She set Pete down and took BJ’s hand. “It’s Nice to meet you, BJ. I’m Ethan’s sister, Megan Smith.”
The simple touch unleashed an army of pinpricks marching up her arm, pulsing outward to conquer the rest of her. Even though the late spring sun was starting a slow descent, its rays bent around him in waves, shimmering off him like a mirage, as if it was high noon in the middle of August. A summer heat rolled over her.
Struggling to regain her equilibrium, she pulled her hand back. How could a simple touch make her want things she couldn’t have? What kind of a mother was she? Allowing the ordinary act, performed millions of times a day, to turn her into a—a what? A woman again? No, she wasn’t a woman. She was a mother with her precious son clinging to her knees. The woman in her had died and been buried with Smitty. May they both rest in peace.
CHAPTER 3
BJ’s ego prickled. What was her problem? It was as if she couldn’t wait to be rid of him. He turned on his best megawatt smile, the one guaranteed to melt hearts—and dissolve panties—catching her hand in both of his before she completely withdrew it. He squeezed gently. Jesus! It was like completing a circuit as a jolt of electricity shot up both arms and exploded in his chest.
What the hell?
It wasn’t like he’d never had chemistry with a woman before, but this bordered on the recipe for formula one fuel, making the thrill of accelerating in his Jag feel like a carousel ride. And not on a horse, on that stupid bench thing that was only good for making out on.
Geeze, how could he be thinking about sex when there were two babies around? Yeah, he was a horndog, but he did have some standards. Not many, but a few.
He cleared his throat. “I hear we’re going to be godparents.” He turned back to Steppie and growled out, “Whether we want to be or not.”
“There’s still time to back out,” Megan said as she withdrew her hand again. “I’m sure Stephanie can find someone else. I hear you have four brothers. One of them might step up.”
The chill of disappointment washed over him as she untangled her hand from his grasp. Wait. Step up? As in he was going to step down? Was she seriously accusing him of shirking? “Like hell.” He looked down at Pete, hugging his stuffed animal and his mother’s knees. “Uh, sorry, like heck. Because I don’t want to do it doesn’t mean I want anyone else to have the honor. Especially one of those numbnu...skulls.” He stuck his tongue out at Steppie; she returned his childish gesture.
Yeah, they were basically seven-year-olds around each other.
Pete toddled over to BJ and thrust his chubby little arms into the air. “Daddy!”
It didn’t take a rocket scientist, not that BJ had ever been accused of being a rocket scientist, to figure out the kid wanted BJ to pick him up.
BJ turned to the snickering Steppie; he drew back a clenched fist.
She laughed harder. “Yeah, that hasn’t worked since I sprouted boobs, and Uncle Brian had to give you the ‘don’t hit girls’ speech. Nice try, daaaadeeee.”
Aw, man, she wasn’t going to let this one go. God help him if his brothers ever found out. His gaze slalomed down Steppie’s body and settled at her feet. “So, when are you going to sprout boobs? I’ve been waiting for years, but all I see growing are your ass and your feet.”
Ethan’s face turned to granite. “Careful, dude. I have contacts.”
Yeah, he probably did.
Pete tapped BJ’s knee. “Daddy?” Man, his little voice was so adorable. Where had that come from? Annoying. Not adorable. Sheesh.
“Wow.” Megan shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “I don’t know what to say. You aren’t that much different than Smitty, but except for pictures, Pete has never seen his father. I don’t understand how he could have confused the two of you.”
BJ caught her embarrassed blush as she pushed Pete toward Ethan.
Ethan scooped up the toddler and draped the boy over his shoulder amid Pete’s squeals and screams of delight. “Actually, Stephanie...” he started to explain, but immediately swallowed the rest of his words; the look Steppie shot him threatened an abrupt change in his sleeping arrangements if he uttered one more syllable.
Whatever Ethan had been about to say died on his lips. So, Steppie was behind this. What had she done this time? Teaching the kid of a woman he hadn’t bedded to call him daddy was something she would think of. He was going to have to come up with something truly evil to pay her back for this.
But for now, he had to survive the next hour.
