That Thing Called Love (9 page)

Dude had also all but worn a path parallel to the foul lines, stalking up toward the outfield and back to the infield, with stops in between to take shots, often sinking down to squat on his heels. One time, when Daniels took that dive for third base in the sixth inning, his father had dropped full length on his stomach, only his elbows keeping him from doing a face-plant in the grass.

Austin was surprised he hadn’t climbed the damn backstop to take a few bird’s-eye-view shots.

His friends thought the whole deal was completely bitchin’, saying stuff like they could see how he stalked tigers and shit through the jungles. If someone held a torch to Austin’s feet, maybe,
maybe
he’d say that he thought it was pretty bitchin’ himself.

Maybe.

* * *

J
ENNY
TURNED
TO
T
ASHA
the minute they climbed into her car to head over to Bella T’s. Reaching across the console, she poked her friend in the arm. “What the hell was all that about?”

“Huh?” Tasha blinked. “What was what?”

“That whole let’s share the hunk and put him in the middle crap?”

“I thought, that is...” Tasha trailed off, giving Jenny a perplexed look. “You aren’t attracted to him, then?”

She blew an incredulous
pffffftt.
“Of course I am—have you taken a
look
at the guy? He, however, is not attracted to me. Which, trust me, made that whole shoving us together thing awkward as hell.”

The strawberry blonde snorted. “Please. I saw him looking at you that night at the Anchor—not to mention the fact he was practically in your lap way before I pushed him there—and he is definitely attracted!”

“No, he really isn’t.” The last thing she wanted was to go into this morning’s Three Stooges reference, so she cut to the meat of the matter. “He thinks I’m
amusing.
”

Indignation dawned on Tasha’s face, and Jenny straightened in her seat before it could solidify.

“The truth is,” she said with a surprisingly decent imitation of cool disinterest, “the only reason I’m all hot for Bradshaw’s body—aside from it being eminently hot-worthy—is this embarrassingly long dry spell I’ve been in. That and the fact men aren’t exactly thick on the ground around here.”

“At least until the summer people start trickling in,” Tasha agreed gloomily. She crossed her arms over her breasts. “Although there is Max Bradshaw. He’s almost as tasty as Jake, if you go for the whole brooding Heathcliff type.”

“Which, unfortunately, I never have. He’s way too self-controlled. I like ’em a little more—well, not hot-blooded, exactly, because under all that discipline, I’m thinking he has serious potential in that department.” She glanced across the console at her friend before turning her attention back to the road. “I guess I just like a little more spontaneity in my men.”

“I agree. I get Max’s sex appeal as well, but it simply doesn’t call to me.”

“So who does that leave?”

“Wade Nelson?”

Jenny shook her head. “Nah. He’s still waiting for Mindy Neff to come back to him.”

“Seriously, he’s got to get over that. She and Curt just celebrated their seventh anniversary.”

“I know, right?” Jenny shook her head. “Guy Wilson is another rebound guy. The ink’s barely dry on his divorce.”

Tasha drummed her fingers on her thigh for a moment. “How about David Brill?”

“Are you kidding me?” Jenny said hotly. “Mr. Globe-trotter Bradshaw might be a little out of my league, but at the
very
least I deserve a guy with all his teeth!”

“Crap, you’re right. We’re scraping bottom here. There’s only one thing for it. You know that, right?”

I do.” She gave her friend a solemn nod. “The next chance we get, you and I are heading into Kitsap.”

“Damn straight. And find us some new blood.”

* * *

E
VERYONE
GATHERED
at Bella T’s after the game. When Tasha deserted her for the kitchen, Jenny gravitated toward some of the other parents, making sure to grab a seat as far away from Jake as she could.

Not that he noticed or would care if he did. He was too busy just charming the hell out of everyone left, right and sideways.

“You guys played an
ex
cellent game,” she heard him say now, then went on to discuss points of the various plays.

Points that totally went over her head.

That wasn’t the case with Austin or his friends or several of the fathers and Coach Harstead. She could almost hear the sucking sound of them being pulled into a spirited discussion.

Sneaking a peek while simultaneously carrying on a conversation with Rebecca Damoth, she watched as Jake homed in on his son.

“You’re a really good shortstop,” he said unreservedly.

Austin was obviously trying to play it cool, but she could tell he was pleased. “Yeah?”

