Fly Boy: A Friends to Lovers Standalone Romance (Tobin Tribe Book 2)

by Caitlyn Coakley

  He was surprised to see vegetable gardens, fruit trees, and berry bushes. Everything was well-tended, and the design was artful and pleasing to the eye. He watched Pete toddle after the butterflies and hummingbirds that feasted in her yard.

  He took a sip of wine and pointed. “You know, it’s time to start Pete in swimming lessons. It wouldn’t hurt for you to learn either. Boomer, a paramedic buddy of mine, teaches a class during his off time. I could get you his number. Not that I minded rescuing you, but what if I’m not around next time?”

  Megan giggled as Pete lunged at a butterfly. “You don’t think he’s too young?”

  “We grew up around a pool, so Mom started us the summer after our first birthdays. Boomer starts babies at six months. The medical implications for a near-drowning are staggering. It would kill my mom if anything happened to him.” He cleared his throat. “Or you.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Your mom?”

  “Yeah, mom...” He reached out to take her hand. “And me.”

  * * *

  His concern for Pete’s well-being sparked hope in her. If a way to a man’s heart was through his stomach, a theory she was testing tonight, then the way to her heart was through her son. So far, so good. “Speaking of things medical, what’s that bracelet all about?”

  BJ twisted his wrist to jangle his MedicAlert bracelet. “You mean my constant companion? We all wear one. We inherited a rare blood condition from Grandpa Tobin. Both Dad and my uncle Seamus have the gene too. Doctors think it’s one of the reasons Mom had so many complications during her pregnancies. I guess you could say our blood doesn’t mix with others. My cousin Serena doesn’t have the condition, so the working theory is it has something to do with the Y chromosome. The doctors came to that conclusion after Knox and told Mom to never have another kid. They had Shane anyway because Mom loves babies.”

  He took another sip of wine. “Anyway, if we are ever together and I start bleeding badly, not like a cut or nick,” he held his hands out and turned them over. “God knows I get enough of those, but like a car accident where I can’t speak for myself.” He leaned toward her to pull his phone out of his back pocket and put himself into her space.

  She wanted him to stay close, to get closer, but not on her back porch in daylight with her son playing a few feet away.

  He settled back into his chair. “Hit this emergency icon on my phone.” He pointed to the red caduceus. “It’ll automatically shoot a text to my family and send our exact GPS location to paramedics. If my phone is locked, the code is Quaker with a capital Q. It’s the same for everyone. We have a special stash of blood at Quaker Hospital. If we get any other blood, it’ll poison us. If we’re together and I get an emergency text, I’ll have to go immediately. I won’t desert you, but we’ll have to go.”

  She stroked the side of his phone. “How will I know?”

  “Trust me, you’ll know.” He pressed the test button; sirens blared while his phone throbbed red. “Kinda hard to miss. It’s set at max volume and overrides everything. Except to test it, I’ve never heard it. I hope I never do.”

  She absentmindedly ran her finger past his phone, over his wrist, and played with the sturdy gold chain that fastened to the bracelet’s faceplate. “Because that would mean someone you love is in danger,” she said, more to herself than him. “Is it like hemophilia?”

  “No, it’s more like an allergy. I’m told the effects are nearly immediate and rather gruesome. Basically, our blood doesn’t play nice with other blood. I’ve had it explained a few times, but I don’t fully understand it, and I don’t like to talk about it, but it’s never far from my mind. In one way or another, it’s part of every decision I make.” He cleared his throat. “Dinner smells great, what’s cookin’ good lookin’?”

  Megan felt his discomfort. It figured a man like BJ wouldn’t like discussing his imperfections. “Grab Pete, and I’ll get started on dishing it up.”

  He scooped up Pete and met her in the kitchen. She smiled as she watched BJ lift her son to the sink to help him wash his hands. He sang, “Row, row, row your boat.” He scrubbed Pete’s hands and arms as he finished the song. “...life is but a dream. My mom taught me that song. Always sing that when you wash your hands to make sure you get rid of all the icky germs.”

  Pete beamed up at BJ. “Icky!”

