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"I'm sorry to hurt your poor little ego. I felt bad calling you for something so silly, that's all."
"Call me Bree. Whenever, for whatever. I'll pick up. I'll never not want to hear from you."
I let myself digest his words and the sincerity in his tone. It feels good. Really good. "We're down a player tonight. I was just wondering if you might like to play?"
I can almost hear him sit up straight. "Volleyball?"
"Yep. Volleyball. If we don't find someone to play with us by seven, we'll have to forfeit. And I really don't want to do that."
His low chuckle makes me smile. "Of course you don't want to forfeit. And why should you, when you have me to fill in. I'll leave now, and head straight to you."
"Okay," I murmur, just for a second imagining another world, where a man rushes to me because there's no one else in the world he wants to spend time with. "I'll text you the address. Thank you Nick, really."
"You are so welcome, Little Bee,” he says, Cara’s nickname for me rolling off his lips.. “I'll see you soon."
I murmur a goodbye, then lay back on the treatment table I've been camped out on for the last hour. "Shit. Shit, shit, shit. I am so fucked, it's not even funny."
I don't take my eyes off the front door. The room swirls around me, a cacophony of voices laughing, drinking. It's the same old same old. It fades into the background. All my attention is on that door, and the man that's coming through them. Leather jacket Nick is devastating. The Nick that walks through the door in a black tailored suit with the collar of his crisp white shirt open, exposing the tanned V of his chest, is a ten on the Richter scale. Suddenly, everything I thought, everything I knew, is upside down.
He's tall, standing a couple of inches higher than most of the people in here, so it takes no time for him to spot me. And okay, maybe I'm a little thrilled at the way he grins when he sees me. I don't bother turning away, keeping my eyes on his as he weaves his way through the crowd, attracting more than one woman's attention. So maybe I lean in a little more when he gets to my table. Maybe my smile is a little bigger. For tonight, he's mine, even if it's just as friends. All his focus, all his smiles, are mine.
"You made it," I breathe. His grin grows, and he leans in, letting the bag on his shoulder slide down to the floor. "You were obviously at work. I feel bad for calling you away." No, I don't. Liar.
"Ransom had us all in a meeting with the architects for our new headquarters. He wanted a show of force. I don't think he's very happy with them." He pauses, brow furrowing. "Or with the whole project."
"I thought he was excited about building something new. Something for all of you."
"Yeah, that was the vision. He talked about a daycare and more space for everyone. I don't know. Something's up, but I don't think he's ready to talk."
"I always got the impression that when it came to stuff like that, he was the decision maker. Will he really talk to all of you?"
Nick pulls a chair closer to me, and sits, leaning into my space to make himself heard. "Yeah actually, he will. Ransom tends to chew on shit on his own first, thinking and planning. But eventually, he brings us in. It's a lot more of a democracy than people think. We tend to follow his direction, because his vision for our future is so strong he's already considered everything."
"I wonder if his vision for the future isn't quite so clear anymore. I mean there's a lot happening in your lives that maybe he didn't predict."
"Like?" Nick asks, giving me a wink.
"Like Cara. And Holly. And Becca. The dynamics are so different than they used to be."
He nods, rubbing his forefinger over his lower lip. "You might be right. And shit changed really fast. Faster than I ever would have imagined. It's almost a year since Kade met Becca, and six of my brothers are paired up."
The announcer comes over the mike listing off the next teams, and I hear our name.
"So James Bond, you ready for this?" I ask, glancing over at the courts. "We're up in ten minutes."
Nick eyes the courts and rubs his hands together. "Fuck yeah, I am. I should warn you though Bree," he pauses, something mischievous crossing his face, "other than a couple of times in P.E., I've never played volleyball. I'm pretty much the worst person you could have called for this."
I stare at him, dumbfounded. "Aw, fuck."
Nick laughs and picks his bag up. I point him toward the change rooms, mind whirling. This is a rec league, so we rotate, everyone playing every position throughout the game. It's supposed to make it fair for all abilities and level the playing field. It does, to some extent, but there are still teams that are better than others. Most nights, we're one of the better ones.
Tonight? Who the hell knows?
Nick comes back from the change rooms and I'm faced with a version of him I know much better. The t-shirt that clings to those muscled shoulders and the black shorts that end just above his knees. All the brothers spend a ton of time in their gym, so I've seen him dressed like this a bunch of times. But when he stops next to me, I still feel my breath catch in my chest. Standing next to Nick, no matter what he's wearing, is like being in the eye of a tornado. Everything around and outside of us is chaos, but here inside this bubble, there is nothing but us. I'm vaguely aware of Julia stepping up beside us, and the dopey look on her face.
Nick gives her a wink, then rakes his hands through his hair, peering at me sheepishly. "I should have probably grabbed some elastics or something."
Julia makes a weird sucking sound, and starts frantically patting her pockets. I give her a not so gentle hip check, and take Nick's hand, leading him toward the courts. "I have some in my bag." I don't want her anywhere near Nick's hair.
