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

by Caitlyn Coakley

  Megan took the book back and placed it gently in the cart. “Yeah, my childhood was pretty scary, so I basically escaped into books. At least for a while, I could pretend I was normal, that I had a family who loved me like everyone else. Library cards were free. I started at one end of the shelves and read my way through the library.”

  The image of the beautiful, lonely, frightened girl she must have been shredded his heart. “I can’t believe no one adopted you.”

  “That has always been the great mystery of our lives. At least Ethan and I stayed together, and that doesn’t happen very often. I don’t know what I would have done if he hadn’t been around. You know, he slept on the floor by my bed every night to make sure I was safe. Without him, I would probably have gotten pregnant early and ended up stuck in the system like a lot of the girls I was in foster care with. Like our mother did.”

  BJ shook his head. “Big, bad Ethan Webb. His name alone sends shock waves of fear through most of the business community. I put him on retainer the first day Steppie introduced us. At least that way, if I ever have a problem, he’ll be at my table instead of my opponent’s. I can’t reconcile the man I know with his public image.”

  She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Ah, his public image is a fake. He took acting lessons to learn how to tap into his anger and project it into the character he played. Ethan Webb, Esquire is dead, and I’m glad to have my sweet, loving brother back. I’ve always called him a giant marshmallow Easter bunny. Sort of like my own personal Harvey.”

  “Harvey?” BJ couldn’t contain his excitement. “1950, James Stewart. Josephine Hull won an Oscar and a Golden Globe for best supporting actress. I love that movie!”

  “Jose Ferrer beat Stewart out for best actor that year for both the Oscar and Golden Globe. All About Eve took a lot of the awards that year. I never pegged you for a classic movie buff.”

  “I’m not opposed to a little gratuitous sex and violence when I want to chill out, but seriously, how many car chases can you take before it gets old?”

  Megan snapped her fingers and pointed at him. “That explains what you sang to Kegan during the pictures. ‘Too Ra Loo Ra Loo Ral’ from Going My Way, 1944.”

  “Bing Crosby, Mom sang it to all of us.” BJ watched the clouds roll in over her eyes. The pain he read in her face tore at his gut. Her beautiful blue eyes sparkled with unshed tears. “Now what have I done?” He reached out to stroke the side of her face.

  She reached up to take his hand in hers. After a long moment, she sighed. “It’s not you. It’s...” she hesitated as if gathering the strength she needed to forge on. She took a deep breath. “I’ve always wondered if anyone... if anyone ever sang to me. If anyone ever held me longer than absolutely necessary.”

  BJ pulled her into his arms. “Damn it, woman. You have got to stop breaking my heart. Remember our special pool song; I’ll be happy to hold you as long as you want. And sing to you too. Not necessarily a lullaby, unless that’s what you want, but any song at all. I’m practically a human jukebox.” He touched her nose, then her cheek. “A-9. You are so beautiful...to me.”

  “You sound so much better than Joe Cocker. It’s there’s so much I don’t know about my life and there isn’t anyone who can tell me. I don’t have a single picture of my childhood to provide any clues.”

  “I can’t imagine what that’s like. Mom and Dad have a whole closet full of home movies and photo albums. It seems like every bath had to be recorded for posterity.” He paused. “Heavy stuff for the middle of the day, especially surrounded by concrete, people, and dust. What’s your favorite movie?” he asked.

  Megan shook her head and smiled. “I know what you’re doing and thank you. That’s easy, Twelve Angry Men, 1957, Henry Fonda, Lee J. Cobb, and a slew of other top-notch actors. No fancy sets or special effects, just solid writing, and world-class performances. The remake was pretty lame. What about you?”

  “Anything film noir, dark, pessimistic, twisted, you know, the typical all-American boy next door kind of stuff.” He flexed his eyebrows.

  Megan threw her shoulders back and pushed her breasts toward BJ. “She shoved a pair of thirty-eights in my chest, then she drew a gun.”

  BJ about lost it. So this is what it was like to be with a woman when you weren’t invited into her bed. He was in virgin territory here, no pun intended. She was so easy to talk to, to laugh with. She had a brain that she’d developed and wasn’t afraid to use. And that was damned sexy. He was about to lean in and kiss her on the forehead when a hand clasped his shoulder. He turned to find his paramedic friend, Boomer, the swim instructor he had recommended to Megan, standing behind him with a grin.

