That Thing You Do (A Crystal Lake Novel Book 2) Page 2

  Nate stood near the guys, Chess stuck to him like glue, though his eyes were on Molly. His expression was shuttered, and damn but that ache where her heart was supposed to be was back.

  She felt like everything was about to go sideways, as if things had changed and there was no going back to what it was.

  “He can never know,” Molly whispered.

  “What was that?” Jess asked.

  Startled, she looked at brother’s fiancée and tried to smile. “Nothing.” Her eyes found their way back to Nate, only to find him still staring at her. His expression was unreadable, and for the first time, she felt fear.

  I love him was her first thought, which was something she’d never admitted before and for good reason—love and Nate and Molly were three things that didn’t belong together.

  This is going to be a disaster was her second thought. And she’d be right. Of course she’d be right, because her third thought pretty much said it all.

  She looked away from Nate and her heart sank.

  I’m so screwed.

  Chapter Two

  Nate Jacobs’s dad had once told him that the key to happiness was simple. It involved three rules. One, live your life without worrying what others think of you. Two, never leave the toilet seat up. And three, the opposite sex wasn’t built to be understood, so don’t even try. Nate’s dad was the happiest guy he knew, and after thirty-two years of marriage, his parents were still going strong. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out Samuel Jacobs knew what he was talking about.

  Especially the opposite-sex part.

  As it turned out, Nate had had a lot of interaction with the female sex. It started early, way before he even discovered that he actually liked girls. Back then, all he cared about was hockey, baseball, football, and his buddies. Free time was usually spent at the Jacobs home, tossing the football in the backyard or playing road hockey at the end of the street. But the summer he turned thirteen, Daisy Brookfield and Janice Hansen had started hanging out on the street, watching the boys play. The consensus was that the guys didn’t like girls—and Molly didn’t count—so they ignored them.

  But by early August, something changed. Nate decided Daisy Brookfield wasn’t so bad after all. She had long blonde hair and pretty blue eyes. She liked to laugh, and she liked hockey. She also had boobs. The Saturday night of Labor Day weekend, she kissed him behind the dugout while everyone else was at the fish fry. He didn’t mind it so much, though it was kinda wet and slimy. But the big deal was that she let him touch her boobs, and then she asked him if he wanted to see them. Of course he’d said yes. What guy wouldn’t? She’d lifted her shirt, undone her bra, and he practically lost his mind (not that he knew what to do with them). He decided he liked girls after all, especially Daisy Brookfield, and he never looked back.

  Things were good for Nate Jacobs. At the age of thirty, he was single, loving his life, and happy to be home for two weeks visiting his family and the best friends a guy could have. But last night, something had been off. And that something was Molly Malone.

  It was Sunday morning, and Nate was sitting outside on the back deck of the house he grew up in, nursing a cold coffee. He’d been out here for at least half an hour, replaying everything that had happened at Stu’s. It had been a great night until Chess Somers called him out of the blue. Said she’d heard he was back in town when she’d picked up her dry cleaning. He knew she was divorced—they’d hooked up a few months back when she’d come to New York City for a girl’s weekend—so he didn’t see a problem bringing her to Stu’s.

  Hell, it wasn’t as if they didn’t know her. Sure, there was drama back in the day—he knew Molly wasn’t a fan—but the reaction from Zach and Molly and the rest of the guys was, to say the least, a little unexpected. You’d think he’d brought the damn devil to the party.

  Everyone was polite and all, but he knew his pals well enough to know he’d crossed some invisible line he knew nothing about. And to top it off, Nate could have sworn he’d seen hurt in Molly’s eyes, which was the reason he was sitting back here with a scowl on his face and a confusion so deep, he didn’t know what to do.

  She was the last person he’d ever want to hurt.

  Shit, he thought, sinking deeper into the chair, this must have something to do with that night in Vegas. It’s just, he thought they’d got that all squared away. In his mind, they were good. And maybe they were. Maybe he’d misread everything.

  “Why are you frowning so damn hard this early in the morning?”

