Calling It (8 page)

It wasn’t until fifteen minutes later when, desperate to get rid of the phantom grazing of his lips, she was in the bathroom splashing water on her face, that she realized she hadn’t exactly taken a stand. He’d be at trivia night, too.

Chapter Ten

Oh, shit.

Shit, shit,
shit
.

Nate got himself as far as the front hallway before he was able to stop and get a grip. Or, rather, run his hands over his face in hopes that he could get himself back to where getting a grip was in the realm of possibility. Back to that first night when she was just your run-of-the-mill woman who’d be happy to engage in some mutually satisfying together time and then move on. Or even your run-of-the-mill woman who’d be happy to engage in some mutually satisfying together time and then dig her heels in until she’d negotiated whatever her terms were for moving on. Because pre-Courtney, that’s how it tended to go.

Except, if he was being honest, she hadn’t been run-of-the-mill since the moment she raised that bat.

And now that he’d been able to touch her? Taste her? He was sure as hell getting past the robe that haunted his dreams. But even if he could just sit with her; talk with her.
Laugh
with her. He honestly couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed with a woman he wasn’t related to.

Nate pushed off the wall and forced himself to head outside rather than right back into Dorie’s arms.

Not that she’d welcome him—he’d seen grown men trying to steal home who weren’t moving as fast as she had to get away from him when Wash had come into the room. He’d played it like he hadn’t noticed, but damn that wall of ice had come down hard. He didn’t know what put it there—wasn’t entirely sure what he’d need to do to break it down—but hell if he wasn’t going to try. He had every intention of...

Nate stopped short when it suddenly occurred to him that he was going to have to tell her who he was. He hadn’t fucking told her. She knew things about him that he’d never told anyone outside of his family and closest friends. Even Courtney didn’t know half of it.

Fuck.

He wanted to believe that she wouldn’t care, that she’d understand the person he’d been with her these past few days was one hundred percent him in everything but name.

Except, well, she did know his name. She just didn’t—

“On the floor of the library, Hawk?”

Nate looked up to see Wash leaning against his truck.

“Kind of ironic,” Wash was saying. “Have you ever even been in a library before this week?”

Appreciating that Wash wasn’t pushing the cut-and-run thing, Nate just got into the truck.

Unfortunately, as soon as they were on their way to the high school, Wash asked, “So what’s someone as smart as she is doing with you?”

Nate laughed because that was the expected response. He even managed a wry, “You’re hilarious, man. You planning on taking that on the road?”

And they kept up the lamest trash talk on the face of the earth all the way to the school, which made Nate irrationally happy, enough so to actually come out and admit, “I like her, Wash. A lot.” Too much, although Wash knew Nate far better than anyone else on the planet and was therefore already well aware.

They were pulling into the parking lot when Wash spoke again. He attempted a grin but his expression was far too serious to pull it off. “I’ve been out of that game for a long time now, but I haven’t forgotten what it’s like. That whole ride...” His voice trailed off as he no doubt thought about the time he’d spent in Miami, then LA.

Yeah. It wasn’t just living your life on the road; it was another dimension entirely. The parties, the women. The crazy shit that went down behind the velvet ropes and bright lights, things Wash knew better than anyone else from Nate’s life here since they’d been drafted out of college together. Different sports—Wash had gone the basketball route instead of baseball, and he’d only stayed in it for a few years. But he knew.

“You think she can handle it?” Wash continued, bringing home the point that it wasn’t just who Nate was that was a problem—it was what he’d be asking her to sacrifice by getting involved with him. Which, incidentally, would be everything, since her life would no longer be her own once it came out that she was with him.

Before Nate could even finish that thought, Wash added something that had never even crossed Nate’s mind, “Hell, you think she can handle Courtney?”

Courtney. Nate had never even considered that.

“Fuck,” he muttered, getting out of the truck and slamming the door shut. As much as he wanted to say that Courtney didn’t give a rat’s ass, he couldn’t. It didn’t matter that she’d been the one to end the relationship; she’d make Dorie’s life a living hell.

