Calling It (20 page)

He nodded for Pete and Mark to go ahead, then sat back against the table and pulled her close. “These things are a lot more fun when you’re sitting next to me. Come with us.”

Nope. She closed her eyes and melted a little when he nuzzled her neck. Still... “Not this time.”

She felt him go tense. Felt him pull away. When she opened her eyes, it was to find him staring at her. “Why?”

Right. Of course he wouldn’t let it go at that. He was tenacious if nothing else. But the thing was, he saw too much. And she had no doubt he’d see right through her because no matter how hard she was trying to fight it, she was already invested. And the second she stepped foot in that room, she wouldn’t be able to deny it anymore.

Bottom line was that they hadn’t been there for him. They should have been out there fighting for him from the moment the questions started coming in. Their doctors should have been out there reassuring everyone that his injuries hadn’t been career-threatening, and the GM and coach should have been adamantly in his corner about the Breathalyzer test. The two lame statements they’d made hadn’t been nearly enough.

And it hurt him. Even back when he’d been her pretend boyfriend, she could tell as much. Anyone looking at his eyes could see glimpses of it. But being with him over these past few days... She’d seen how badly he’d needed to know that he wasn’t alone. Because that, probably more than what had actually happened with Courtney, had nearly destroyed him.

Lowering her gaze, Dorie tried to shrug him off.

“
Why?
” he said again, gripping her shoulders tightly enough that she couldn’t help but look into his eyes.

She was already beginning to believe that he might actually be falling in love. It was hard enough to keep her heart protected from an onslaught like that. He was giving it his all right now because he had no other focus, she had to remind herself. The moment he stepped on that field again he’d be back in his world and everything would change.

But even knowing that, she was physically incapable of holding herself back. He was already too important to her. And as soon as she opened her mouth, he’d know how close he was to getting through and he’d take full advantage; full-court press and all that. She wouldn’t stand a chance even though she had absolutely no doubt it would all go bad in the end. Going into that room would open her up in a way she simply couldn’t allow.

Unable to turn away from the intensity of his gaze, she answered, “Can we leave it at ‘because’?” She tried to put enough attitude in it that he wouldn’t question her further. And that was all she said.

He didn’t protest, didn’t pry any further and didn’t try to convince her otherwise. Instead, after another few seconds of staring into her eyes, he slipped one hand down to her waist as he cupped her jaw with the other.

And he smiled. He knew she was weakening. Knew her armor was falling away.

Her eyes filled as he leaned in and touched his lips to hers. When he pulled away, she pursed her lips, kind of like she was blotting lipstick, except she was really just trying to keep him there. Permanently. So that she could always remember the way he tasted.

Because this was going to end soon. It had to. Before she could fall for him all the way.

“Be here when I come back,” he whispered. “Please?”

How did he know that the only way she could think of to protect herself was to turn tail and flee? That she was fighting against his pull with every ounce of her being.

How was that possible?

Unable to trust her voice, she just nodded, her forehead bobbing against his chest. His voice rumbling against her ear as he only reluctantly let her go, he said, “A word, Alexis?”

She sank down into the chair when they left the room, her head going to the table. What on
earth
did she think was going to come of all this? And if she felt like this now, how was she ever going to manage after he left?

Chapter Twenty-Two

She cared. A hell of a lot more than she wanted to let on. Nate should have been elated about that; instead it just depressed him. She had no faith in him—in them—at all. None whatsoever.

Yes, this was an incredibly and, okay yes, surreal situation—it hadn’t even been a whole
week
. She thought he was infatuated—which he was. Saw her as a challenge—which he did. But didn’t she get that no one had ever interested him as much as she did? Excited him?

The answer to that was, clearly, a big fat no.

And although she was obviously falling as hard as he was, that just seemed to make her more determined to run farther and faster away.

“Fuck,” he muttered, tipping his chair back and tapping his pencil against the table furiously.

Glaring, Pete spoke loudly enough to talk over him. “Of course Nate’s willing to meet with the trainer before he starts. That’s not a problem at all.”

Oh, for Christ’s sake. They’d been talking about his health for the past twenty minutes, time he would so much rather have spent with Dorie. Damn it, he wished she was in here, going at them. That would have been a sight to see. Hell, she could have backed him up and told them his knees were fine. Except for a little rug burn.

“Great,” Coach was saying. “We’d like for you come down to Mesa a few days early, maybe have you meet up with Casti—”

“No,” Nate snapped. No way in hell he was leaving Dorie before the thirteenth. He hadn’t agreed to that.

Except he had. Goddamn it, he had. He’d had no reason not to. Chicago, Arizona, they’d pretty much been the same to him since the day he’d signed his first contract. And up until about a week ago, he couldn’t have cared less. But now...

He buried his head in his hands. “Shit.”

He could feel the silence settle in around him. No one knew quite what to do with it. Hell,
Nate
didn’t know what to do with it. Though he’d stayed away from playing the asshole for most of his career, he wasn’t above it now, even though the last thing he wanted to do was start off on the wrong foot. He liked these guys; he genuinely liked them. Other than the part where they’d hung him out to dry for two months.