  Nate looked up as his dad sat down across from him, a steaming cup of java in hand. His old man was in nothing but a pair of boxers, which mirrored Nate. And for one weird moment, it was like looking into his future. He was, if nothing else, nearly Samuel’s doppelgänger. At fifty-five, his dad was in great shape. Hell, he looked better than a lot of men half his age. As part owner of the biggest construction company in the area, he kept busy. And he was the guy who liked to get his hands dirty, which meant he spent a lot of time on site. He visited the gym on a regular basis, but in Nate’s opinion, his dad looked great because the man was happy.

  His grandmother had once told him that nothing ages you more than stress or unhappiness, and Nate was pretty sure she was right.

  “You gonna share or what?” his dad prodded.

  “It’s nothing,” Nate replied.

  “Uh-huh.” Samuel took a sip from his coffee cup. “Don’t look like nothing.” He set his cup down. “This have anything to do with the fact you’re keeping company with Chess Somers?”

  Nate sat forward and shook his head. “Who in hell told you that?”

  His dad grinned. “Who else? Your mother.”

  “It’s nine thirty on a Sunday morning and less than twenty-four hours since I got here. That’s got to be some kind of record.”

  “She’s impressive, isn’t she?” When Nate didn’t respond, his dad’s grin widened. “You know your mom heads to church for eight to help prepare for Sunday school, same as she’s always done. She ran into Jessica Baker’s mother, who told her that you brought Chess over to Stu’s last night.”

  Unbelievable. The small-town grapevine had to be the best form of information gathering in the world. Seriously, the CIA or FBI guys could learn a thing or two by spending less than a day in Crystal Lake.

  “Great,” Nate muttered. He knew the way things worked. The town would have him engaged to be married before Zach’s wedding was over and done with.

  “So, you two dating?” his dad asked, reaching for his cup.

  “No,” Nate said emphatically. “We just…she’s someone I see from time to time is all.”

  “Someone to scratch that itch.”

  Nate nodded, relieved he didn’t have to explain. “Yeah. You get it.”

  “I do,” his father replied. “Just be careful, Nate. Sometimes an itch can turn into a rash. And some rashes, well, there ain’t no antibiotics for the cure.”

  “Jesus, Dad.” It was too early for this crap. “Seriously? What the hell kind of analogy is that?”

  “I’m just saying that I’ve known Chess Somers since she was a little girl. Coached her in Little League, remember? Trust me, that apple don’t fall too far from the tree. She’s a lot like her mother. She’s spoiled as hell, cruel to a fault, and your mother’s panties are in a knot just considering the idea you two are seeing each other.”

  “Well, you can tell Mom not to worry. Aside from the fact that I live in another state altogether, I’m not interested in Chess for life.”

  “Just itch scratching.”

  “Not even that.” Which was true. He could have spent the night at her place but hadn’t been feeling it. He gave her some bullshit story about being tired after an intense work week and then driving to Crystal Lake. Nate had no idea if she bought it or not, but the simple truth was that his mind was on other things.

  “Good to know,” his dad said.

  “Can we change the subject now?”

  His dad
stood up. “You feel like getting your hands dirty?”

  “Sure.” Maybe a little physical work could fix what he was feeling inside. “What do you have in mind?”

  “I’m heading over to your grandmother’s. Started a project in the backyard for her, and I could use an extra set of hands. Beck was tied up this morning with a client, but it would be a nice surprise if you came along.”

  “Sounds good.” Nate hopped up and joined his father. “How’s he been?”

  “Your brother tells us he’s just fine whenever we ask, which is often, you know your mother, but he’s been telling us that for years.” Samuel shrugged and didn’t bother to hide his worry. “He spends too much time on his own, if you ask me, but then my father was the same.”

  “I’m meeting him later for a beer.”

  Nate’s father slowly nodded. “That’s good. I know he misses having you close by.” He winked. “Now let’s get a move on before your grandmother has a cow.”

