The Lawson Boys: Marty

by Angela Verdenius

  “Has it changed who you are?”

  “Well, no, but-”

  “Are you going to forever be pushing every man attracted to you aside just because you’re mourning that stupid bit of hymen?”

  Stung, Belle snapped back, “It’s not just that!”

  “Then what? Because I’m not hearing anything to credibly support this wall you’re putting up. Talk about self-sabotage.”

  “Sorry I bothered you,” Belle retorted. “How about I hang up?”

  “How about I come over and boot your arse?” There was stunned silence between them, Belle not believing what she was hearing, and then Holly gave a little cough. “Or I come over and just nudge your arse?”

  Belle gave a weak laugh, the absurdity of it all hitting her.

  “Right.” Holly adopted a brisk, no-nonsense tone. “Explain to me why you’re being such a bitch about all this.”

  “Oh, I’m not-”

  “You are. A perfectly lovely man who is attracted to you jumps your bones, treats you like a queen, and you keep fighting everything nice he throws your way. Bitch.”

  Belle sighed. “I thought best friends were supposed to support each other?”

  “We’re also supposed to stop each other from doing stupid things.”

  Belle was silent for a few seconds before saying slowly, “You think I’m being stupid?”

  “And a bitch. Don’t forget that.”

  “I resent that. I don’t believe I’m being a bitch.”

  “Why are you so mean to Marty, then? What did he ever do to you that called for such treatment, huh?”

  Belle bit her lip. “Um…”

  “Yeah? You tell me. Oh, here are some bad things. He bought you orchids, he rocked your world, he stood up for you against the photographer, he took you out for a nice dinner at the pub, he poured your sodden, drunken body into bed without taking advantage of you or posting photos on the internet, and then he was concerned enough to come halfway across the state to check if you were okay, and oh, here’s the clincher, he says he wants to get to know you better.” Holly paused long enough to draw breath. “Did I miss anything?”

  “No.” Belle’s voice was as small as she felt.

  “So you tell me why you’re so mean to him.”

  “Um…I’m fat?”

  “What?”

  “How could someone like him be interested in someone like me and-”

  “I am not bloody hearing this shit! I am not!” The sound of a hand banging against the receiver had Belle wincing and holding it away from her ear. Hello?” Holly yelled into the phone. “Can anyone with a shred of decency and brains hear me now? Hello?”

  “Geez, Holly, put a sock in it.”

  “I’ll put a sock in you in a minute. Belle Broune, you quit talking shit and tell me right now what the hell is wrong with you?”

  “Um…” Belle sniffled.

  “Don’t you start bawling on me,” Holly warned. “Speak up.”

  Cripes, her friend knew how to hit where it hurt, and where it counted. “Fine!” Belle burst out. “I don’t want to be hurt again!”

  “How can you get hurt if you don’t know the man?”

  “Because he could hurt me.”

  “No, he can’t. You’re just getting to know him.”

  “But he -he - “

  “Yeah? What? He what?”

  “He’s growing on me!”

  There was split silence for a second, then, “What?”

  “He’s bloody growing on me.” Belle swiped at a tear that trickled down her cheek. “He’s so nice, and so calm, and I feel all protected around him and I don’t want to get to know him better in case he walks away and I don’t get over him!”

  There was silence for a second more before Holly said, “Wow.”

  Plucking tissue from the box, Belle mopped up more tears. “ Can’t believe I just said that.”

  “Nor can I,” Holly agreed.

  “Trevor hurt me, but Marty would really hurt me.”

  “Okay.” Holly waited.

  “I thought Trevor was special, but…” Belle mopped up more tears. “ I see now that he wasn’t so special. I know that because…”

  “Because?” Holly prodded.

  “Because I think Marty is special.”

  “You think?”

  “Oh my God, you’re really going to make me say it, aren’t you?”

  “You bet your arse.”

  “Fine. He’s special, all right? I’ve only known him a short time but he’s special.”

