Curveball! Man, he did not see that one coming. That made twice in one day. He needed to get his eyes checked. Wait. Commitment? How the hell did she translate partying with Steppie and you won’t be able to avoid me into commitment?
“Uh, yeah, the c-word. I’m very good at a lot of c-words, charm, conversation, cuddling, copulation, cunnilingus...” BJ stopped when Megan cleared her throat. Her fierce look sent a bolt of trepidation through him. “Sorry, I got carried away by your beauty, see, charm.” BJ flexed his eyebrows and smiled. Okay, she wasn’t buying it. “Anyway, commitment is the one c-word I’m not so good at.”
Megan chuckled and rolled her eyes. “Beauty? Nice try. Does that B in BJ stand for bullshit?”
This woman was giving him mental whiplash. He craned his neck. He looked behind her, over her, and down at her feet before gently tugging on her hair.
“What are you doing?” she wanted to know.
“Checking to make sure you aren’t one of my brothers in drag. That’s the kind of thing one of them would say.” He let his eyes linger over her breasts. “Nope, pretty sure you’re not a guy in drag.”
Megan shook her head. “Drag? Seriously? I’m in jeans and a shirt, your shirt. I’m filthy, sweaty, have no makeup on, and my hair is a mess. Look, I have no doubt you’re good at many c-words, especially the ones you mentioned, but there’s one c-word I won’t do, and that’s casual. I used to do casual, but I can’t anymore. I’ve been loved, and I liked it. I refuse to settle for anything less. I barely survived Smitty’s death. Another hurt would kill me, and I have to stay strong for Pete. I need to be the kind of mother he can be proud of the way you’re proud of your mother. Think of what your life would have been like eating breakfast across the table from a different man every few weeks.”
BJ grimaced; he didn’t like thinking about his mom being with his dad, let alone a different man every few weeks. Intellectually, he knew his parents had been together, but that didn’t mean he had to think about it. Or like it. Besides, they’d only done it five times, right?
BJ pushed the image of his parents bumping uglies of his head.
Megan came with a lot of baggage. He might be better off sticking with the shallow, beautiful babes who boosted his ego, played in his bed, then let him move on without a lot of tears or too much guilt. It had worked for him so far. Hadn’t it? Damn these questions.
She handed him the paintbrush she was holding. “You know, it would probably be safer if I found someone else to help you finish up here. I’ll see you at the next family party.”
BJ watched her walk away. For a moment, he considered following her, but decided to wait for her replacement. Maybe whoever that was would know what he was supposed to do with the stupid paintbrush.
CHAPTER 27
BJ faked left, pivoted on the ball of his foot, and tightened his grip on the plate of burgers he’d just taken off the grill. Dropping them would have been a disaster of mammoth proportions that his brothers would add to the overflowing toilet story and use it to torment him for the rest of his life. Worse? He’d almost run over Pete as the toddler rushed to get to his beloved Nana Deb.
She picked Pete up for a hug. “There’s my big boy. I made cookies for you!”
“Chippies!” Pete laid a sloppy, wet kiss on Nana Deb’s cheek.
“Of course, chocolate chip. I know they’re your favorite.”
“For the record, I like shortbread cookies.” That sounded damned near pathetic.
“You don’t need cookies,” his mother chastised him. “That Clausen metabolism can only take you so far. Sure, we can eat whatever we want and not gain weight, but it didn’t protect your uncle from a fatal heart attack.”
And Billy Joel said only the good die young. “Nobody needs cookies.”
“You don’t have to eat the chocolate chip cookies if you don’t like them.”
Why was she being so damned difficult? “I didn’t say I didn’t like them, but too much sugar will rot his teeth.”
His mother shrugged. “These are his baby teeth; he’ll get new ones in a few years.”
BJ shook his head. His mother always had a smart comeback. “Is this what I have to look forward to if I ever have kids?”
“Why don’t you find a nice woman to make a few with and find out for yourself. I could suggest one.”
Yep, always a smart comeback. Then it hit him. For the first time in, well, in forever, was BJ contemplating the possibility that he would have kids of his own someday? He’d better get the hell out of the kitchen before his mother started her “Give me grandchildren or give me death” rant—the one that usually rendered him impotent for at least a week.