“
Fuck
,” Nate said again, this time with a lot more conviction behind it.

He wanted to say that Wash was exaggerating. Or that Dorie couldn’t care less about any of that. But, yeah, it was even worse than he’d been thinking before.

So
,
I’m really into you.
Crazy into you in a way I don’t totally understand.

The timing sucks.
I
mean I’m kind of Public Enemy
#
1
at the moment—currently the media’s punching bag for a car accident that I can’t actually remember.
It almost killed a single mom
,
and her son may never walk again.
Plus it may have killed my career
,
but let’s not get into that.
It caused my ex to lose her baby
,
a
baby I thought was mine
,
but wasn’t because she’d been sleeping with one of my best friends.
None of which actually matters since she’ll still be off-the-charts pissed if she ever finds out that I can’t stop thinking about you.

That I’m thinking things I have no right to think about a woman I’ve known for all of two days.

So
,
you know
,
drama and life-altering notions aside—wanna go out sometime?

Nate wished he had his mask on so he could slam it down on the ground. It was better than jamming his fist into the concrete bench that Wash was now leaning against.

Damn
it.

He was beyond grateful that Deacon and Pike appeared right then. With only the slightest hesitation, they came forward, smiles, fist bumps and hugs all around. And, easy as that, the walls fell away. For the first time in two months—no, two
years
—Nate felt his world begin to settle back into place around him. He headed in to the game feeling on top of the world—in a way that was beginning to feel solid again. Like he was truly finding his way home.

But as they made their way to the coach’s office, Nate realized that something was pushing its way out of the depths of his consciousness—something he’d locked down and away with good reason.

Not that he was pretending it didn’t exist. He hadn’t risen out of the rubble and raised himself to the top of his game by burying things in the sand. No. He’d done the same as with any other threat that had come his way over the past sixteen years: he’d neutralized it.

Car accident did some damage to your knee? You sucked it up and did the PT.

The haters saying it was the end of your career? You pushed your way past the doubts. Studied the hell out of your game—every team on your schedule, every player on the roster. You didn’t just visualize success, you fucking
ensured
it.

And when a woman came along who was as smart and sharp as Dorie—a woman who didn’t say much about sports but who, thanks to her brothers, had lived and breathed it for most of her life...

Who had a perfect batting stance and, no doubt, a hell of a swing?

You did not under any circumstances allow yourself to wonder how in the
fuck
it was possible that she didn’t know your name.

* * *

As Dorie sat cross-legged on the floor in the middle of the reading room, she finally accepted that she wasn’t going to get anything done. Not after that kiss...

She looked down at the book in her lap. She had no idea when she’d put it there or why. It wasn’t even about her being in over her head at this point. That was such a given it barely even mattered. She was just hoping to come out of this without being burned alive.

As she got to her feet, the chimes rang. She’d just turned to face the door when Fitz came charging in. “Oh, good, you’re here,” she said, reaching out for Dorie’s hand and pulling her toward the hall.

“Um...” Dorie stumbled a little, just barely managing to put the book down rather than throw it to the floor. “What are you doing?”

“You’re coming with me.”

“I can’t ...” Dorie looked behind her. She couldn’t just leave. Could she?

Well, she’d already sent Mr. and Mrs. Grimes home, and it
was
4:30, but...

Fitz practically stamped her foot. “Come
on
.”

Fine. Fitz was practically her boss, after all. And a distraction would be welcome. Dorie hurried into her office to get her things, shut off all the lights and locked up, and then ran out to where Fitz was waiting out in front of the library, her car running. The second Dorie got in, Fitz pulled out. There was absolutely no traffic, which seemed odd—until they got about a mile away from the high school to find cars parked all along the road. For Inspiration, that was the equivalent of a ten-mile backup on the Southeast Expressway back home. There was definitely something strange going on.

“What...?” Dorie asked.

She didn’t have to be a Boston-born, impossible-parking expert to know there’d be exactly zero spots closer to the school. Fitz drove straight up to the main doors and pulled her car up on the grass.

