His Lullaby Baby

by Airicka Phoenix

  Her heart was racing, cracking between her ears in a wild drum she hadn’t heard in years. They were offering her too much and that scared the hell out of her. It had taken her so long to escape the last act of kindness someone had thought to bestow on her.

  “Take it,” Toby murmured. “It’s fair. I promise.”

  “Okay,” she heard herself whisper. “But with a fair cut for everyone and I’d like you to start at eight until five.”

  To most, her request would have made no sense. They wouldn’t understand why she was looking a gifted horse in the mouth. But then most people hadn’t lived in the shadows of that gift. They didn’t know that people never did something for nothing and eventually, they would want something from her that she would be powerless to deny. It was a situation she would never put herself into again.

  “Those are my conditions,” she said.

  “Addy—”

  Sloan put his hand up, stilling Toby’s protest. His blue eyes studied her without blinking. The contemplation in them made her wonder what he was thinking, if he was regretting his offer to help. Men didn’t like a woman who went against their word. No doubt he thought she was being a hormonal and emotional female.

  But he nodded.

  “Fair enough.” He kicked his brother in the leg, motioning him off the second stool. “Let’s work it out then.”

  It wasn’t what she’d been expecting, but she swallowed back her relief and took the offered seat.

  The talk turned out to be a lot of back and forth about what was reasonable. Addy knew she was being an idiot. As it stood, she didn’t even have money to pay for the equipment, never mind the actual work involved. But she knew what they were owed. A real contractor would have asked for thousands. While there was no way she could afford that, she knew she couldn’t allow them to get nothing either.

  “Thousand each,” she said when Sloan started to offer her another low option. “Twenty-five hundred up front and another twenty-five upon completion. Plus lunch and snacks.”

  He hesitated, but he inclined his head. “All right.”

  Sloan jotted the new agreement down before holding the pad out to her. Addy took it and read over the lines carefully.

  It was all there, exactly how they’d discussed.

  She sighed and passed it back.

  “Good?” Sloan asked.

  Addy nodded. “Yes.”

  Satisfied, he signed the bottom. Cole did next, followed by Jared and Damon. When the pad was passed over to Toby, he shook his head.

  “I’ll sign it, but I don’t want the money.”

  “Toby…”

  Toby cut his uncle off with another shake of his head. “Addy and I already have an agreement. She can put the money towards that if she wants, but I don’t want it.”

  The lodging, she thought, which still made no sense to her. But she couldn’t have him working on her house if he wasn’t going to get paid and something told her that he would do it even if she told him no.

  “Okay,” she told him. “I’ll give you one of the rooms upstairs.”

  “And cookies,” he reminded her. “Five thousand of them. You promised.”

  Damon frowned. “You asked for five thousand cookies?”

  “Dude.” Toby faced his brother. “You have not had these cookies.”

  “If they’re anything like these pretzels, I believe you,” Jared muttered around another mouthful.

  Sloan rose. “I think that’s everything.” He dug into his pocket and removed a business card. He pressed it into Addy’s palm. “Call if you have any questions.”

  Addy peered at the bold, but clear print on the simple, white bit of paper and her confusion grew.

  “McClain’s Pack N’ Go?” She peered at the man in charge. “You’re movers?”

  “For fifty years now,” Sloan answered.

  While that gave her some sense of relief if she ever needed movers, but that didn’t explain what kind of qualifications they had for renovations.

  “Uncle Sloan’s the guy you want.” Toby voiced the answer to her unasked question. “Trust me. He knows what he’s doing.”

  Addy inhaled deeply and held it until her lungs hurt. Really, she had no choice. Anyone else would ask for triple what Sloan and crew were asking for. Plus the McClain’s were a big deal in the community. While stories of them were infamous, their characters were not. Plus, she did trust Toby, as crazy as it was.

  “All right.” She tucked the card into her pocket and got to her feet. “Thank you, Mr. McClain.”

  He took the hand she offered him. “Sloan.”

