Tough Love

by Lori Foster

  Armie was the first to relax. Shoulders dropping, he said to Leese, “Happy tears,” in this nauseating, indulgent man-to-man tone that conveyed she was a little woman and fragile, and expressing her happiness in such a way was to be expected.

  Leese said only, “Ah, right.”

  Cautiously staring at her, Miles asked, “You’re okay now?”

  Okay, happy, content.

  Touched by their concern.

  But telling them all that would probably turn them mute again. Smothering another yawn, she nodded. “I’m fine.”

  “Know what?” Brand nodded at her TV. “We could watch the game here.”

  Before she could weigh in on that one way or the other, the guys did.

  “Yeah,” Armie said. “The dogs are attached to Mutt and Jeff.”

  Brand said, “Ha ha,” and cuddled a happy Maggie closer. She licked his chin, making Armie fake-gag.

  Miles tried to put Norwood down, but the dog wasn’t having it. “I’m covered in fur,” he complained to Norwood. But without a single sign of remorse, the dog stuck his nose in Miles’s neck and sighed.

  “You’re turning them into lapdogs.”

  “They turned long before we got here,” Brand insisted. Then to Maggie, his voice high-pitched, he said, “Didn’t you, baby? Yes, you did. Yes, that’s a good girl,” making the dog’s tail go nuts.

  Leese pulled Vanity from her seat. “Go to bed. We’ll visit with the dogs.”

  Keys in hand, Armie said, “I’ll go grab some snacks.” He tipped his chin at Vanity. “Anything you need while I’m out?”

  Laughter got the best of her. And once she started, she couldn’t stop. They were all so intrusive and hilarious and...wonderful. She fell against Leese, leaving him no choice but to hold her up.

  “She’s hysterical,” Brand accused.

  Armie joined Leese, and together they walked her down the hall, peeking into each room until they finally found her bed.

  Leese pried her loose. “Go,” he told her. “Sleep.”

  “We’ll try to keep it down,” Armie promised.

  With one last chuckle, she hugged Leese and even kissed his cheek. Armie had his brows up over that until she grabbed him next. He hugged her off her feet in return.

  “This is so nice of you guys.”

  “Sleep well,” Leese said.

  “And Vee?” Armie winked at her. “We promise to clear out once Stack gets here.”

  She winked back. “Appreciate that. Thanks.”

  They were both speechless as she closed the door. Had they expected her to be subtle about her attraction for Stack? Not likely. She cared for Stack too much, and was far too exhausted to be subtle.

  In one long stride she reached the bed, collapsed facedown across it, and immediately fell asleep.

  With a smile on her face.

  * * *

  STACK FINISHED SPARRING with Denver, but as he stepped toward the end of the mats, Havoc called him over.

  “You okay for a few more minutes?”

  He was bone tired and covered in sweat. But that was nothing new. To be a top contender in the sport, he had to be able to deal with it—and he could. Depending on where you fought, the altitude or heat could factor in. Minor injuries often sidelined men who didn’t have enough stamina and heart to push through.

  Stack knew he could deal with just about anything, and had. But raging lust was a new one for him. Knowing Vanity was at home, waiting for him, that when he got there he’d finally be able to strip her down, kiss her all over, then sink into her... Yeah, a big distraction.

  He wasn’t about to tell Havoc any of that.

  Normally they’d all have taken off the Sunday after a wedding, especially given it was Cannon’s wedding and they’d been out late, some of them drinking.

  But Havoc spent the week at his own camp, and Sunday afternoon was one of the few times the rec center was open only to established fighters. During the week they had classes for grade school kids, college grads and every age in between. The fighters also took turns teaching self-defense to women.

  So he pushed aside all discomforts, including the discomfort of wanting a specific woman more than his next breath, and said, “I’m good.”

  “Great. I wanted to work on some boxing moves with Denver.”

  Denver was one hell of a well-rounded fighter, excelling in his stand-up and his ground game—but no one turned down instruction from a seasoned pro like Havoc. The fact that Simon Evans, another icon in the sport, was also on-site made it a day of invaluable input.

