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

by Caitlyn Coakley

  * * *

  “How can you hate tomatoes? Salsa, practically everything Italian, barbeque sauce, ketchup, for crying out loud.” She ticked off the items on her fingers.

  “Okay, raw tomatoes. I hate raw tomatoes. And most vegetables. Don’t ever try to feed me a salad.”

  “You’ve never had my vegetables. You’ve seen my yard; everything’s strictly organic. And I never pick anything until I need it. The herbs, too. I’m serious about keeping Pete as healthy as possible. He’s my whole world.”

  Was there room in her world for someone else? If Smitty had lived, he would have been included in her world, of course. Women did it all the time, husbands, kids, careers. How did they manage?

  “And it’s a very nice world.” BJ looked around. “I don’t know why I’m surprised, but this house is you, beautiful and classic. The gardens out front cheery and welcoming, the gardens out back practical and sensible. This little slice of suburbia is perfect for you.”

  “Thanks, I’d like to take credit for it, but it all belonged to Smitty’s grandmother. She set it up in a trust for Smitty, and after probate, it fell to me. And, yes, I know how lucky I am to have inherited this incredible house. Mr. Kerrigan, Senior bought this place for her as their love nest. I’m sure you remember that whole mess.”

  “Yeah, I remember. Steppie nearly lost everything. To you. It’s odd that after all the hurt and heartbreak you two get along now. I wish my family could do that. I was never a big Smitty fan, but I wasn’t exactly in a position to say anything. Steppie had seemed happy, so I was happy for her.”

  “Stephanie said your parents, and hers, had always hoped you and she would make a love match.” She twisted in her seat, uncomfortable with the topic, but a part of her had to know the truth.

  BJ laughed. “That they did, but every time Steppie and I tried to go there, one of us would make a rude remark or somehow do something to ruin the mood. There was never a spark between us. The merger of the Tobin and Kerrigan empires was never meant to be.”

  “Did you know Smitty’s grandparents?” she asked.

  “I was a baby when old man Kerrigan died,” he admitted. “but I’d known Miss Irene my whole life. She was the first person outside of the family to hold me. She was like a favorite aunt. I was in denial for weeks after Dad told me about what she’d tried to do to Steppie. I’m sorry, I have to admit I had a few bad things to say about you and Ethan at the time. But in retrospect, I would’ve done the same thing if I’d been in your shoes.”

  She turned away.

  “Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “I’m not upset with you. You know I appreciate your honesty. It’s...” she shrugged. “I don’t understand...” All she could do was shake her head.

  BJ’s eyes darted around the room as if he was looking for something. She knew the exact moment he spied his prize. “Is that a chess board I see in the corner? Why don’t you show me what ya got?”

  Megan turned to reach for a dish towel and used it to dab at a tear threatening to spill out. She dusted off the table. “It’s been a long time, but I think I’m up to the challenge.”

  BJ sat and pulled the chess pieces out of the drawer and set them up. He picked out a knight of each color. He held out his hands to Pete. “You like horsies, right?”

  “Horsie!” Pete lunged for the pieces.

  “Not this time, little man. I’ll let you some day, but for now, we call these horsies knights. Can you say knight?”

  “Nie!”

  BJ closed his huge hands around the pieces. “Uh oh! Where’d they go?”

  Pete clapped his little hands. “Uh oh, uh oh, uh oh!”

  He opened his left hand. “This one’s black.”

  “Bak!”

  He closed his left hand and opened his right. “This one’s white”

  “Why!”

  “You learn fast, smart boy!” BJ closed his hand again and moved his closed fists slowly around Pete’s head. “Zoom, zoom, zoom, zoom! Pick a horsie for your mama!” Pete slapped BJ’s right hand. “White! Mama goes first!” He turned to Megan. “I think he might be left-handed.”

  Megan ran a finger under her eye to wipe away another tear. “Ethan and I are both lefties, so that’s very possible. You two are so darned cute together. It makes me feel good. Thank you.”

