She's a Spitfire (Tough Love Book 2)

by Chloe Liese

  Each day he was more his usual self. Quick wit, deep questions. Nosey and considerate and handsy come-ons. When the doctor cleared him for everything yesterday at his check-up, I felt his eyes burning a hole in me as they turned my way.

  I laughed to myself quietly as I remembered it while drinking in his beautiful profile. He’d talked a big talk as we left the doctor, promising all sorts of filthy things that made my cheeks burn red. But when we got back, the moment his head landed on the pillow, he was snoring, albeit with a hand cupped proprietarily over my breast.

  Tom brought the Ferrari slowly to a halt in the drive and brought me out of my wandering thoughts. The house was kept tidy by Mrs. Campbell next door and looked well cared for. I paid her to air it out and manage it as landlady when I let it. The stucco had been freshly painted in the last few years, a warm cream color that contrasted the black-framed windows and slate roof. The front yard of wildflowers was a sea of colors awash with died off blooms and the last few hardy species. Magenta heather, canary gorse, ruby-red Scottish flame flower, and the humble purple thistle.

  The property was startlingly empty and quiet, and a small corner of my heart ached as it acknowledged the echoes of its old inhabitants. I’d always miss Granda and Nan—I just didn’t often allow myself to feel my sadness.

  I gently nudged Zed awake, as Tom stepped out to unload the bonnet. After we got our bags into the house, Zed wandered around, smiling to himself as he picked up trinkets and peered out windows.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  He turned toward me, holding a picture of me as a knobby-kneed girl in a metal frame. “I just never thought I’d get to see this. Your past. You so rarely talk about it.” His thumb traced over the glass covering the photo. “Sounds sentimental, but I just like seeing this part of your world.”

  I smiled. “Well, if you carry me upstairs, you can see more. There’s my room.”

  He set the picture down, scooped me up capably, as if he hadn’t still been fighting vertigo days ago, and climbed the stairs. The room had the same pale blue walls, wood frame bed with a white quilt over it. A few pictures and mounted childhood art. I smiled, watching Zed after he set me on the bed. He walked around to his side and peered out at my view, opening the window and pulling back the sheers. A brisk sea breeze drifted through, making the curtain snap and dance.

  Sighing, Zed dropped onto the bed, took my hand and stared at it. “What’s up with you? You’ve seemed off for days.”

  I balked. “I haven’t.”

  He rolled his eyes. “I know I took a knock to the head, but I know you. You’re keeping something from me, and we’re not doing that anymore. No more secrets. So tell me.”

  I couldn’t blink away from his eyes, as I tried to find my courage. “They’re not secrets per se. More so…information I’ve been trying to find the right time to share.”

  His eyebrows lifted. “Okay, what is it?”

  “Well, one thing I know you won’t like, and the other…I’m not sure how you’ll feel about it. Which one you want to hear first?”

  Zed cleared his throat, tucked one knee up on the bed while the other leg hung off the edge. His fingers ran along the stitching pattern of the quilt, and his eyes remained focused on their journey. “What I won’t like.”

  I took a bracing breath and scooted myself up, yanking an additional pillow behind my back as I stared over at him. “What do you know or remember from the night…at the gala, after you left me to use the lavvy?”

  Zed glanced up at me seriously. “Not much. I came out of bathroom, could sense something was wrong, then before I knew it, I was fending off the guys who jumped me.” His fingers left the quilt and now traced the scar on his head. “I remember running down the hallway, back toward the ballroom, positive you were in danger and worried that I wouldn’t get to you in time. Then everything went black.” Shrugging, Zed sat taller, and stared at me. “I don’t remember anything between that and waking up to you.”

  “When you asked me about him, and I told you—”

  “That he was never going to see the light of day again.” His eyes narrowed. “That better not be a lie, Nairne Aileen.”

  “It isn’t.” I needed to say more, explain what happened, but my stomach chose the moment to churn with nausea. I breathed deeply, staving off the need to vomit.

