Clear Intent

by Diane Benefiel

  She steered her mother’s car along the bend in the road as it followed the curve of the lake. Jack had called before she’d left the office, his deep voice rumbling in her ear. She didn’t think he’d ever called her on her cell before, wouldn’t have thought he’d have her number. He’d said he’d spoken to the camp commander, who’d verified that Rodrigo Calderon was present and accounted for, and the commander assured him the Hangman’s Loss police department would be notified whenever Rodrigo left the camp as part of a work crew.

  The news should have reassured her, but the mere fact that her ex-husband was so close had her glancing over her shoulder and left her feeling uncomfortably vulnerable.

  Determined to push aside the worry, she pulled to a stop at the front entrance to Adrian’s day camp. Adrian stood with three other boys. She let out a little sigh. He was growing so fast it seemed like he needed new jeans or sneakers every other month. He waved good-bye and climbed in the car.

  “Hey, baby. Did you have a good day?”

  Adrian gave her his toothy smile. His front incisors had grown in over the past couple of months, and the new adult teeth looked too big for his mouth. “I had the best day. We took a hike, and guess what? There was an old miner’s cabin up this trail. It’s really not that far away. I want to go back.”

  “A miner’s cabin? Was there anything in it?” She loved when Adrian lost his watchfulness and acted like any other happy kid.

  “Yeah. It was so cool. The roof had holes in it and the door was gone. Todd the counselor said people reused a lot of stuff back then and might have used the door for something else. There were springs from an old mattress, and this beat-up old lantern. And guess what else? Back then, they didn’t have people come pick up your trash, and we found the miner’s trash pile. There were all these rusty old cans and some glass bottles. I wanted to bring you back a bottle I found, it was blue, but Todd said we should leave it for other people to appreciate.”

  “Todd is a wise man.”

  “But you could have appreciated it, too.”

  “Maybe we can go for a hike there and you could show me.”

  “Let’s go now. I know where the trail is. It’s just past the kitchen.”

  Would she ever learn? Her son was literal and when she suggested something, he assumed she meant to do it right that second. “We’ll put that hike on our fun things to do list, but right now? You and I are going to grab a quick dinner and head over to the ball field. Someone has a game this evening.”

  “Oh, yeah. I need to get my uniform.”

  Baseball was Adrian’s new passion. It had started when they’d taken a trip to San Francisco with her parents, and Dory’s father had insisted that they catch an Oakland A’s game. Ever since, Adrian had been hooked. He’d started watching games on TV, had become a fervent A’s fan, and had decided if his career choice of forest ranger didn’t work out, he’d like to be a professional baseball player. His only disappointment was that he was too young to play on the same team as his friend Cameron.

  Now Dory sat in the bleachers sipping from the insulated tumbler full of iced tea she’d brought from home while Adrian, adorable in his blue and red Little League uniform, took his position in left field. Usually her parents were with her at Adrian’s games, but Bert had a city event he couldn’t miss, and Rosa was battling a migraine.

  The batter for the opposing team, a girl with long braided pigtails, waited through the first two pitches that were called for a strike and a ball before finding one she liked and popping it over the head of the second baseman for a single. Dory frowned at the next batter. This kid looked big enough to play in the major leagues. Engrossed in the game, she shifted when someone sat down immediately behind her, knees brushing against her back. Then she was on her feet when the batter connected to send the ball sailing high into left field. Her heart was in her throat as Adrian moved to the left, then the right, then waited. The ball hit his glove with a solid thump.

  “Woohoo, way to go, Adrian,” she called as he threw the ball, if not exactly accurately, at least close enough to the shortstop to keep the runner from advancing any farther than second base.

  “Good play, Adrian,” a deep voice called from behind her.

  Dory whipped her head around. Jack Morgan, wearing shorts and a sleeveless shirt that showed heavily muscled arms, sat in the bleacher row behind hers. He looked tanned, fit, and hot.

  They returned to their seats, and Dory sipped her tea to clear her suddenly constricted throat. “Um, hi. What are you doing here?”