  “BJ, my good buddy!” His deep Texas twang bounced off the hard surfaces, hence his nickname Boomer. The man was incapable of speaking softly. A plus on the scene of an emergency but grating everywhere else. “Ma’am,” he tipped the brim of his baseball cap at Meagan.

  BJ sneered. “I didn’t realize you could read, man.” He pulled Boomer into a bro hug. “Megan, meet Boomer. Boomer, this is my friend, Megan Smith. She’s the one with the fourteen-month-old who needs swimming lessons..”

  Boomer’s eyes popped open wide; his voice dropped an octave. “Well, hello, little mama. If you were any sweeter, you’d put Hershey’s out of business.”

  BJ groaned. He hadn’t used a line like that since high school. It hadn’t worked then, what made Boomer think it would work now? But Megan turned the cutest shade of pink and let out the most adorable giggle he’d ever heard. Damn it, the line had worked on her. He was going to have to up his game.

  Boomer took Megan’s hand and pressed his business card into her palm, holding on longer than necessary. Way longer than necessary.

  “The next class doesn’t start until the first of the month, but I’d be happy to give your little guy private lessons. Anything to prevent having to pull another lifeless kid out of a pool. I dread that run. Everyone is always so heartbroken and guilt laden. The worst part is it’s totally preventable; it makes me more angry than sad. People who don’t teach their kids to swim are guilty of neglect, in my humble opinion.”

  “I never learned how to swim either.” Megan said casually as she slid his card into her back pocket, oblivious to the change in Boomer’s body language.

  But BJ noticed, and he was not happy.

  “Well, little mama,” Boomer laid on his best southern charm, “I would be happy to teach both of you at the same time. Next to teaching a kid to swim, having a parent who swims is the best line of defense against childhood drowning. I have no doubt if your boy was in trouble, you’d be in after him in a flash, but then I’d have two lifeless bodies to fish out of the pool. And that would be a waste, especially in your case.” The radio at Boomer’s hip crackled. “Duty calls, gotta go. I hope to see you again soon, Megan. Real soon.”

  Megan’s eyes followed Boomer as he hustled toward his rig. “What a nice guy, thanks for introducing us. Pete needs to learn how to swim, and Boomer seems like the perfect teacher. Pete needs to be around as many quality men as possible so he gets good role models.”

  BJ’s temper flashed. Damn it, I never had a temper until I met her. Now I want to pulverize any man who looks at her. “I’m a quality man.”

  Megan raised her eyebrows; her eyes sparkled. “Why Brian Mathias Tobin, Junior, are you jealous?”

  BJ rolled his eyes. “No, Mom, I didn’t drink all your wine coolers again. Go ask Shane. Seriously, me? Jealous? Of that hose jockey? Get real.”

  * * *

  “A lot of women find firemen hot and sexy,” Megan teased him. “The way they run toward danger and possible death to save people they don’t know. Not to mention all those calendars of them holding puppies.” She picked up a book from their cart and fanned herself. “I get hot thinking about it.”

  Whoa, steam practically shot out of his ears. He was at her mercy, and if she’d learned anything from her brother, it was how to go for the jugular. “But Boomer is
more than a fireman, he’s a paramedic which makes him extra hot and sexy.” She picked up a second book for extra cooling. “I’m sure every run he makes, people are glad to see him. You are jealous!” Gotcha!

  BJ looked at the ground and shook his head. “This is so not the place to have this discussion, but you aren’t going to let it go, are you?”

  Megan put the books down and crossed her arms over her chest. “Not a chance. Start talking, Junior.”

  BJ deflated. “Count yourself lucky I don’t kill people around witnesses. I might be jealous. Maybe. A little. Okay, a lot. Hell yeah, I’m jealous. I can’t think straight when I’m around you. I want to punch every man who looks at you. I never had a temper until we met. You do something crazy to me. Damn it, we have this incredible chemistry thing between us, and you won’t let me near enough to play with you.”

