Calling It (17 page)

Hell. He owed them so much. Because they
had
stuck by him, even though he hadn’t exactly made it easy to do so of late. They were on the payroll, yes, but they’d never wavered in their support. Nate finally had enough distance from it all, that he could see that loud and clear. “This has been a really shitty couple of months. And I...”
Damn
it. “Thank you.” It came out more gruffly than intended, but there you go.

A ghost of a smile appeared on Pete’s face. “You are a spectacular pain in the ass,” he said, “but somehow we love you anyway.”

“
He
loves you,” Mark grumbled, “because he’s had a crush on your sister since their law school days. I just want to take your money.”

Nate ignored the first part of that comment; he did everything possible
not
to think about Pete and Ella. But in terms of Mark, well, Nate didn’t believe that for a second. Mark had been with him from the beginning, just like Pete. Of course, Dorie didn’t know that. And when she stopped suddenly on the threshold upon hearing those words, Nate could feel the daggers coming out of her eyes.

Mark could feel them, too. He held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I come in peace, I swear.” His gaze slid over to Nate’s. “She knows I was only kidding, right?”

She did now—the daggers had disappeared, replaced by a look of apology. But Nate wouldn’t forget that unbridled fierce protectiveness for
him
for a very long time. He couldn’t take his eyes off her as he introduced her to Mark.

“I see what Rico was talking about,” Mark muttered with a grin. “You’re quite the spitfire, aren’t you?”

“Rico Castillo talked about
me
?” she said, clearly taken aback.

“Does she seriously not know?” Mark asked, this time looking at Nate.

“Not know what?” Nate said, clueless himself.

Mark laughed. “Check today’s trending topics.”

“What?” Dorie snapped. She edged closer as Nate looked at his phone.

#natesnewgirl

Fuck.
“How do they get this stuff already?”

Though Pete was an expert on a lot of things, Twitter wasn’t one of them. Unfortunately, however, he was studying Dorie in a way that made it clear she was at the top of his list in terms of leaking the news.

Before Nate could defend her, Mark answered, “Rico and Troy had a bit of an exchange this morning.” He smiled at Dorie. “It appears that if things don’t work out with Nate, you have other options.”

Nate was happy to see that, though Dorie’s face had gone deathly pale, she had enough wits about her to snap at Pete, “So only the girls have to promise not to talk?”

Pete, at least, had the decency not to snap back.

“I’m sorry,” Nate said, shutting off his phone and taking her hand. He didn’t want this; he’d wished for anything
but
this.

“It’s fine,” she said with a laugh that had an edge of hysteria laced through it. “Totally fine.”

It wasn’t fine. And this wasn’t even the worst of it—there would be a whole legion of fans more than happy to weigh in. They tended not to be kind. And there wasn’t a goddamn thing Nate could do to stop it.

Pete sat back, still watching Dorie as she shot to her feet and ran a hand through her hair. “I, um... Dinner,” she said. “I’ll cook us all dinner.”

Nate did not want dinner. He most definitely did not want dinner with Pete and Mark. What he wanted more than anything right now was to grab her and wrap her in a cocoon until something much more newsworthy came up.

“Unfortunately, that’s not going to work,” Pete said, actually sounding sorry; Nate had to give him that. Leaning forward again, Pete looked at Nate. “Bobby and Lou—” i.e., Nate’s former bosses who he’d spent his entire career with up until now, “—heard about your meeting tomorrow morning and they saw an opening. They want you to join them for dinner.”

Now it was Nate’s turn to sit back. “Tonight?” They wanted to talk to him
now?

“Seven thirty,” Pete was saying. “Morton’s. You, Mark and me.”

Nate could feel his face tighten with irritation. “Dorie, too.” He wanted to spend the weekend with her. He had until the thirteenth to get it right. Three weeks, and he didn’t want to waste a second.

But she wasn’t exactly excited about the prospect. “Or maybe I could just stay here and get some work done.”

Right. That would make the most sense. They could each focus on their jobs and he’d come home after dinner like they were any other couple in the world. Except they weren’t a couple, as Dorie had made clear. And he had a feeling that part of her resistance was because she was trying to talk herself out of the fact that she felt something, too—something a lot stronger than the “short-term” fling she was insisting this was.