  “Any time, my friend. Now sit down and take your punishment. Let’s see if you can still thank me when we’re done.” He pulled Pete into his lap. “Your move.”

  That was an understatement. It literally was her move, in more ways than one. Her opening chess move? That was a no brainer, her usual Queen’s pawn to e4. But her next move with him? She had no clue.

  BJ stared at the board, then looked up to her. “The Spanish Opening.” He shook his head. “I hate this one.” He moved his Queen’s pawn to e5. “I always lose.”

  And lose he did. They played a second game to a stalemate. Finally, in the third game, BJ prevailed. “Check-about-da...I mean darned-time-mate,” he shoved his hand across the board and took her hand to shake it, but instead pulled it to his lips for a quick kiss. “Most women would have let me win right off the bat to save my ego. I can always tell, and it’s a little disappointing. But not you; you play to win. I respect you for that.”

  Megan pulled his hand to her lips for a kiss. “Do you doubt I have the need to win at all cost? I’ve lost so much so many times I work hard to win. Respect is important.” And that he respected her? That was worth more than a warehouse full of flowers or a month’s worth of fancy dinners or drawer overflowing with jewelry. Because those things only cost money. Something BJ had plenty of. But you couldn’t put a price on respect. It came from the heart.

  “Don’t ever hold back. That way, when I beat you, and I will beat you, I’ll know it’s because on that day, I was better not because you let me win,” he said.

  Megan smiled. “Smitty and I used to play games all the time: backgammon, gin rummy, you name it. As long as he won, things were fine. I beat him once in chess, and that was the end of that. I love board games, but I haven’t had anyone to play with in a very long time. Thank you. This was fun.”

  BJ moved in for a kiss. “I love playing games. All kinds of games.”

  Megan pulled away. “I know, but I’m not a game. You can play board games with me, but you can’t play games with me. And that’s a very big difference. I think it’s time for you to hit the road, Jack. Let me get the leftovers for you.”

  She handed him a bag, accepted a quick kiss on her forehead, and watched him walk down the steps to his car and disappear down the street.

  And probably out of her life.

  Now you’ve done it. She berated herself. You blew your chance with him.

  But she knew she didn’t have a choice. Pete was the number one man in her life, and until she could be sure BJ, or any man, could accept that, she had to play it cool. Very cool. Ice maiden cold.

  Pete toddled up to his mother and held up his arms. “Nummie, nummie,” he babbled.

  Megan picked up her son and hugged him. “Sorry, sweetheart, it’s time for both of us to move on.” She balanced him on her hip while she fixed him a bottle. She took him to her favorite chair. She held him and cried while Pete sucked.

  CHAPTER 34

  BJ trudged down the stairs he had practically floated up earlier, that hopeful enthusiasm replaced with the weight of a thousand anchors. Now, his leaden feet hit each tread with such force, he was shocked he didn’t punch a hole in one and fall straight into hell.

  But then, he was pretty much already in hell. A hell of his own making.

  What the hell was wrong with him? Tonight would have been the perfect time, but he’d blown it. He was such a damned idiot. From a man who had perfected the art and science of confidence—the chief c-word in his lexicon—that quality had tucked its cowardly tail between its legs and faded into the woodwork. He’d be ass-fucked if he’d give that c-word space in his vocabulary.

>   A chill ran through him that was more like an arctic blast. Ass-fucked. As if that was ever going to happen. Then why did his sphincter pucker and his dick retreat into his body as if seeking protection?

  Sweat trickled between his shoulder blades as he damn near ran to his car and locked himself inside. The minor exertion should not have set his heart racing, but it had.

  With a bone-deep weariness, he started his car, letting the engine’s powerful vibrations soothe him, lulling him like a mother rocking her baby. After what seemed like hours, he dredged up what was left of his strength and backed out of her driveway.

  Why was he struggling with three measly little words? Three tiny syllables that paralyzed him. Eight damned letters that might as well have been eight million.

  What was this so hard about that?

  Because he had never said them before. And saying them now scared him shitless.

