Discovering Us (16 page)

“Jag?” I whispered.

“All you gotta do is say the word, El.”

Huh? What word? Idiot? As in “I’m an”?

“I don’t know what you’re saying, Jag.”

I heard him sigh again and I knew he was rubbing his hand over his face. “You don’t wanna be with me, just say the word.”

“That’s not what I’m saying, Jag. I said I’m sorry. I told you I got a little jealous. What you said hurt my feelings, so I reacted like a five year old. End of.”

“Nothing to be jealous of, El. Did you talk to Alessandra at all? She’s a bitch. If I wanted a bitch, I’d be with one.
End of
.”

Uh oh. Hateful, sarcastic Jag was never a good thing. But at least he’d seen through her big-boob-gorgeous-hair-make every man in the entire world lust after her-super-dee-duper-model façade. And that totally didn’t make me feel much better.

“I said I was sorry…”

“I know. Look, you’re tired, I’m tired. Let’s call it a night. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay. Jag?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“Forever and a day, babe. ‘Night.”

“Good night, Jag.”

We hung up and I went outside to sit on the patio and cried. In all the time Jag and I had been apart, at least I had someone else around, but now I had no one. I was completely alone. And lonely. Guess I could’ve asked Ms. Fabulous herself to hang out, but I’d had enough bitchiness for the evening and didn’t want to add hers to mine.

Waiting at the airport for Jag, I proudly held up the bedazzled-with-silver-glitter-and-multicolored-rhinestones sign that I’d made that said “Mr. Jensen” on it. I knew that when he saw it, he’d roll his eyes at me, but I was so excited to see him and I wanted him to know that I’d missed him enough that I was willing to utilize my limited art skills.

I stood amidst a slew of reporters who held microphones, checking with their cameramen to make sure the lighting was just right, photographers ready to snap pictures left and right of their beloved Dodgers arriving back from spring training, and hoped my silly, little sign would draw his attention.

It’d been a long almost two months to say the least. The good news was that I’d made some friends at school and had also met Mr. Ashton across the hall and the Lenoxes who were down the hall had invited me for dinner one night, so I hadn’t been as lonely as I was when Jag first left, thank God. I think I would’ve gone stir crazy if my social life, if that’s what you wanted to call it, hadn’t taken off.

Mr. Ashton was a sweetheart who’d asked for help with his groceries one day and had given me a standing invitation to have coffee with him mornings whenever I felt so inclined. I’d gone over a couple times, but his fifty-five cats, okay, he didn’t really have that many… so, his fifty-
four
cats had made my allergies act up and I’d ended up leaving both times with watery, red eyes and sneezing my face off. To make sure I didn’t hurt his feelings, I was going to have to either plan my visits farther apart or have him over to our place to avoid all the dander.

The Lenoxes were one of the nicest couples I’d ever met. They reminded me of Jag’s parents a lot. Mrs. Lenox, Amber, was the motherly type just like Mary, and she’d even brought me some homemade chicken noodle soup when my allergies had flared up. Mr. Lenox, Al, had made sure to check on me daily since he knew Jag was gone.

When I saw Jag coming into the concourse, my heart practically skipped a beat. The man seriously got better looking each time I saw him. And that walk of his. Good God. The way he carried himself was so damned sexy, his long strides smoothly moving him forward so easily. I saw that he’d kept the scruff and I couldn’t agree more that it was a good look for him. Gah! My boyfriend was freaking hot!

As our eyes met, I saw a flicker of wickedness in his as if he couldn’t wait to get me alone, which was
way
okay by me. He picked up his pace before a sassy little female reporter jumped in front of him, immediately sticking her microphone in his face as the cameraman did the same with his camera, halting Jag’s progress toward me. A look of surprise appeared on his face at first, which made me giggle, but as she asked him question after question and he grew more comfortable as he answered, he looked like a real pro as he laughed a couple times with her, and my chest swelled with pride.

When his interview ended, he resumed his original course, heading toward me, but then another reporter jumped in his path, halting his progress once again. And this pattern went on for at least thirty more minutes. No lie. My guy was famous!