BJ bent to pick up Kegan’s car seat and led the way to the church.
Megan fell into step next to him. “He’s never called anyone daddy before. Smitty wanted to be called papa, so I taught Pete that. I didn’t think he knew the word. I’m sorry.”
“I’ve managed to dodge that bullet so far, but as long as the big guy over there,” BJ jerked his head toward Ethan, “knows who the kid’s dad is, or in this case, isn’t, I’m cool.”
BJ was always cool. Nothing ever bothered him. Almost nothing. Almost never. Almost everywhere but here.
He walked next to Megan in an awkward silence as if they were walking home from high school and the burden he carried was her books instead of their future goddaughter.
That was so...plebeian. And he didn’t do common. Never had, never would. BJ slowed as they neared the church, squared his shoulders, and soldiered on. Something dark oozed out of the building, but exactly what had always evaded him. As quickly as he recognized it, it disappeared.
The custodian opened the door and locked it behind them. “Father Sean’s in the basement. He told me to have you meet him there.”
That odd feeling crept over BJ again, stronger, more menacing. It always started with a knot in his stomach, not quite nausea, but close. An overwhelming aroma invaded his nostrils but dissipated before he could name it. It was like trying to catch the wind. Then, an adrenaline rush fueled his need to escape. There was something here, in the midst of the opulence and religious symbolism, that confused and frightened him. Something he’d learned to quiet but could never completely silence.
“Basement?”
* * *
Megan jerked to BJ’s distressed tone. In the space of two syllables, the deep richness that had caressed her ears in the parking lot rose an octave and cracked like a pre-pubescent boy on the verge of leaving childhood behind. She’d seen calmer expressions at the haunted Halloween house Smitty had taken her to on their first date. The handsome, confident, sexy BJ was gone.
The custodian jerked toward BJ. “He’s looking for the spare choir robes in the storage room. He said to knock on the door when you got there.”
“Storage room?” he practically whimpered.
What was going on?
Stephanie grabbed BJ’s hand. “Absolutely not! Do I have to reintroduce myself to you?” Her chin jutted toward the ceiling, her voice haughty and disdainful.
Megan was sure her own face looked as if she’d encountered the undead at that long-defunct haunted house. And what the hell was Stephanie doing holding BJ’s hand? Okay, now that was stupid. Of course, she was going to hold BJ’s hand. Didn’t she consider him her brother by another mother? Wouldn’t Megan do the same thing if Ethan was upset? Hadn’t she done it dozens of times over the years? Absolutely. But still, she had to fight the urge to push Stephanie out of the way to comfort BJ herself. Ridiculous.
The custodian stepped back. “No, Ms. Kerrigan, um, I’m sorry, Mrs. Webb. I’ve known you since your own baptism. Mr. Tobin too. Father Sean told me...”
Stephanie didn’t wait for him to finish his sentence. “And you can tell Father Sean that I will not have this conversation in a cold, damp basement. If he has a problem with that, we can find someone else to take care of the ceremonies and another parish to boot. Either unlock his office for us and go find him or open the door and let us out.” She jammed her free hand on her hip and glared down at the bewildered man.
CHAPTER 4
BJ fought the
urge to crush Steppie’s not-so-dainty hand. God bless her, she’d remembered how much he hated basements. He set Kegan’s car seat down. “I think I’ll use the men’s room first. I’ll meet you in Sean’s office.” He turned and sprinted down the hall without waiting for a response.
He crashed into the bathroom door, bouncing it off the wall with a booming echo. He halted abruptly. Right or left? His late lunch rebelled in his stomach. Was he going to be sick? He swallowed hard to push everything back down where it belonged. He stepped to the sink to splash cold water on his face. His gut twisted at the wild-eyed image staring back at him.
Holy shit, he looked like a scared rabbit. A scared white rabbit. What the hell had happened to his spray tan? With his sudden Jack Skellington impersonation, he certainly wasn’t winning any points with this Megan woman—not that he cared what she thought of him. Although, that brief handshake in the parking lot had seared him like a cattle prod to the gut: intensity bordering on pain. So why had he been so damned disappointed when she’d yanked her hand back as if she had been burned? That didn’t make sense.