  “Thought I’d take in a Little League game.”

  “Oh.” Was he here to see Adrian, or did he like youth baseball? She was jostled hard by another knee in her back. Dory turned to find Raquel Flores sitting next to Jack. She wore the shortest of shorts, plus a low-cut halter-top that provided a twofer: awesome boobage display and sparkly jewelry dangling from her pierced bellybutton. So he’d come with Girl Obvious.

  “Oh, Dory. Did I bump you? I didn’t notice you sitting there.”

  Dory didn’t bother to hide her eye roll at the non-apology.

  “I just love baseball games, don’t you, Jackie?”

  “Jack,” Jack said.

  “What?”

  “It’s Jack, not Jackie.”

  Dory watched the exchange, idly wondering how long it took Raquel to apply the lash extensions and multicolored eye shadow she wore.

  “I love giving people nicknames. It makes our relationship more personal, don’t you think?” Raquel clutched Jack’s arm to her breasts like she was in danger of drowning and he was one sexy life preserver. “Oh, Jack, I’m so glad you came. My niece is playing first base. Her name is Ophelia. Isn’t that the most beautiful name? It comes from Shakespeare, I think from Romeo and Juliet or something. I can’t wait to have kids of my own.”

  “Hamlet,” Dory muttered.

  “What did you say, Isadora?” Raquel was having a hard time pulling her adoring gaze from Jack’s face. She reached up to wipe his jaw. “You had a little something there but I took care of it, Jackie.”

  Dory rolled her eyes. “I said Hamlet. Ophelia is in the play Hamlet.”

  “Whatever. I never liked Shakespeare.”

  Dory sighed, sipping her tea and returning her attention to the game. If Jack wanted to hang out with a bimbo, he’d have to suffer the consequences. She should feel bad, calling Raquel a bimbo, but today the woman irritated her more than usual with her all but crawling onto Jack’s lap.

  Dory felt a tug on her ponytail. She ignored it, watching as Adrian trooped back to his team’s dugout for their turn at bat. Jack tugged again. With him sitting at her back, she was all too aware of him. Raquel made her play for his attention, gushing, “Jack, you should come with us after the game. We’re going out for pizza. You remember my sister, Ambrosia? She’s Ophelia’s mom. Did you know our names all start and end with As? My other sister is Alexia. Oh, there’s Ophy, she’s up to bat.” That rambling statement was followed by a shrill chorus of shrieks. “Go, Ophy! Hit the ball! Hit a grand slam!” Raquel surged to her feet, bumping Dory again. “My niece is going to try for a grand slam,” she proclaimed, clapping furiously.

  Dory almost choked on her tea. “You know that’s impossible, don’t you? She’s the first one at bat for her side.”

  “What’s that have to do with anything? A grand slam is a grand slam.”

  “But the bases have to be loaded.”

  “A lot you know, Isadora.” Apparently, Dory didn’t rate the personal nickname. Raquel proceeded to yell encouragement for a grand slam and Dory gave up.

  A warm breath tickled her ear and Dory turned her head to find her lips alarmingly close to Jack’s, his gaze desperate. “Save me, Dory. For the love of God,” he pitched his voice under Raquel’s shouts.

  “You came with her, you figure it out,” she whispered back.

  “I didn’t come with her. I came to see Adrian play. To see you. She followed me from the parking lot.”
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  Raquel gave up her hopes for a grand slam when her niece struck out and settled again next to Jack. “What do you say, handsome? You could get lucky if you came out for pizza with us.”

  This time Dory choked for real. There’d been unmistakable emphasis on “get lucky.”

  “Uh,” Jack said. He tried again, but all he managed was another, “Uh.”

  Men could be such morons. Inspiration struck, and after a brief internal debate, she decided to go for it. Dory leaned back so she was resting against Jack knees, her hands sliding along his bare legs. She tilted her head back and gave him a wide smile.

  “Sweetheart, go ahead and tell her,” she cooed.