  “Aren’t you glad you said it?”

  Belle blew her nose in reply.

  “Belle,” Holly said gently. “Marty’s special to you. It doesn’t have to make sense how it could happen in such a short time. It just did. Now is he special enough to take a chance on?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You do. Don’t talk shit.”

  “I guess so.”

  “I am so going to come over and kick your-”

  “I don’t want to get hurt.”

  “Stop thinking about yourself for once.”

  “What?”

  “He’s putting himself out on a limb trying to get you to meet him halfway. Think how he’s feeling.”

  “I don’t know how he’s feeling.”

  “So get to know him and you will know how he’s feeling.”

  Belle groaned. “I feel like I’m in the middle of Groundhog Day.”

  “Huh?”

  “Marty said to get to know him.”

  “So what’s your problem?”

  “I don’t want to get hurt, Holly, I told you that!”

  “For God’s sake, Belle, it’ll hurt a lot worse if you just kick him away.”

  “Not as much.”

  “Really, Belle?” Holly asked with heavy irony. “You could watch him walk away right now and live quite contentedly with the knowledge that you never gave the best thing that walked into your life a chance to be something more?”

  Remembering how silent Marty was, his normally cheerful teasing and naughty innuendos subdued beneath her rejection, Belle shrivelled inside. Oh geez, she hadn’t spared a thought for his feelings. It had all been about her.

  “I’ll phone you again in a few minutes,” Holly said. “Give you some time to think. And you better answer your phone, Belle. Okay?”

  “Yeah.” When Holly hung up, Belle replaced the phone and rubbed her forehead.

  Fear of rejection was holding her back, but if she let that fear rule her, if she let Marty walk away without even attempting to get to know him… She felt sick. Could she do it? Could she let him walk away? Could she live with herself?

  Could she give them a chance?

  The answer beat inside her, shifting and rising.

  The phone rang and when she answered it, Holly asked, “Well?”

  ~*~

  The door of the flat opened and a man Belle vaguely remembered looked out at her. “Hello.”

  “Um, I was wondering if Marty was here?”

  “You’re Belle.”

  “And you’re…I’m sorry, I don’t remember your name.”

  “Alan.” He stepped back. “You better come inside. Marty’s here.”

  He held the door open for her and she brushed past him straight into a lounge room. It was well lit by the sunlight coming through the partially open glass sliding doors on the other side of the room, so she didn’t have to wait for her vision to adjust to see Marty pushing himself up out of the big armchair in which he’d been sitting.

  The tiny poodle at his feet also stood up, her one eye bright and inquiring, the scar pulling her lip up on the ruined side of her face. The pink ribbon in her topknot would have looked ridiculous expect she somehow retained that girly look, scars and all. It was helped by her pink collar with the little diamantes catching the light and her diminutive size.

  Marty looked across the room at her but didn’t move forward. “Belle.”

  Okay, this was going t
o be as hard as she feared. “I came to talk to you.”

  Marty’s gaze flicked behind her.

  “Oh sure,” Alan said. “How about I give you some privacy?”

  Marty nodded. “Appreciated.”

  Alan sighed. “Come on, Sugar, walkies. Again.”

  Sugar pranced over to him, wriggling excitedly while he clipped the bright pink lead to her collar. Alan slapped on a cap, gave Belle a smile and left the flat with one last parting shot at Marty. “You owe me big.” The door shut behind him and Belle was left alone with Marty.

  He continued to watch her.

  “This is…” Rubbing trembling fingers on her pants, she wished he’d say something to make it easier.

  Obviously the ball was in her court because he didn’t so much as lift an eyebrow. Even the usual rebellious hank of blonde hair stayed strictly in place atop his head, not daring to flop down over his brow. In fact, Marty looked cool, calm, assured. Watchful. She could just about see him standing in a meeting, studying his opponent with sharp intensity. Yeah, she could picture that, all right. He might be standing across from her in jeans and t-shirt instead of a suit and tie, but the air of controlled calmness was well practiced and fit him just as easily and comfortably as his humorous, teasing side.