But she was happy. For now. Adopted or blood, it didn’t matter to his mother. She finally had the grandchild she craved, and Pete had a grandmother who loved him. Could he love another man’s son? Something told him he already did. And Pete wasn’t the only one he loved.
He followed the noise to the media room in time to see Megan pull a box of Cohiba Robusto cigars—his favorite Cuban smoke—from Pete’s diaper bag.
“Beware of strangers bearing gifts.” Megan set the box on the table next to the onion dip and was nearly bowled over by the rush of men swarming the box of cigars like hungry refugees. She grabbed one for herself before rescuing a beer from the fridge behind the wet bar.
“Um, I have burgers,” he shouted. Nobody cared. Yeah, he didn’t either. He set the plate on the serving table and snagged himself a stogie.
Wiggling the cigar between her fingers, she called out over the din, “Would one of you gentlemen like to help a lady out?”
BJ watched his dad cut her cigar and light it for her. Those lips wrapped around the thick cigar sent heat straight to his balls and threatened to explode. Freud was wrong, at least in her case. In her case, a cigar was more than a smoke. Way more.
Why did she get to him? And this look but no touch thing was getting old. He had to figure out how to change that. And soon. But he knew what it would take. A word he couldn’t say.
Like another word he couldn’t say. Was that the key that unlocked everything? It was a key he had to find and use soon or risk losing the most amazing woman he had ever met. Somehow, the two were tied together. But how?
Megan settled in next to Quinn, the last vacant seat in the room. BJ watched their casual conversation. She erupted in laughter over something his brother said. BJ’s fist tightened around the beer bottle in his hand; he forced himself to back off before it shattered. Minor or not, any spot of blood would panic his family if only for an instant.
Megan jumped to her feet and pointed at the TV. “Chop block, number seventy-one! That’s gonna hurt. Fifteen yards and automatic first down at least puts them in field goal range. They can run out the clock and win it, and ain’t nuthin’ our Iggles can do about it.”
“Megan!” Ethan chastised her. “I didn’t spend countless hours teaching you how to talk to have you embarrass me like this.”
Megan rolled her eyes. But if BJ could believe Steppie, Ethan had paid dearly for his education and had patiently shared that knowledge with Megan to help her succeed alongside him. “Sorry, professor, and there isn’t anything our Eagles can do about it.” She drew out the long e sound and stuck out her tongue.
“You’re crazy,” BJ argued. “There’s nothing wrong with that!”
“There is now,” Quinn corrected him. “The owners changed the rules at the winter meetings. She’s right, that about puts the final nail in the coffin. But it’s the first pre-season game, no big deal. I think it’s time for the fantasy draft. Megan, you want to play? Buy in is five Bennies, but you can owe me.”
“No worries,” She pulled out a wad of cash, peeled off five one-hundred-dollar bills, and stuffed the rest back into the diaper bag, “Great run of luck at poker last night. I almost hated to take his money, but he was such a jerk with his ‘I don’t play with women’ BS. I think losing his cigars hurt worse than losing his money. I already had a straight but pul
led a seven of hearts on the river to fill an inside straight flush to beat his boat. Poor boy almost cried.”
Beer, cigars, and poker. BJ was intrigued. Life with Megan would never be boring.
Ethan shook his head. “Do not play with her; she’s vicious. Where do you think I learned my take-no-prisoners philosophy? By the third hand, she’ll know all of your tells and clean you out. But it helped keep food on the table.”
BJ looked at her in shock. “You were a card sharp?”
Megan batted her eyes innocently. “What do you mean were? And I prefer the term shark. Sharps cheat, sharks manipulate. Big difference.” She turned to her brother. “Ethan has a tic...”
She didn’t get a chance to finish because Ethan’s huge hand covered half of her face. “Hey, if this law thing doesn’t work out for me, we’ll have to go back to hustling. The Tobins might have to be our first marks.”
Megan tried to bite him and made a face at her brother as he drew his hand back.
BJ shook his head—half in awe, half in disbelief. But fully mesmerized. What a woman.