  It was as if he’d kicked her in the heart. “That’s the problem: you want to play. You admitted as much in front of the church during the renovation project, but I need something more. Yeah, we have chemistry, and there are times that it’s all I think about. But most of the time chemistry experiments end up with an explosion, make a big mess, and someone gets burned.” And there wouldn’t be enough ointment in the world to soothe that kind of burn. “Please take me home.”

  BJ’s face fell. “I’m sorry, that came out wrong. I know you’re not a shiny new plaything. You’re a beautiful, sensitive woman who has lived through hell, but I’d be lying if I told you I didn’t want you, because I do. More than any other woman I’ve ever known. Can I get a do-over?” He reached out to touch her face.

  She stopped him before he could make contact. “Sure, but not today. I think I need to be alone for a while. Can we please pay for our books and go? I have an overwhelming need to hug my son.”

  She needed to be grounded in what was important to her. Her son. His future. His needs. Because he would always come first. No matter how many times she had to remind herself of that fact, she would.

  She knew the pain of a mother who had put what she had wanted before her children. And she’d be damned if she would let history repeat itself.

  CHAPTER 38

  BJ staggered into his living room. “Where the fuck is my phone?” he slurred. He swept the remnants of last night’s ribs off the coffee table. The box landed face down. “Shit, that barbeque sauce is not coming out of the carpet. I should have eaten them all.” When was the last time he hadn’t been able to finish a whole slab of ribs and start foraging for more? Probably when he was six. But he hadn’t had much of an appetite lately.

  The room spun as he bent to pick up the ribs. He dropped to his knees and scooped up the mess, leaving a stain that roughly resembled an apple that was missing a bite. Why the hell did I let the decorator talk me into white carpet?

  It had never been an issue before because he had never had to worry about cleaning up after himself. He’d always had people for that. But this was one problem no one could help him with. He’d made a mess of things with Megan, and he was the only one who could clean it up.

  “God damn it, there you are. How the hell did you get under the fucking sofa?” He swiped the screen. Nothing. “Of course, you’re dead. Can I catch a break here?”

  He clutched the arm of a chair to steady himself as he stood. Lucinda, the housekeeper he shared with his brothers, was going to have a conniption when she showed up tomorrow. Hell, he’d leave her an extra hundred bucks to atone.

  He stumbled into the kitchen, plugged in his phone, and hit redial. The generic mechanical voice prompted him to leave a message at the beep.

  “Hey, it’s me again. I know you’re hurting, and I’m sorry. Please call me.” BJ disconnected after leaving his third voice mail. Or was it his fourth? Hell, it could be his fourteenth for all he could remember. He was starting to sound, and feel, a little desperate. And a little drunk. Okay, a lot drunk. But this was something he couldn’t drink away. Not that drinking had ever solved a problem before anyway.

  He couldn’t shake the pain and confusion in her eyes; pain and confusion he’d put there. The way she’d opened her mouth to say something, then changed her mind and withdrew in silence haunted him. He’d tried to talk to her, hold her hand, anything to comfort her, but she’d pulled away. Her beautiful blue eyes had leaked slow, silent tears that washed away the smudges of dirt from book-hunting, leaving trails of sadness on her sweet face. And there was nothing he could do to help her. And worst of all, Megan didn’t want him to do anything, including carrying Pete to her car. She was hurting, and he wanted to make it stop.

  He headed back to the living room to retrieve his car keys from the end table, determined to drive over and pound on her door until she let him in. The floor seemed strangely uneven as it forced him into a sitting position. I’ll close my eyes for a few minutes. He stretched out and nuzzled into his couch.

  CHAPTER 39

  Holy hell, is this woman ever going to shut up? BJ sat across the table with a tight smile plastered on his face, occasionally nodding or tossing in words like wow or interesting. There was nothing wow or interesting about the inane chatter this beautiful but empty-headed woman was spewing. BJ felt like his own intelligence was being sucked out of him to fill the vacuum between her ears. He wanted to take her home, drop her at her door, and split, not caring about a goodnight kiss.