He didn’t want to force her. This was a woman who refused to let him tell her he actually saw a future with her. The last thing he wanted was to let on that she was exactly right about the role people would expect her to play: trot her out for decoration at dinner, and then let her sit there quietly while the serious talk took place.

At the same time, he wanted her there, more than just a little bit. He hated dinners like this. She may be the decoration, but he was the commodity. A thing to be sculpted and trained—sometimes supported, sometimes not—and used until his body gave out. It was all part of the job and he made sure not to complain about it, especially when he had it better than most—when he was paid a whole hell of a lot to put up with it. But having Dorie there would make it bearable. Given the way she surprised him with how her mind worked, how she made him laugh when it seemed impossible to smile, it might even be enjoyable. Plus, to be completely honest, he didn’t want to waste a minute he had with her.

Hell. “What if I just meet them for a quick drink? Or maybe coff—”

To his surprise, though, Dorie cut him off. “Can you make sure no one gets any pictures of me?”

He looked up as she came to stand in front of him.

No one? Meaning the mob that was always lying in wait?

“Yes,” Nate answered before Pete or Mark could intervene.

Her eyes narrowed, which was a good call since Nate had no idea how to make good on that promise. But he would stop the freaking Earth from turning if that’s what it took. Still...

He took her hand and tugged her closer. “It’s okay if you don’t want to. We can just stay here.”

The fact that neither Pete or Mark contradicted him wasn’t necessarily a good thing. It was an important meeting and neither would be happy if it had to be canceled. The silence meant that he was in for a big talking-to when all was said and done. But it also meant they were aware this wasn’t negotiable. Dorie came first no matter what anyone else said.

There was a moment of silence as she considered it. Then a big smile came over her face as she leaned down and kissed him. “Okay,” she murmured.

As she pulled away, though, Pete said, “Hey, Donelli. Just one thing.” He rested his elbows on the table and made a steeple with his hands. “Don’t pull a stunt like you did last night. It won’t go over well.”

Irritation flashed through Dorie’s eyes. Demonstrating exactly the kind of thing Nate wasn’t allowed to say he loved about her, she let go of his hand and glared at Pete. “Fine. Two things right back at you. First of all, I’m a grown-up. I know what’s appropriate and when, which is something some of your baseball player friends could learn a thing or two about. Second of all...” She pulled back her shoulders and drew her entire being into what Nate now knew was a five-foot-five-inch don’t-fuck-with-me tower of strength. “I have to tell my family about, um, us—” She was clearly uncomfortable with the term as she glanced over at Nate then back at Pete. “Whether you like it or not. I need to prepare them.” Then she spun and left the room as Nate watched Pete’s and Mark’s mouths practically drop open.

“She hasn’t told anyone about you?” Mark asked, looking at Nate in clear disbelief.

“She thinks it’s just a fling.”

“It is just a fling,” Pete said.

“No,” Nate said. “It’s not.”

Pete, knowing when not to push it even though he wasn’t happy about it, just sat back in his seat, his arms crossed.

Mark asked, “No pictures? Not even just of you?”

“I’m trying not to take it personally.” Nate smiled. “Can we be done for now? I’m beat.”

With a sharp laugh, Mark started gathering up papers. “I’ll bet.”

Pete was just staring at him, though. “Please tell me that you at least considered the fact that she could be taking you for a ride.”

He hadn’t, not seriously. Not even after finding out she’d known who he was all along. So he did as Pete asked and considered it.

Went with the gut instinct that had gotten him to where he was and dismissed it entirely. “You guys will see yourselves out, right?”

Shaking his head, Pete turned his attention to the rest of the papers and waved his hand distractedly. “Seven thirty. Morton’s on State. Don’t be late.”

Chapter Eighteen

Thank God she’d gone shopping. Thank
God
she’d done well at the poker game the night before or she wouldn’t have been able to go shopping. She hadn’t been exaggerating about the car payments.