  There it was again, the warm glow that threatened to explode into a raging inferno. BJ was so good with Pete, and that surprised her. “What’s different between Pete and Kegan? You’re scared stiff of her.”

  A cloud rolled over BJ’s face. “Kegan smelled...” his brows knit. “I’m going to sound crazy, but...”

  She reached out to stroke the back of his hand. “Hey, we’re friends. You can tell me anything, and I promise not to judge you. No matter what. No matter when. If your arms are open to me, my ears are open to you. Always.”

  He let out a deep sigh, almost as if he was deflating. “In the chapel...during the baptism...when I was holding Kegan...I felt a kind of a time warp. All I could see—all I could smell was baby. More specifically, my baby brothers. Steppie’s housekeeper must use the same laundry detergent our housekeeper did. Kegan smelled exactly like all of my brothers, and it brought back some strange memories. Memories of how sick my mother was during each of her pregnancies. How afraid I was that she was going to die.”

  His eyes defocused as he stared at a mystery spot over her shoulder. “I was about two and a half when Quinn was born. Mom had a hospital bed set up in the media room. A nurse was with her all the time. One night, Mom screamed. Paramedics burst through the door. One guy shouted, ‘We’re losing her!’ My dad was crying. They raced her out of the house on a gurney, slammed the back of the ambulance door. The sirens wailed as they tore down the driveway with her and my dad inside. They left me alone with the night nurse I had never met. I didn’t understand what was happening, and I was sure my mother was going to die. That I’d never see her again.”

  She took his hand and squeezed gently. “That’s intense. My heart breaks for that little guy. Your mom says you have never gotten along with Quinn. That might be why. Your poor little brain thought he was trying to kill your mother.”

  “Or maybe Quinn is an asshole.”

  “Asshole! Asshole! Asshole!” Pete chanted as he banged his spoon on the tray of his highchair.

  “Great, he finally pronounces one word right, and it has to be that word. Thanks a lot.”

  “Well, at least I didn’t call him a fu...”

  “Don’t you dare!” She shot him her best mommy-no-no look.

  “Fuh! Fuh! Fuh!” Pete chanted as he added his fork to the percussion section.

  BJ shifted gears so fast, she could practically hear them grinding. “I can fix this!” The panic in his eyes was almost comical. Almost.

  She motioned to him, palm up. “Go for it.”

  He cleared his throat and started to sing, “Deck the halls with boughs of holly, fa la la la la la la la la.”

  Pete dropped his fork and spoon, merrily clapping along as he chanted with BJ. “Fa la fa la fa la fa la.”

  They were so stinking cute together; Megan slid deeper into the abyss also known as love. And there wasn’t a damned thing she could do about it.

  BJ tickled Pete, filling the room with laughter. “Kegan’s so tiny and fragile, I’m afraid I’ll hurt her, but this guy I can have some fun with.”

  Megan watched in horror as BJ pulled her son from his highchair, tossed him into the air, and caught him. The room exploded with Pete’s high-pitched giggles and BJ’s deep laugh, sending waves of heat through her. Love me, love my dog? How about love me, love my son. Love? Yeah, love. She cleared her throat to regain her composure. “Dinner’s getting cold, come sit down before you give me a heart attack!”

  BJ helped Pete back into his highchair and sat next to him. “What do we have here?”

  “Boeuf Bourguigno. Stephanie told me it’s your favorite.”

  BJ accepted the plate and
fork she handed him and took a bite. “Oh my God, this is amazing. This is even better than Ethan’s Shrimp Scampi.”

  Megan felt her heart glow again. Ethan and BJ seemed to like each other, or at least tolerate each other. Ethan was still apologizing to her for not running a background check on Smitty before she’d married him. What would she have done if she’d known Smitty was already married to Stephanie? Not that it would have mattered. More than likely, Ethan wouldn’t have allowed Smitty anywhere near her if he’d known. Had her brother already run a background check on BJ? All he had to do was ask his wife; Stephanie had known the guy her entire life. But Ethan had promised to perform a virtual colonoscopy on her next boyfriend, and Ethan always kept his promises.

  “Hey, if you can read, you can cook; if you’re in the mood for something, let me know.”