Sure, he loved the ladies, and they loved him. They all tended to go a little crazy over The BJ; why start out with one who was, shall we say, unstable from the get-go?
But there were more reasons this lady was off-limits. She was Ethan’s sister, and if there was one person on the face of the earth BJ did not want to piss off, it was Ethan Webb. The dude had calmed down a lot since he’d met Steppie, and had mellowed more after Kegan had been born, but he could still be downright scary, with or without his contacts.
Another reason? BJ never had—and never would—date a woman with a kid. Especially this kid, since his mother had all but adopted the little dude as her grandson. Things could get messy if—make that when—the relationship ended. If BJ did anything to jeopardize his mother’s relationship with the little guy, well suffice it to say, he’d rather take his chances with Ethan and all of his contacts.
But he was going to be bound to Megan for the rest of their lives as Kegan’s godparents. Chances were they’d never have to do anything after the ceremony, but BJ had watched as his parents had supported Steppie after her parents had died in a car crash, so he knew there was a possibility he would have to do the same if, God forbid, something happened to Steppie and Ethan.
Crap, what had he agreed to? At thirty-three, BJ wasn’t sure he was responsible enough to take care of himself, let alone a child. But a deal was a deal. BJ was, above all else, a man of his word.
He half-leaned on the sink and splashed more cold water on his face.
C’mon, big guy, you can do this. Of course, he could, but all of a sudden, he didn’t want to. Really. Didn’t. Want to. He’d been sure he could handle a short meeting in the priest’s office, but the idea of descending a few feet into the basement had blindsided him. He hadn’t been in that basement, or any basement, in more than twenty years.
Shirking might not be such a bad idea after all.
He closed his eyes and forced himself to think about something else, anything else. Megan. A little too thin, a little too tall, not as voluptuous as he liked, but he was pretty sure those puppies were real, so that was a plus. Seriously, who would pay for small ones? She wasn’t dating material, but if he could concentrate on her for the next few minutes, he could get through this. He would get through this. Man up!
He jerked the men’s room door open with a little more energy than necessary and let it bang closed behind him. With every footfall that drew him closer to the meeting, he silently chanted her name. Right foot Meg, left foot an. Meg. An. Meg. An. It kept his panic level in check but couldn’t erase it totally.
Once that black specter arose, not much did. Unless it was distilled.
He let himself into the office, easing into the seat across from Megan. This place hadn’t changed much. Time to quell his nerves with a little humor. “Love what you haven’t done with the place, Padre.”
The chorus of laughter that filled the room did little to calm him.
BJ had spent more than a few hours here. He took a deep breath to soothe himself. It didn’t work. Instead, his senses filled with the stench of rotting fish. His pulse quickened; sweat snaked its way down his neck. Each beat of his heart pulsed behind his eyes until he was sure he resembled a bullfrog. His fingernails dug into his thighs. As quickly as the smell had overpowered him, it was gone.
He forced himself to focus on Megan’s calm face. Her blue eyes. Great blue eyes. But more than blue. Almost like Van Gogh’s Starry Night—a swirling mixture of blues and golds with specks of green. Mesmerizing. This will work.
It had to. Damned if he was going to let Steppie, or anyone, see him break down again.
* * *
Megan watched her partner in godparenting shrink in his chair. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead. His right eye trembled with a violent tic. The confident, sexy man who had grabbed Kegan’s car seat and strode toward the church was gone. She could swear that sometime between his trip to the men’s room and now, that man had turned into a frightened little boy. More like a toddler who had lost his mommy in the grocery store than the confident crooner he’d been less than ten minutes ago. She caught his eye and smiled. The tight smile he returned didn’t reach those incredible eyes.
If the confident BJ had irritated her, this BJ triggered her maternal instinct. Once upon a time, she’d been sure that was a myth perpetrated by the male-dominated medical society to keep women in their place, but now that she was a mother, she understood. A part of her always knew when Pete was in need; not specifically what he needed, but that he needed something. And that part of her was screaming that BJ was in distress and in sore need of mothering.