I ended up taking a seat in the waiting area and called Jag’s mom to tell her what was going on. She was so excited to know that he was getting so much attention from the press. Then she started crying which made me start crying, so there I sat in an airport blubbering like crazy. A sweet older woman came over and handed me a couple tissues, and I thanked her through broken sobs. Jeez.

I’d hung up with Mrs. Jensen and was dabbing at my eyes when Jag finally broke away from the madness.

“That for me?”

I looked up and saw him standing in front of me as he jerked his head toward the sign I’d put in the seat beside me.

I nodded and started crying again before jumping up and wrapping my arms around his neck. His arms laced around my waist and he twirled me around while burying his face in my hair and mumbling, “God, I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” I said through my tears when he set me down.

“Baby,” he said with a smile, wiping my tears away with his thumbs as he cupped my face in his hands. Then he leaned down and laid a hot, wet one on me as the cameras flashed away. Yikes.

“Jag,” I whispered, pulling away and looking around at the reporters watching us as they scribbled away on notepads.

“Guess I’m famous now, El. Get used to it,” he said with an eyebrow waggle, chuckling as he continued holding my face, looking down at me like I was the best thing he’d ever seen.

And I loved that.

I tiptoed up and kissed him, not caring one bit that more flashes went off. “Hey, it’s kinda like
Beauty and the Beast
,” I said with a chuckle pulling back and looking around at all the flashes.

He snorted. “I guess so. See? Fireworks. Stick with me, babe, and that’s what you’ll get.” He wrapped an arm around my shoulders, bent to pick up the sign I’d made for him, looked at it nodding in approval then said, “Let’s go get my luggage,” as he led me to the baggage claim area.

On his knees behind me, I was on my hands and knees on the bed in front of him, Jag clutched the headboard with one hand, his other arm wrapped around me, holding me to him tightly, his chest against my back, as he showed me how much he’d missed me. And, oh my, had he missed me.

When we’d gotten back from the airport, we’d barely made it inside the condo before practically tearing off each other’s clothes, our lips mashing together heatedly before he picked me up, making his way to the bedroom. Once there, his knee hit the bed and he came down on top of me, lifted my hips with his hands then slammed inside me so hard and so fast, my body tensed and I came immediately, my neck arching up as I cried out his name.

“Fuck yeah,” he now growled as he pumped inside me roughly.

This act wasn’t sweet, it wasn’t tender, but it was perfect.

“Missed you, babe,” he breathed huskily in my ear .

God, I loved when he got carried away, so turned on that he made me feel that I was all he needed.

“Missed you too, Jag,” I panted. His chest, slick with sweat, slid against my back.

He groaned and his hand that was on the headboard hit the bed as his thrusts sped up, becoming more powerful, his hips driving into mine hard several times before he buried himself to the hilt with a grunt. His forehead came down to rest on my shoulder and his arm around my chest pulled me even more tightly to him. We were both breathing heavily when he turned, pulling me with him, the back of my head landing on his outstretched arm.

“Jesus,” he mumbled, his chest still rising and falling rapidly.

“Yeah,” I mumbled right back, breathing just as hard as he was as we lay there staring at the ceiling.

Jag was uber busy that season, playing almost two hundred games by the time October came around. Well, he didn’t pitch every game, but, of course, he had to be at them. I’d gone to almost every home game but didn’t travel with him. I did fly to Chicago at the end of April when they played the Cubs, getting there Friday afternoon and staying the weekend, splitting my time between Mom and Dad’s house and Rebecca’s apartment. Jag knew I missed everyone, so he gave me the plane ticket as an early birthday present, which thrilled me to death. He kind of figured that out when I jumped on him, knocking him to the living room floor and proceeded to kiss him fifty bazillion times. He’d also gotten tickets for everyone, his family, my family, my brothers included, and Rebecca and Ross to go to the game with me, and I don’t think he was too embarrassed when Rebecca and I made our entire crew do the wave when he took the mound.