  “Being near you puts me in the mood for a lot of things. Drop-dead gorgeous, smart, hard-working, and a fantastic cook. Is there anything you can’t do?”

  I can’t stop falling in love with you. And I have to.

  BJ had become a good friend, she enjoyed being with him, and he turned her on like no one else, but she still didn’t trust him. Stephanie thought she was crazy when Megan told her she was holding out, but what did she expect after the guard your heart from BJ lecture?

  Pete sat in his highchair covered in the strained peas he had insisted on feeding himself. He looked at BJ. “Daddy?”

  BJ used his napkin to wipe away some of the green goo. “This whole daddy thing has to be Steppie’s doing.”

  Megan set down her fork. “Is there no end to that woman’s evil?” she deadpanned.

  BJ rolled his eyes. “You have no idea the depths of her malevolence.”

  “He calls your mother nana, which she spent hours teaching him. Does it make you uncomfortable that he calls you daddy?”

  “It probably should, but for some reason, it doesn’t. But calling my mother nana? She must be crazy over that. How often does she see him?”

  “She comes over a few times a week. You boys need to make some babies for that woman.”

  “We could get started after I help you with the dishes.”

  “Nice try, but we’re still negotiating c-words, and my c-words of the day are careful and cautious. It would be so easy to fall for you,” Too late, cupcake, hmm, another c-word. “but your track record isn’t the best, and I can’t go there.”

  “Maybe I haven’t met the right woman yet. Maybe...” BJ didn’t get to finish his sentence.

  “Hecka, hecka, hecka,” Pete babbled

  BJ shook his head. “I’m going to have to teach that boy about timing. What the hecka is a hecka?”

  Would BJ stick around long enough to teach Pete anything? “His favorite toy. He’s obsessed with helicopters. If he sees one on TV, he’ll drop everything to watch, then has a meltdown when the helicopter goes away.” She took him out of his highchair and handed her son his hecka.

  Pete toddled over to BJ and presented his toy proudly. “Hecka!”

  “Nice helicopter, dude. It’s a Bell 206 Jet Ranger. I have one almost like it, except this one is red, and mine’s blue.”

  “Boo!”

  BJ spun the rotors and made whirring sounds. “These are the rotors, careful, they can give you an owie!”

  “Owie!”

  Megan bit back a smile. “You collect toy helicopters?” Somehow, it wouldn’t surprise her if he did.

  “No, I have a real one. Didn’t I tell you? I’m a pilot.”

  Megan’s hand flew to her chest. “You’re giving me another panic attack. With your medical condition, don’t you worry about crashing?”

  BJ shrugged. “Helicopters are pretty unstable beasts, so that’s always a real possibility, but I’ve been building my own blood stash across the tri-state area for years. My pilot buddies know; the towers know. My phone and bird both have GPS. I’m covered.”

  Megan picked up Pete and held him close. “Didn’t your Mom freak out? I know I would have.”

  “I didn’t tell her until I had all my bases covered. My flying does cause her a fair amount of stress. Mom never let us play football or do anything dangerous.”

  “So, is Mom the boss?” Megan teased.

  BJ chuckled. “With six men in the house, someone is bound to ask which one of us is the alpha. Dad always defers to Mom because if mama ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy.” He watched Pete spin the toy’s rotor, making whirring sounds. “Do you think he’d like to go for a ride?”

  Megan’s brows knit in a scowl. “He’s too young.”

  “I had my first ride when I was six hours old.” He pulled out his phone again and brought up an ancient photo. “Dad took this as they were loading me up.” He handed her the phone. “It’s from an old Polaroid. Mom couldn’t hold me, so she held the picture instead. They followed in the corporate chopper.” He handed the phone to Megan.

  Most of the color in the old photo had faded. Not that there’d been much color available that day. The medical team’s breath hung in tiny puffs as they rushed the infant-sized incubator to the waiting helicopter. Dark gray clouds hung low in the sky, threatening more nasty weather. Tall piles of lighter gray snow from clearing the helipad stood like protective walls around the hospital rooftop. A dirty yellow windsock stood straight out. “It looks like a scary day to fly. Middle of winter?”