She mentally shook her head. He had a mother. A great mother. BJ was Nana Deb’s problem. The last thing Megan needed right now was another baby to take care of, even if that baby was a hot ball of drop-dead-gorgeous, sexy manliness.
CHAPTER 5
Pete wobbled down the aisle, trying to catch the ray-bow formed by the sun streaming through the chapel’s stained-glass windows. He stopped with a gasp when he realized the ray-bow covered his arms. Megan snapped away on her cell phone, capturing the perfect O of his little mouth at exactly the right moment.
“Ray-bow!”
The joy and excitement in his little voice filled her heart.
“Yes, sweetheart, I see the rainbow. It’s pretty.” Megan wiped a renegade tear off her cheek. She hadn’t cried in months, and she wasn’t about to start again.
She reached up to touch the hand that clasped her shoulder.
“You know, rainbows symbolize new beginnings.”
Leave it to Ethan to find the right words at the right time. Which was one of the reasons he was so deadly in the courtroom.
“And Gay Pride. What’s your point?” she teased, then sobered. “It’s been a year; I suppose it’s time to move on.”
“There’s no statute of limitations on grief.”
“Hey, it’s Saturday. You were supposed to have left the legal mumbo-jumbo at the office.”
Ethan chuckled. “It’s been a rough week. Sometimes, it’s hard to it turn off.”
Megan nodded. “So I’m not the only one who thinks Stephanie is a bitch.”
Ethan dropped his hand. “Be nice. She did what she had to do, and I support her one hundred percent. Sandy Banner showed up at our place Monday night falling-down drunk. How she didn’t kill herself or someone else on the way over baffles me. Sheer dumb luck. But Stephanie laid down the law; until the judge sobers up, she isn’t allowed anywhere near Kegan. When I told her Pete was off-limits too, she threatened to hold me in contempt of court.”
“What did you do?”
“I told her I had nothing but contempt for a drunken judge who would blatantly disobey the law and put innocent lives in jeopardy. That she’d disgraced the bench and wasn’t worthy to wear the robe. Then I held out my wrists and invited her to do her worst.”
“
And?”
“She checked herself into rehab Wednesday morning. It’s for the best.”
Megan agreed. At least for a while, Nana Sandy would be out of her hair. She didn’t much care for the woman, and it irritated her when nanas Sandy and Deb practically played tug-of-war with Pete over whose lap he would sit in. But it was nice to know Pete had two grandmothers who loved him, even if neither of them was a blood relative.
Pete wailed as he toddled toward them with his arms sticking straight out in front of him.
Ethan picked up his nephew. “What’s wrong, sport?”
“Ray-bow!” he sobbed. The utter devastation on his little face was nearly comical.
Megan snapped a picture of her two favorite men.
“Aw, baby, come to Nana. I’ll get your rainbow back!”
Pete nearly flew into Nana Deb’s arms. Yeah, between the two women, Deb Tobin was hands down Pete’s favorite. Megan’s and Ethan’s too.
When Nana Deb walked Pete back into the ray-bow, his shrieks of delight nearly split Megan’s eardrum. Both she and Ethan scratched the inside of their ears with their pinkies at the same time.
“We’re so much alike,” she said.
“You make that sound like a bad thing.”
Not at all. “If I haven’t told you recently, you’re the best brother a girl could ever hope for. Thank you. I love you, you big goof.”
“I love you too, baby sister.”
“And then you have to go and spoil it.” She slugged him in the arm. “Jerk.”
Ethan rubbed his arm and pouted. “Brat.”
Pete toddled past them, dragging Nana Deb behind. “Frorer!”
Nana Deb shrugged her free shoulder. “He saw the flowers through the open window, and now he wants one.”
“Oh, Sweetie Petey, you can’t pick those flowers. They don’t belong to us,” Megan said.
Nana Deb gathered Pete into her arms and stood. “I’m in charge of the landscaping committee. He can have as many flowers as he wants.”
Fly Boy: A Friends to Lovers Standalone Romance (Tobin Tribe Book 2) Page 2