  “Hey, you okay?” Zed scooted closer to me and ran his hand over my forehead with a look of concern. “Nairne, you don’t look good.”

  I laughed weakly. “Thanks a lot.”

  “You know what I mean. You about to puke on me?”

  “I’m all right.” I squeezed his hand and took him in. My handsome brute. Rugged and beautiful with his pale eyes and olive skin. Short hair, scruffy shadow along his jaw, the fitted grey thermal and dark jeans that hugged his slightly leaner frame. And a face that was pinched with worry.

  “You’re sure?”

  I nodded. I might retch in the near future, but I needed to get this over with. “Zed, what I’m about to say, I need you to let me tell it straight through, because I’ll not tell it again.”

  He scrubbed his face. “Okay. Just say it.”

  “When they placed you in the coma, Tom and Marc were there. They told me that based on what the surveillance had caught, on what could be corroborated, the police said they didn’t have enough to detain Alexandre.”

  Zed stared at me in absolute confusion.

  “That’s his name,” I clarified.

  Zed’s jaw ticked. “I’ve tried to turn over a new leaf here. To be less of a pushy asshole, to accept and trust what you and Tom and Marc have said, which is that he’s gone and you’re safe. Part of that’s because I got my head knocked pretty good and I didn’t trust myself to be behind the wheel of all this. But my head’s a hell of a lot clearer, Nairne, and now it sounds like what you’re saying is, he got away with it.”

  I sighed. “Initially, he did.” I glanced up at Zed. “That’s why I had to do what I’m about to tell you.”

  I told him everything. Muscled my way through to recounting the moment Alexandre began choking me, even as tears and anxiety clogged my throat.

  Zed shook with anger, fuming around the room.

  “I stabbed him. With the knife I’d hid in my garter.” I stared at the wall, as tears slipped down my face. “I hadn’t meant to, but I killed him. His blood…covered me, soaked my clothes. He fell on me and I couldn’t get him off.”

  I started shaking, trying to breathe evenly. Zed dropped on the bed and pulled me hard against his chest. “I couldn’t get him off, Zed. I couldn’t breathe.” I sobbed into him. “I killed him.”

  Zed rocked me, shushing. “You defended yourself. You fucking fought for your life. He would have killed you—” He choked on his words, squeezing me tight.

  “I killed him,” I whispered again.

  He kissed and murmured into my hair. “And you’re braver and stronger than anyone I’ll ever know.” He pulled back and stared into my eyes. “But I’m so angry at you right now, because you could have died, Nairne. You put yourself in danger and you barely fucking made it out. Why? Just fucking tell me why you risked your life!” His voice rose with each word as he stared thunderously at me.

  “There was no other way!” I cried, shoving his arms off me in anger. “You think I wanted to do that? Whore myself up for him, defenseless but for the bloody knife I got on my eleventh birthday? It’s because I love you! I had to fight for us. He’d never leave us alone otherwise. I needed evidence, every damning piece of evidence, to ensure that happened. It was the only way. Even Detective Martin said so.”

  He shook his head. “No.”

  “Zed, you’d do the same fucking thing for me, so don’t you tell me I was wrong.” I wiped tears from my eyes, glaring at him. “My love for you is no less than yours for me.”

  He shook his head again. “Yes, but it’s not the same. It’s my prerogative as the man who loves you to stand between you and harm. It’s not the fucki
ng same!”

  I stared at him unbelievingly. “What on earth are you talking about? Some feminist you are. Of course, it’s the same!”

  He clasped my face in his hands. “Nairne, I’m a man in my physical prime. I barely made it out that night with twenty years of fighting under my belt and a body that I devote to being fit and strong. You… You’re a buck twenty, soaking wet. You throw a mean right hook, innamorata, but compared to most men, you are inarguably weaker, and you couldn’t run for help, or hide easily. It was insanely dangerous!”

  I sat there, stunned at his outburst. His chest heaved as he grabbed his head, and nothing but my sniffles and his labored breathing punctured the silence for a painfully long time.