  “You good with that?” Havoc asked Denver.

  Denver set aside the water bottle and grinned. “Hell, yeah.”

  “Just instruction,” Havoc said. “You’re too close to a fight to risk an injury.”

  And so for the next half hour Dean “Havoc” Connor went through moves on Stack, demonstrating for Denver, then had Denver go through the moves with Stack so he could watch.

  Just when he thought they were done, Simon joined them with a few pointers of his own.

  When he finally got a break, Stack went to the side to chug down some water. Of course his thoughts were already on Vanity. Had Armie secured the yard? Were the dogs letting her get any rest?

  Harper, Gage’s wife and the most frequent volunteer receptionist for the rec center, strolled over to Gage and Justice.

  Stack was involved in lurid visions of Vanity naked in bed, hopefully dreaming of him, when he picked up on the words “party” and “football” in Harper’s conversation. Justice declined, but Gage nodded agreement and headed to the shower.

  Harper glanced his way. “What about you?”

  Without asking for details, he shook his head. “Not this time, but thanks.”

  Looking impish and up to no good, Harper shook back her brown hair and propped a hand on her hip. “Got plans of your own, huh?”

  He had no idea why her blue eyes were so bright and mischievous, but he knew Harper well enough to know it meant something. Probably she’d heard about his aborted rendezvous with Vanity. Women, he’d learned from Denver, liked to gossip. Of course, Cherry had been gossiping about Denver’s size, and given the man was hung like a horse, he supposed he couldn’t blame her.

  “I do,” Stack said, then he pointed at her. “Stay out of trouble.”

  Her laughter livened up the gym, making several guys pause to look. Luckily, Gage, a massive heavyweight, wasn’t the jealous sort. He knew that most at the rec center considered Harper a kid sister.

  She shook her head, saying, “You poor, poor man,” and walked away from him.

  He was wondering about that when Denver joined him.

  “Thanks for hanging around. I know you had better shit to be doing.”

  “I won’t tell her you said that.”

  Denver paused comically. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

  Because they both knew he could be doing Vanity right now. Stack grinned. “You won’t see me passing up instruction with veterans.”

  “Yeah, that’s how I figured it. Still—the timing sucked.” Denver swiped a towel over his face. “Armie, the ass, should have stayed, too.”

  “He’s still getting used to the idea of being in the SBC. He’ll come around, though.”

  “Why he has to get used it—that’s what I’d like to know.”

  True. It confounded Stack, as well.

  Cannon, as Armie’s best friend, was the only one to understand Armie’s reservations over signing on to the elite SBC. He’d already taken apart the competition in local venues. Upping the ante was all he had left if he wanted to continue in the sport.

  Not being the modest sort, Stack knew he was good. Denver, too. Hell, all of them were good. But Armie had something the rest didn’t. Some insane drive, a remarkable fluidity of movement. He countered strikes and submission attempts as if he knew things his opponent didn’t. As if it was a sixth sense. Because of that, he walked through the best with ease.

 
Yet he hadn’t fought at the higher-level shows. Stack didn’t doubt that Armie would win once the SBC got him on a card, but everything would be different—the size of the crowd, the fanfare, the rules. The pay. Most jumped at the opportunity.

  But for far too long Armie had dodged it. Havoc had to literally run him to ground and corner him to make it happen.

  One of these days, they’d all know why.

  “You heading to the showers?” Denver asked.

  Stack shook his head. “I’ll shower at Vanity’s.” Like most of the fighters, he kept a change of clothes in his gym bag, so he didn’t need to run to his apartment first.

  With every second that passed, some anomalous urgency burned in his blood. He’d anticipated sex with other women. He’d been caught up in the moment.

  This was as different as night to day.

  He knew Vanity was dealing okay with the dogs; Armie would have called him otherwise. But for a woman who’d only wanted a sexual experience, she’d taken on a lot of shit that wasn’t hers to deal with.

  On the drive over, Stack called his mom again to check on her. He’d spoken to her once already, and she’d insisted she was fine, claiming Tabby had set her up in the family room on a big soft couch with pillows, a blanket, the TV remote and her meds close at hand.

