by Leger, Lori
“Go play ball, Jack,” Carrie said, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes.
“Yeah, it’s time to kick ass out there,” Gretchen said.
“So we can go home,” Lauren added.
“Because it’s too damn hot out here!” Amanda threw in.
Jackson shook his head and started back to the field. He got about ten yards away from the stands when a loud whistle, followed by a woman’s cat call, had him stopped in his tracks.
“Hey baby! I’d like to have that swing in my back yard!”
Jackson turned slowly, totally shocked that all eyes were on him. “What the hell?”
“Yep, I’m talking to you, good lookin’!” More feminine snickers followed the comment.
Jackson turned quickly back to the field, shaking his head as laughter erupted from the bleachers.
He entered the dugout, still somewhat in shock.
Red slapped him on the back. “What’s the matter buddy?”
“I think I’ve just been sexually harassed.” He grinned as everyone in the dugout gathered around.
“What did they say?” Sherri asked him.
“Um … Hey baby, I’d like to have that swing in my back yard.” The dugout exploded with laughter.
Sherri snickered and shook her head. “Poor thing. Are you upset?”
“Should I be?” he asked as Sherri shrugged carelessly. “If any of us guys would have said that to you, they would have crucified us.”
Sherri dropped her knee pads and catcher’s mask on a bench inside the dugout. “Hey, if I’d have worn a wet tee shirt to play baseball, every damn one of y’all would have said I was asking for it, so get over it.”
Red busted out laughing and slapped him on the back. “You just got burned!”
“I guess I did.” He joined in the laughter as he turned to watch Giselle walk slowly back to the bleachers. She still rubbed her forehead as if she were in pain.
He put himself in her place, imagining how he’d feel if he had to sit through a bleacher full of men making lewd comments about his girlfriend. He winced inwardly, thinking he’d have had a massive migraine as well. Further contemplation had his frown turning into an ear splitting grin.
He chuckled, thinking this game couldn’t end soon enough. Thankfully, the teams had decided to implement the ten-run rule, meaning if any team scored ten points more than the other, they’d call it a ballgame.
Jackson clapped his hands loudly. “Okay! I’m ready to get out of this heat. How about y’all?”
A round of affirmatives answered.
“Good! Get out there and hit the crap out of that ball. Let’s score some points so we can all go home and cool off.”
His pep talk must have hit the spot. They nearly made it through two complete rounds of their batting line up. His team was up by nine points, with two outs and the bases loaded. Jackson, highly motivated and primed for a much needed talk with Giselle, hit one out of the park. It ended the game with a satisfying, but energy draining 20 – 7 victory over the all-star team.
He walked off the field and caught up with Carrie and Sam at the faucet. Sam wet his bandana and used it to wipe his face and skull.
“Good game, Jack. You obviously haven’t lost your skills.”
“Thanks man. Hey, Giselle hasn’t left yet, has she?”
Carrie grinned at him. “I don’t think so. Wait, let me see that swing again.”
“Your ass!” he threw over his shoulder.
“No, I believe it was your ass this time!” she said, her laughter following him out of the park.
He finally spotted Giselle standing at his Avalanche. The sight of her had his stomach cutting anxious somersaults. He approached, catching the girls picking out drinks from the two large ice chests in his truck bed.
Lexie saw him and jumped from the bed into his arms. “You did good, Jackson!”
He tossed her in the air, and gave her a kiss before setting her down. “Thanks, baby girl.”
Mackenzie approached and gave him a one armed hug before wrinkling her nose in distaste. “Great game, Jackson. But pew-ee, you’re all sweaty!”
“I know, but thanks Mac, that means a lot coming from a star player like you.” Jackson pulled her just close enough to kiss the top of her head. He grabbed a bottle of water, twisted off the cap and gulped half of it down. “Man, that’s good.” He pulled a bandana out of his pocket and wet it with some of the cold water, and wiped his face. “Days like this make me miss wintertime.”
“That was a good game. Congratulations,” Giselle said.
