Calling It (25 page)

“They’ve been that way since they were fifteen,” Seamus muttered as he took his shot. “It freaks Sean the hell out, as you can imagine.”

“Claire’s how old?” Nate asked, watching the seven ball slip into the pocket. “Thirteen?”

Straightening up, Seamus nodded. “It was bad enough watching Luce grow up...”

Luce.
Right.

“Watching Claire?” Seamus was saying as he shook his head. “Kind of makes you think.” He tried to sink the two ball in the side pocket. Missed.

Nate laughed as he studied the table. He was pretty sure he could get the eleven ball in the corner if he banked it right. “I have three sisters,” he replied. “I’ve spent my whole life thinking.”

“Thinking about what?” Dorie asked, having reappeared right then. She picked up the cue stick that had been Sean’s, clearly ready to take her brother’s place.

“Sisters,” he said, watching her studying the balls rather than meet his eye. He’d just leaned down to take his shot when she moved directly into his vision, bending over enough that the sweater slipped aside to reveal a beautiful expanse of creamy skin. He almost laughed.

Was she trying to get him killed? Sure he’d used his time wisely while she’d spent the night avoiding him from the other side of the bar. Although he might not have won over her brothers entirely, they’d at least stopped full-out threatening him. He considered that a big step. But playing the cleavage card while Tommy and Seamus were right here...?

Careful to keep his eyes on the table, Nate lined up the cue ball and the eleven. “You do realize that half the games I play involve thirty thousand people threatening to kill me.” He pulled the cue stick back carefully, then, with a smile thrown in her direction, knocked the eleven in. Straightening up, he grabbed the chalk again. “If you’re trying to distract me, it’s not going to work.”

She came around to where he was standing—came to stand directly in front of him and looked up at him from under those lashes of hers. Her hand went to his chest. Began to trail downward. “That’s not what you said on the plane.”

Nate had barely managed to grab Dorie’s wrist when Tommy snapped, “No,” as he practically spun Sophie into a topspin in order to get right up in Dorie’s face. “None of...” he waved his hand from Dorie to Nate and back again. “
This.
Not in my place.”

“‘This’?” Dorie mimicked. “Are we back in medieval times, my lord?” She yanked her hand away from Nate, elbowed Tommy out of the way and then, without even taking two seconds to line up the shot, knocked in the ten and fourteen balls. “Should I clear off the table for you and Sophie and then just go back to my corner,
sir
?” There went the thirteen, then the twelve.

Nate raised his eyebrows. Seamus, laughing, shook his head. At which point Dorie turned on him. “And
you
...” The nine went in, then the five. “A different woman every time I turn around. You’re worse than
him
.”

“Me?” Nate said belatedly. Uh, hold on... “I haven’t...”

The rest of the balls went in. She didn’t hesitate, didn’t miss one. The one, four, two, and then the eight. Then she shoved the cue stick at Tommy. “So if I want
this
?” Just like Tommy had, she waved her hand toward Nate and then to herself again. “Even if it makes no sense in the world that he seems to want it, too?” She took hold of Nate’s waistband and yanked him toward her so hard that he almost lost his balance. But the pool table was there, and although his hip slamming against it was the only way for them to remain upright, he honestly didn’t give a damn. She was beyond hot when she was pissed.

She clamped her hands around the back of his neck and drew his head down, obviously still making her point to Tommy. “Then I’m going to do whatever the hell I want to.” She raked her hands through Nate’s hair, pulling him down the rest of the way as her lips touched his. It took everything he had not to throw her down on the pool table she’d just so handily cleared. Especially when, breathing raggedly, she pressed herself up against him, making no effort to hide her sigh as she felt him hard against her.

She hitched herself up on the edge of the pool table and curled into him. “I’m sorry,” she said, dragging her hand down to his waistband. “But my brothers are going to kill you in the morning.”

So, yes, that apparently was her intention after all. Which was fine with Nate. If she didn’t want to play nice, there was no reason he had to.