Dorie looked at the array of bags she’d spread out on the bed in front of her. What she
should
have done this afternoon was hop on a bus and head straight back to reality. Yet here she was, completely violating her only-about-the-sex point by going to his dinner with management.

With a sigh, Dorie reached into one of the bags. The dress was fine—maybe not Morton’s fine, but nice nonetheless. The shoes, though? Not nice. Not nice at all.

Do
-
me
shoes?
Claudia had texted when Dorie’d sent her pictures of the pairs she was considering.

Just don’t show them to your brothers and everyone will go home alive.

To be honest, Dorie hadn’t intended to ever show them to anyone other than Nate. She’d planned to cook him dinner, maybe in nothing but an apron and some completely-unlike-her shoes, and then they’d—

“I’m sorry.”

Dorie nearly shrieked with surprise when she saw Nate standing in the doorway. For goodness sake. “You need to stop doing that.”

He smiled. Damn, he had the most gorgeous smile. He came toward her and put his hands on her waist, bent down to touch his lips to her hair.

She closed her eyes. She was trying not to get used to this. She was trying so very hard. “Sorry about what?”

“Dinner, to start with.” His hands went through her hair and he eased her head back so she was looking into his eyes. Eyes that were even more gorgeous than his smile, if that was possible. “I get that that’s outside the lines.”

She appreciated that. She really did—which was partly why she said she’d go. She wasn’t used to anyone putting her first, and the fact that he was willing to completely throw a wrench in everyone’s plans—for her—meant more to her than she was ready to admit. The other part, though, was that she wanted to be there for him. To be the one person who had no agenda whatsoever except to be there for Nate.

“But I can also stay here. I mean, maybe it’s not such a great idea for you to be seen with me so soon after Courtney.” She wasn’t an idiot. No matter how hard Nate tried, someone would get a picture of them together. She was a freaking trending topic, for heaven’s sake.

Her response did not make him happy. That was clear enough from the glare he was throwing her way. But just in case she didn’t get the hint, he added, “Courtney left
me
. I don’t give one iota of a fuck if people think it’s too soon. You’re the only one whose opinion on that matters.” He took a step away, his back to her as he paused for a minute before turning to face her again. “I know you don’t believe for a second that what I feel is—”

When she started to hold up her hands to stop him he grabbed her wrists and continued, “...is
real.
Whatever it is,” he conceded, not saying the
L
-word. “It’s real. I
want
you to tell your family. I
want
people to know.” He let go of her, then ran his hands through his hair. “If you’d rather not come to dinner tonight I totally understand. And, trust me, I get all the reasons why you’d want to stay home. But it would make me really happy to have you there.”

Well, um, okay.

It wasn’t that she thought he was lying about how he felt; she didn’t. He so obviously and wholeheartedly believed it. But he was coming off the rockiest six weeks of his life—and they hadn’t even known each other for a full week. And when he came to his senses, it would be awful. Which was why she was trying so desperately to keep boundaries around it all. If she could keep it physical and with an end date, she could cherish it for what it was and then just move on in the end.

Right. As if that was even close to possible.

But dinner? Yes. If he said he wanted her there, then she was going to take him up on that. She smiled. “I hope a dress from the Gap is acceptable.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “As far as I’m concerned, anything that doesn’t say Red Sox on it is acceptable.” As if to make his point, he fisted his hand in her T-shirt and pulled her closer. “In fact,” he murmured against her neck, “I may need to take care of this one right now.”

“Uh-uh.” Laughing, she pushed him away. “I have some major work to do here. You’ll need to make yourself scarce for a little while.”

She wasn’t lying. She cleaned up pretty well, but it did take some time, especially since it wasn’t something she did on a regular basis. Hair, nails, makeup, dress, heels. It was a good hour before she was ready. Enough time that she was on the verge of making them late. But even with that being the case, she still had to call her family just to be safe. There was no way she was letting them hear about this from someone other than her.

She’d just fastened the buckle on her right shoe and was tapping the call button on her phone as she straightened up when Nate hissed, “
Jesus
,” from the doorway.

She ended the call before anyone picked up. “What?” she asked, her hand dropping to her side. “Is everything...?”

