Calling It by Jen Doyle

they’d been negotiating the new contract—coaching, maybe. Player development. Whatever it was, it was highly unlikely he’d be spending much time in Iowa.
    So, yes. He’d damn well better figure out what he was doing. Because it wasn’t exactly a foregone conclusion that Dorie even wanted to stay in the picture. He’d never seen anyone run from hot to cold and back again as quickly as she did. If he wanted to be doing whatever-it-was with her? He had some major work to do.
    * * *
    What was that ?
    The fact that Dorie was able to carry the coffees to the back room was a miracle; she wasn’t sure how she was breathing, much less walking. She handed off the drinks, grabbed her own and then practically ran to her office and locked herself inside so that there was no chance she’d bump into Nate and Wash on the way.
    Leaning back in her chair, she forced herself to do a few cleansing, count-to-ten breaths. Of course, she could only ever get to four and usually made herself cough her lungs out in the process, so she put an end to that quickly and grabbed her coffee instead. Yes. God, yes. It was as perfect as he was. Eyes closed, she let its warmth seep through her. Calm her. Bring some normalcy back into a life that suddenly had her sitting a few rooms over from one of the greatest athletes in the history of baseball.
    Which was all well and good until she sat up, sputtering, as she realized that the coffee was indeed exactly as she liked it. And that freaked her out more than the time her brothers had made her sit through a Paranormal Activity marathon. In their grandparents’ freaky middle-of-the-woods-no-one-will-hear-you-scream house. On Friday the thirteenth.
    She cleaned the coffee off her sweater as well as possible and stood up. She couldn’t hide in her office all day. And besides, he’d probably left ages ago. He’d found his aunt and uncle and then gone off on his merry way.
    She stopped short when she came around the corner to see him sitting on the stairs leading up to the second floor. Although the grin he gave her acknowledged her presence, the phone call he was on seemed to be taking up enough of his attention that he didn’t notice her shock. Or at least he didn’t let on.
    “Yes, I know,” he was saying, patience obviously being tested. “Saturday morning. Where we met the wedding planner.” The irritation broke free entirely when after a brief pause he snapped, “Are we bringing dates?”
    Dorie tried to get past him before he hung up but she didn’t quite manage.
    “Fine,” he said sharply. Then he muttered a few choice swear words and stood up, effectively blocking Dorie’s way.
    Since it was impossible to pretend she hadn’t heard his end of the conversation, she said, “Your ex?”
    “Yep,” he answered. “That would be her.”
    When he didn’t elaborate, she said, “So you’re seeing her this weekend?” To cover up the flash of jealousy that she had no right to feel, she quickly followed that up with, “Here in Inspiration?”
    Falling into step with Dorie as she walked toward the reading room, he shook his head. “Chicago.”
    She stopped short again. “You’re going back?”
    Of course he was. He lived there. What, did she think he was going to stay around because he’d cooked for her? And yet she added, “So soon?”
    And that right there was why this was a colossally bad idea. She’d never been desperate or whiny over any man.
    Realizing she was no longer with him, Nate turned and looked down at her, a slow smile coming over his face. Then he softly asked, “Will you miss me?” He was close enough for his breath to sear her skin.
    Chest tight, heart stuttering, she forced herself not to back away from him. “Why?” she asked, trying to inject a lightness she didn’t feel. “Because you’re...gorgeous?”
    His hand went to her chin and he tipped her head up in order to meet his gaze. The smile turned to a full-out grin. “Is that all I am to you? Just