She waited for her turn to pick, making a few notes in her phone. BJ shared a wink with Riley, then shot Knox a thumbs up. She was probably going to choose players she thought were hot. But when she finally picked, BJ’s head nearly did a 360. All he needed was some pea soup and his Exorcist impersonation would be perfect.
“I like Carlton out of USC,” she stated. “I know he’s a rookie, but with Donavan’s knees, well, I don’t think the old man will make it through the season. Carlton’s gonna take over early and run away with it, pun intended. His numbers are great, and his work ethic is undeniable.”
BJ looked around the room at everyone’s stunned expressions. Damn it! That was going to be his next pick. He’d been following Carlton since the kid was a senior in high school. If he hadn’t been hellbent on stealing Newton from Shane, he would have taken Carlton in the first round himself.
“He’s kind of a dark horse, but I can see your point. Interesting choice.” All he could hope for now was for Donavan to stay healthy or tricking her into a mid-season trade. Neither scenario seemed likely, and he knew it.
BJ tracked Megan’s picks throughout the draft. “How did you come up with some of your decisions? They seem a little... unorthodox.” He tried to be polite, but other than Carlton, her team was bizarre. Almost as strange as Quinn’s drafts had been. What did they know that he didn’t?
“Analytics, my friend. Sabermetrics. Moneyball. Data, statistics, and probabilities.”
“Sabermetrics is for baseball, not football,” BJ corrected her.
Megan winked at Quinn. “Commissioner, it looks like somebody didn’t read your blog this morning. It’s going to be so easy to take their money.”
“You’re getting your information from Quinn? And here I thought you were an intelligent woman,” BJ teased. His temper flared when Megan and Quinn laughed and high-fived each other. Do not touch her, little brother. I’d have no problem going all Cain and Abel on your sorry ass.
With all the boys in this family, no one would miss Quinn. Especially him.
BJ switched the satellite to a west coast game and settled in next to a huge bowl of popcorn. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Pete struggle to climb up onto the couch. He bent over and picked up the toddler and set him on the couch next to him, but that wasn’t what the child had in mind. Pete crawled into BJ’s lap with his sippy cup and two cookies. He offered one to BJ.
“Thank you, Pete.”
The baby snuggled into him, munching and sipping away. BJ secured Pete in his arms as if it was the most natural thing in the world. And he didn’t break out into hives. The panic of having a baby in his lap didn’t trigger paranoia. Beads of sweat didn’t form on his forehead. He didn’t care that the munchkin had left a chocolate stain on his favorite Eagles jersey.
Everything was right in his life until third play from scrimmage; Donavan went down and had to be driven off the field. Carlton took over on the next play and ran the ball ninety-two yards for a touchdown. It was going to be a long season.
He pulled Pete closer into him, kissed the top of his head, and whispered, “Now, little dude, help me figure out how to get your mother to do this with me, and I’ll buy you the prettiest horsie you’ve ever seen.”
* * *
Megan was too far away to hear what BJ was saying, but the sight of two of her favorite men—yeah, she’d added a new favorite man to her list—huddled close together sent a wave of heat pulsing through her that melted her heart. She stood and watched BJ and Pete drift off to sleep together and realized how desperately she wanted to trade places with her son. How much she wanted to fall asleep against that hard, toned chest. In those muscular arms. To feel safe and wrapped in his love.
But she knew with BJ it wouldn’t be love. It would be the intimacy he traded for the sex he wanted. In a very real way, the after would be payment for what had come earlier. It was what men did. Except for Smitty. He had truly loved her. Would BJ ever love her? She knew she could never ask him that question because she wouldn’t be able to live with the answer.
She pulled her phone out of her pocket and snapped off a few photos of her sleeping beauties. With her son’s teddy-bear-brown eyes—Smitty’s teddy-bear-brown eyes—closed, it didn’t take much effort to imagine Pete as BJ’s son. Two blue-eyed people didn’t make a brown-eyed baby. But, sadly, Megan was well aware that her imagination was the only place the three of them would ever be a family. She allowed herself another moment in fantasyland before forcing her feet to move in their direction. She gently shook BJ’s shoulder. “Hey, sleepyhead. It’s time for us to go. I need my son back, please.”