  BJ mentally beat himself up as he shifted gears and headed toward I-76.

  “God damn it, I can do this!” he screamed to no one. In a Fast and Furious move that would put Ken Block to shame, he drifted into a turn at the next intersection and headed back to her house, determined to march up her steps, pound on her door, pull her into his arms, and not stop kissing her until she’d wrung the words out of him. I. Love. You. I Love you. I love you, Megan. I can do this. I want to do this. I will do this.

  But he didn’t. And he wasn’t sure if he ever could. Instead, he drove past her house, circled the block, and headed for home.

  Maybe he could do this. He might be able to. But not tonight. Before he could be anyone’s knight in shining armor, he had a dragon of his own to slay.

  A dragon whose face was slowly coming into focus.

  And in a flash, coward found itself a home in BJ’s word bank.

  CHAPTER 35

  Megan gathered her courage and made the call. Or at least she tried. Would he’d give her another chance or was he totally disgusted with her? She knew she was sending him mixed signals. She couldn’t help being attracted to him, but when he got too close, she pushed him away.

  Like Wednesday night after dinner. The weather had turned cool enough to open the windows and let the night air in. Lying in his arms would have been the perfect way to end an evening of good food, good company, and fierce competition.

  Would he have stayed, or made some excuse that sent him out the door before her pulse had a chance to return to normal? She’d never know because it hadn’t happened.

  Another thing she couldn’t help? Being afraid. Afraid of the way he made her feel. Afraid of the longing he’d reawakened in her. Afraid of...of what? Afraid of falling in love with a man incapable of—or unwilling to—love her back. Afraid of watching him walk away from her. Afraid of burying her hurt as he moved on to his next conquest.

  Well, it was already too late for that. She was in love with him, and the devastation of losing him already loomed on the horizon. Once she gave in, the thrill of the hunt would be gone, and so would he. She was sure of it.

  She was also sure what little time they would have together would be spectacular, and right about now, spectacular sounded pretty damned good.

  Would he ever talk to her again? She steeled herself and reached for her phone, then put it down. Not yet.

  Eight times during the day, she reached for the phone, and eight times she put it down. It’s not like you’re asking him to go away for a weekend. The thought of that sent a warm glow through her. No, this wasn’t a weekend; it was a daytime event. Safe. No expectations. Hundreds of people, and row after row after row of books.

  She hadn’t missed a sale in years. Not that she was a hoarder; she was a collector who loved books. Books had always saved her from her sad and sometimes dangerous world, but those books had always belonged to someone else. Now, they could belong to her—and many of them did—an entire room full. Not that she was a hoarder, mind you. She intended to read every one of them as soon as she could sit down for five minutes without having to take care of Pete or fall dead out asleep after tucking him in for the night. Someday.

  She made the call. Finally. After all, the worst he could do was say no. She’d dished out no after no, but could she take one? She’d still go if he said no because, hello, books!

  But he didn’t say no.

  “I go every year, but always solo because no one else has ever wanted to go with me. I’m happy for the company.”

  Megan walked on clouds for hours after she hung up. Careful, girl. But she knew it was already way too late for that.

  CHAPTER 36

  Megan and BJ put Pete down for his nap on a big boy bed for the first time.

  “This used to be my bedroom when I lived with Nana. I hope you like it as much as I did.” BJ ruffled the dark head.

  Megan mounded pillows around her son and on the floor. “You be good for Nana. Uncle BJ and I are going to get some books.” She kissed her son and handed him a bottle. She looked around the room. “So, this was your room. It’s so close to the master suite, didn’t that cramp your style?”

  “I’m the oldest. They parked me in here when I was finally strong enough to leave the hospital and started filling bedrooms down the hall zig-zag style. I don’t think they thought too much about putting the troublemaker so far away from their supervision, but that’s how it worked out.” BJ moved to the window. “Shane wasn’t the only one who could sneak out. I managed to whenever I wanted.” He pointed to a gnarled tree four or so feet from his balcony. “It’s an easy tree to climb.”