  Next to his mom, his grandmother, Hazel Jacobs, was the most special woman in the world. She’d never missed any of his hockey games, and in fact got him to more early morning practices than his parents. The day he got drafted to the NHL, she’d been right there with him. Just as she’d been by his side when he’d suffered a career-ending knee injury before his career had barely started. It had been a dark time for Nate, but through his grandmother, he’d been introduced to Tucker Simon, head of The Simon Agency, and he’d been given a chance at something new. Now Nate was one of the top sports agents in the country, and if he landed Link Major, the British footballer he was currently wooing, he’d be international.

  “Okay,” his father said. “We leave in ten minutes.”

  His grandmother lived in the older part of town, in a house that had been built to last in the mid 1800s. Set on nearly half an acre, the all-brick two-story sported a large wraparound porch and two turrets, original hardwood throughout, nine-foot ceilings, and the kind of old world charm that was hard to replicate. There were stained-glass windows, hidden alcoves, and a separate stairwell from the kitchen to the upper level. As a kid, Nate had loved coming here. He and his older brother, Beck, played hide and seek for hours on end. And the attic was a kid’s dream; huge and filled with all kinds of treasure.

  Nate and his father parked beside a shiny black SUV. While his dad headed around the side of the house to the backyard, Nate walked up the flagstone path and smiled when he spied his grandmother standing on the porch. Dressed in an old pair of jeans, pink frilly shirt, with her long silver hair pulled back in a ponytail, the woman looked at least ten years younger than her age. He walked into her open arms, pulling her close for a hug.

  “I heard you were home,” Hazel Jacobs said as she stepped back, giving him a wink that immediately had his attention.

  “Let me guess. You’ve already talked to Mom.”

  She nodded. “I did. Went down to the coffee shop this morning because I ran out of those pod thingies. Gosh, I hate those things. I need to get myself a regular old coffee maker. You know the ones that percolate? Anyway, I ran into your mother as she was standing in line. Marlene Baker was just two folks ahead of her and told her—”

  Nate held up his hand and laughed. “Yeah, I know what Marlene Baker told her. I don’t need the play-by-play.” He smiled down at his grandmother. “Just so you know, Gran, Chess’s not a thing.”

  “I know that,” she replied with a smile, linking her arm through his as they headed down the steps to follow his father out back. “But I am curious.”

  “About what?”

  “About the kind of woman who’ll snag your interest long enough to become a thing. You and your brother are not getting any younger, and I’m no closer to holding my great-grandbabies. Don’t they have any decent women in that big city you live in?”

  He hid a smile because she was so damn earnest.

  There’d been a few close calls. Michaela, a hot-as-hell lingerie model, had practically moved into his loft. But after a few months of living with his travel schedule, which at the time had been extensive, she’d bailed. Said she needed a man to be there for her at about the same time he realized he didn’t want to change or be that man.

  Then there’d been Rachel, the cute bartender at the Irish pub he frequented. They’d been exclusive for almost six months, but when she started talking about babies, he realized they weren’t on the same page. They crashed and burned, and he decided being single was better than hurting someone he cared about. Nate embraced the single life, and he liked the no-commitment thing. He was a busy guy, and it worked for him.

  He supposed things would change eventually—they had for Stu and Zach. But those guys knew what they wanted. Hell, just last night, Zach told him that pretty much everything about Jessica drove him bonkers, particularly her love of pink and the fact she put hot sauce on every single thing she ate, but he was crazy about her. And he couldn’t wait for her to wear his ring.

  “Are you going to answer my question or not, Nathan Samuel Jacobs?”

  He outright laughed because Gran only pulled out the full Christian name when she meant business. “I’ll let you know when I meet her.”

  “So that’s the problem. You just haven’t met her yet.”

  He kept things light but was so ready to move on from the conversation. “That’s the problem, Gran.”

  They finally rounded the house and made their way over to his dad, who stood next to a pile of lumber, holding a piece of paper with what looked like some kind of design on it.