Her words died in her throat as he came toward her. She took a step backward and would have fallen against the bed if he hadn’t caught her by the elbows and steadied her. Because she
saw
it. She saw in his eyes how deeply he felt for her.

It was infatuation, she’d been trying to tell herself. Lust. Even a little bit of I-can’t-believe-you-just-said-that. But just now she’d seen love. Honest-to-God, he-might-be-telling-the-truth-about-how-quickly-he’d-fallen love.

“You’re stunning,” he said. “Beyond beautiful. If you believe nothing else I tell you, at least believe that.”

To be honest, having been adored by six older brothers and the best parents in the world, she did believe that—she’d felt it all her life. She’d even had men tell her that, had them show their appreciation in intimate terms. And yet she was entirely unprepared for the emotion that nearly choked her. She could
not
fall in love with this man.

“I do,” she said. “Believe you, that is. When you look at me like that I do.”

His hands went to her jaw; he angled her head up so gently—touched his lips to hers so tenderly—that the tears fell. Again.

Thank God she’d gone for the waterproof mascara.

As his kiss deepened, her arms went around his neck and she pulled him close. Maybe for just this one night she could pretend that he was right. That this would never end.

But before she could get too far into the pretending, he broke off the kiss. Not to create a distance between them—if anything, the way he held her to him, his hand at the small of her back, was even more intimate. Then his other hand came up between them and—

“What’s that?” Her entire body went still as her eye caught the flash of Tiffany blue in his jacket pocket.

“Had to do something with myself while you were making me wait.” There was a twinkle in his eyes.

She’d never in her life been given jewelry by a man. Not even from her father, whose special gift of choice was a pair of tickets to a Red Sox/Yankees game.

What was he thinking? “I can’t accept this.”

With a laugh, he muttered, “I’ll pay you to say that again in front of Pete.”

She glared at him.

“Would it help if I told you it cost me less than what I lost to you last night?”

Her mouth twitched before she could stop it. “Marginally.” Except she was lying. It helped a lot. And it scared her out of her wits that he understood that. With a deep breath she pulled at the end of the ribbon and opened the box.

It was the most beautiful necklace she’d ever seen. A rope of tiny pearls that joined together in a tassel of even tinier beads. It took her a minute to speak. “This is for me?”

His voice was gruff—almost irritated—as he answered, “Of course it is.” His touch was gentle, though, as he turned her to face the mirror on the wall, her back to him as she lifted the hair off her neck. She watched as he undid the clasp and then brought it over her head, letting it fall gently to her chest. Never in a thousand years would she have picked this out for herself—and yet, somehow, nothing had ever suited her more perfectly.
He
suited her perfectly.

Oh, God, no he
didn’t
.

When he looked up and caught her eye in the reflection, he smiled. His arm draped down the front of her as he pulled her against him, his fingertips brushing the hollow at her hip. Though he didn’t speak, she could see every word she wouldn’t let him say aloud written on his face.

Afraid that she might say something that would betray everything she’d managed to hold back so far, she murmured, “This is so not the Julia Roberts movie I thought I was living.”

“Careful there, Donelli,” he said softly, laughter dancing in his eyes. “I know how every one of those movies ends. The odds are in my favor.”

Her phone rang. She reached for it blindly, her voice barely a whisper as she said, “Hello?”

“Luce...
Fuck.
Are you okay?”

“Sean.” It came out a croak. Eyes still on Nate, Dorie cleared her throat and tried again. “Sean. Hi.”

“You’re okay?” he snapped, the background noise of the restaurant a dull roar. “You’re not in the hospital or anything?”

Dorie tore her gaze away from Nate’s so she could focus on, say, speaking. “Um... I’m fine. Is—”

“You’re
fine?
Goddamn it, Luce.” He must have put his hand over the phone because his voice was muffled as he said, “Did you hear that? She’s fine. No. Hell.
Yolanda.
Don’t get my dad. I’ve got it.” His voice louder, he came back on the line. “Luce. Please tell Yolanda you’re fine.”