Resting his hands on her hips, Nate shifted just enough to show that he’d registered every move Tommy had made since the moment Dorie had put her hands on him. Looking into Dorie’s eyes, he had to admit, he was also maybe searching for signs that she was drunk. Still, he smiled. “I can handle your brothers.”

He felt the step forward that Tommy made. Fixed his gaze on Tommy while slightly turning his head. If Tommy was seriously going to make a thing of this, then Nate was ready to respond in kind. He had no idea what Dorie was up to and no interest whatsoever in a bar fight with Dorie’s brothers but he’d do whatever was necessary.

Sophie was having none of it. She grabbed Tommy by the shoulder. “For Christ’s sake, Tom. Quit being a Neanderthal. A juvenile
idiot
Neanderthal.”

Seemed kind of redundant to Nate, but no need to fan the flames.

Stepping between Tommy and Nate, Sophie reached around to touch Dorie’s knee. “Good for you, hon. It’s about freaking time.” Then, like Claudia had done with Claire—except for the force involved—she spun Tommy around and pointed him toward the door. “You want to get all riled up, you work it out with me.”

With one last glare at Nate, Tommy put his arm around Sophie’s shoulders. “Hurt her and I’ll kill you. Don’t think I won’t.”

Well, at least it wasn’t anything about Nate’s balls. He hid his smile and nodded. “Understood.”

The second they left, Seamus shook his head as he hung up his cue stick. “What the hell, Luce?”

“Just tired of the double standard, Shay.” Dorie jumped off the table and out of Nate’s arms, pouting. “Tired of watching him and Soph go off together while I’m stuck here cleaning up the place.” Although the weariness in her voice made clear how true that statement was, the kick she gave the pool table was hard enough for Seamus to wince and glance down to check for damage. “Tired of watching all of you pair off, leaving me to fly solo.”

That last part sounded sad enough that Seamus’s head came up sharply. When he looked over and realized Nate was well aware of the undercurrents, he stuck his hands in his pockets and looked down. “Yeah. We’ve never made it easy for you, have we?”

Folding her arms across her chest, Dorie ducked her head down, trying—and failing—to not let on that she was crying.

“Well,
fuck
,” Seamus said, looking up again after a minute. “I guess you really did need to move all the way out to Kansas, didn’t you?”

Dorie’s head snapped up. “
Iowa
.”

“Iowa,” Seamus repeated with a grin that made clear he knew exactly where she’d moved. “Right.” Now it was his turn to fold his arms in front of him. “Fine. Go have some fun with pretty boy, here.” With a nod in Nate’s direction, he reached out for Dorie and pulled her into a hug that seemed to affect him as much as it did Dorie, although he gave Nate a don’t-you-dare-ever-tell-her-as-much glare. “And don’t pick fights with Tommy, okay? He’s still bigger than you.”

“I can kick better,” she mumbled.

Seamus’s response to that was a noogie.

With an elbow to his gut, Dorie said, “You did not just do that to me in front of Nate.”

Not bothering to respond, Seamus turned to Nate. He reached out to shake hands and then pulled Nate toward him. Just close enough to be heard when he quietly said, “I don’t care how blue your balls are. If you think that stunt she just pulled gives you license to...”

Nate pulled back. “Are you seriously giving me the ‘no means no’ talk?”

With a pat on the back and friendly-as-can-be grin, Seamus turned to Dorie, who obviously had been straining to hear whatever it was Seamus was saying to Nate, and gave her a big hug. “Love you, Luce.” Then he walked away.

Now it was Dorie’s turn to put her hands in her pockets. She looked down at the floor. “Sorry, I’m not... I don’t...” She wiped her eye with her sleeve. “I didn’t mean to throw you under the bus.”

Leaning back against the pool table, Nate just looked at her. “You sure about that?”

