For Pete's Sake: An Enemies to Lovers Marriage of Convenience Standalone Romance Novel (Tobin Tribe Book 1)

by Caitlyn Coakley

  Jesus, was that fear in the demon judge’s eyes?

  All of a sudden, he felt like a judge; the biblical judge Solomon facing two women battling over a baby. No way in hell was he going to split his nephew in two. “We’ll keep both sets of furniture. Pete can have Boo Boo Choo Choo; we’ll set up the other one for the cousin we hope to give him before he’s ready for a big-boy bed,” Ethan said. To his amazement, the action stopped as if someone had hit the pause button.

  “Another baby?” Aunt Deb chirped as she glared at Riley. “That would make me so happy.”

  “Except he would be the baby’s father,” Aunt Sandy grumbled.

  Aaanndd... action. Aunt Deb whipped back to Aunt Sandy with a ferocity he usually saved for his most difficult cross-examinations. “I wouldn’t care if Barack Obama was the baby’s father. I’m getting a grandchild!” Aunt Deb snarled through gritted teeth.

  A chorus of groans nearly drowned her out.

  “Hey, don’t dis the best president this country has ever had!” Ethan protested. Wow, if looks could kill. Okay, then, cross politics off the dinner conversation list. But he couldn’t resist one last jab. “So, if Riley brought home a pregnant Hillary Clinton, you’d be okay with that?”

  “Jesus Christ, dude, I just ate lunch,” Riley protested.

  And truth be told, the guy did look a little green around the gills. Ethan opened a mental file on Riley Tobin, Hillary hater. Ethan wasn’t one bit surprised. And, no doubt, Riley wasn’t the only brother who felt that way.

  “Aren’t you due in court, Sandra?” Deb asked as she gently swayed with the baby carrier.

  “This isn’t over, Debra,” the judge called over her shoulder as she stalked toward her car. She backed up over the lawn, taking out a bougainvillea as she drove away.

  Aunt Deb looked down at the sleeping baby. “Hello, you precious little man. You can call me Nana. Don’t let that old hag scare you, I’ll protect you from her.”

  That was good to know. But who was going to protect Ethan from that old hag?

  CHAPTER 29

  STEPHANIE SLAPPED HERSELF on the cheek to clear the cobwebs out of her head and knocked her glasses clear off her face. They clattered onto her desk and skidded off the edge. She hadn’t worn her glasses in months; she was surprised she’d found them this morning.

  Neatness was not in her skillset.

  But because of the night she’d had walking the floor with Pete, there was no way her eyes would tolerate contacts this morning. It was all she could do to pull her hair into a messy bun and smear on some make-up.

  She had no clue what was wrong with Pete. It wasn’t his formula; he didn’t have a fever; he was too young to be teething; and that oh-so-helpful infographic on baby poop she’d stumbled on at three a.m. assured her the large, foul mess that had taken her a full ten minutes to clean up—between gagging and retching—was normal for a bottle-fed baby.

  Ethan hadn’t been faring much better when she’d handed the cranky baby off to him before grabbing her briefcase and heading into the office. He was going to call Aunt Deb for advice and work from home today, the lucky dog. He could do that; he was the boss.

  She was the boss too, damn it! But you’d never be able to tell that by the way the day had started. Hostile stares had greeted her as she’d stepped off the elevator. Silent hostile stares. Even the receptionist, Rachel, whose usual sunny disposition was enough to supply the entire staff with their daily dose of Vitamin D, had ignored Stephanie’s less-than-cheery good morning.

  Something was up, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out what.

  The light on her desk phone glowed; Stephanie punched the button. “Yes?”

  “Mr. Cecil Malloy is on line two,” a disembodied voice informed her. At least the temp she’d hired to cover for Irene’s vacation was still talking to her. But then, the woman had no skin in this game. She would be gone once Stephanie’s PA returned from her cruise.

  “Thank you, Gloria,” she said, then took a deep breath to center herself before engaging Mr. Cecil Malloy the third, the elderly son of one of Grandpa Jamison’s original investors. Stephanie doubted he was calling to congratulate her on her recent nuptials. Like the three other long-time Kerrigan Financial Services clients she had dealt with during her commute, he was probably calling to inform her he had found a new home for his money. A few more phone calls like this, and she’d fire herself.