As the season went along, I’d gotten to know several of the wives and girlfriends of the players, and for the most part they were all pretty nice. One of the outfielder’s wives, Gwen, was a real sweetheart who clued me in on everything. She and I sat together every home game in the seats behind home plate that were reserved for wives and girlfriends. We’d exchanged numbers and had hung out together a couple times when our guys were on the road. She worked at a boutique in Beverly Hills and when I’d gone by to see her one day, she told me she could get me some really good deals by using her discount if I found anything I liked. I’d had to laugh when I picked up a Fendi handbag I liked and saw the price, which even if I were to use her discount, the thing would still have cost over a thousand bucks. Jeez. I told her I’d pass for now, which made her laugh too.

The team ended up finishing third in their division, which meant their season was over, which was disappointing, but it also meant I’d get to see Jag more. That is until his agent, Dirk Dixon, started getting endorsement deals for him. Now, I was all for supporting Jag’s career. I loved that he was already semi-famous and well on his way to super stardom, but it seemed that ol’ Dirk was all for keeping us apart for some reason.

I’d met Dirk at a party one of the players had thrown at the beginning of the season, and although he was a nice enough guy, I got a strange feeling about him. I guess that feeling could’ve come from the fact that every time I looked around, he seemed to be watching me. I didn’t know what that was all about, I’d even told Jag about it (he just laughed it off) but the guy still gave me the creeps. He reminded me of Jerry Maguire a lot—good looking, around six-feet tall, athletic build, in his early thirties and he was a true schmoozer. I decided to trust Jag’s judgment when it came to Dirk, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to keep an eye on him.

As soon as the season was officially over, it seemed as if Dirk began booking all kinds of gigs for Jag, which was truly a good thing. The first commercial he contracted had Jag promoting pickup trucks at a local car dealership. A local insurance company hired him next. These were cool but pretty small jobs, but when Dirk secured a Nike endorsement for Jag, we were absolutely ecstatic. That was big. Huge. Afterward I thought maybe Dirk wasn’t so bad.

Chapter 16

I was twenty-two when things got a little shaky between Jag and me.

We flew home to Chicago for Thanksgiving right after Jag had done some ads for Nike. My brothers, of course, had to rib him a little for looking like a pretty boy, which Jag took good-naturedly. We also went home for Christmas, and I was glad we got to see our families over the holidays.

After New Year’s, things settled back down, with me attending school as usual and Jag dividing his time with going to his trainer, attending team meetings and learning to surf some more. He even got me out there a couple times, but I didn’t have the surfing bug, so I left it up to him. I just didn’t have great patience with falling time and time again. Into freezing cold water. That was salty. And possibly contained sharks.

When spring training came around again, Jag took off for Glendale on a definite high since he’d just finished shooting another ad for Nike. I was so proud of him. We’d bought the current
Sports Illustrated
that featured the ad that had him sitting on a weight bench “sweating,” curling a dumbbell and all decked out in everything Nike. His arm muscles were bulging as he lifted the weight and he looked hot! While he was gone, I had the ad and the cover of the magazine framed for him in a big poster frame and hung it over the fireplace to surprise him when he got home.

Things were pretty much the same as they’d been the year before when he was gone, with Mr. Ashton and me setting up weekly coffee dates—I had him over to our place this go ‘round since he’d added a couple more kitty allergy assassins to his mix and I didn’t want a repeat of last year’s oh-so-fun reaction to them. The Lenoxes still kept an eye on me too. Al fixed my garbage disposal once and we all had dinner together several times over the course of Jag’s absence. I hadn’t seen Alessandra since the previous spring. I guessed she’d probably been on location on some tropical island having pictures taken of her gorgeous body. That or she’d had a tragic thong accident which involved the words
anal
and
surgery
. Hey, one can dream.

Right after Jag had left for spring training I’d gotten a job at one of the Starbucks in town, only working a couple days a week. Jag was paying all the bills and I felt like a freeloader, so I’d thought I’d contribute a little. I’d saved some from my previous job so I did have some cash available, but I also found that I got bored pretty easily when he was gone, being able to study only so much, so it kept me occupied and broke up the ennui some.

When Jag finally got back, he was again busy as all get out, playing games and endorsing even more products that Dirk had booked for him to promote. I had to admit, a small perk of Jag’s being gone to spring training was that I didn’t have to deal with Dirk. Even though he’d moved up a notch or two on my “Meh” scale, I still had a strange feeling about the guy.