“Definitely. I do have a few suggestions for improving on what you’ve already got,” Jake continued. “Maybe we could talk about them one of these days.”

The boy’s shoulders lifted and dropped. “Maybe.”

God. Jake was doing so much better than she’d expected. He had been way more engaged in Austin’s game than she ever would have given him credit for, his uninhibited enthusiasm for the team and the game firing everyone else to a near frenzy.

Which was saying something, considering how crazy this town already was about its team sports.

She should be glad that Bradshaw was more dedicated to getting to know his son than she’d anticipated...and she was.

Mostly. Because the only way a momentous change, like Jake taking Austin to New York, could be less traumatic was if the teen was fully invested in the relationship when the time came.

But knowing the boy she’d come to love like a little brother would soon be living on the other side of the continent—

Damn.
That was a cold dread in her stomach, an honest-to-God ache in her heart that just felt way too permanent.

The unwanted sexual pull Bradshaw exerted on her wasn’t helping, either. It sucked that, at the best of times, it was damn hard not to notice the man. And today had been far from the best of times. Between this morning’s fiasco, that lightning-fast, electric shock of a body mash in the bleachers, and Jake’s engaging gusto both then and now...

She sighed. It was hard not to be attracted.

Her shoulders squared. Well, she’d just have to motor past it. She was a big girl, and big girls—no, grown
women
—minimized their exposure to things that weren’t good for them. Especially if those things hammered their egos into paste.

She’d found out the hard way that nothing pulverized an ego faster than being all hot for someone who not only felt zip attraction in return but found you amusing.

So, it was settled, then. Minimizing her exposure to him was exactly what she would do.

Unfortunately, that merely left room for her to think about the letter from her father that had come just before she’d left for the game. In it he’d said he had good news to share and wanted her to visit him sooner than she’d originally planned.

A familiar apprehension tugged at her. Because she knew from experience that what was good for him wasn’t necessarily good for anyone else.

No. She sat a little straighter. She wasn’t that sixteen-year-old kid who’d been ripped from the life she’d known—and hadn’t been for a long time.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jake lean into the table.

“Hey, Austin,” he said to his son, who sat a few seats away. “Jenny tells me the boat you took out this morning is a Bayliner Bowrider?”

“Coolest ride ever, dude!” Austin’s friend Nolan decreed.

The boys bumped fists before Austin turned his attention to his father. “Yeah, it is.”

“And you got it for your birthday?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I’d like you to take me out on it.”

The teen’s mouth dropped open. “Say what?”

“That’s a lot of boat for a thirteen-year-old. Now, I’m sure, having grown up on the water, that you’re more than up to the task of controlling it. I’m also sure that you must be a responsible boater.”

Austin’s face went stony. “But?”

Jake gave him a level look. “But I wouldn’t be a responsible parent if I allowed you free rein before checking you out. So, when’s good for you?”

“How ’bout nev—”

“Jenny, of course, will accompany us.”

Say what?
She jerked upright, grateful she hadn’t chided Austin when he’d said the same thing, because she totally got it now.

Jake flashed her a guilty grimace, to which she responded with a
What the hell?
look of her own—until she noticed Austin turning in her direction. Quickly rearranging her expression, she turned her lips up into what she sincerely hoped was a composed smile. She feared it was probably more a sickly contortion than the calm and collected Madonna-like serenity she was shooting for—but it was the best she could come up with on short notice.

Speaking of shooting,
though, when it came to Jake that sounded downright appealing, and for a nanosecond she indulged the fantasy. Sans the blood-and-death thing.

“Jenny?”
Austin demanded.

Her mind cleared. Because the truth was, aside from the part where he’d dragged her into it, she didn’t need to see a couple of parents’ looks of approval to know Jake’s decree had merit. Her smile turned genuine.

“You have to admit it’s a reasonable request. Unreasonable would be Jake becoming your legal guardian and not caring if you know what you’re doing on the water. So what’s the harm of giving him a demonstration?”

“Jeeez.” All the same, Austin gave Jake a terse nod. “Fine.”

His father flashed him a white, white smile. “Excellent. When’s good for you?”

Looking hunted, Austin shot her a beseeching look.

“Why don’t we look at your practice and my work schedules when we get home?” she suggested smoothly. “We can decide from there.”