  True to his word, Quinn had treated her gently, heavily influenced by his brothers Riley and Knox, no doubt. It was good to own the internet news service that was quickly becoming a force to be reckoned with.

  But once the story was out, it had taken on a life of its own. Anyone with a TV or internet connection knew Mr. and Mrs. Ethan Webb had been granted custody of what the media was calling the Stroller Baby. And that she was Mrs. Ethan Webb. Her inner feminist cringed. As a minor, Pete’s identity was protected, but she wasn’t so lucky.

  She smiled to give her voice a friendly sound. “Good morning, Mr. Malloy,” she said.

  “Girlie, I’m gonna get right to the point. I only stayed with ya because yer Da and I were friends, but ya gettin’ married again before your poor husband was cold in his grave is something I canna tolerate.”

  God, she hated it when she was right. “Mr. Malloy, I appreciate your candor, so let me be equally blunt.” What did she have to lose? “I know you’re aware that Smitty cheated on me and had a baby with another woman. And I know you’re aware that the baby Ethan and I took home yesterday afternoon is Smitty’s son. We did what we had to do to get the baby out of foster care and into a stable, loving home where he belonged. For some of us, being pro-life means much more than preventing abortions.”

  Silence was supposed to be golden, but this silence felt more like lead. “Mr. Malloy?”

  He sighed heavily. “Aye, girlie, I donna condone what the man did to ya, and it is a good thing ya did for Smitty’s bastard, but Walter called me personally this morning.”

  Why was she not surprised? “Mr. Malloy, I assure you my decision to marry Ethan Webb to rescue my stepson, who is also Ethan’s nephew, from foster care in no way indicates I have impaired judgment. I would argue it shows a deep commitment to do the right thing regardless of what it might cost me personally, which is what my grandfather taught my father and what my father taught me. We Kerrigans have a long history of integrity. Your money is safe with me.”

  “Aye, but Walter...”

  “Mr. Malloy, ask yourself who you would rather deal with: Walter or my aunts Sandy and Deb? Because both of them, along with the rest of the Tobin tribe, have pledged their full support to me.”

  Another long silence. “The judge and the Tobins, you say?”

  “All of the Tobins, and that includes my brothers who have an internet news service that needs a nice, juicy scandal to boost their ratings. I wonder what they could find...”

  He cleared his throat. “No need for that. Could you throw an old man a bone?”

  Stephanie’s smile grew. He was all about the money. She could go there. “For a loyal client like you, how about I cut my commission rate in half for the next year?”

  “Half, you say? Well, a man would be a fool to turn that down.”

  “And we both know you’re no fool.”

  “That be true.”

  “Too bad Mr. Barnard, Mrs. Carlton, and Mr. Johansen didn’t give me the chance to negotiate.”

  The old man chuckled. Stephanie knew the old goat liked to brag almost as much as he liked to gossip. She was sure that by the end of the day, she’d have her old clients back in the fold where they belonged because the prospect of saving a few thousand dollars would outweigh their moral outrage ten to one. That, and knowing the queens of the country club set would be on their asses would bring them running back.

  “Thank you for doing business with Kerrigan Financial Services, Mr. Malloy. I’m looking forward to many more years of working together. Goodbye.”

  Her smile faded as
she hung up the phone. Walter. She’d known he’d be trouble. But she was ready for him.

  Consider the wagons circled.

  CHAPTER 30

  ETHAN MOVED TO THE sink, hovering over Aunt Deb’s shoulder, trying to memorize her every move. Her soft, sweet humming calmed the baby. It calmed him.

  Sponging off small sections while keeping Pete diapered and the rest of him wrapped in a towel would never have occurred to him. “Dear God, I would have stripped him bare and used a plastic tub thing like the one Megan has stashed in the nursery closet back home. I could have killed him.”

