Tough Love
Page 22
Yet here he was.
“Tell you what.” He concentrated on the nastiest of bruises just under her stitches. “Here on out, you and I can meet for lunch or something. At least once a week. More if you want.”
She sighed. Of course she couldn’t. Cleaning up Tabby’s messes was a full-time job.
Stack gently patted her hand. “We’ll make it work.”
“I’d like that.” Another peek. “Because I love you.”
“Ditto.”
The sniffling alerted them both, and a second later, Tabby peeked past the curtains. “Mom?”
“She’s okay.” Stack stood and made room for his weepy and worried sister to slip in. “No concussion. But she has walking pneumonia. And exhaustion. She needs some downtime, Tabby.” He crossed his arms. “The doc tells me she was trying to take care of your dogs when she started coughing and fell.”
Tabby glared at him. As if their mother was deaf, she hissed in a loud whisper, “What do you expect me to do? I have to work, and my landlord said I couldn’t leave the dogs there unattended anymore.”
Stack popped his neck and swallowed down his ire. No way would he get into this with her. Not again, definitely not here. Showing his teeth in a “we’ll discuss it later” smile, he said, “I’ll let the two of you visit.”
“You don’t have to run off. Your girlfriend seems to be enjoying herself.”
Alarm raced up his spine.
Oblivious, Tabby said, “Mom, did you know Stack brought a woman with him?”
That got both of his mother’s eyes open. She even lifted to one elbow. “What? Who?” She looked around. “Where is she?”
“In the waiting room with Phil. You should see her. She’s beautiful, built and really nice, too.”
“Stack,” his mother said, getting her first good look at him. “Are you in a tux?”
“Be right back.”
“I want to meet her!”
Stack didn’t reply. For a woman who only moments before had been incapacitated with a headache, his mother still knew how to issue orders. Urgency made his stride long and hurried as he went down the hall, past friendly nurses and a few worried visitors, all the way to the waiting room.
Vanity had her nose in a magazine.
And Phil, fucking Phil, was seated too close beside her, talking nonstop, fake laughing, schmoozing, doing his utmost to get her attention.
Vanity ignored him—just as she sometimes ignored Stack.
But this time, as she felt his stare and looked up, she immediately put the magazine aside. Smiling, she came to him, walking right into his arms. “Hey.” She squeezed him with comforting concern. “How’s your mom?”
In that moment, Stack felt a lot of things. Too many things, damn it. At either side of her head he threaded his fingers into her long hair, anchoring her for his kiss.
Out of deference for the hospital atmosphere, he kept it brief. “She’s okay. How are you holding up?”
“Me?” She laughed, looking not just gorgeous, but precious, too. Her hand rubbed his biceps. “I’m not the one who was hurt.”
That earned her another kiss before he lifted her arm and feathered his fingertips over the soft skin above the bandage. “It’s been one hell of a day. You haven’t had any sleep.”
“Neither have you.” That sweet, teasing smile twitched into place. In the barest of whispers, she said, “But at least I had two orgasms, so all in all, for me, it’s been a pretty good twenty-four hours.”
Urges rushed through Stack. The urge to hold her. To laugh with her. To use her to chase away the endless frustration he worked so hard to hide. To maybe confide in her about how badly he wanted to demolish Phil—and why.
To somehow claim her...for more than a quick taste.
In that moment it all became clear to him. Vanity tried to control things. But he needed that control, and once he had it he’d sway her to his way of thinking.
Namely, that one day together would never be enough to get his fill. Hell, a week together might not do it.
She constantly took him by surprise, so maybe it was time for him to start surprising her. He’d start right now.
Because they lingered, Phil cautiously edged toward them. Stack stopped him with a dead stare meant to convey his utter disdain. Must’ve worked, too.
Raising his hands, Phil slunk away.
“Tsk. That wasn’t very nice,” Vanity chided. “You should save that wolf’s glare for the cage.”
“You don’t need to concern yourself with him. Ever.” Assuming she’d take heed of his warning, Stack drifted his hand down her arm until his fingers twined with hers. “Come on.” He brought her along as he retraced his steps back to his mother’s bed.
