Getting Lucky (The Portland Pioneers Book 2) (22 page)

She nuzzled into his arm, and not for the first time, Noah wondered how he could feel so comfortable with her, when he never felt even the remotest bit relaxed with Tabitha. He’d always had to watch himself, make sure he didn’t say anything wrong or do anything she disliked (and that list was
long
). Maggie just accepted. There was no secret agenda with her, only that she liked him and wanted him. It was such a relief after what felt like so many years of caring so much what everyone else thought of him.

“This is nice,” she mumbled into his t-shirt.

“Yeah, if this means we aren’t adults, I never want to be an adult again,” he admitted.

“You wanna watch a movie?” Maggie asked, and though two years ago, he would have balked at the idea of spending Friday night at home, curled up on the couch watching a movie, there was nothing he’d like more right now.

He was definitely turning into Jack—but Noah didn’t want to examine that too closely because he knew partly why Jack loved that so much, and
who
he loved to do it with.

“Sure, but nothing sappy. Lots of explosions and ass kicking.”

Maggie bit her bottom lip petulantly, and Noah had a disarming revelation. He was
really
whipped.

“A little ass kicking?” he suggested hopefully.

“Compromise,” Maggie said with a knowing grin, “is the best.”

And by compromise, he discovered she meant
Love Actually
, which as it turned out, had exactly zero ass kicking, unless you counted his own ass, which had been admirably defeated by Maggie chewing on her full bottom lip.

It was still the best Friday night he’d had in years.

“What are you doing here again?” Noah looked up from his coffee and saw Cal in the gap between the plastic draped entryway.

Noah just shrugged. He was at his house because he wanted to be. He was here because if he didn’t keep himself busy, he might do something stupid like push sleepy, rumpled, beautiful Maggie up against the kitchen counter and kiss her until neither of them could think of a single good reason why they hadn’t had sex yet.

Except that Noah knew there were lots of good reasons—well, one, specifically. The most important one, really. That Maggie herself wasn’t ready yet. While he definitely respected that, that didn’t stop him from imagining what he could do to persuade her to change her mind.

He’d been at her house for three nights now, and those three nights had been a haze of Maggie dreams, keeping him up way past when he should have fallen asleep, keyed up from making out on the couch as they cuddled and watched TV.

“Earth to Fox,” Cal said again, laughing this time. “I asked you what you were doing here again? You do know you hired professionals, right? We don’t need to be monitored 24/7.”

Noah hadn’t considered that. “Shit, I’m not monitoring you,” he retorted. “I just want to be involved. This is my house. It feels wrong to have you do all the work.”

Cal just rolled his eyes. The gesture still didn’t really fit his All-American Boy persona, but Noah liked it better than the outright anger he’d been subjected to before. Noah liked to think that things were finally cool between them, which had become strangely important to him because Cal was Maggie’s best friend. What was important to her had suddenly become important to Noah—a state of affairs that Noah was deliberately not examining too closely. Mostly because if he actually thought about it, he was fairly certain he’d be able to label it pretty easily.

He wasn’t ready for the label;
Maggie
wasn’t ready for the label.

“See, that’s the whole point of hiring a general contractor. We do all the work,” Cal said, leaning against the plastic-covered wall.

“What if I said that’s not what I want? What if I wanted to help?”

Cal just laughed and Noah knew exactly how pathetic he was when he was glad
at how genuine Cal sounded. “You really want me to put you to work?”

“Yes.”

“You are so weird. But you’re the client, so by all means, let’s see what you can not ruin.”

“I’m handy,” Noah protested, and Cal just rolled his eyes again.

“Yes, we’ve heard. Once or twice. I think Maggie is going to get that phrase tattooed on her ass.”

Noah laughed. “I’d
love
to see that.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not punching the shit out of you, but I still don’t like it,” Cal grumbled. He pulled out his iPad and started scrolling through his schedule for the house. “Let’s see here, you could always help break down the old concrete patio. We’re still trying to pinpoint the leaks in the house, and well, I hate to say it but handiness doesn’t quite stretch to plumbing expertise.”