  What else didn’t he know about taking care of a baby? Truthfully, almost everything. He was only supposed to have been the uncle. He hadn’t paid that much attention to the endless information Megan had spewed from this baby book or that new mom website. He was sure Smitty hadn’t paid that much attention to her constant ramblings either. Somehow, the two of them had assumed they would follow her lead.

  His ignorance outweighed his knowledge on such a grand scale, it was no wonder the judge had been reluctant to grant him custody. Thank God for Aunt Deb. She’d forgotten more about taking care of a baby than he would ever know.

  She stopped humming to sigh. “All my boys were preemies. The nurses only let me watch. By the time I got a chance to bathe them myself, everything was healed up, and I did exactly that. Nobody died; Pete won’t either. Trust me.”

  As odd as it was, he did trust her. Everything in his life had been orchestrated to break his trust, but trusting Deb felt as natural as breathing.

  Satisfied that everything else was clean and dry, Aunt Deb removed Pete’s diaper. She gently sponged around his minuscule penis and what was left of his umbilical cord. “At least you don’t have to worry about waiting for his circumcision to heal. I approve of your decision to leave him intact.”

  Approve. The simple word nearly knocked his knees out from under him. He was still second-guessing himself over that. “I can’t take the credit. Megan was nearly catatonic when it came time. I didn’t think I had the right to make the decision for her, so not being able to decide became a decision. He can always choose for himself later if he wants to.”

  Ethan shuddered at the idea of a grown man voluntarily letting a surgeon “take a little off the top.” Not on any day that ends in y.

  She ran the damp cloth over the baby’s head. “Junior was so early, we almost lost him twice. Four if you count the two times I nearly died before he was born. By the time he was strong enough for elective surgery, there was no way we were going to risk it. We didn’t want his brothers to tease him, so we opted out altogether.”

  Great. Now he knew what Quinn’s dick looked like. Did Stephanie? The thought that she might... stung.

  That didn’t make sense. Quinn wasn’t his rival for Stephanie’s affections because Ethan had no affection for Stephanie. Theirs was a business arrangement. Besides, it was obvious Stephanie and Quinn didn’t like each other, so he was safe.

  That idea somehow made him feel better. Safe. Was he safe? Wasn’t the better question did he want to be safe? He’d always enjoyed pushing the envelope in court. Crawling out on the limb to see how far he could get before he had to scamper back to the sturdier part of the branch. Sooner or later, he was going to fall. But not this time.

  He concentrated on smoothing lotion over Pete. “You and Judge Banner...” He wasn’t exactly sure what he wanted to know, so he let the statement stand on its own.

  “Sorority sisters, college roommates. We go way back. Neither one of us had a real sister, but in a perfect world, we should have been sisters-in-law.”

  “She up and married someone else?” Not that he cared about Banner’s personal life. This was only polite conversation. An awkward silence punctuated with a shrug drew his attention.

  Aunt Deb smoothed a blob of lotion Ethan had missed. “Sandy never married at all.”

  He wasn’t surprised. “I knew there couldn’t be a Mr. Banner.”

  “No, but this is Sandy’s last election before she retires. I suspect there will be a Mrs. Banner by Christmas. Or Hanukah. Rebecca is Jewish.”

  Ethan lost his slippery grip on Pete’s tiny foot.

  Was that the reason behind Deb’s threat in the driveway? Play ball or pay the price? And why was she sharing so much personal information? Was it the lawyer in him, conditioned to answer only the question asked, no more, no less? Or was it a defense mechanism, beaten into him physically and emotionally from the moment he’d been able to talk? The less you said, the less chance you had of being hurt. The wrong tone, a poor word choice, or a badly timed pause could lead someone to interpret a simple question as sass or defiance. Ethan had learned early to say as little as possible.

  Of course, Aunt Deb and Stephanie weren’t strangers. Was that the reason she was being so free with private, family information? She considered him family? If Aunt Deb’s approval had nearly flattened him, that realization finished the job.

  Family. Had he bought himself the family he’d always wanted?

  She looked up at him. She must have somehow sensed his confusion. She reached out to touch his arm. It was like hot cocoa and a plate of warm cookies waiting for him after a cold, snowy slog home from school.

  Wow, so this was what a mother looked like.