  Addy offered him a small smile. “Sloan.”

  “Hey, why is he Sloan, but I can’t be Toby?”

  Chapter 5 ~ Toby

  Mark wasn’t home when Toby returned to the apartment with Damon. The place smelled of cigarettes and too much testosterone. Maybe it was because he was getting used to the sweet fragrance of Addy’s place, but he never realized just how funky Mark’s apartment actually smelled until that moment.

  “I only have a duffle here,” he told his brother as Damon followed him in and shut the door. “I already texted to let Mark know I’m leaving.”

  “And why are you leaving?” Damon wandered away from him towards the glowing green lamp. “This place has such potential.”

  Ignoring the man, Toby grabbed his meds off the kitchen counter, his toothbrush, razors, and shampoo from the bathroom and stuffed everything into the duffle he kept by the sofa. He cast a final glance around the place before turning to his brother.

  “Done.”

  Drawing away from the bulb he was tapping experimentally, Damon skirted around the coffee table and took the duffle from Toby. He tossed it casually over his shoulder and met Toby’s gaze.

  “You know Mom’s going to want an explanation, right?”

  He knew she would. She hadn’t been so concerned when it was Mark, because Toby wasn’t moving in with the guy. It was more like a sleepover. But his mom would not be so understanding about him moving out, not when he was in such a delicate state.

  “Maybe I’ll just leave my stuff there,” he mused.

  Damon snorted. “And what’ll you tell her when she finds out, which she will?”

  “That I’m living in sin,” he decided. “I don’t know. Can you—?”

  “Nope.” Damon turned on his heels and marched towards the door. “You are so on your own, pal.”

  Grumbling, Toby followed. “What kind of brother are you?”

  “The kind that likes watching you suffer.”

  They walked the rest of the way to Damon’s Jeep in silence. Toby’s bag was tossed into the back as the two climbed in.

  “You don’t think she’d pull a Misery, do you?”

  Damon started the engine and pulled out of the parking spot before answering. “Misery?”

  “Yeah, like the book by Stephen King.”

  Damon shot him a quick sidelong glance. “It’s a good possibility.” He drummed his fingers on the wheel. “But on the bright side, she’d only have to break one of your knees.”

  Toby shoved him. “Ass.”

  The drive to their childhood home took all of twenty minutes down a long, dirt road that strained like a muddy gash into the distance. The house was the only one for miles, sitting neatly on a sea of grass their dad had actually put in over what used to be miles of wheat fields. It was all so flat and empty that Toby could stand on the porch, look to the west and see his Uncle Sloan’s house. Over the years, his mom had planted a few trees and a fence had been put up when the children were small to keep them contained in the backyard, but nothing had changed since then.

  They climbed out of the Jeep once Damon had pulled to a stop in the driveway. Toby limped forward, putting more than a touch of his weight on the cane as he climbed the front steps.

  The front door opened to a foyer and a set of stairs that led straight upstairs. There were two doorways on either side, a dining room on the right, and a spacio
us sitting area on the left. Three enormous sofas sat in a half square around an empty fireplace and coffee table. Each one was a different color, but large enough to accommodate the large number of people that inhabited the place normally; his parent’s house was the hangout spot. It was where all the family gatherings took place and always smelled like home, which Toby could only describe as rich, hearty, and warm.

  “What do you think our odds are of running upstairs, grabbing my things and leaving before she—?”

  “Toby?”

  At the sound of their mother’s voice, Damon grinned. “I’d say not very good.”

  Toby grimaced. “How does she do that?” Drawing in a breath, he headed for the kitchen. “Hey Mom!”

  Beth McClain was a vampire. At least, that was what Toby always thought. She and his Aunt Lily seemed incapable of aging. Both could have passed for women in their mid-thirties at the very most. He had no idea how they were able to still look so young, but he was sure magic was involved.

