Ethan extended his hand. “I don’t have to look up to many men. I’m Ethan Webb.”
The man lifted a bored eyebrow before accepting Ethan’s hand. “I’m Shane, the baby. But that doesn’t mean I won’t kick your ass if you hurt her.”
Ethan squeezed Shane’s hand. “You could try, but you’ll have to stand in line.”
Shane returned the pressure. “I’m used to it. It means I’m fresh when everyone else is exhausted.”
“And here I thought Riley was the family diplomat.”
“I am,” Riley claimed as he walked into the room. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t kick your ass too. If we’d put the hurt on Smitty from the start, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”
“Then we agree on something,” Ethan said.
“That, and loving Steppie,” Riley challenged.
“Of course. Where does Steppie come from?”
“That would be my doing.” Yet another tall, blond man swaggered into the room. He held out his hand. “I’m BJ, the oldest. I wasn’t quite two when she was born. I couldn’t get my little mouth around Stephanie. It came out Steppie, and it stuck.”
“And that’s the last time his mouth was little,” a voice boomed across the room
Stephanie grabbed Ethan’s hand and squeezed. He recognized Quinn immediately. He also recognized the brief flash of anger that crossed his wife’s face. What was that about? And the tension between Quinn and BJ? There was a rivalry between those two that didn’t exist among the others. Ethan stored that tidbit for future reference along with a promise to himself to discover the source. Given his last encounter with Quinn, Ethan immediately decided to like BJ despite the man’s obvious aversion to Pete. Nobody was perfect; something Ethan was well aware of.
He did a quick headcount; he was vastly outnumbered. “I’m a personal injury attorney, so my presence is understandable. Is there a reason the rest of you decided to chase Irene’s ambulance here?”
BJ loosened the knot at his neck. “Mom made us put on ties and show up for brunch to meet you. I’m not suffering a chafed neck without the honor.”
Riley mimicked BJ’s action. “Dad did pop for brunch.”
Shane’s tie poked out of his pocket. “Yeah, but I had to get up at the ass-crack of dawn. At least she didn’t make us go to mass.”
Aunt Deb gently smacked the back of Shane’s head, what she could reach of it. “Going to mass once in a while wouldn’t kill you. Although it might cause spontaneous combustion and burn the church to the ground.” She paused to let her sons greet her. “We’re here because Irene doesn’t have anyone else. Even though she scares the crap out of everyone, she shouldn’t be alone at a time like this,” Aunt Deb said while making a beeline for the baby.
What would his life have been like if he’d had a mother like Deb instead of the woman, make that the girl, he’d been born to? Would his heartbreak have turned him into a shadow, like Knox? Or would he have shrugged it off and continue to swagger like BJ, who practically left a puddle of confidence in his wake? Considering what had already happened today, Ethan didn’t have the brainpower to contemplate all the variables that kind of mental exercise required.
“Everyone’s afraid of her. She collects information and doesn’t hesitate to use it to get what she wants,” Knox said. So he was paying attention.
Judging from the shock spreading over Stephanie’s face, Knox’s declaration was news to her. “God knows no one could ever consider Irene warm and fuzzy, but do you think she was blackmailing people to supplement her income?”
“It’s not out of the realm of possibility. Let’s say there are a lot of people out there who would consider her death addition by subtraction.”
“Leave it to Knox to speak in riddles,” Stephanie whispered.
But Ethan was good at riddles.
An hour turned into two, then three. Finally, a weary surgeon entered the room, practically drooling as she surveyed the tall, blond men crammed into the surgical waiting area. Her gaze hardened when she came to Ethan. She recognized him. He was convinced his picture hung in every physician’s lounge in every hospital in the area. They probably used it as a dartboard. He made a mental note to contact his marketing guy to see if he could have a few dartboards custom-made for the lounges.
Stephanie grabbed his arm like a mother cat protecting her kitten. “Is Irene Johnson out of surgery?”
The surgeon crossed her arms over her chest and continued to glare at Ethan as she spoke. “Yes, but she’s still in recovery. It will be at least an hour before she gets to her room, and we’ll keep her sedated for at least the next twelve. If she makes it that far. I don’t mean to be harsh, but I wouldn’t count on a recovery. I’m sorry.”
“She’s a tough old bird,” Aunt Deb said. “If anyone can pull out of this, she can. So, doctor, are you married?”
Five deep voices boomed in unison. “Mom!”
Aunt Deb pulled Pete closer with the look of pure innocence on her face that would shame a saint. “What? I’m only making polite conversation. Doctor?”
The doctor surveyed the room again. “Yes, I’m married, but that doesn’t mean I can’t look at the menu. As long as I’m home for dinner, my husband doesn’t care where I get my appetite. And my shift is now over, so it’s chow time. Good luck.”
Stephanie caressed Ethan’s neck. “There’s no sense hanging around here. Why don’t we all go back to our place where it’s more comfortable? I turned the pool heater on last weekend, we should be good.”
“What do you have to eat?” Shane asked. He must graze twenty-four-seven to power that huge body of his.
“I’ll do my specialty: delivery. We’ll order pizza and raid the wine cellar.”
Our place. Ethan liked the sound of that. A little too much.