Noah shrugged. “Whatever you want to give me, I’m happy with. The exercise will feel good. I’ve been jogging too much.” He also didn’t mention that maybe getting his sexual frustration out on the concrete blocks would probably help him feel better. Maybe it might even help him sleep tonight. He deliberately didn’t consider the possibility that that kind of heavy labor might bring on a migraine.

He’d been getting them less and less, but there were plenty of moments he went to do something perfectly normal, something he’d done a million times throughout his life and never once worried about, and he’d feel himself freeze with a sudden, paralyzing fear that
this
would be enough to give him a headache.

“Okay, well, I’ll let Jose know when he gets here that he can help you out. I’m in the house today with the plumber. I want to know once and for all if we need to replace the roof.”

Noah just shrugged. “Replace the roof. I’d rather just get it done now versus have to do it in a few years.”

Cal did a bit of a double take. “You know, other than your annoying habit of chasing after my best friend and wanting to be underfoot all the damn time, you’d be the textbook client.”

“I’ve got the money,” Noah said honestly. “I love this house. I want it to be perfect.”

“Well, then. That answers that question,” Cal said, and made another notation on his tablet.

Noah felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and plucked it out, checking the number before he answered it. He internally groaned when he saw it was Jack. Apparently he’d gotten sick of all the texts he’d sent interrogating him about Maggie and Thanksgiving that Noah hadn’t decided how to answer yet.

“Long time no talk, bro,” Jack said into the phone as Noah walked outside to the back patio he’d be demolishing later. “If I thought you were actually ignoring me, I might be hurt.”

“I was actually ignoring you, you jerk,” Noah said without heat.

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that,” Jack retorted. “I have to go down to LA this week to shoot a commercial for John Deere. Izzy can’t come because she’s slammed at work and I thought I’d stop by your shit town and see this new house you bought.”

Noah froze. He was not ready for Jack to come down to Sand Point and stick his very nosy nose into the whole Maggie business. Okay, so he’d done it with Jack and Izzy, but Jack had been an absolute mess and Noah believed that if he hadn’t carefully pushed the right way once or twice, it might not have turned out so happily in the end. Noah, on the other hand, was doing plenty fine on his own with Maggie, and Jack was about as subtle as a bulldozer.

“You do realize that Sand Point isn’t exactly on the flight plan to LA,” Noah said slowly, trying to stall.

“Duh. I’m going to drive down. Brilliant idea, right?”

“That’s like twelve hours on the road, dude. This isn’t the minors anymore. You don’t have to take a fucking bus everywhere.” And suddenly Noah had a brilliant idea. Brilliant
and
sneaky enough that Jack would probably never figure out it wasn’t all just coincidence. “As it happens though I’ve got an appointment to see Dr. Singh in San Francisco tomorrow. Why don’t you fly in and we’ll meet for dinner before you go on to LA?”

Okay, so he didn’t have an appointment with Dr. Singh; he hadn’t actually been to see him since before he’d come to Sand Point, but it had been long enough and he’d dodged enough of Dr. Singh’s calls that he’d probably fit him in last minute. Plus, this way, Jack wouldn’t ever set foot in Sand Point and try his hand at matchmaking.

“Sounds good,” Jack said. “You can tell me all about this Maggie girl. I’m assuming because you were ignoring me, things are awesome.”

“Awesome,” Noah echoed back with slightly less enthusiasm than his best friend. “How was Thanksgiving with Izzy?”

The very best way to distract Jack was to ask him about Izzy. True to form, Jack was off and running, rhapsodizing about the amazing dinner they’d cooked, how much fun they’d had and how much he loved her.

Noah had been harboring the slightest bit of guilt for skipping out on their Thanksgiving, but given how much he’d enjoyed spending the time with Maggie, and then hearing about how sappy and happy Jack and Izzy had been together erased the last of it.