  She hurried towards him with her long, quick nurse strides. Her long, dark hair swung at her back like a pendulum from the elastic clasping the heavy strands in a ponytail. She wore jeans and a blue t-shirt. Her feet were bare and she had no makeup on, but she was still one of the prettiest women he knew.

  “I was beginning to wonder when I would see my boys.” She pulled Toby into her arms and held him a full second before doing the same with Damon. “You’re just in time for my homemade enchilada and bean sauce.”

  Toby’s stomach whimpered. “Maybe a bite.”

  That brought a smile to her face. She squeezed his arm before guiding them deeper into the kitchen.

  The smell was even stronger once they passed over the threshold. The kitchen had always been the main source of the house’s power, the place all the magic happened. It was where the family came together. Already their mom had started the preparations for that weekend when the McClain clan would fill the house. Pots and bowls of prepaid things cluttered the counters. Something was baking in the oven and his mother’s personal cookbook sat open on the table.

  Damon and Toby took their seats as their mom grabbed them plates. She brought the dishes to the table and glowered at her boys.

  “Did you wash your hands?”

  Grumbling, they both rose and followed orders while she dished steaming rolls onto their plates. She was pouring them orange juice by the time they returned.

  There was very little she couldn’t cook and cook really well. The enchiladas were no exception. Toby wolfed down two platefuls before his stomach begged him to stop. Damon was on his third before he called it quits.

  “Now that you’re both fed…” She pulled out the chair opposite them and sat. “What do I owe to this visit?”

  Damon, being no help whatsoever, picked up his juice and sipped idly while watching Toby expectantly from over the rim. Toby was tempted to flip him off, but his mom would probably hit him with a spatula.

  “Have you talked to Dad today?” he asked instead.

  His mom nodded. “Only a few minutes ago. He was on his way to the bank. Why?”

  “Did he tell you about the inn?”

  Again, she nodded. “He mentioned you boys helping … I can’t remember her name…”

  “Addy,” he supplied.

  “Right, Addy with some renovations.”

  “Her porch,” he explained. “And a few other things. The place isn’t exactly falling down or anything, but it needs a few touchups.”

  “All right, that sounds great.”

  Toby cleared his throat and sat back. “Well, I was thinking I’d get a room over there … at the inn,” he clarified. “To save on the travel every day. Plus, I’m already doing a few things round the place as it is, so it’ll be easier on my knee if I stayed close.”

  Her blue eyes narrowed, but there was amusement shadowing her mouth. “That’s very kind of you. Any specific reason?”

  “To be kind?”

  “All that for someone you don’t know? Unless you like her?”

  Heat prickled the back of his neck and it took some real effort not to look away from her prodding gaze.

  It was one thing to like a girl when you’re sixteen and having your mom ask if you like her. It was another thing to be nearly thirty and have your mom make it sound like something naughty.

  “Yeah, I do like her,” he confessed. “Probably more than I ever expected to like someone.”

  Maybe she’d been hoping for something else, denial maybe, but her eyes widened with surprise. “Should I break out the china?”

  Toby grimaced. “Take it easy, Mom. I’m still trying to get to know her.”

  She looked like she was about to say something, but she thought better of it and bobbed her head yet again in slow nods. “Well, I think it’s a great idea.”

  It was a tossup who was more surprised by the comment, Toby or Damon. They both exchanged wary glances.

  “You do?”

  Their mom nodded. “Of course!” She rose out of her chair and walked over to the pot simmering on the stove. She stirred it once before setting the ladle aside and turning to them once more. Her grin mischievous. “I’ve heard she’s very pretty.”

  The heat crawled up his neck and singed the skin of his face, but he grinned. “Yeah, she is.”

  “You’ll be careful?”

  Toby scoffed. “Of course. It’s my middle name, remember?”

  It was her turn to snort. “Right.” She started back towards the table. “So when do I get to meet her?”

  Toby blanched. His gaze shot over to his brother and was met with a raised eyebrow and curved mouth. He turned back to his mother.

  “Meet her?”