“You’re going to get towed,” Dorie said.

But Fitz just ignored her and said, “Let’s go.”

The halls were as deserted as the roads were and Dorie was starting to get an uneasy zombie apocalypse-type dread. But there was a faint buzz of noise from somewhere down the hall. When Fitz pulled Dorie through a door in the hallway and up a set of stairs, the source of the noise became clear: they’d come out into the back row of seats, just below the rafters of the gymnasium.

“A basketball game?” Not really Dorie’s thing. Sure, she’d been a high school basketball fan back when watching sixteen-year-old boys running up and down the court at least had some benefits. But now? Not so much.

But she followed Fitz, winding down through the seats, working her way to... Wonderful. Jules. And another ridiculously gorgeous woman, who Dorie was hoping was Nate’s other sister.

“Dorie, Ella,” Fitz said by way of introduction. “Ella, Dorie.”

Nodding, Dorie was about to ask why they were here, when the buzzer went off and the crowd cheered. Apparently the home team had won. Puzzled, Dorie clapped along with everyone else.

As the teams returned to their benches after shaking hands, a thirtysomething man in a police uniform came out to the center of the court. Microphone in hand, he said, “Hey, everyone. Thanks for being here today. How about another hand for the kids?” Once the clapping had died down, he continued, “For those of you who don’t know me, my name’s Tuck, and I’ve had the pleasure of working with Coach O’Reilly for a while now. They’re having a great season, no?”

There was another round of applause, although this one a little less enthusiastic. At least Dorie wasn’t the only one with no clue.

Clearly aware of that, Tuck gave a big smile. “As all of you know, we’ve got a history here with the whole high school basketball thing.” No puzzlement involved in that round of cheers. It took a full minute for the noise to die down, stopping only when Tuck finally held his hands up. “So, uh... He’s probably going to kill me for this, but I know it would mean a lot to everyone to get a word from a special guest we have here today. And, to be honest, he’s had a rough couple of months. Considering what he’s done for us, I think that it wouldn’t hurt for us to maybe welcome him home.”

Dorie glanced over at Fitz, who looked right back at her and smiled. “Wait for it...” Fitz mouthed. Or maybe said, because the noise had already started up again, and words were lost entirely. The rumble began down at the court as the kids on both teams jumped to their feet and started cheering—screaming—at the tops of their lungs. It built up to a roar as hundreds, no, thousands, of people began stomping their feet. Dorie was afraid the building might actually come down. The entire gymnasium erupted into a frenzy as Nate stepped out on the court.

He had on a baseball cap that he hadn’t been wearing when he left the library, and Dorie was pretty sure he’d used it to blend into the crowd. As though a man like him could possibly blend. When he finally took the cap off and gave a little bit of a wave, the frenzy became something else. It was as if love was being rained down upon him. As though the town had ripped its heart open and tucked him inside.

Taking the microphone, he began to say something but could barely get out, “Thanks, but...” before someone yelled, “We love you, Nate!” and the noise started up again.

Without even realizing she’d done it, Dorie found that she was on her feet and cheering along with everyone else in the place, including those still streaming in. It took Nate a while before it occurred to him that he was the one who needed to stop it. Unlike everyone else, he was speechless, his hands at his sides. He finally brought the mic up again and held his hand up, just as Tuck had before. Even with that, it took him a few starts before the crowd started to quiet down.

“Tuck’s right,” he said, once the noise was at a manageable level. “I’m going to kill him.”

Although he smiled, Dorie didn’t think he was kidding.

“But he was also right about this meaning a lot to me,” Nate was saying. “More than you can know. So thank you.”

Watching him closely, Dorie drew her arms tightly around herself, wishing she could hug him instead. In fact, on the outside, he seemed no different than he had in any other public appearance he’d ever done.
The Tonight Show
,
Late Show with David Letterman
—hell, he’d hosted
Saturday Night Live
once upon a time with that same grin. She’d come to see another side of him, though, and to her surprise, she could tell he was only just barely managing to hold himself together.