“Thanks. How’s the headache? Are you feeling better?”
“Some. It’s still there, but not as bad. Ready, girls?”
He placed a hand on her shoulder. “Where are y’all headed?”
“Actually, I’m about to bring the girls over to Bill’s to spend the night with Alyssa.”
He leaned one hip against the truck bed and faced her. “Can you meet me at my house afterwards? I’d like to talk to you about something.”
“Yeah, I guess I could do that. I want to catch up a little with Gwen and Bill, but I’ll be there within the hour.”
He nodded, pulling his shirt away from his sweat drenched torso. “Excellent. It’ll give me a chance to get cleaned up. Thanks.”
Red joined them, and Giselle stared at the two of them, giving her head a shake. “I see both your shirts have dried.”
Jackson allowed himself to gloat just a little at her still visible signs of jealousy. “You do what you have to do to keep the body temp down.” Her comeback was as sharp as any jab of a needle.
“I’ll have to remember that. I can wear my wet T-shirt at next year’s game. Better yet, I’ll just come in my swimsuit.”
Jackson sucked in his breath, getting a mental image of her barely there one-piece suit.
Red cleared his throat loudly. “I’ve got a club to run, so I need to pack up. Giselle, it was good to see you again.” He leaned over to place a gallant kiss on Mac and Lexie’s hands, making them giggle. “Little ladies, it was lovely to meet you.”
Giselle gave him a quick hug. “Good to see you Red.”
Jackson watched her departure while simultaneously helping Red load everything back into his truck.
Red’s low chuckle got his attention . “I think she may be pissed at you for the shirt removal incident, bro.”
“You took your shirt off, too. She didn’t seem to be pissed at you.” Jackson watched her Tucson pulling out of the park.
Red slammed his truck’s tailgate and climbed inside the cab. “Could be because she’s not in love with me.”
Jackson turned his gaze on Red. “You think so?”
Red started his truck and nodded. “Yep, and it couldn’t happen to two nicer people. Later, buddy.”
Giselle pulled into Jackson’s driveway in just under an hour. She entered the door he held open for her, still feeling a little miffed, though she’d tried to tell herself she was being silly.
“Did your headache go away?”
“Yes, finally.” She winced at her snappish tone.
“Good, but listen up, Giselle—” He wagged his fingers back and forth between the two of them. “—this little arrangement of ours isn’t working for me.”
Her heart picked up a steady, uncontrollable pounding. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t want to be friends with you,” he said.
Giselle felt the icy fingers of panic creeping in and around her heart. She swallowed, biting back her fear. “I guess you can’t help how you feel.” How the hell was she pulling off this illusion of calm? Especially when all she wanted to do was scream, cry, beg him to reconsider. She walked sedately to the door, placed her hand on the knob. She felt the gentle touch of his hand on her arm, and turned, dreading his next words.
“I want to be with you, Giselle. I can’t be around you and pretend that I don’t.” He closed his eyes and sighed. “I know what you’re afraid of, but I’m begging you
to reconsider. I only want you. So, what do you think?”
“Oh.” Her breath released in a rush of relief. “I think maybe—we c-ccould try,” she stammered.
His stance widened as he crossed his arms. “What does that mean?”
She pulled away, started a steady back and forth pacing in front of him. “Look, I spent all day at that park, first having to watch Lisa throw herself at you, and then later with all those women gawking and making comments.” She stopped to face him. “God, it made me crazy!” She picked up the pacing again. “I had to keep my jaw clenched to keep from saying anything. That’s how I got my headache. And you!” She turned and poked a finger in his solid chest. “Taking off your shirt like that in front of all those sex-starved women? The majority of those ladies live with men with pot bellies and bald heads. The only six packs they’ve seen in two decades are the ones in their refrigerators. What the hell, Jackson? What were you thinking?”