But just as he was about to open his mouth, Mark leaned forward. For the most part, Mark played the affable, back-slapping, man-about-town good guy. He played it well enough that, unless you’d witnessed him in a negotiation, you wouldn’t have a clue how he’d gotten a reputation of being one of the best in the business. And the fact that Pete played a much larger role in every conversation revolving around Nate had some people wondering what exactly it was that Mark did.

Nate didn’t care about those people. Mark didn’t care about them, either. The only thing Mark did care about was his clients, most of whom he considered friends as well as business partners. And right now he was Nate’s favorite person in the world.

“Let’s cut to the chase, shall we?” He leaned forward, got that ice-cold look in his eyes. “You screwed him. None of us want to talk about this, but you know it. We know it. And as of a few days ago, everybody in the fucking world knows it. The
only
thing Nate did wrong was pay more attention to the kid in the other car than to the damage that he might have done to his knee. You want to hold that over him, you have every right. Your lawyers and Pete can go at it until it’s far too late for Nate to help you do what every single one of us in this room wants—start off this franchise’s history with a World Series win.” He shrugged matter-of-factly. “My team will make you look like coldhearted assholes for pursuing that course of action, but have at it. I honestly don’t care.”

Then he gripped Nate’s shoulder, clasping it like a good old boy. “But here’s the thing. Nate is one of the best there is, on the field and off. You know it doesn’t get better than this. Hell, you built your fucking team around him. So why don’t you cut him a little slack—which you know you goddamn owe him—and let us tell you when and where he can be available between now and February thirteenth.”

Nate didn’t want to be anywhere other than Inspiration between now and February thirteenth, but he knew when to keep his mouth shut. He also knew that it was flat-out unbelievable that the GM, even if he’d been a drinking buddy of Nate’s on occasion, sat back thoughtfully.

“You’re right,” the man finally said, turning to look at Nate head-on. “We played this wrong. I can’t tell you how sorry I am that you’ve had to go through this.” He shook his head as his gaze dropped down to the table. “Alone. That you had to go through this alone.” Looking back up into Nate’s eyes, he added, “And I am
personally
sorry that I haven’t been standing right beside you the whole time.” After holding Nate’s gaze for long enough to show Nate he meant it, he turned back to Mark and Pete. “We need Nate to meet with the trainer twice a week and we want a full physical—with our guys—by Thursday. You tell us when and where; we’ll make it happen. And we’d like to see some public appearances, too.” He stood. “Other than that, we’re good.”

He reached across the table to shake Nate’s hand. “I can’t wait to get you started. I’ve been looking forward to this for a long time.” With a smile, he added, “And I seriously can’t wait to meet this woman.”

If Mark hadn’t already laid into them, Nate might have chanced an introduction right away. He wasn’t sure what kind of mood Dorie would be in, though; hell, after the way she’d reacted to that picture when they first arrived, he wouldn’t have been entirely surprised to find she’d bolted.

It wasn’t until he came around the corner that he felt the tension ease away. She was talking with Alexis, each of them sitting with various stacks of paper in front of them at the conference table. Although... Was she really saying...?

“‘...every long, hard inch of you into my mouth and suck you until you beg me to stop. And then I’ll climb on top of you and ride you so hard that you’ll be begging me to stop. And then I’ll get up on my hands and knees, and you can fuck me until—’”

“No, wait,” Alexis said, giggling. “‘Until you’re begging me to stop.’”

“Uh-uh—’until
I’m
begging
you
to stop,’” Dorie answered, laughter in her voice. “People seriously write this stuff? Do they think he’s going to be, like, ‘Oh, hey, I need some action so why don’t I dig into this fan mail and see if I can find some hot little number to fuck my brains ou—’” She stopped talking abruptly as she looked up from the letter to see the three men standing there.

“Holy fuck,” Mark muttered, eyebrows raised in amusement as he looked over at Nate.

“Oh, please,” Dorie said, rolling her eyes. “I mean, what is a ‘long, hard inch’ in the first place? It’s either an inch or it’s not. And—”

“Dorie.” Nate sucked in a deep breath.

She swiveled her chair toward him with the evilest of grins. “What? Are you begging me to stop?” She turned back to the table. “So. Look what we found.” She held out a letter.

Nate practically had to shake his head to shift gears and was still in a bit of a daze as he took the letter. It was in Spanish and, to his overwhelming relief, had nothing to do with body parts of any kind.

Except... “Holy shit.” Everything else faded away as he sank into a chair and began to read. He looked up at Dorie. “Where did this come from?”

She gestured to the piles of paper on the table. “It was just in one of the bags, in with everything else.”

As he began to read, he heard Alexis softly tell Mark and Pete, “It’s the woman from the accident.”

She was coming to him, asking for his help; asking him to help heal her son.

I
know I have no right.
I
understand what my actions have cost you and wouldn’t blame you for wishing on me any punishment you think I deserve.
But Roberto hasn’t spoken since that night.
He may not ever walk again.
I
beg of you—he believes in your dream.
Please help him see that miracles can happen
,
even to boys like him.