  Her grin was mischievous. “Well, you’re moving in with her. I think that entitles me to at least a sit down over tea.”

  “Jesus, Mom!” But he chuckled.

  She regained her seat and turned her attention on Damon. “How’s Willa and the children?”

  Toby listened for a few minutes while Damon went on about Owen’s accomplishments at school and Kari’s ability to recite the alphabet before pushing to his feet and making his way to the stairs. He loathed stairs. By the time he reached the top, he was drenched in sweat and out of breath, but he hobbled to his old room and started the slow process of packing his clothes. The rest of his things were boxed up neatly in a storage facility just out of town.

  After his injury, Damon and Jared had packed up his apartment and brought whatever Toby needed over to his parent’s house. He’d lived on the sofa the first few months, but once his leg was well enough to hold some of his weight, he’d moved himself back up to his room. He had every intention of getting his own place again, but for the time being, living at the inn seemed like the next best thing.

  “Hey, need help?” Damon appeared in the doorway, hands in his pocket.

  Leaning his weight on his cane, Toby nodded. “Yeah, Just the one bag.”

  Moving deeper into the room, Damon grabbed the suitcase and hauled it out the door. Toby followed at a slower pace. The pang in his thigh had worsened the last few days. It was all the walking and climbing, but there was no helping it.

  “Toby?”

  His mom appeared at the bottom of the stairs, one hand on the railing, the other bunched around a dishrag. Her brows were furrowed over watchful, blue eyes. They studied his white knuckled grip around the stiff rubber, the sweat dampening his hairs at his temples, and the tight knot in his jaw. He knew she saw it and braced himself for her avalanche of concern.

  “When’s your next appointment?” she asked instead.

  “Next week.”

  Her chin lifted. “You’re pushing yourself too hard.”

  “Mom…”

  She put up the hand holding the rag. “Don’t Mom me, Tob. I’m allowed to fuss. It’s my job. Now, you’re too old for me to ground, but you better believe I’m still going to take care of you. Start taking it easy, do you hear me? Or I’ll be on the phone with yo
ur doctor before you can even think about taking another step.”

  “Jesus, Mom—”

  “Don’t cuss. Now get down here and let me look at your leg.”

  Crap! He thought miserably as he descended the last few steps to the bottom. His mom watched him like a hawk the whole way to the sofa. Once he was properly seated, she moved to kneel in front of him.

  “You’ll need to take off your pants.”

  “I am not taking my pants off!” he muttered. “It’s fine. I swear!”

  She glowered at him. “That wasn’t a request.”

  “I ain’t doing it,” he shot back, equally stubborn. “Now, you can poke and prod to your heart’s content, but I ain’t taking my pants off!”

  She sucked in air through her nostrils, making them flare, but she didn’t push again. Huffing, she placed her hands on his thigh and gingerly messaged the tight muscles. Every prod, no matter how careful, made his entire body erupt in hot and cold sweat. The pain clawed at his insides until he was certain he’d be sick.

  “Is it real bad?” his mom asked gently, her anger evaporating into concern. “On a scale of—”

  “Fifty,” he choked out. “Stop!”

  He set his hand over hers. His was trembling and clammy. His chest heaved as he struggled not to pass out.

  “Toby—”

  “I just … I need my pills.”

  Her face tensed as it always did at the very idea of someone relying on medication for anything. But she relented.

  “Where are they?”

  Vomit curdling at the back of his throat, he jerked a nod towards the open doorway. “Car. My duffle.”

  She rose quickly and hurried away. Toby waited until she was out the door before letting the sob escape. His head dropped back and he squeezed his eyes shut tight. He didn’t have very long before his mom returned. She dashed into the kitchen and was back in front of him with a glass of water and his painkillers.

  He took three. He would have taken the whole bottle if his mom hadn’t been standing there, watching him. Her distaste for medication had always been a sort of joke in the family, what with her being a nurse and all. He knew it was because her mom had overdosed and left her in the hands of the system, but it never failed to amuse him just how against pills she was.