She shook her head at his smug grin, continued her ranting. “And then, as if the situation wasn’t bad enough, once you put the wet shirt back on, there was steam coming off of your body. Honestly, it was like watching porn.” She spread her hands out, remembering how helpless she’d felt at the time. “It just … it made me realize that I … I want you. All to myself,” she finished, crossing her arms tightly to control her trembling.
Jackson had endured her tirade patiently, silently, one arm supporting his elbow and a hand covering his mouth. Probably trying not to laugh his ass off at the situation.
Slowly, he stepped forward to place both hands gently upon her shoulders. He dropped his gaze to hers. “Steam? Are you sure?”
She twisted her mouth in a crooked grin and nodded. “God, it was awful! You should have heard them.” Her head fell forward.
He placed his hand on the back of her neck to pull her close, until her forehead rested on his chest. “So, does this mean we’re a couple?”
She nodded, wrapping her arms around him. “If that tramp Lisa puts her hands on you again, you tell her you’re taken.”
“Or better yet, you can.”
“I don’t have a problem with that,” she shot back.
His chest rumbled with laughter as he held her close, rocking her gently in his arms. “I’ll tell her I already have the most beautiful girl in the world, and she’s all I’ll ever need.”
She smiled, her face plastered against his broad chest. “You’d better.”
“I thought it would take forever for you to come to me like this, baby.”
She lifted her gaze to stare into those sexy eyes that invaded her dreams. “Jackson, I care about you so much. I just don’t know about anything else yet.”
“I know, but we have time for all that. Nothing but time.” He gently lifted her chin and gave her one of those toe-curling kisses she’d been waiting for … All. Day. Long.
Giselle dropped off the girls at school and drove to Toby’s old office. She knocked on Gordon’s door, walked when his secretary said he was free.
Gordon moved around his desk to give her a bear hug. “Good to see you, Giselle!”
“You too. I’m sorry this took so long,” she said. “I brought two big boxes. Do you think that’ll be enough?”
“Probably—our boy didn’t keep anything unless it was important to him. You think I could have a little something of his you’re willing to part with?”
“Sure. By the way, I brought these for you.”
He looked inside the bag she handed him, and grinned as he pulled out the caps. “Thanks Giselle; he did love those Tigers. I’ll cherish them.”
“Don’t cherish them too much. He’d want you to wear them.” Giselle entered Toby’s office with the boxes and closed the door softly behind her. She stood in the center and pivoted slowly, regarding the area her husband had occupied for so long. She’d helped to decorate his home away from home, adding personal touches that said this was her husband’s space. Everywhere she turned, she saw signs of Toby—with her—with their girls—with co-workers. Diplomas, certifications, awards, framed newspaper clippings of grand openings. Everywhere she looked she found more Toby.
Giselle only allowed herself a few minutes to get misty-eyed, before getting down to the business of packing his personal things. She began with the desk then worked her way around the room, methodically removing every trace of him from the walls, surfaces, and floors.
She examined the rack of rolled plans, all covered with a light layer of dust. She’d ask Gordon if she could keep them for her girls. Maybe one of them would follow in her father’s footsteps. Even if they didn’t, she wanted them to understand what he’d done for a living, how he’d provided for them. The very last set of plans she pulled from the rack turned out to be their proposed house plans. She unrolled it carefully, reverently, to study them. There were details in the floor plan that proved he’d listened to her suggestions; a room labeled Giselle’s craft/sewing room, an area near the attached shed labeled Giselle’s potting bench, etc. She smiled when she saw the notations in her husband’s neat handwriting. Everything—every little thing they’d discussed, at one point or another, was here.
She wiped at her tear-filled eyes, sad that such a good man had been taken from this earth far too soon. “You did good, baby.” She rolled up the set of plans, placed it carefully back into the tube, and placed it in a box. She surveyed the room. That’s it … I’m done here.
She loaded the two boxes into her truck and pulled out a frame holding a shot she’d snapped of Toby and Gordon together when they’d all gone fishing in the gulf last summer. It was in a beautiful mahogany frame with a fishing theme, and she thought it would be just the thing to leave with Gordon. There was no one in his office, or at the secretaries’ desk, so she went in and sat down to wait for him. She heard both secretaries return to their desks on the other side of the partition. She stood, intending to ask how long she’d have to wait to see Gordon, but the words from one of them carried through the open door, stopping her cold.