  Finally, his hands dropped, and he spoke softer. “You are my peer, in virtually every way, Nairne. I have never seen you as anything other than an intelligent, strong, independent, and powerful woman, because that’s who you are. But there is one way only in which we are not peers, and that is physically. Even setting aside your paralysis, as a woman alone with a predatory, remorseless man, that was suicidal.”

  Eyes red with unshed tears, he pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head at me. “You put so much more on the line when you went into that club. You are so fucking lucky that you made it out alive… There is no equivalent vulnerability I could have offered of myself.”

  I took his hand in mine. “Remember when I was recovering from my fall last winter? How you helped me physically and I didn’t want it? You said even though it looked like you were doing more, I was still doing plenty for you, too. Meeting your needs in different yet complementary ways. That we were still giving to each other equally, because we valued the unique qualities the other had to offer us.”

  He glared at me like he resented being reminded of this.

  “My body’s ability and vulnerability may not be the same as yours,” I continued, “but my love is. My behavior wasn’t any more or less sacrificial than yours could be. I had to do whatever I could to get him out of our lives, so I did it. Just as you would if our roles were switched. End of story.”

  Zed yanked me against him. “Promise me you’ll never do anything like that again.” He choked the words as he pressed a harsh kiss against my skin. “Never again.”

  I reached around his neck and hugged him tight. “No.”

  He stiffened under my touch, but I kept my arms tight around him and looked into his face.

  “Because that would require loving you with less than my whole self, and I can’t, Zed. I never will.”

  He sighed, shook his head as he held me tighter.

  “I love you,” I whispered.

  He kissed my hair. “I love you, too. And it’s the scariest thing I’ve ever done.”

  I laughed and kissed his cheek. “Welcome to the club.”

  We pulled away but his face was still searching mine. A wave of nausea crested inside me, and brought my last point of information to the foreground of my thoughts. “So, about that other thing, the one I’m not sure how you’ll feel about?”

  Zed furrowed his brow. “Nairne, if it’s all the same to you, can we save it for another day? I don’t think I have it in me for another doozy, though there’s nothing I can think of that would top what you just told me.”

  I bit my lip. “I think I need to tell you now, Zed.”

  Zed sighed and toed off his shoes before climbing in beside me. He groaned as he sank into the pillows that were propped against the headboard. “Alright, you closet sadist, what is it?”

  Reaching for his hand, I interlaced our fingers, admiring the contrast of my fair skin against his olive tone. It glowed healthily once again, golden and vibrant. I scraped my lip against my teeth and sought the right words. But of course, as emotions ran high, I couldn’t find any.

  So, slowly, I pulled our interlocked hands and slid them underneath my shirt to rest low on my stomach. Zed stared at me quizzically as I drifted his hand lower, slipping beneath the waistband of my leggings, until our hands, mine over his, rested on the gentle swell there.

  My nan once said that in the most joyful moments of life, she watched my Granda for his expression, then carried that precious memory with her.

  I took her advice, and my gaze never left Zed’s face. I watched his eyes widen, his breath hitch. Those beautiful eyes like the sea bored into me, as his hand tightened gently over my stomach. “Innamorata, are you—”

  I nodded.

  “Nairne,” he whispered in awe, eyes darting from our hands to my eyes, repeatedly. With absolute tenderness, Zed grasped my face and kissed me, deep and slow, before he pulled away.

  Scooting down the bed, he hitched my shirt up, wordless, and planted kisses softly across my abdomen. Then, head resting on my ribs, he smoothed his hand in circles over the small tender place that held our baby’s life.

  Thirty-Three

  Zed

  “How far are you? When did you know?” I asked.

  I twisted my head so I was facing her once again, but I couldn’t take my hand off her belly. Mesmerized. That was the only word for it. It felt like there was a little tennis ball right above her pelvic bone. I couldn’t stop gently running my fingers over it, ghosting them across her skin, marveling at how a life that our bodies made together was growing inside her.

  Nairne cleared her throat, ran her hand across my short hair. “Eleven weeks. They ran a slew of tests after…the club. The doctors told me then.”