  “Marty,” she began, “I’ve been thinking about what you said. I...” Intensely aware of his steady regard, she nervously rubbed the back of her neck. “This is not easy.”

  “No one ever said it would be,” he replied quietly.

  “You could make it a little easier.”

  “You’re the one with the problem, Belle. I can’t make it easier if you can’t face it.”

  “You must be lethal in a takeover.’

  “I am.” The honest reply surprised her.

  “Great.”

  He waited.

  Anger sparked. “Are you enjoying this?”

  “No. I’m waiting.”

  “I’m not going to crawl.”

  The only sign that he took umbrage to this was a tightening of his jaw. “I never asked you to crawl.”

  “But you stand there and say nothing…” Stumbling to a halt, Belle knew immediately what she was doing and shame washed through her. “I’m sorry. You already said everything you had to say.”

  He nodded.

  “So now it’s my turn.”

  He nodded again.

  “I’m not good at this kind of thing.”

  His expression didn’t change, but his eyes softened. “Just say what you feel, Belle. Be honest with me.”

  As he’d been with her.

  Taking a deep breath, she clasped her hands behind her, twisting her fingers together out of his sight. “I’m scared, Marty.”

  “Of what?”

  “That I’ll get to know you, it won’t work out and you’ll walk away.” When he simply raised one brow in silent query, she rushed on. “I’m being honest here. I am attracted to you.” Her cheeks blazed but she wasn’t stopping now. “Attracted enough to know that I stand getting hurt if you betray my trust. But Holly pointed out that I’d be a fool to throw a chance away just because I let fear rule me, so I’m here. Telling you this.” She faltered, feeling at turns both brave and foolish when he just continued to watch her. “Now.” She swallowed. “I’m here now telling you.” When he didn’t say anything, just continued to study her, she lifted her chin. “Well?”

  “And what if I get to know you and you walk away from me?” he queried. “What if you hurt me?”

  “What?”

  “We both risk getting hurt, Belle. What if you hurt me?”

  “How could I hurt you? You can have any woman you want.”

  “But I want you. So what if you walk away?”

  “I wouldn’t.”

  “I don’t know that.”

  “If you got to know me, you’d know that I wouldn’t…Oh.”

  “Yes, oh.”

  “I see.”

  “Do you?”

  “Yes.”

  “So what are you here for, Belle?”

  “You’re really going to make me say it, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Better than a kick up the arse, I suppose,” she muttered.

  “What?” He looked confused.

  “Nothing.”

  “Belle-”

  “No.” She held up one hand. “This is on me.” Holy cow, was it on her. Life was really throwing her some doozies lately. Heart pounding in her chest, palms sweaty, she gulped past the nerve lump in her throat and almost croaked out, “I’m asking you to get to know me.”

  He looked at her for several seconds before a wicked grin curved his lips. “Sure. Get your clothes off and we’ll start.”

  Closing her eyes, she slumped in relief.

  His laughter echoed in the room and seconds later those familiar, strong arms encircled her and pulled her against that familiar, muscular chest, and that familiar scent of man and soap invaded her senses.

  Marty was familiar. In a short space of time, he’d become so wonderfully, achingly familiar.

  He stopped laughing, resting his cheek atop her head, his voice deep and quiet. “Hi.”

  “Hi yourself.”

  “So we’re courting now?”

  “Courting?”

  “A quaint old term my mother likes to use.’

  “I’m a little concerned that we’re having a moment and your mother comes into the picture.”

  “Honey, trust me, it’s all about you.”

  Smiling, Belle tilted her head back to meet his warm gaze. “No, it’s about you.”

  No,” he replied. “It’s about us.” Sliding his hands up to cup her cheeks, he lowered his head until his mouth hovered inches above hers. His breath was warm on her lips, his gaze intent. “I won’t let you down, Belle. I promise.”