  The surprise on Jack’s face was quickly replaced by a wide grin. “But I thought this was going to be our little secret.” Jack caught on quick. He also didn’t hesitate to take advantage of the situation. He wrapped his arms around her so they rested directly under her breasts. Then he lowered his head next to hers, his five o’clock shadow rough against her cheek. His lips were warm as he brushed a kiss to the sensitive skin below her ear.

  Holy smokes. She suppressed a shiver, thinking this saving Jack from Raquel had turned into tempting Dory in a public place. “For now. But that kind of secret won’t be kept for long,” she replied.

  “What? Are you kidding me? You two are together and you’re pregnant?” Dory would have been gratified by the pure incredulity on Raquel’s face if not for the fact that she’d raised the volume on her final word by at least five decibels. There were way too many speculative stares being cast their way.

  “I didn’t say that. Did you say that, Jack?”

  “Not me.”

  Raquel gave an irritated huff. “Whatever,” she called out as she sashayed down the steps to the field.

  When Dory tried to sit up, he held tight for a moment longer before releasing her. All this closeness to Jack was making her dizzy. She was glad for the distraction when Adrian walked out of the dugout with a bat in his hand. He tapped his cleats with his bat and took a practice swing, doing a pretty good imitation of the guys in the big leagues.

  Jack’s hands moved to rest on her shoulders in a casual touch that felt possessive. Uh-oh. Surely Jack knew she’d only been helping him out of a jam, with the added benefit of annoying Raquel.

  Adrian tossed his bat toward the dugout and took the fourth ball as a walk and Jack lifted his hands to clap for him. Dory shifted to give herself a few inches of space.

  “Good eye, Adrian,” Jack called.

  Adrian glanced up into the bleachers. He gave a small smile and waved before taking his place at first base.

  ***

  “Can we go, please, Mom?”

  Jack had broken the number one etiquette rule of being around kids—not offering something special before clearing it with the parent out of said kid’s earshot. She gave Jack a narrow-eyed glare. “It’s getting late, and you have camp in the morning, and I have work.”

  “Yeah, but Mom, it’s summer.”

  Jack was playing it smart and not saying a word. A gentle breeze played through the tops of the pines bordering the parking lot of the baseball field. The sun was starting its descent behind the granite peaks of the Sierras and the sky to the east had taken on a lavender hue. It was hard to believe that only a few miles away, a fire was raging.

  She sighed, knowing she was going to give in. What swayed her most was the hope in her little boy’s eyes. His evening would be perfect with the win for his baseball team and being treated to ice cream by Jack. Any day where Adrian acted like a normal kid had to be savored.

  “Okay, but when it’s time to go home, no whining. Agreed?”

  “YES.” Adrian and Jack fist bumped.

  Jack suggested that they drop her car off at her house, and she and Adrian drive to the ice cream shop with Jack in his extended-cab pickup truck. Her first instinct was to tell Jack she could drive herself. But she wanted to go with him, and she was certain Adrian wanted to ride in Jack’s truck. She was glad she relented.

  Jack kept Adrian entertained with stories of playing high school baseball, and while Jack looked adorable in a slightly mussed, hot guy kind of way, he kept any sexy vibes between them under wraps, to the point where she was starting to think she was imagining what had passed between them in the past twenty-four hours. Not that she was interested in pursuing anything, because she wasn’t. Really. Except…the thought of Jack with Raquel, or anyone else for that matter, made her feel out of sorts. Which made no sense. At. All.

  He dropped them off at her little house and walked them to the door. After nudging Adrian to thank Jack for the ice cream, she ushered her boy into the house with instructions to head straight for the bathroom for a shower, before turning back to Jack.

  “Thank you. We had a nice evening.” She didn’t know why she did it, maybe because he flustered her, but she held out her hand like she was going to shake his. Before she could withdraw it in embarrassment, Jack grasped her hand, folding it into his much larger one.

  “I had a nice evening, too.” He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb, then brought her knuckles to his mouth, his eyes glittering. “And thank you for saving me from Raquel.”

