Called Up

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Authors: Jen Doyle
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out slap him the next time they saw each other.
    “Fuck, no—it’s, what, two in the morning?” Nate was clearly wondering what had gotten into Deke’s head. If he knew the truth, however, there was no way he’d be saying, “You are now aware of a situation Fitz has kept under wraps for sixteen years, a situation Jules chose to bring to the surface at a time when there’s not a thing I can do about it. When there’s not a fucking thing I can do for either of them. Whether you like it or not, you’re close to some of the people who made Fitz’s life a living hell and who she still has to deal with on a regular basis. So, yes, I would like some goddamn reassurance from one of my freaking best friends in the world that my sisters are not about to implode while I’m playing a fucking ball game in Tampa Bay!”
    Since Deke felt guilty as hell for all of the above, not to mention fully understanding the reason for Nate’s tirade, he made his second mistake of the night, muttering, “Maybe you need to start thinking about coming home for good. Look after your sisters all on your own.”
    Idiot. The last thing he wanted was Nate swooping in to take care of Fitz. Deke had been her best friend for years. That job was his.

Chapter Eight
    Fitz spent the night tossing and turning, alternating between telling herself that the kiss was the biggest mistake she’d ever made, cringing in embarrassment that she’d flat out run away from him, and wondering, Oh, God, when can we do that again?
    Once she fell asleep, there was no question how her subconscious felt. Her dreams were so X-rated she was an overheated mess when she woke up. She looked around for a minute, disoriented.
    She was in her room, one hundred percent alone.
    Thank God.
    The rest of the morning passed...strangely. On a normal day, Fitz wouldn’t think twice about dropping in to see Deke. Today, though, she couldn’t decide whether she wanted to pretend the kiss hadn’t happened and go about business as usual, or if she should man up, seek him out and have the conversation so they could acknowledge it and move on.
    Of course there was also the option of tracking him down at his bar, hauling him into the back room and acting out at least one of those dreams.
    Oh, for heaven’s sake. She was a grown woman and he was one of her best friends. They could weather one kiss. Even a spectacular one.
    The morning’s emails and phone calls weren’t nearly interesting enough to get her mind off it, so she left her office thinking she’d go get some coffee at Jules’s café. She was almost there when she heard Peggy call her name. Plastering a smile on her face, she turned around. “Hi, Peggy.”
    “Did you order the extra tables I asked for?” the other woman said, launching into her demands without even a pretense of Iowa nice.
    Fighting the urge to grit her teeth, Fitz answered, “Of course I did. The extra chairs, too. I even got them to throw in extra tablecloths at no additional charge.” Because that’s what she did; she made things happen. It just sucked big-time that as a co-sponsor of Inspiration’s Fifty-ninth Annual Father’s Day Little League Tournament with the local Jaycees, of which Peggy was chair, Fitz had to make them happen with Peggy Miller. God help her if she was still in Inspiration for the sixtieth.
    Trying not to show her irritation as Peggy went through a to-do list of things Fitz had taken care of days ago, Fitz almost didn’t notice Peggy’s smile had suddenly grown wider, brighter, and sultry in a way Fitz could never pull off. In fact, Fitz was doing everything possible not to be blatant about readjusting her bra strap when...
    “Ladies.”
    The strap snapped into place as she spun around. Peggy smirked and took a step closer to Deke as though it were a requirement to have one golden person standing next to another so they could look down their noses at the little people. To Fitz’s deep satisfaction, Deke gave Peggy a bit of

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