  Before she had a chance to answer, he closed the distance between them, and then he was there, his lips, so masculinely firm yet soft, brushing across hers, skin on skin, the lightest of touches, and her eyes drifted closed as the delicate sensation trickled through her.

  He deepened the kiss slowly, controlling it when she would have eagerly plunged head-first into it. She opened her lips and he kissed the corners of her mouth. She shifted to follow but he held her still, and when an impromptu impatient sound left her, he smiled against her lips, nuzzling the delicate flesh, probing gently with his tongue before sliding in to claim her mouth with a slow, ravishing kiss that took everything she had and left her shaking and wanting more.

  So much more.

  Heat curled languidly through her in slow spirals from her lips to low in her belly and beyond, tingling between her thighs, making her legs shift restlessly and her hands smooth across the hard, broad expanse of his back.

  In turn, his hand slid down to cup one breast and with a welcoming sigh she pressed into the hard palm.

  “So soft,” he whispered into her mouth. “I love your curves, Belle.”

  “You don’t have to pretend. It’s all right.” The words slipped out without her realising it, and it was only when he stopped kissing her that she opened her eyes to find him looking down at her.

  There was a definite glitter in his eyes. “I beg your pardon?”

  “What?”

  “What did you just say?”

  “I don’t remember.” Still partially caught up in the delicious sensations flowing through her, she blinked.

  His hand remained at her breast but his other hand slid down from her cheek to her shoulder, down behind her back and lower until his big palm stopped directly on one well-rounded buttock.

  That movement cleared her thoughts, especially combined with the glitter in his eyes and the obvious displeasure within the brilliant blue.

  “I said I love your curves and you told me not to pretend.” His voice was low.

  “Oh.” She glanced away.

  “Yeah, ‘oh’. Mind explaining that to me?”

  Actually, she did mind, but she was sta
rting to realise that once Marty got a bee in his bonnet, he didn’t let it go until he had answers.

  Taking a deep breath, she muttered, “I’m not exactly built the way men like.”

  “And how do men like a woman?”

  “You know. Slim. Not chunky.”

  “Some do. Some don’t. Some don’t care.”

  “Fine.” Feeling distinctly uncomfortable now, Belle tried to step back but he didn’t release his hold on her, forcing her to stop.

  “Look at me.”

  She lifted her gaze to his throat.

  “Higher.”

  “Marty-”

  “Look me in the eyes.”

  Equal parts miserable for destroying the magical moment, and a little apprehensive, Belle obeyed. There was no softness in his eyes, only a steely resolve. The man sure had a way of keeping her off-balance. She’d half expected tenderness and cajoling, but no way was she going to get that from him, she could see it now.

  “I’m not going to like this, am I?” she mumbled.

  “Tough,” he replied. “You’re going to hear it anyway.” When she started to look away, his hand flexed on her bottom. “No way, Belle. You look at me when I tell you this, because you need to see the truth.”

  How she could possibly see the truth she had no idea, but again she obeyed, watching his face even though she would rather have looked a charging tiger in the eyes right now. Embarrassment was flooding her. She should have kept her mouth shut.

  Marty stood still, silent, studying her face for long seconds until she felt more like an insect on a pin than a woman in the arms of a man.

  “Here’s the thing, Belle. I’ve never chased a woman in my life until you came along.”

  It wasn’t quite what she had been expecting to hear.

  “You’re the only woman I’ve chased across half a state, and I’d have chased you over to the other side of Australia if I’d had to.” Marty’s eyes didn’t wander once from hers as he spoke, his voice as strong as the resolve that echoed within the deep tones. “When I see a woman, I look at who she is, what she is, what she does, her humour, her anger, everything that is her, and that includes her figure. If I dislike a woman, it’s because of a combination of almost all those things, and the same if I like a woman. The only thing I don’t judge her on is her figure.”

  “That - that’s nice.” Belle didn’t know what else to say to that admission.

  “Do you believe me, though?” The intensity in his eyes was almost un-nerving.