“Poor Giselle, do you think she knew?”
“No. There’s no way. What was her name, anyway?”
“Chloe somebody, from Lake Coburn, I think.”
“I remember Toby talking about a Chloe once. She was the wife of a friend of his from the gym—a Broussard, maybe? He called her ‘Crazy Chloe’.”
“That’s it. Chloe Broussard. Her husband was a big, tall, good looking man. I saw them in that new restaurant in Lake Coburn once. She treated him awfully and caused a horrendous scene. He was so apologetic and polite but she was a flipping shrew. Honestly, some women are never satisfied.”
“Some men either. Look at how gorgeous Giselle is. She and Toby always seemed so close. Are you sure he was sleeping around on her?”
“I saw them together with my own eyes about a month before he died. That tramp was wrapped around him like a stripe on a barber pole. Kept asking why he hadn’t answered her email. One of those model skinny little blondes. Giselle is much prettier. Toby must have gone temporarily insane.”
Thankfully, one of their phones rang and they both left to bring something to the meeting in progress. Weak and trembling, Giselle rose slowly from the corner chair—her stomach rolling with hurt and humiliation. She stood for a few moments, tying to steady herself. As soon as she could manage, she left the office through the back door, taking care to avoid any run ins with Toby’s co-workers.
She sat in her vehicle, dazed and sick at heart. Toby and Chloe—having an affair. He wouldn’t do that to her, would he? Her skin broke out into a cold, clammy sweat. A wave of nausea rolled over her. She fought it off, lowering her head onto the steering wheel until it passed. Fighting off tears, she made a mad dash to the cemetery. She threw her truck into park and ran to his grave, falling to her knees before the granite slab and headstone.
“How could you do that to me, Toby? To Jackson?” Wrapped around him like a stripe on a barber’s pole. She placed one hand on her stomach as bile rose to her thro
at. She turned away from the stone, retching at the image of her husband with that vile woman. She faced the headstone, wiping her mouth.
“You son of a bitch. How could you?” She broke down, sobbing, crying bitter, devastated tears. Once the first wave passed she wiped her eyes and sat back on her heels. The secretary’s comment about email had her recalling the small, leather bound pad she’s seen. It held passwords to his various accounts, email and otherwise. Desperate to find information to disprove the accusation, she sped home and dug the book out of the box. She dropped in front of her computer and logged into Toby’s local account. She typed his password with trembling fingers and hit the check mail button. The mailbox opened and Giselle scanned the email. No message from Chloe. As a last resort she checked his recycle bin. Bingo. A discarded message from Chloe3856-yolo. She clicked to open, took a deep breath, and began to read.
Hello Lover—
Why haven’t you emailed me? You know how I long to hear from you. Jackson still doesn’t suspect a thing. That fool is absolutely clueless when it comes to my little indiscretions.
It was such luck running into you at the hotel. It made for a hell of an afternoon. I can’t wait to do it again.
Catch you later lover,
Chloe
Giselle struggled for breath as the muscles in her chest constricted. “Oh God!” She pushed the mouse away and gasped, clutching at her chest where her heart was—where it would have been if her dead husband hadn’t just broken it into a million little pieces. Tears streamed down her face as she struggled to collect herself. Blurry eyed and miserable, she managed to find the print button. She waited as the printer spit out the paper, folded it neatly and stuffed it in the pocket of her jeans. She grabbed her purse and keys, and hit the door. There was only one person in the world she could talk to about this. Only one other person who’d understand the depth of Toby’s betrayal. She knew exactly where to find him.
Jackson pulled open his door, slightly surprised to see Giselle standing there. “Hey, Babe, you here to help me finish my deck?”
She took off her sunglasses, revealing puffy, red-rimmed eyes. “Did you know?”