  She must have been a real beauty in her youth. To be honest, she still was a stunning woman, but it was the kindness in her face that filled places he didn’t know he had. It was nurturing, soothing, comforting.

  His lovers had all been about her age, not that he was stupid enough to ask, but the tenderness that tugged at him had nothing to do with that. There was no predatory lust in her eyes that was far too familiar.

  He wanted this connection, the passing of knowledge from one generation to the next, from a woman who knew how to love and raise little boys into strong men.

  “You look scared. Don’t be. I don’t bite.”

  He wasn’t too sure of that. This was too intense, too raw. Ethan coughed. “So how do you get him into this little straight jacket?”

  It was almost as if he could read her thoughts like the crawl on the bottom of a newscast. Man uses lame humor to deflect emotions.

  “It snaps, let me show you.” He struggled to follow her nimble fingers as they made short work of the task. With a flourish, she pulled the snaps apart. “Your turn.”

  His huge hands fumbled with the tiny fasteners. The first time through, he missed a snap and ended up with an extra. After the third attempt, when everything finally came out even, the exhilaration was better than the rush he’d experienced after winning his first case. “I feel like I should be waving my arms around like a fool at the Art Museum.”

  Aunt Deb laughed. “All of my boys have done the Rocky run at one time or another, except for Brian, of course. The only thing he ever runs is his mouth.” She rolled her eyes.

  Ethan returned her laugh. “Give Dad a break. He’s a lawyer; it’s what we do.”

  Oh my God, did I call him Dad? Brian was obviously a great father. Anyone would have been proud and happy to call him dad. Ethan would have been proud and happy to have called anyone dad.

  “I’m sorry.”

  She laid her hand on his. “Don’t be. There’s always room for one more at the Tobin table. You married Stephanie, so that’s an automatic invitation. I know all of this is sudden, but I believe in love at first sight because it happened to Brian and me. I see that same connection between you and Stephanie. Give it a chance.”

  Give it a chance? He’d give what he had with Stephanie two chances: slim and none. But slim was better than none... right?

  “Why are you being so nice? A few days ago, I was hell-bent on destroying Stephanie. Now it feels like I’ve fallen into an episode of The Brady Bunch.”

  Deb tore her gaze away from his, rubbing the back of her neck as she stared out the kitchen window. “I have five grown sons I’ve all but given up on. Stephanie’s my only chance for a grandchild this dec
ade. I don’t mean to be rude, but I meant what I said in the driveway. You could have been purple with two heads, and I would have welcomed you, for Pete’s sake. For the grandbaby you and Stephanie will give me.” She turned back to him with a half-hearted shrug.

  She rambled on, “We’re kind of like that Christmas special about the island of misfit toys. We call ourselves the Tobin Tribe. You’ll be surprised at who shows up for Sandy’s karaoke Christmas caroling party.”

  Willingly spend some of his precious free time socializing with the demon judge and her fiancée? No thank you. “Do I have to?”

  She blistered him with a stern look he imagined she’d used on her sons when they wouldn’t eat their vegetables. “Oh, yeah. Come prepared to sing and wear an ugly sweater.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He wasn’t planning to be around at Christmas, but she didn’t need to know that.

  “Is this where the party is?” Uncle Brian strolled into the room and set a shopping bag from a local furrier on the island.

  Didn’t these people ever knock? Or did they all have their own codes that would allow them to waltz in any time they wanted? Note to self, no more sex in the living room.

  But if you could believe Hollywood, wasn’t that what family did? They invaded your space, poked their noses in where they didn’t belong, and generally made a nuisance of themselves. Be careful what you wish for. Yeah, you might get it.

  “Stephanie, delivery!” Brian yelled over his shoulder before helping himself to a cup of coffee. He poked his head into the fridge for cream and rummaged for anything else he could find.

  Stephanie bounded into the room like a kid on Christmas morning. “It’s here!” She plunged her hand into the bag and let out a squeal as she pulled out a giant teddy bear. The damned thing was at least twice Pete’s size. “The mink teddy bear I ordered! He’s so soft, Pete’s going to love it!”