  “What?” I snapped up. “How could you keep it from me that long?”

  She didn’t answer, just stared at me, those jade green eyes piercing me with their sharpness. She didn’t have to answer, because I knew the answer myself. I’d hardly been a stable human being. My brain had still been half applesauce at that point. How could she know how I would have taken it? I didn’t even know how I would have.

  “Do you feel okay? Do you need anything?” I scooched up, leaning next to her so we were face to face.

  She shook her head and smiled. “I’m fine, Zed. I’m not unwell, I’m just…pregnant.”

  It was the first time she said it, and even though it was just a word, it made my entire body thrum with excitement and nerves. Finally relinquishing my hold on her belly, I used both hands to cup her smooth cool cheeks. Kissed her hard, inhaled her fragrance, soaked in the heady reality that we’d made a baby. I felt outrageously proud, even though we hadn’t been trying, at all.

  “Wait, how did you get pregnant?”

  She stared at me curiously. “Well, Zed, assuming you’re not asking about the mechanics of conception…birth control isn’t one hundred percent effective. Only abstinence is.”

  And fuck that.

  “Also, I think it was that dose of antibiotics for my UTI in July. They’re pretty good at lowering birth control’s efficacy.” She sighed. “I’m sorry. Any other time I’ve had an infection, I wasn’t feeling well enough for sex. But this one…sort of snuck up on me, and I took it shortly after we…” She cleared her throat and blushed. “We’d had a few good rounds.”

  I grinned wide. “You’re saying my super sperm knocked you up.”

  Nairne laughed while trying not to. “It’s not that simple, Zed.”

  “The hell it isn’t.” I crawled over her, kissed her hard again. “That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.” She kissed me back and my body needed her. Weeks. I’d gone weeks without her. “Nairne, you have our baby in you.” I ran my hand over her stomach and kissed my way down her neck.

  “Yes, you got to have all the fun, and now I get to do all of the work, mind you.”

  “I think you enjoyed yourself plenty, too, fragolina. But I am in awe of what your body’s going to do, what it’s done already.” I kissed her stomach and stared up at her. “We made a baby. Because of all the mind-blowing sex we have.”

  She laughed a belly laugh now and I felt her torso shake beneath my hand. Leaning over her, I pinned her under me, resting on my elbows so she wasn’t squished.

/>   “That funny?” I kissed her neck softly, then her chest, before sucking her ear between my teeth sharply.

  She sighed happily and ran her hands down my back until she was squeezing my ass. “A little. Not because it’s not true…” She shook her head a fraction and beamed up at me.

  She was so beautiful, auburn hair, pale skin luminous with a heathy flush across her cheeks, dark green eyes sparkling.

  Those eyes searched mine. “You’re not upset or, anything?” she asked.

  “Of course not. Why do you think I would be? Are you?” I leaned back. “When we talked about it this summer, I really did mean what I said. My hesitation was entirely about your career, your timeline that pregnancy doesn’t work for. But I want kids. I just didn’t think I’d end up having a life that was hospitable to them. It’s not bad timing for me. I’ll be twenty-eight when he or she’s born. But you’re young, with incredible goals. And it’s your body being taken over, your plans being derailed. How do you feel?”

  A tear escaped the corner of her eye and I thumbed it away. Looking toward the open window, she sighed. “I don’t know. Excited some moments. Petrified others. It’s a shock. And we’ve been through a lot recently. It’s just a little overwhelming.” She sniffled, then wiped her eyes. “And as you mentioned, bad timing. Not just my studies of course, but I wanted some time with you that wasn’t so…tumultuous?”

  “I understand that.” I glanced up and met her eyes. “Do you want the baby?”

  “Of course, Zed!” she said, indignantly.

  “Well, I don’t know! It’s the modern day, women’s rights, and all. I’m not assuming anything. I want the baby, but it’s your body. And I’d be an asshole not to at least observe the formality of having a conversation wherein I’d let you do anything other than have my baby and be stuck with me.”