If it wasn’t for her tearstained face, he might have made a bigger deal about it. He didn’t get off on being used—well, not in the overall scheme of things—even if it was just to make a point, and their nonconversation on the plane had left him unsettled. But he could see how badly she’d needed that. How she was flailing about and grabbing at the only thing steady enough to hold, even if a part of that meant deliberately trying to push him away.

But if she finally came around to where he was? “You can try to throw me all you want, Dorie. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Don’t go making any promises you can’t keep.” She sniffled. “You haven’t actually seen the shrine yet. It’ll have you running in no time.”

Yep, she was going all in. And he wasn’t about to let her.

“Hmm,” he said, taking her into his arms. “When I think shrine, I think worship. Like on your knees and all that. Last thing I want to do is run.”

He felt her huff against his chest, part laugh, part cry. But then she gave a halfhearted shrug as she pulled away. He kissed the top of her head, and then walked her out the door and took her home.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Dorie woke with a start, sitting up straight in the moonlit room. It took her a few seconds to remember where she was: back in Iowa. In her bed, with Nate.

He lifted up his head and gave a sleepy, “Hey.” Threading his hand through the strand of hair that brushed her shoulder, he asked, “You okay?”

Okay?

No. Not even close. She felt like she was headed down a mountain in a car with no brakes and no steering.

“You weren’t supposed to make them love you,” she said, quietly enough that she wasn’t sure if he heard it. Wasn’t sure she wanted him to.

From the way he went still against her, it was clear that he had. “I’m pretty sure Tommy would argue that I was in any way effective,” he tried to joke.

But she could hear the strain in his voice; could hear that he knew it wasn’t a joke for her.

“Is that your plan?” she asked, emotions all tangled up inside and yet still unable to keep from running her hand down his chest. “Whisk me away on a private plane so I’ll forget that this is only short-ter—”

“Don’t you get it by now?” he said, gripping her wrist. “This isn’t short-term, not for me.”

“But it is for me,” she answered, even though her heart was tearing in two. Slowly, painfully, no matter how much she’d tried to keep it whole. “It has to be. Except now you’ve won them over—the one man in the history of the world to do that, by the way—and they won’t understand why I let you go.”

“They’re not exactly my concern at the moment.” It was obvious that he was angry. His pulse was beating wildly against her even as he quietly added, “So maybe you could explain it to me instead.”

She wished she could. She wished it more than anything. Because as she let herself inhale his warm, masculine scent—let herself appreciate the hard and lean muscles as she edged her leg over his—the thought of never seeing him again almost killed her.

But giving in to this? Giving in to him and then having him walk away in the end?

It wasn’t happening. It was her car, damn it, and she was getting those brakes fixed ASAP.

“Tell me what you need,” he said gruffly, as close to pleading as a man like him got. And the tear went deeper.

She rested her head against his chest; burrowed into the hollow of his neck.

She wanted him like this. The two of them alone in the dark without anything else to stand in the way.

But what did she need to be able to believe?

“I don’t know,” she answered, even though with everything in her heart she wished she did.

* * *

The next day dawned crisp and clear. Dorie was up with the sun, completely unable to sleep. She rolled out of bed quietly, careful not to wake Nate.

She threw on her running gear, laced up her shoes and then was out the door. Even at this early hour in the middle of February, there were signs of life everywhere. The doors were already open at Jules’s café and the gas station on the edge of the town center was doing a booming business of trucks from surrounding farms. Everyone she saw waved and smiled, some even calling out her name.

For the first time since arriving in Inspiration, Dorie felt, well, not that she actually belonged, but that she might someday, and not just as a roadside attraction. Plus Fitz and Wash were going out of their way to make her feel at home. Sometimes, she thought, in spite of her relationship—
fling
—with Nate. Not that they didn’t approve; it was more like they were looking out for her. Making sure that no matter what happened she had a place to land. Which was good because she was going to need it. Tonight was the reopening ceremony, which meant that the thirteenth was the day after tomorrow.