“Tell you what.” He concentrated on the nastiest of bruises just under her stitches. “Here on out, you and I can meet for lunch or something. At least once a week. More if you want.”
She sighed. Of course she couldn’t. Cleaning up Tabby’s messes was a full-time job.
Stack gently patted her hand. “We’ll make it work.”
“I’d like that.” Another peek. “Because I love you.”
“Ditto.”
The sniffling alerted them both, and a second later, Tabby peeked past the curtains. “Mom?”
“She’s okay.” Stack stood and made room for his weepy and worried sister to slip in. “No concussion. But she has walking pneumonia. And exhaustion. She needs some downtime, Tabby.” He crossed his arms. “The doc tells me she was trying to take care of your dogs when she started coughing and fell.”
Tabby glared at him. As if their mother was deaf, she hissed in a loud whisper, “What do you expect me to do? I have to work, and my landlord said I couldn’t leave the dogs there unattended anymore.”
Stack popped his neck and swallowed down his ire. No way would he get into this with her. Not again, definitely not here. Showing his teeth in a “we’ll discuss it later” smile, he said, “I’ll let the two of you visit.”
“You don’t have to run off. Your girlfriend seems to be enjoying herself.”
Alarm raced up his spine.
Oblivious, Tabby said, “Mom, did you know Stack brought a woman with him?”
That got both of his mother’s eyes open. She even lifted to one elbow. “What? Who?” She looked around. “Where is she?”
“In the waiting room with Phil. You should see her. She’s beautiful, built and really nice, too.”
“Stack,” his mother said, getting her first good look at him. “Are you in a tux?”
“Be right back.”
“I want to meet her!”
Stack didn’t reply. For a woman who only moments before had been incapacitated with a headache, his mother still knew how to issue orders. Urgency made his stride long and hurried as he went down the hall, past friendly nurses and a few worried visitors, all the way to the waiting room.
Vanity had her nose in a magazine.
And Phil, fucking Phil, was seated too close beside her, talking nonstop, fake laughing, schmoozing, doing his utmost to get her attention.
Vanity ignored him—just as she sometimes ignored Stack.
But this time, as she felt his stare and looked up, she immediately put the magazine aside. Smiling, she came to him, walking right into his arms. “Hey.” She squeezed him with comforting concern. “How’s your mom?”
In that moment, Stack felt a lot of things. Too many things, damn it. At either side of her head he threaded his fingers into her long hair, anchoring her for his kiss.
Out of deference for the hospital atmosphere, he kept it brief. “She’s okay. How are you holding up?”
“Me?” She laughed, looking not just gorgeous, but precious, too. Her hand rubbed his biceps. “I’m not the one who was hurt.”
That earned her another kiss before he lifted her arm and feathered his fingertips over the soft skin above the bandage. “It’s been one hell of a day. You haven’t had any sleep.”
“Neither have you.” That sweet, teasing smile twitched into place. In the barest of whispers, she said, “But at least I had two orgasms, so all in all, for me, it’s been a pretty good twenty-four hours.”
Urges rushed through Stack. The urge to hold her. To laugh with her. To use her to chase away the endless frustration he worked so hard to hide. To maybe confide in her about how badly he wanted to demolish Phil—and why.
To somehow claim her...for more than a quick taste.
In that moment it all became clear to him. Vanity tried to control things. But he needed that control, and once he had it he’d sway her to his way of thinking.
Namely, that one day together would never be enough to get his fill. Hell, a week together might not do it.
She constantly took him by surprise, so maybe it was time for him to start surprising her. He’d start right now.
Because they lingered, Phil cautiously edged toward them. Stack stopped him with a dead stare meant to convey his utter disdain. Must’ve worked, too.
Raising his hands, Phil slunk away.
“Tsk. That wasn’t very nice,” Vanity chided. “You should save that wolf’s glare for the cage.”
“You don’t need to concern yourself with him. Ever.” Assuming she’d take heed of his warning, Stack drifted his hand down her arm until his fingers twined with hers. “Come on.” He brought her along as he retraced his steps back to his mother’s bed.