  “Early afternoon on New Year’s Eve. I looked up the historical data from that day. I wouldn’t have taken off in it, but they didn’t have a choice; I would have died without the neonatal specialist they were taking me to. They were trying to beat a vicious nor’easter that dumped three and a half feet of snow. It messed up holiday air travel that year. Dad has always said it was the best fifty K he ever spent.” He paused. “What’s wrong?”

  CHAPTER 33

  It seemed as if every muscle in Megan’s face had given up at once, leaving her face dull and lifeless like a cartoon character whose chin had literally hit the floor. “You’re alive today because your father was able to whip out a gold card and drop fifty thousand dollars to save your life. Every parent on the planet would do the same thing if they could, but most of us can’t. We would’ve had to watch our precious baby die. If that had been my mother, the doctors would have let me die. They would have let Ethan die. Your family’s money bought and paid for your life. More than once. Without the world-class medical care their money bought, your mother would have died, and you would have died with her. How can you not understand how lucky you are? How lucky you’ve been since the moment you were conceived?”

  BJ closed his eyes and hung his head as her words sunk in. “I was eight weeks early, three pounds, one ounce. I had issues. I did almost kill Mom. Twice.” His voice was low. “She couldn’t keep anything down. They had to feed and hydrate her intravenously to keep us both alive.” His face and voice softened. “You’re right, I am lucky to be here.” He ran his thumb slowly along the side of his phone and stared at the image that he knew as well as the inside of his own eyelids.

  What would have happened to me, to us, if Mom had been in foster care like Megan’s mom? Would they have tried to save us? Somehow, he knew the answer, and it wasn’t pleasant. He felt as if two giant hands had pulled his heart out of his chest and were playing tug of war with it.

  “I was almost as sick with Pete as Stephanie was with Kegan. Pete was worth it, but I’m not sure I have the strength to go through it again. But your mom kept having babies. She’s a brave woman.”

  Brave woman? Not poor BJ, let me heal your pain? Damn. “So, you like my mom?”

  “I love your mom, and I think she loves me. She missed not having a daughter. That makes us a perfect pair because I missed not having a mother. There isn’t much I can do about that, and it makes me sad to think Pete won’t have grandparents. It’s sweet of your mom to step in and adopt us. It makes me feel like part of a real family.”

  “All of my previous girlfriends hated my mom. I think they were jealous. But it did
n’t matter. Mom hated every one of them more.”

  Megan shifted in her chair. “This is getting too deep for me. Let’s have dessert. I hope you like chocolate, I made my famous Thunder Cake for dessert.”

  “Thunder Cake?”

  “It’s a recipe from one of my favorite childhood books about a girl baking a cake with her grandmother during a thunderstorm. I used to read it and pretend I was the girl and that I had a grandmother.”

  BJ reached out and stroked the side of her face and forced her to look into his eyes. “I’m a chocoholic. You wouldn’t happen to have any milk to go with it?”

  Megan laughed. “Of course. You have to have milk with cake unless you’d rather have ice cream?”

  Ice cream and cake, Happy Birthday to me! Maybe I’ll get to unwrap a special present later. “Do I have to choose?”

  “A man after my own heart; of course, you can have both.”

  Megan served him a large slice of cake with a tall glass of milk and a generous scoop of chocolate ice cream. He mixed a small amount of ice cream with a huge bite of cake. He buried the fork in his mouth and licked it clean. “Wow, this is good! I’ve never had a cake like this. There’s something...” He cleansed his palate with a giant swig of milk, then took another bite of cake, this time without the ice cream. He chewed and moved it around in his mouth as if he was tasting a fine wine. “What’s different?”

  Megan raised her eyebrows. “Promise not to freak out?”

  A sly grin spread over his face. “Breast milk?” A guy could hope.

  “No, although I suppose you could use it in place of regular milk. I wonder what it tastes like.”

  “We could do some research, and I’ll let you know. Purely for scientific purposes, I assure you.”

  “Tomatoes! The secret ingredient is tomatoes.”

  Suddenly her face was as red as a tomato. A new shade for the red scale! Tomato!

  BJ made a face. “I’m glad you didn’t tell me that before I ate the cake. I hate tomatoes, but they work in this cake.” He took another bite of cake without ice cream.