She stopped running when the air abruptly left her lungs. Bent over as the pain shot through her and she tried to catch her breath.

Two days.

This would all be over in two days.

No. She could
not
be upset about this. How could she look at something this incredible as anything other than a gift? She’d always cherish the memories of this time with him: the night he’d shown up at her door to cook her dinner. The trip to Chicago...

The way he looked at her every single moment they were together. That alone might sustain her for the rest of her life.

So, no.
No.
She wasn’t going to be sad about this. Not. Sad. And she was going to turn her butt around and get back to him.

She could hear the shower running when she opened the front door. With a smile, she slipped off her jacket and toed off her shoes, then headed down the hall. The bathroom door was open a few inches; she eased it the rest of the way. The shower curtain wasn’t all the way closed, either, and she had to admit, his reflection gave her pause. His hands were flat against the wall in front of him, his head hung down directly beneath the showerhead, the water flowing down over his shoulders and back. If he hadn’t looked so tired—no,
weary
—she might have feasted a little bit more on the eye candy.

Well, okay, she did feast a little bit. Who could blame her? The absolute perfection of the man’s body still got to her every time.

She stripped off the rest of her clothes and quietly stepped into the shower behind him, her hands wrapping around his hips just as he looked over his shoulder and smiled. “Hey. I thought you went to work.”

Touching her lips to his shoulder blade, she murmured, “Couldn’t sleep. Went out for a run.”

His muscles tensed under her tongue as she licked the water away. “You didn’t want company,” he said, a statement rather than a question. And the second his eyes met hers she looked away. If she gave him an explanation, he’d take it wrong.

He gripped her chin and turned her head so she was looking up at him. Staring down into her eyes it looked like he was going to say something, but instead he... God, she couldn’t even call it a kiss. His tongue swept through her mouth and the intensity of it sent her reeling. She fell back against the wall, flattening her hands against the cold tile behind her. Her eyes went wide as he pulled away. “Nate...”

But he bent down to kiss her again, cutting her off. Then he was lifting her, holding her high enough for her to be looking down at him, her arms resting on his shoulders. His mouth went to her breast, his tongue lapping at her nipple before he gently bit down. When he wrapped her legs around his waist, she pushed up against him and moaned. She was already wet when he eased inside her, slowly at first, then roughly enough for her to cry out.

“Too much?” he said into her neck, his teeth scraping at her skin as he pulled out.

“God, no,” she gasped, holding his head against her as he pushed back inside of her. Tilting her hips just enough for him to... “Oh,
God
.” Her head fell back as he thrust again, spreading her, spearing her. A tremble ran through her as every nerve ending stood on edge.

How could she tell him that she wasn’t ready to let him go? That she wasn’t sure she’d ever be?

“Dorie...”

She gave herself over to him entirely, his hands guiding her, playing her, sliding up and over her hips, up her sides, over her breasts until they came to a rest where they’d started, cupping her face. She opened her eyes to find him watching her. Everything stopped as he held her gaze... Until his eyes closed, and his head dropped down, and he sent her flying. Everything burst around her, her body coming to a shuddering stop just as his arm shot out to the wall to brace himself and he groaned his own release.

He rested his forehead against hers for a minute, not saying anything. And she was incapable of speaking after he eased her down to stand on her own and then wordlessly stepped out of the shower. Closing her eyes, she turned her face to the water, knowing that if she gave in and said the word, he would—

“Dorie?” he said, his voice hoarse, and she realized how badly she wanted to hear the words. How much she needed to hear him tell her he loved her so much that it was somehow all going to all work out, even though that made no sense whatsoever.

The shower curtain swept open and, heart in her throat, she looked into his eyes.

Except what he said was, “Mark just called. He got me on a radio show in fifteen minutes, and then I’m having coffee with Fitz. I’ll meet you at the library at ten.” Then he leaned in and gave her a quick kiss on the forehead.

Um...
“Okay,” she said to the shower curtain as he closed it. “I guess I’ll see you then.”