  This time she answered on the first ring. “Why aren’t you at home getting some sleep of your own?”

  “Mom.” Her chiding tone made him smile. “It was a special day at the rec center. I didn’t want to miss it.”

  “Well, then, tell me you’re heading to bed now.”

  Yeah, he was. But not alone and sure as hell not to sleep. “How are you?”

  “The same as I was this morning when you called—perfectly fine.”

  He checked the clock, then cursed low when he realized it was after four. “Have you eaten?”

  “Why do you and Tabby keep acting like I’m teetering on the edge? Of course I ate.”

  He knew his mother well. Usually when she got defensive, it was because she knew she was wrong.

  Like the time she loaned money to Tabby, knowing fucking Phil had blown their budget on gambling. Or the time she’d paid Phil’s outstanding tickets because Tabby was crying over it. And still they’d lost that car. Like an idiot, Stack had replaced the transportation for his sister—only to find out last night that Tabby let Phil drive it.

  In the past, whenever he thought of the twisted relationship his sister had with a dick like Phil, it enraged him. Now, on his way to Vanity, it only pissed him off a little.

  “’S that right?” Stack said, wondering if she’d outright lied about eating. “So what’d you have?”

  “Your sister brought me soup on her break.”

  Huh. So Tabby had done something right. “Is that it?”

  She huffed in exasperation—and ended up coughing.

  “I’m swinging by,” Stack told her when she caught her breath. He’d make sure—

  “No,” she protested. “Stack, honey, you know I love you. But right now I just want to close my eyes and sleep. I promise I’m eating enough.”

  Given he was so anxious to see Vanity, he caved easily. “I’m coming by tomorrow, then.”

  “That would be very nice.”

  New suspicions gnawed on him, and damn it, he couldn’t let it go. “No fibbing, Mom.”

  “I don’t—”

  “Is Phil there?”

  Silence.

  Right eye flinching, Stack asked, “What’s he doing?”

  “It’s his home, Stack.”

  Right. A cheap apartment in a shit part of town—that was the best fucking Phil could do. But if he had to bet, he’d say Phil didn’t even contribute on that. Most of the bills fell to Tabby to cover. “Mom.”

  She coughed, got a drink, and finally said, “He has a poker game going on.”

  Son-of-a-bitch.

  More times than Stack could remember, his mother had bailed Phil out of trouble, and he repaid her by having a party while she was ill?

  In a rush, she added, “They’re in the kitchen and I’m in the family room. I can barely hear them...” Sensing that explanation wouldn’t cut it, she lost the pleading tone and adopted the this-is-your-mother attitude instead. “Stack Hannigan, you will not come charging over here, do you understand me? We’re nearing the holidays, and I don’t want a lot of strife in the family. I’m fine, and Phil, even with his shortcomings, is the one your sister wants.”

  “She can do better,” Stack said, for about the millionth time.

  Understanding took the edge out of his mom’s voice. “You know it, and I know it.”

  Wow. First time she’d admitted that.

  “Eventually Tabby will see it, too. But you know how she is, sweetie. The more we press her, the more she’s going to dig in.”

  “You mean the more I press her.” He’d been the only one protesting. His mother, curse her patience, kept her nose out of her children’s lives as much as possible.

  “She’s determined to prove you wrong. Leave Phil be. I promise you, he’ll screw up enough all on his own that eventually Tabby will wipe her hands of him. Just you wait and see.”

  Stack had never looked at it that way before, and now that he did, he had to admit to the possibility. “I’ll try.”

  “Thank you.” Letting out a weary breath, she said, “Now I really do want to nap.”

  “All right.” Still worried, he said, “Love you.”

  “I love you, too, son.”

  For the remainder of the drive Stack’s thoughts bounced between his mother’s illness, his sister’s a-hole husband, and Vanity. Sweet, hot, irresistible Vanity.

  Waiting on him. Anxious for him.

  Would she be ready the moment he walked in the door? He wouldn’t mind showering with her again. He’d love teasing her body more. He couldn’t wait to take her completely...