And you,
she thought darkly, shooting death rays Jake’s way when Austin turned back to his friends,
had better prepare yourself for an earful. Because you and I are gonna have us a little talk about boundaries.

CHAPTER EIGHT

“C
AN
WE
GET
THIS
OVER
WITH
, already?”

Jenny looked at Austin where he stood on the dock next to his boat, the sun slowly sinking toward the Olympic peaks at his back. With his arms crossed militantly over his narrow chest and his eyebrows meeting above the thrust of his nose, he broadcast in high def just how bored and put out he was about having to prove his boating abilities.

She swallowed a sigh because, truth to tell, she was still less than thrilled with Jake for sucking her into his arrangements without so much as a
would-you-mind?
But in unspoken agreement, the two of them were acting like the adults they were and studiously ignoring the teen’s pique. Instead, as they’d walked over to the dock, they’d discussed the Bulldogs’ practice, which Jake had watched this afternoon, although she’d had to miss it due to her work schedule.

Apparently, however, they’d exhausted Austin’s already limited patience.

She drew in a quiet breath, then eased it out. They needed to work on his manners.

She had to give Jake his due: he merely gave his son a nod and said, “Sure,” with no discernible dissatisfaction over Austin’s attitude. “Run me through your pre-takeoff safety check.”

“Dude, this isn’t an airplane.” But Austin waved them aboard his boat and squatted to untie the stern line from the cleat attached to the dock. He coiled the nylon rope with quick efficiency and leaned to tuck the line into a tiny side cubby in the boat before crab-walking to the forward cleat. Unlooping that line, he slid into the open bow of the Bayliner and stooped to stow it away, as well.

“Still,” he conceded as he straightened, “you gotta put on a life vest. I guess that qualifies as a safety thing. ‘No vest, no ride’ is a hard and fast rule of boating.” He shot Jake a defiant look as he entered the hull through the folded-back split windshield. “My grandpa taught me that.”

“It’s an excellent rule,” Jake said mildly.

“Yeah. It is.” The boy’s tense shoulders relaxed slightly. “You’ll find some under the seats back here.” After leaning over the driver’s seat to insert the key into the ignition, he edged past Jake and Jenny where they stood in the space between the captain seats and the back bench. Austin hauled his own vest out of the compartment beneath the bench cushions. Shrugging it on, he glanced at his father as the older man came to stand alongside him, then waved a hand at the other flotation devices in the storage he’d opened.

And displayed the first flash of his usual humor since Jake had arrived at the cottage this afternoon. “The orange-and-yellow youth-sized one is Jenny’s.”

The two males exchanged grins and Jenny flicked Austin’s forehead with her finger. “Brat.”

He laughed, clicked closed the triple belts on his vest and snugged up the straps, as Jake tossed Jenny her vest and donned his own. “You know it’s true, short stuff. Everybody buckled up?”

They finished fastening their vests, and Jenny waved Jake into the passenger seat as the teen slid into the driver’s chair and started the inboard-outboard. She went into the open bow, closed the windshield behind her and, zipping up her fleece hoodie, sat on the padded bench with her feet stretched out in front of her.

Easing the throttle out of Neutral, Austin slowly backed the craft from its berth.

Emmett truly had taught him responsible boating, and the teen kept the speed of the craft down until he reached deeper water. Then he steadily pressed the throttle forward until they were flying across the canal at top speed.

Jenny grinned and gathered her blowing hair at her nape to tie it into a knot before pulling her hood up. When she hadn’t been out for a while, she always seemed to forget how much she enjoyed boating and how thrilling it was to race across the canal on days like today, when the water was mirror flat and other boats were few and far between.

As they approached the far side of the fjord, Austin turned the boat in a long arc to the south. Foothills folded into more foothills, which ultimately gave way to craggy, snow-covered mountain peaks. The nuanced layers appeared close enough to trace with her fingertips.

They cruised the western shoreline, and as Austin piloted the boat behind a finger of land, he eased back on the throttle. A moment later, as they neared the opening to Tranquil Harbor, he decelerated even more. Water slapped the hull as the boat’s wake caught up with the now slow-moving craft, and they rode the gentle swell into the mouth of the long, narrow inlet.

Thick stands of evergreens, interspersed with the brighter lime and emerald of newly leafed alder and maple trees, surrounded the harbor on three sides. Generous moorage stretched down the west side, connected to the shore by narrow, arched pedestrian bridges.