BJ opened one of his incredible eyes. “He’s drooling on me, and I hope that’s milk pooling in my lap.”
Yeah, she hoped so too. “I don’t know about that, but he’s not the only one drooling.” She grabbed the neck of his jersey and wiped his chin clean. “But he has smashed a cookie into your chest. I’m not sure you’ll be able to get that stain out. Sorry.”
BJ planted a kiss on Pete’s head and, as if by magic, she felt those lips on her own head. She bent to take her son from his arms and stood slowly to let her touch linger on him as long as possible. She stood back to give him space to stand.
“Let me help you get him into his car seat.” He retrieved Pete’s diaper bag and followed her into the driveway, pausing long enough to let his mother plant a soft kiss in the exact same spot he had.
Strange how Megan didn’t feel Deb’s kiss the way she’d felt BJ’s kiss.
CHAPTER 28
BJ studied his mother’s face. He’d seen that look before. The one that said, “Meet my future daughter-in-law.” He hadn’t seen the look in years. Not since his brother Knox had brought home Charlie Porter. But once you’ve seen the look, it was impossible to forget.
Whatever happened to Charlie? BJ didn’t have a clue. But whatever it was had damn near killed Knox. BJ wasn’t sure he could survive a hurt like that, but something nagging at him told him he didn’t have much of a choice.
BJ walked Megan to her car and buckled Pete into his car seat. “Every time I think I have you figured out, you throw me a curveball that makes me think I don’t have any idea who you truly are. I’m constantly surprised. What else don’t I know about you?”
“Almost everything,” she teased. “Mystery is my middle name.”
He ran his fingers through her hair, tucking a piece of it behind her ear. “Can we change that?”
She gently but firmly pushed his hand away. “That isn’t a great idea.”
BJ recognized a no when he heard one. If there was one thing his mother had drilled into him and his brothers, it was that no always meant no. He shoved his hands into his pockets to keep them from acting on their own. “Not even a kiss?” Okay, so he was going to try to negotiate the terms of no, but the decision would always be hers.
She pointed her finger at him. “Not like t
he first one you gave me. That one was too dangerous.”
“How about this?” He bent to kiss her gently, silently counting to five before pulling back. “Acceptable?” Her soft mewling sound melted his resolve. Damn those hands; they were out of his pockets and reaching for her before he could stop them. He forced them back into his pockets.
“I can live with that.”
“I’ll call you.”
“You do that.”
CHAPTER 29
A shrill whistle drew everyone’s attention to the window. “Guys, you gotta see this!” Knox motioned with one hand while pointing out the bay window with the other. The brothers gathered around, pushing and shoving for the best vantage point. Knox muscled his way back to the front of the pack. “Gentlemen, and Shane, I think big brother’s in love. Mr. Franklin says they’re engaged by Christmas.”
“Nah, BeeJus is chickenshit. I’ll take his New Year’s Eve birthday bash, but he’ll have to get totally wasted to work up the courage,” Quinn boomed.
Riley shook his head. “I’ll take Thanksgiving. After his third turkey leg, he’ll get that tryptophan buzz going and feel invincible.”
“He doesn’t have the balls to do it. My money says Megan gets sick of his cowardice and proposes to him,” Shane said.
“Man, for all your money, you guys are a bunch of cheap assholes. I’ve played a hand or two of poker in my life, and I hate putting out money that I might not get back, but I have five large that says he doesn’t make it past Halloween.” Ethan’s voice was flat.
“To hear Steppie tell it, you’re the cheap asshole in this family. What makes you so sure that you’ll put up five grand?” Riley wanted to know.
“I’ve seen that look before.”
“Oh, yeah, Mr. Smarty-Pants Lawyer, where?” Riley asked.
Ethan wiggled the fingers of his left hand to show off his wedding ring. “Every damned time I shave. I’m going to have to have a long talk with that boy.”
Fly Boy: A Friends to Lovers Standalone Romance (Tobin Tribe Book 2) Page 11