  “What’s the plan?” Nate asked, trying to figure out what it was exactly they were doing here. His dad hadn’t elaborated and he hadn’t asked.

  “Your father is building a house.”

  “A house?” Nate asked, looking from his Gran to his father. “For what?”

  Just then, the screen door from the kitchen banged open, and he turned around. A woman stood there, cradling a wriggling bundle of fur in her arms. She was speaking to Kyle Langley of all people, and Nate wondered what the hell he was doing in his grandmother’s house. Molly seemed unaware she had an audience, and when Kyle bent his head close to hers she laughed. He leaned in even closer and whispered something that made her laugh again.

  It annoyed the hell out of Nate, and he tensed and took a step forward. What was she doing with him? Why was she standing so close to him? It almost looked like they were together.

  Her hair was in a messy knot at the back of her head, though a fair bit of it curled around her neck. For a second, he fixated on the piece that swept up to the corner of her mouth. She was dressed in a black tank top and a pair of old jean shorts that showed off her long, tanned legs. Her skin glistened in the dappled sunlight as she made her way down the steps from the deck, and Nate could never remember seeing so much of them before. The Molly he knew wore basketball shorts, or at least ones that were at least a couple of inches past her ass.

  And it wasn’t just the clothes. She looked different somehow. Nate couldn’t figure it out.

  Kyle spotted Nate at about the same time Molly did. He poked her in the side, and her smile slowly faded. What the hell? Since when was he the bad guy? What the hell had he done to her? He took a step forward, his intention to ask that very question, when his grandmother spoke.

  “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”

  Dark hair. Creamy skin. Stormy eyes. Those long, long legs. “Yeah,” he replied slowly, kind of stunned at where his thoughts had gone.

  A tug on his arm drew his gaze from Molly, and he stared down into the bemused face of his grandmother. She looked at him for a good long while. Long enough for Nate to feel the weight of Molly’s gaze and the curiosity of his father’s.

  A slow grin spread along Hazel Jacobs’s, face and she winked.

  “I was talking about the dog I’m adopting.” She paused and lowered her voice. “But you’re right, Nathan. Molly Malone is beautiful. I’m just surprised you’ve never noticed before.”

  Chapter Thr
ee

  “What are you doing here?” The question that sounded more like an accusation fell from Molly before she could snatch it back, and it took everything she had to stop from rolling her eyes and hitting herself on the forehead. What the hell? Hadn’t the pep talk she’d given herself this morning done anything?

  Apparently not, considering her voice sounded like she’d pulled it through the eye of a needle. Seriously, she’d give Minnie Mouse a run for her money.

  Luckily, Nate didn’t get a chance to answer because Kyle walked forward with his hand out like he was the head greeter at the local Walmart. She stood back and watched as they did that thing guys do—hearty handshake followed by slap on a shoulder, said shoulder squared and puffed up like a peacock, and a couple of fist bumps to finish it off.

  Men. They never change. She ignored the both of them and sailed past to where Hazel stood with Samuel Jacobs, a man who’d been a second father to her. He enveloped Molly in a bear hug and then nodded at the small puppy in her arms.

  “So, this is the pup Mom was telling me about.” Samuel Jacobs took the dog from her arms and held him aloft. She was an eight-week-old lab cross, chubby and furry and squiggly as could be. He turned the puppy to the right and then the left, doing his best to avoid its excited attempts to lick his face. He looked at his mother.

  “What are you naming this little guy?”

  “It’s a girl, and I don’t know,” Hazel said, taking the puppy into her arms. Unlike her son, she had no qualms about puppy kisses, and the dog’s tail wagged crazily as she yipped and squeaked in her effort to touch every inch of Hazel’s face with a soft tongue and a wet nose. The sight just about melted Molly’s heart. This was what made volunteering at the shelter so worthwhile.

  She glanced over her shoulder and frowned. Kyle and Nate stood inches from each other, shoulders squared, legs spread wide. This time, she didn’t bother to hide her eye roll. Their male posturing was almost as entertaining as watching two peacocks trying to outdo each other.