  That thought died an immediate and painful death the moment he saw her driveway filled with cars.

  What the hell?

  He parked on the street, slammed the car door and stalked up the walk with bad intentions.

  As if she’d been watching for him, Harper opened the door.

  That drew him up short.

  “You get the joke now, don’t you?” Hooking her arm through his, Harper drew him in. “It is funny, Stack. Surely you’ll see that, right?”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  NO. STACK DIDN’T SEE a damn thing funny about all his hot plans turning into a puff of smoke. Usually football parties were boisterous. Not so this time. Someone made a touchdown, and everyone cheered in near silence.

  Lounging in various positions on the couch were Armie, Leese and Gage. No feet on tables, no misplaced pillows. Miles shared a chair with Norwood, and as Brand came out of the kitchen, Maggie followed him. Stack understood why when Brand slipped her a bite of cheese.

  Stack looked at the beers and Cokes sitting on coasters, and the big bowl full of nachos—without a single crumb on the coffee table. It was like stepping into the land of Oz or something. “What the fuck is going on?”

  “Keep it down,” Armie told him. “Vee’s still in bed.”

  Brand offered him a beer. “She hadn’t slept.”

  “Not a wink,” Leese said. “And it showed.”

  “Dogs wouldn’t let her,” Miles chimed in.

  “So we stayed.” Armie pushed away from the couch, and Brand immediately took his seat. Maggie crawled into his lap.

  Stack’s mouth tightened, and though he had a lot to say, he couldn’t get a single word out. Gently but firmly, he pried Harper off his arm, walked her over and “gave” her to Gage. Without taking his gaze off the TV, Gage pulled her into his lap and nuzzled her neck.

  Armie nudged Stack toward the kitchen. “Let’s talk.”

  “Yeah. Let’s talk about all of you getting out.”

  Fighting a grin, Armie soothed, “Now, Stack,” while still corralling him from the room. “You know no one is budging, a
t least not until halftime. And Vee’s dead-out anyway.”

  His eyes flared. “How the hell do you know that?” If Armie had peeked in on her, he’d—

  “She hasn’t come out of her room. The girl is a born hostess, so if she was awake, she’d have been out here, right? Especially with the dogs here. She did seem to feel personally responsible for them.”

  Damn.

  “Took us a bit to talk her into resting. And seriously, dude, if we’d left, the dogs would have been on her. The poor things are starved for attention.”

  Another failing of his sister’s. Why the hell had she let Phil talk her into getting dogs anyway? He knew Tabby tried, and he didn’t doubt she loved the animals, but she worked fifty-hour weeks or more, so she didn’t have a lot of free time.

  And she damn well should have known Phil wouldn’t step up.

  Unaware of the path Stack’s thoughts had taken, Armie continued. “She needed to sleep, so why not let her catch up? In the end, I’m guessing that’ll work out better for you. You know, having her frisky instead of wiped out.”

  “Shut up.” They got to the kitchen and Stack groaned, dropping his head against the fridge.

  Behind him, Armie snickered. “Looks like you could use a few zees, as well. You don’t want to disappoint her. I have a feeling her expectations are pretty high.”

  He’d rather have Vanity over sleep any day.

  Taking pity on him, Armie clasped Stack’s shoulder. “I promise to get everyone moving soon as we hit halftime. I’ll bribe them all with pizza to ensure they go. How’s that?”

  His eyes felt gritty, his limbs heavy, and a dull throbbing reverberated through his brain. Yeah, he was pretty damned exhausted, so Vanity had to have felt the same.

  That made him wonder, so he turned and straightened away from the fridge. “Did she tell you she was tired?”

  Armie snorted—and scooted him aside so he could get a bottle of water. “No. She was all about manning up. It was cute.”

  If Vanity heard Armie say that, she’d find some nice, sweet way to eviscerate him. No doubt she’d smile the entire time.

  That was another thing Stack liked about her. Her quick wit, always delivered with deceptive good humor. “I’m going to take a shower.”

  “Here?” Armie asked.