between.
As they approached the far side of the fjord, Austin turned the boat in a long arc to the south. Foothills folded into more foothills, which ultimately gave way to craggy, snow-covered mountain peaks. The nuanced layers appeared close enough to trace with her fingertips.
They cruised the western shoreline, and as Austin piloted the boat behind a finger of land, he eased back on the throttle. A moment later, as they neared the opening to Tranquil Harbor, he decelerated even more. Water slapped the hull as the boat’s wake caught up with the now slow-moving craft, and they rode the gentle swell into the mouth of the long, narrow inlet.
Thick stands of evergreens, interspersed with the brighter lime and emerald of newly leafed alder and maple trees, surrounded the harbor on three sides. Generous moorage stretched down the west side, connected to the shore by narrow, arched pedestrian bridges.
The marina’s permanent tenant slips were occupied, but the majority of its short-term moorage was empty this time of year. Due to the popular year-round Friday- and Saturday-night barbecues, many of those berths would fill up on the weekends. And of course, as the weather improved the numbers would increase.
Until, come summertime, much like The Brothers, it would have so much business there would be waiting lists for a cancellation.
“This is one of Jenny’s favorite places,” Austin informed Jake as they motored through the marina under the posted five-mile-an-hour limit. Briefly, he met his father’s gaze.
“Grab the stern line,” he instructed as he let the boat drift up to one of the docks and put it in Reverse for a moment to halt its forward momentum.
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