Yolanda. She’d been the hostess at the mother ship since the restaurant had opened. “Hi, Yolanda. I’m fine.”

“But why would she call us on a Saturday night and then just hang up?” Yolanda said, clearly unaware that she could ask Dorie directly rather than go through Sean. Phones weren’t her thing.

“Well, that’s an excellent question, Yolanda,” Sean answered in his well-honed, annoying I-am-the-oldest voice. “Especially since she knows that even just calling the restaurant on a Saturday night is grounds for calling out the National Guard.”

Pulling out of Nate’s arms, Dorie turned away from the mirror as her brother went on, going so far as to recite Golden Rule #1 from growing up. “Do not call the restaurant during dinner rush unless you’re bleeding. If it’s during
Saturday
dinner rush, then it better be because you’ve lost a limb.”

Dorie sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed. She was glad when Nate leaned against the dresser rather than joining her. Sitting next to Nate on his bed while talking to
anyone
in her family was a singularly bad idea.

Sean finally closed with, “...so you’d better have a hell of a good reason for calling on a Satur—”

“I got the point, Sean,” she snapped. “Can I—”

“Oh, shit,” Sean muttered. “It’s the shoes. Crap, Luce. It’s a guy, isn’t it? Are you pregnant?” With every question, Sean’s voice grew more belligerent. “Is he at least man enough to—?”

“Geez, Sean! I’m not pregnant.” Nate’s head jerked up at that last part. Great. Trying to get the upper hand in the conversation, she added, “And how do you know about the shoes?”

Nate stifled a laugh. He was enjoying this.

“My wife is the most beautiful, smartest, sweetest woman in the world,” Sean replied, “but the woman says three Hail Marys if she forgets to tighten the top of the milk. She practically gave herself a nervous breakdown trying to hide those pictures from me.”

Dorie looked down at her feet. She stuck one leg out and twisted her foot a bit so she could get a decent look. “For heaven’s sake,” she muttered. “They’re just shoes.”

The words nearly died in her throat when she realized that Nate was looking at the shoes, too. And then at her ankle. And then her calf. Her thigh...

A whimper escaped as heat pooled between her legs.

“What the hell, Luce?” Sean sounded even more irritated than before. He was growling, too, except not in a good way. “His hands better not be on you right now. I will—”

“I need to talk to Daddy,” Dorie snapped, cutting him off. “
Now
, Sean.”

There was a moment of silence before Sean said, “Fine. I’ll call you from my cell. We’ve already tied up this line long enough.”

Yes, that was true. The problem was that she
had
known it was an awful time, and that no one in her family would pick up their phone right now, so she’d needed to call the restaurant’s main number. Dorie very specifically did
not
look at Nate as she waited. She was already close enough to losing her nerve.

When her phone rang again she was ready for it, about to launch into an explanation immediately when her father’s voice boomed in her ear, “Lucinda? Is that you? How’s my baby’s new job? How is Kansas?”

“Iowa, Daddy,” Dorie said, rolling her eyes. He knew, of course. He just refused to get it right. “And I’m actually in Chicago this weekend.” It was as good a non sequitur as any. “Which is kind of what I needed to talk to you about.”

“But Sean says you’re okay?” This time it was Dorie’s mother speaking.

“Hi, Mom. Yes, I’m okay.” For the love of Pete. “
Please
tell everyone I’m okay.”

“You can tell them yourself. It’s report card night. Everyone’s here. I’m putting you on speaker.”

What? “No, Mom. Please don’t—”

“Oh, wait. Look at that! I can see you! Don’t I have the smartest grandson?”

Groaning, Dorie said, “Mom,
no
. I don’t want to FaceTime you.”

“Dorie!”

At least her mother had remembered not to call her Lucinda. That was something.

“Is that your
bedroom
? Are you in a hotel? Why are you in Chicago?”

Without thinking, Dorie glanced over at Nate. Except that made everything worse. “I’m, uh—”

“Are you there with a friend? Is it someone you met at your new job?” Forgetting she was on FaceTime, she put her hand over the phone as she turned to Dorie’s father. “She’s there with a friend. Do you think it’s a man?”