  And that bothered him. When the hell had that happened? It had happened the day he’d first sparred with Megan. As different as their ideas were, he’d admired the way she could articulate her opinions with clarity and passion about things that mattered. She’d made him think, and he was pretty sure he’d made her think too. In the end they wouldn’t agree, but at least they respected each other. The only opinion this woman seemed to have was...what? Damn, he hadn’t been listening. He had no idea what she was talking about. And she hadn’t noticed.

  Well, this is another one I can scratch off the list. That was the problem. Every woman he’d tried to date the past few weeks had failed the Megan test. It was almost as if Megan was one of the guys with different parts. Girl parts. Girl parts she wouldn’t let him visit without that onerous c-word. Now he wasn’t sure if she still wanted that from him. He’d sent decadent chocolate roses, left messages, sent texts, but nothing.

  She was obviously still hurting. Did she blame him for that? Was there something he could have said or done in those critical first few minutes that would have turned things around?

  Simply put, he missed Megan. He could talk to her and was interested in listening to her without using most of his brain to plan his bedroom entrance and exit strategies. What would they be talking about if he were sitting across the table from Megan instead of... Sage? Sara? What the hell was her name? He should’ve written it on his wrist the way he had with calculus equations in high school.

  “So, I said to myself, ‘Sunshine, go with the purple ombre.’ What do you think?”

  What the hell is an ombre, purple or otherwise? Was he supposed to know this stuff? Her hair was purple, that had to be it. Purple hair. That should have been my first clue. At least he had her name now. Sunshine. Dear God. “Purple looks good on you. So, your parents named you Sunshine? What’s the story behind that?” He cringed when she giggled.

  “Daddy said I was his little ray of sunshine, so he named me Sunshine. Mother didn’t much like it, but Daddy always gets what he wants, and I always get what I want. My life is filled with sunshine!”

  Another daddy’s little princess. No thank you. But what had he expected? In a lot of ways, he was mommy’s little prince. That’s the way it was in his world. For years now, he’d been dating his way through the list of daughters from his parents’ social circle, one of whom everyone assumed he would marry someday, but one by one, the women his age had all found their suitable mates and settled into the life that was expected of them. Princess Sunshine had to be seven or eight years younger, and there was simply nothing there that interested him. He couldn’t even get excited ab
out the prospect of having sex with her.

  That bothered him. When was the last time he’d been with a woman? Before Steppie’s wedding. Before Megan. That can’t be right. But it was.

  BJ considered ordering another mojito, but he didn’t want to spend any more time with Little Miss Sunshine than he absolutely had to. He signaled for the check. “I hate to cut this lovely evening short, but I have an early call tomorrow.”

  Sunshine pouted. “Oh, don’t be such an old man, you party pooper! It isn’t eleven o’clock yet. Let’s go clubbing!” She put her hand on his shoulder and slowly snaked her way up to play with his ear.

  Her words cut into him. Old man. Party pooper. Damn. He took her hand in his and laid it gently but firmly, on the table. “I’m sorry to disappoint you. I do have to be up early. I never fly without at least six hours of sleep, and the FAA requires eight hours of sobriety, what we call bottle to throttle, so this is my last call.”

  “FAA?” she looked clueless.

  “Federal Aviation Administration.” Is there anybody who doesn’t know that?

  “You’re a pilot? How cool!”

  So she hadn’t been listening either. He thought about adding her name to the bottom of the list so he could cross her off twice. “Let me get you home.”

  “Oh, no worries. I’ll grab a taxi and hook up with a few friends. Ciao, JB, thanks for dinner!” She kissed him on the cheek and was gone.

  JB? What the hell, he hadn’t remembered her name either. He should add her name to the top of the list so he could cross it off three times.

  His phone vibrated in his pocket. He checked the caller ID and answered immediately. “Hi, Mom, what’s wrong? It’s after eleven. Is everything okay?”

  “Don’t worry, sweetheart; it’s not a big deal. I’m babysitting for Megan, and I’m starting to get a migraine. Could you come take over for me?”

  Another gut punch. Where’s Megan? Not that it was any of his business, but damn it, if she was feeling well enough to go out on a date, why wasn’t she feeling well enough to at least call him and thank him for the chocolate roses? But he couldn’t worry about that right now; it was his mother who needed him. “Yeah, right, sure Mom. I’m on my way.”