“You have a good one too?” Jack asked absently after he finished his whole gushing recital on the general theme of “Izzy is amazing.”

“It was great, yeah,” Noah said. “I went to Maggie’s house. Apparently she hosts the strays of the town every year, and it was really, really good.”

“You like her a lot,” Jack observed shrewdly.

There was no point in disagreeing. Jack already knew and Noah couldn’t think of a good reason to deny it. One of the things Noah respected most about Jack was how upfront and honest he’d always been about his feelings for Izzy. He’d never hid or shied away once from what they were or what they might mean. Some people might think that was normal, but Noah knew it took a pair of brass balls to face feelings as strong as those straight on.

“Yeah, I do. I really do,” Noah admitted.

“Good.” Jack sounded way too pleased about this admission but Noah could only be glad that he wasn’t actually going to show up in Sand Point and ruin all of Noah’s good work. “So be in touch about tomorrow, yeah? Met Grill?”

“Met Grill it is,” Noah said.

“What time’s your appointment?” Jack asked and Noah froze again. Caught in the act.

“Uhhhhhh,” he hedged. “I’m not actually sure.”

“Well, doesn’t much matter. Just text me when you want to meet up.”

They said their goodbyes and Noah took a deep breath before clicking on the last missed call he’d had from Dr. Singh’s office.

He was really dreading this conversation, or really the appointment tomorrow, but he was almost relieved that Jack had given him a reason to finally follow through. He’d been obsessed with clearing the concussion tests when he’d first been hit, but now the very last thing he wanted to do was go to that office and sit in that uncomfortable chair and have Dr. Singh tell him what he already knew: that he was still experiencing concussion symptoms.

It had been a week or so since he’d had a headache, but Noah wasn’t about to believe that this fact meant anything at all. He knew he hadn’t shaken the concussion completely, and he was secretly beginning to suspect he might not ever. He might not be in love with the game like Jack was, but baseball was what Noah
did
. It created the schedule of his year, the rise and fall of the season dictating his life for so many years now that without the regimen, he knew he’d be lost. And the guys, Noah knew he would miss them the most, especially Jack. It was special, sometimes, being part of a whole; Noah had long known he was definitely more with them than without them.

Unsurprisingly, Dr. Singh’s receptionist was both thrilled to actually hear back from him and also thrilled to fit him in tomorrow afternoon for an appointment.

Noah slid his phone back in his pocket and turned around to see Cal standing in the back doorway. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been listening but Noah was sure it was long enough. Long enough to hear about Dr. Singh, anyway.

“Slacking already?” Cal asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Making some appointments for tomorrow. I’ll be headed into San Francisco. Won’t be back until late.”

“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Cal said, but Noah thought he could hear all the questions the other man wasn’t asking. And honestly, he wasn’t about to volunteer anything. They weren’t friends. Until very recently, they’d have been hard pressed to say a civil word to each other.

So when Cal actually said something, Noah was really surprised. “I saw you get hit. On ESPN. Don’t usually watch baseball games, but that was a pretty shit thing for that guy to do.”

Noah could only shrug. He’d been mad for a really long time, but sometimes anger was a hard thing to hang onto. He hadn’t been able to hang onto his, at any rate. Maybe that was because he was mostly convinced the pitcher hadn’t really meant to hit him like that. Scare him, maybe. Give him a bit of a jolt, perhaps. But not ruin his career.

He knew Jack felt like the whole thing was his fault, because he’d egged the pitcher on with his usual tactics—designed to make himself as annoying as possible—but Noah had never felt that was a fair assessment. The downside of Jack’s guilt was that he’d been hovering a little more than he typically would, which probably explained Jack’s sudden desire to see Sand Point. If things were normal, Jack would have left Maggie alone, likely admitting with a lopsided grin that all he could do was muck it up.