  “You would have killed your mother for real if you’d fallen out of that tree and started to bleed,” she teased.

  BJ teased back. “Again, with worrying about Mom? I’m starting to think the reason you’re interested in me is to get to her. I feel so used!” He slapped the back of his hand to his forehead and jerked back.

  Megan rolled her eyes and gently punched him in the arm, then scanned the room. “I can see you in here. Solid boy furniture, masculine décor. I’ll bet this was one rowdy house with five boys bouncing around in it. It must feel awfully quiet to your parents now.”

  BJ frowned. “There never was just the five of us. You never knew who you’d have to step over on the way to breakfast. It could get a bit rambunctious from time to time, but it started out quiet. Mom got this house from her grandmother as a wedding gift. Great-grandma Trudy was the one Clausen who didn’t hate Dad. Didn’t like him but didn’t hate him. Didn’t trust him either. The house is in Mom’s name and, I quote, ‘any issue from her ill-fated marriage to that scoundrel Brian Tobin.’ Dad might live and die in this house, but he’ll never own it.”

  Megan matched his frown. “That’s what I mean about winning the sperm lottery, or egg lottery as your mother pointed out. Your parents, okay, your mom, got a seven-bedroom Victorian mansion for a wedding gift. Most people get blenders and move into a cramped one-bedroom apartment until they can scrape together enough money for a down payment on a house, then spend the next thirty years paying off a mortgage. How can you not see a free house as a huge advantage? I know I do. I have no doubt your parents could have handled the mortgage on this place, but there’s no way I could afford a house like the one Grandma Irene left for us. I’m very lucky and very grateful.”

  BJ threw up his arms in surrender. “You’re right. I’ve never had it explained to me that way. I still don’t like paying taxes, but at least now I understand a little better. If it helps a beautiful little girl like you have a marginally better life, I’ll pay.” BJ leaned in for a kiss but backed off when Pete giggled. “Take your nap, Sport. I’ll take good care of your mommy.”

  CHAPTER 37

  An early autumn chill filled the unheated fairground pavilion, but BJ worked up a sweat crawling over, under, and around piles of dusty books. The annual charity book drive was one of his favorite events. All of the books were donated, so he never knew what he’d find. There were the usual mass market books from bestselling authors, but from time to time, a r
are jewel would surface. He was always on the lookout for vintage editions of the beloved books from his childhood, and he’d managed to snag more than a few first editions over the years.

  But what made it so special this year was the company. And that she had asked him? That was monumental. He reveled in the joy of the shared hunt.

  Megan made her way to BJ from two aisles over. She was a mess—dirty and sweaty from climbing under the tables in search of published treasures, but somehow, that made her more attractive. In a world of mass-market, plastic fashion dolls, he’d found yet another rare jewel.

  Like the ratty first edition of War and Peace he was about to happily trade a hefty wad of cash for. He carefully offered his gem to her to inspect.

  A sly smile slowly spread across her face. “Nothing is so necessary for a young man as the company of intelligent women.”

  “I’ve always been surrounded by intelligent women. My mom. Aunt Sandy and Aunt Rosemary. Steppie. Now you. Why am I not surprised you’ve read Tolstoy?”

  That sly smile grew into a smirk. “Because I’m an intelligent woman?”

  “That you are. And you are becoming more and more necessary to this young man. What did you find?”

  “A 1953 edition of The Great Gatsby. It’s practically pristine!”

  BJ took the book from her and leafed through it almost reverently. “I read this in high school. There was a Tom Buchannan in my class. He took a lot of grief over that. We were all a bunch of Tom Buchannans, old families, society, more money than brains, all that crap. We all thought Gatsby was a chump for thinking his money was as good as Buchannan’s.”

  Hurt spread over Megan’s face. “We were stupid.”

  Why am I always sticking my foot in my mouth and having to backpedal? BJ looked at the other books Megan had dumped in their cart. “You have a wide range of books there, are they all for you?”