Paz,

Marcela Perez

Ducking his head down, Nate folded the letter carefully. He’d stayed as far away from all of this as he could, deliberately not seeking out anything beyond the barest of details. The boy was stabilized; the mother was out of her coma. And once he’d gotten out of the hospital himself, mentally and physically beaten and bruised, he’d held the world at bay. It had been easy enough back when he’d been painted as the bad guy. Pete was the only one he’d let through his door in those first few weeks. Mark and Ella the only others for weeks after that. And then he’d gone home.

Although he still couldn’t remember much about the accident itself, the police report that had come out the other day put Marcela completely at fault. Her letter made it clear she accepted that blame. But he felt no anger toward her even now.

Instead he just felt reborn.

Maybe Dorie was right. Maybe the only reason they worked was because he’d been so broken that he’d needed something—anything—to hold on to, to bring him back to life. Or maybe she was trying to talk herself out of something she knew as well as he did was extraordinary. Because the reality was that he wanted more out of life than what he’d seen flash through his eyes that day. He wanted the excitement and possibility that soared within him when he looked at her. No regrets, nothing halfway.

He looked up to find her staring at him, her expression unreadable. “I have to do this,” he said.

She didn’t answer right away and he hated that he was putting her in this position. She’d had one thing she wanted to do in Chicago and this meant that she wouldn’t get to do that today.

But even though she had every right to protest—or even tell him that it was fine, she’d just go to the library on her own—as he’d somehow instinctively known deep down inside that she would, Dorie smiled, her eyes going dark and warm. “I know.”

The rest of the day was a blur from there as the team went to work. Pete was on the phone to the hospital, Mark had Jacqueline calling for a car and Alexis was—

“No press,” Nate snapped, not realizing what she was doing until it was almost too late.

Making the one argument Nate was even willing to consider, Alexis said, “She needs it as badly as you do.
More
than you do, especially now. People hate her. They think she blew your chance at another World Series trophy.”

Right. Even though he had specifically
not
been paying attention to the news these past few days, Nate knew exactly what it was like to be on the receiving end of that crap. “I know. I just... That’s not what she needs today.”

With a glance in Pete’s direction, Alexis reluctantly nodded. “Then what can I do?”

“I...” Nate scrubbed his face with his hand. He’d planned to buy a car later this afternoon, yet another thing that probably would have freaked Dorie out. But they needed a way home. So... “Can you arrange for a plane to take us back to Iowa tonight?”

Then he went through his contacts. He’d just text his buddy, Mike, who ran the dealership back home so that there’d be a car waiting for them at the airstrip in Inspiration.

“Not tonight,” Mark said, shaking his head. “You’ve got the trainer tomorrow at eleven, and we’ve got the show in New York tomorrow night.”

Late-night TV. Right. The redemption tour, Mark had told him earlier.

Shaking his head, Nate said, “I promised I’d get Dorie back for work tomorrow morning.”

Out of the corner of his eye he could see her straighten up. “Us?” she asked. “As in, you and me?”

“Of course.” He really hoped that at some point she’d stop being so surprised. “I mean, I like these guys a lot, but I really don’t want to go home with them.”

And now she was gripping the armrests of her chair. “I don’t do planes. Just drop me off at the bus station. I can—”

“No one’s dropping you off at a
bus
station.” Exasperation warring with amusement, Nate shook his head. He hooked his foot on her chair and pulled it toward him until their knees were touching. “Let me get this straight. You moved halfway across the country from your family and you don’t fly?”

She shrugged completely unconvincingly. “There are trains.”

That made him laugh outright. Oh, fuck, he loved this woman. And he hoped to God she’d start to see that as a good thing. Soon. He took her hand. “Fly with me tonight. Come to the hospital and then we’ll go home.”

She obviously wanted to tell him no; it was written all over her face. But something convinced her to change her mind.

Thank God. Because it was the only thing that got him through the day. The moment he stepped into Marcela’s hospital room he almost lost it. She had the bed on the far side of the room and didn’t turn to them until he cleared his throat. But the second her eyes met his, things he’d buried so deep they’d only been the faintest shadow of a dream came suddenly roaring back.

The car taking flight with thundering power and grace...until it wasn’t.

The heart-stopping realization that they were tumbling through air and space, and there was nothing he could do to control what was about to be a very hard, very abrupt stop against the unforgiving cement wall.

Reaching for Courtney—for the baby he’d just learned wasn’t his—and almost laughing at the thought that...

That that was it. That was what his life had come to, how it would end.

Except it didn’t end. The car rolled itself upright and, for who knows whatever reason, every car coming at them at seventy-five miles an hour managed to stop before slamming into them or each other. Lungs on fire, he’d jumped out of the car, gasping for air and standing there in the middle of the Ike. What felt like an eternity had probably only been a second or two before he’d realized the horrific sound cutting through the confusion, traffic and the swelling of pain in his goddamn knee was a mother screaming for her son. And, yes, wrenching his knee further as he’d twisted himself to get close enough to the kid to at least try to stop some of the bleeding, as he held that same woman’s hand while the metal was pried away from her nearly lifeless boy.