  “I’m not sure you should be thanking me. You could have gotten lucky.”

  He turned over her hand to press a kiss to the inside of her wrist. Then he let her hand go and turned away as he started down the walkway.

  “I think I did get lucky.”

  His words floated back to her on the breeze, and there wasn’t a single thing she could do about her heart falling with a thud at her feet.

  Chapter Six

  Dory got out of her repaired car, not sure how she’d ended up driving to Jack Morgan’s house. With the afternoon off and a couple of hours until she needed to pick up Adrian, earlier she’d stopped at the café at Maddy’s invitation. Her friend had called to ask Dory to cast her vote on a bakery item that would appeal to folks coming to the café for mid-afternoon iced coffee or tea. Who wouldn’t want to sample chocolate raspberry cream cupcakes? She’d gotten an update on the wildfire that was thankfully being held in check, assured Maddy that the cupcakes were hands down the best she’d ever had, but then somehow here she was knocking on Jack’s door, a bakery box clutched in one hand and the iced vanilla cream coffee in a to-go cup that Maddy had used to bribe her in the other.

  She knew Maddy was matchmaking, but still hadn’t been able to get out of it. When Dory had protested Maddy’s insistence that Dory take cupcakes to Jack for his opinion, her friend had stated with determination that she wouldn’t know if they were a hit unless there was cross-gender sampling, and since Jack lived only a mile or so from Dory’s house, why couldn’t she bring him a sample?

  So here she was.

  Walking up the flagstone walkway, Dory found Jack’s home a surprise. She knew he’d bought a house several months ago because in a small town that kind of news got around. But she certainly hadn’t expected something so, well, charming.

  The late afternoon sun glinted off the dry stack rock wall that edged the walkway and the granite stonework that made up the foundation of the log cabin home. Indian paintbrush growing haphazardly added colorful splashes of green and red.

  Dory loved old houses, and this one had to date back well over half a century. But somebody had been busy because the windows were sparkling new with the manufacturer’s sticker still affixed to the panes, and the door was freshly painted a deep, dark red the same shade as the Indian paintbrush.

  Clutching the bakery box to her chest with the hand holding her drink, she raised the other to the doorbell, then paused. She was no more ready to deal with the unwelcome emotions Jack seemed so good at pulling out of her than she had been the evening before.

  No more stalling. She jabbed at the doorbell and heard the chime from inside, followed by sharp, high-pitched barking. The door swung open as Dory took a big sip of iced coffee. She sucked in a startled breath, cold coffee went down the w
rong pipe, and she was attacked by a sudden coughing fit.

  Oh. My. God.

  Eyes watering, she struggled to breathe and not swallow her tongue.

  She didn’t think she’d ever seen Jack Morgan without a shirt, at least not an adult Jack Morgan.

  He stood in front of her in nothing but low-slung athletic shorts, a tiny white dog cradled in one sinewy arm. Sweat shone on wide pectorals covered by a patch of black hair, and the oblique muscles riding above his hips formed an intriguing V arrowing downward. She thought she might hyperventilate as one drip of moisture trailed between the bulging ridges of his abs toward his belly button.

  Oh heavens, he had an outie. Still wheezing, she watched, fascinated, as the drip hesitated a scant inch above the waistband of his shorts and she found herself caught in anticipation as she waited for it to continue its journey.

  “Eyes up here, Morales.” The cocky grin as he cradled a fluffy little dog in one arm told her he knew exactly the image he projected.

  “What the hell’s all this, this—?” Words escaping her, she gestured up and down with her to-go cup.

  “This what, exactly?” Jack questioned, one corner of his mouth still turned up in an annoying smirk.

  “Nakedness, this nakedness. Are you trying out for Chippendales or something?” She knew her tone sounded absurdly accusatory.

  Eyes gleaming, he shook his head. “Just lifting weights. Want to feel the guns?” He flexed the arm that wasn’t holding the little dog, his huge bicep bulging.