The marina’s permanent tenant slips were occupied, but the majority of its short-term moorage was empty this time of year. Due to the popular year-round Friday- and Saturday-night barbecues, many of those berths would fill up on the weekends. And of course, as the weather improved the numbers would increase.

Until, come summertime, much like The Brothers, it would have so much business there would be waiting lists for a cancellation.

“This is one of Jenny’s favorite places,” Austin informed Jake as they motored through the marina under the posted five-mile-an-hour limit. Briefly, he met his father’s gaze.

“Grab the stern line,” he instructed as he let the boat drift up to one of the docks and put it in Reverse for a moment to halt its forward momentum.

Jenny retrieved the line at the bow, and she and Jake were winding figure eights around the dock cleats, fore and aft, when someone hailed Austin. She looked over her shoulder in time to see her honorary brother’s face light up.

“Hey, that’s Mr. D’s Chris-Craft! Looks like Nolan and Squirt and their folks and...” He rose to peer over the windshield, then shrugged at Jenny. “I don’t know who the girl is.”

The boat pulled alongside them. “Ahoy,” Mark Damoth said, using the same technique as Austin to stop his fishing-style boat before stretching out a leg to brace his foot against the Bayliner, keeping the two boats parallel without allowing their sides to bang together. He gave them all a cheerful smile before saying to Austin, “Nolan thought that was your boat.”

Austin blinked at his friend. “I didn’t know you guys were coming out today.”

“Me neither,” Nolan said. “But we wanted to show Bailey around and I remembered you sayin’ you were bringing Jenny and your da—um, him—” he tipped his head at Jake “—here.” Obviously wanting to change the subject, he grabbed the hand of a girl who looked to be about his and Austin’s age. “This is Bailey.”

“She’s our cousin,” Nolan’s little brother Josh interrupted.

“Right,” Nolan said drily. “I think I told you about her, didn’t I, A? The girl who rocks baseball?”

“Sure, who could forget that?” Sliding his fingertips in his front pants pockets, he looked at the girl. “How ya doin’?”

“Okay,” she murmured.

“My aunt Debbie’s been sick,” Nolan said. “So Bails is gonna live with us through the summer.”

Jenny saw a shadow cross Bailey’s blue eyes. It came and went so fast, she couldn’t swear she hadn’t imagined it—or that it hadn’t been caused by one of the puffy clouds drifting across the sky or the brim of the girl’s blue-and-brown plaid newsboy cap, which she wore pulled down to the delicate arch of her dark eyebrows.

She suspected, however, that it was neither of those things. Not if the girl’s mother was sick enough to send her daughter to a new school this close to the end of the school year.

The brief look she exchanged with Rebecca Damoth didn’t lessen her suspicion.

“This is Jenny and Jake, Bailey,” Austin informed the girl, jerking his chin to indicate them. “I don’t think you’ve met Jake either, have you, Squirt?” he asked Josh, then turned to the boy’s father. “How ’bout you, Mr. D? You met him?”

A muscle in Jake’s jaw ticked, no doubt due to Austin’s continued insistence on calling him by his first name rather than acknowledge their relationship. But if so, he smoothed out his expression so quickly, she wasn’t sure what she’d seen.

“Your dad might not remember,” Mark Damoth said with easy friendliness, leaning out of his boat to offer his hand, “but I student coached Jake’s Little League team with my dad one summer.”

“Wow.” Jake shook the other man’s hand across the foot of water separating the two boats. “I didn’t put you together with that kid from back when. I thought you were so cool when I was twelve.” He shot the other man a sly smile. “But you’re old, dude.”

Mark threw back his head and laughed. “Not to mention a few pounds heavier,” he agreed amiably, giving his paunch an affectionate slap. “I’d hoped to meet you again at the kids’ pizza party, but I got held up at work.”

“We thought we’d hike up to the café and get the kids a cone,” Rebecca said. “Why don’t you join us?”

The suggestion clearly appealed to Austin, and Jake nodded. “Sounds like an excellent plan.”

“I’ll go moor the boat,” Mark said and pushed his craft farther away from the Bayliner.

“Woo-hoo!” Austin was all smiles as he climbed out of his boat and strode down to where Mark docked behind them. He caught the line Nolan tossed him, and the two boys secured the boat.

Jenny watched Jake hesitate for a moment before he reached for the flat, plain brown paper-wrapped package she’d noticed him carrying earlier. Then he turned and held out his free hand to her. Lacking the length of the Bradshaw men’s legs, she knew better than to turn up her nose at the gesture. Scrabbling out of the boat like a two-year-old, only without the charm, held no appeal. Sliding her fingers into his palm, she allowed him to hand her onto the dock.

He followed behind her, making the single steep step from the deck of the boat to the float look effortless.

Austin and the Damoths met them moments later, and they all crossed a nearby footbridge and hiked to the top of a switchback trail. A café, general store and coffee shop/ice-cream parlor nestled in a sunny clearing among the trees at its top. They headed for the latter and a bell
ting-a-linged
over the door of the shop as they entered.

The kids promptly claimed a white wrought-iron table that was barely big enough for the four of them once Austin had pulled over two additional chairs from a neighboring table. The message was clear that no adults were allowed.

Mark laughed and claimed a slightly larger table on the other side of the room. The shop wasn’t spacious enough to support a reasonable expectation of privacy, but the teens seemed satisfied with the bit of independence the separation provided them.

Josh was clearly happy just being able to hang with the bigger kids.

Jenny discovered the adult table wasn’t all that roomy either when her feet tangled with Jake’s much larger ones beneath it. The second time it happened she tucked hers between her chair’s legs.

The Damoths were open and friendly, and they all chatted easily as a young woman distributed laminated lists of ice cream flavors to both tables. Mark, big and easygoing, waved a beefy hand in the kids’ direction. “Put whatever they’re having on my tab.”

Jake had set his small package on the table, but had to move it to the floor when their coffee and ice cream arrived a short while later.

“What’ve you got there?” Mark asked, as Jake rested it with patent care against the leg of his chair.

“Just something I made for Austin.”

Jenny watched the teen snap his head up to stare at his father. He’d obviously heard and was torn between a natural teenage curiosity and his need to hang on to the distance he’d stringently been trying to maintain. The green eyes so similar to Jake’s lit up when Mark demanded for him, “That right? What is it?”

Seeing that Jake was about to answer, Jenny didn’t have a clue why she jumped in before he could. “You ever do much fishing when you were a kid?” she asked him.

He looked puzzled, undoubtedly as much by the rudeness of her interruption as the out-of-the-blue question. But he said politely, “Not so much. My dad took me once or twice, but he left my mom and me when I was still pretty young. Why?”

“Because one of the hard-and-fast rules when you get a fish on the line is to let it run with the bait a bit to set the hook before you haul him in.” As if she’d know. Still, she’d certainly heard enough fishermen over the years to talk a decent game.

His dark brows furrowed. “O-kay.”

Mark, who faced the kids from Jenny’s side of the table, caught on much faster. “It’s true,” he said. “Trying to reel a fish in too quickly rarely pays in the end.” His gaze rested on the kids’ table for a second before he gave Jake a meaningful look. “You get a much more satisfying result if you play ’em a little, then haul them in slowly.”

Enlightenment dawned. “Aw,” Jake murmured. “Sure. You probably have a point.”

“Okay, I don’t have a clue what you all are talking about,” Rebecca said mildly. “But this sure is good ice cream.”

They laughed and turned the conversation in another direction.

Suddenly Austin blurted, “Aw, man, how’d you get so lucky?” Nolan said something in return, and Austin pushed out of his chair and came over to the adults’ table. “Nolan and Bailey getta watch the new Transformers movie tonight on Mr. D’s Blu-ray.”

“Me, too!” Josh said.

“Yeah, even Squirt gets to see it,” Austin agreed. “You remember that show, Jenny? The one I didn’t get to see when it played in Silverdale because I caught the stinking flu from the guy in room 118? The one who—”

“—ran around spreading germs instead of having the decency to stay home when he was sick?” she completed the lament in unison with the boy.

Yes, she remembered. It was hard to forget when he’d been so vocal about the way he’d been robbed of the movie that he had waited
forever
to see.

Nolan and Bailey joined him at the table, Josh scrambling in their wake. “I told him he could watch it with us, Mom,” Nolan said. “Bailey’d like that, too, wouldn’t you?”

The girl nodded politely and he promptly turned back to his mother. “See? And I think he should probably ride home with us to save time. That’d be okay, wouldn’t it?”