CHAPTER 41
ETHAN SET A CASE OF mixed wine he’d collected from the wine cellar on the sideboard in the formal dining room. His formal dining room. The table, positioned squarely in the middle of the room, could easily seat twenty, leaving plenty of room on all sides for staff to serve and clear multiple courses without collisions. The décor wasn’t his style, and the entire room looked like an Antiques Roadshow garage sale waiting to happen, but he could get used to this.
As tempting as it was, he couldn’t allow himself to become complacent. Because unless he could win Stephanie’s heart, this was temporary. And each little experience built on the others to make him even more sure he wanted this to be permanent.
Big problem, but a problem for a different day. For now, he was the host of this little shindig, and it was time to play lord of the manor. “We got a wine for every pizza. Lambrusco for Shane’s Maui Wowie.” Ethan shook his head. Ham on a pizza he could handle, but pineapple? He’d never be hungry enough to choke that down. Not that there would be anything left of the twenty-inch pizza Shane had claimed for himself. Or of the twenty-inchers in front of each of his brothers.
Ethan continued pulling bottles out of the case and setting them on the table. “A cabernet sauvignon for the carnivores, a chardonnay for the veggie lover, a nice pinot grigio for the margherita pizza man.”
Shane opened the bottle of Lambrusco and poured himself a glass. “Lambrusco? Dude, I outgrew this shit in middle school, but far be it from me to turn down free booze.” He sneered as he raised his glass in a toast to his father. Uncle Brian returned the sneer with one of his own before taking an aggressive bite of his pizza slice.
So a little something-something between daddy and baby boy. Every family had to have a black sheep. Was Shane the Tobin bad boy? The guy was so blond with cool blue-gray eyes, he looked like he should have a Christmas tree shoved up his ass.
All of the Tobin boys had that blond-angelic thing going for them. Ethan had no doubt that little bit of deception had opened more bedroom doors than all of the hospitality helpers in the history of the Philly Ritz combined.
Did that make him jealous? No. He’d always been a quality over quantity kind of g
uy, and quality sat patiently waiting for her special bottle. Ethan poured Stephanie a glass of sparkling grape juice and set the bottle on the table before sinking into the deeply cushioned seat next to her. “Jamie Kerrigan had great taste in wine. Ariola Marcello Lambrusco is from the hills of Parma. It won the gold last year in the International Wine Challenge. For twenty bucks a bottle, it’s one of my favorites. It’ll counteract all that gooey cheese.”
“I had no idea you knew so much about wine.” Stephanie gazed longingly at the full wine glasses that surrounded her.
Ethan preened. “I’m a civilized u-min. Yziz haff no i-dear how offen I went to the lie-berry in Sow Philly to learn to tawk reg-a-ler. I’ve tooken charm school lessons in Center City.” He stopped to clear his throat. “Sorry, Stephanie, I didn’t mean to rawn things with my Fluffia accent. I think it’s made our cump-nee uncom-fra-bill.” He raised his wine glass. “How ’bout dem Iggles?”
Eight sets of eyes jerked from side to side, each mutely asking the others if this was a joke or if Ethan was having a stroke.
Stephanie reached out to playfully punch him in the arm. “Smart, good-looking, a wine connoisseur, and he’s bilingual. Can I pick ’em or what?”
Aunt Deb shook her head. “He’s going to fit in perfectly wit youse knuckleheads.”
“So, you’re native Fluffia?” Knox teased.
Ethan nodded. “A true Philadelphia lawyer, born and raised. Nothing nice happens in Nicetown, and Strawberry Mansion isn’t anything like this place. But they were home, along with a few other neighborhoods. I’ve lived in places a lot of people have died in. Violently. I was one of the few students to actually graduate from Germantown High School.”
Everyone at the table shuddered. They all knew the school’s reputation; its halls so brutal that few stuck around any longer than they had to and fewer graduated. “I was the school’s most notorious alum until that Bill Cosby thing broke. Now, sadly, I’m number two.”
“I seem to remember your face on the news a time or two with your expert analysis of that whole mess. You sounded like a God damned feminist.” Quinn’s eyes narrowed as he took a sip of his wine.
Gauntlet thrown.
Ethan had been waiting for this since that first ill-fated handshake. Bromance? Not a chance. How would Stephanie like it if he took down one of her brothers? Yeah, he couldn’t worry about that now.
Ethan returned Quinn’s narrowed glare. “First, I’m surprised you watch the news. Second, I’m proud to be a God damned feminist.” He used air quotes. “No should always mean no, and any man who has to drug a woman to get sex isn’t a real man; he’s a pig.”
Quinn slammed his glass down on the table. “I not only watch the news, I report it, and you know it. We have our own internet news network. It’s small now, but it’ll grow. Someday, you’ll be begging us for airtime.”
Yeah, that. Ethan quickly calculated the potential damage to his career if Quinn’s small internet news network did indeed grow. Being blacklisted could hurt. But he had sensed something uneasy between Quinn and Stephanie that day in Judge Banner’s chambers and again this morning. Had the man hurt his wife? The woman who might already be pregnant with his baby? Protecting her had to take precedence over any potential damage to his career.
Huh. Stephanie was more important to him than his career. That little revelation crammed itself down his throat, grabbed his stomach and tried to pull it out of him.
Until this moment, only Megan, and then Pete had been more important to him than practicing law—his weapon against the world’s injustices. A second revelation hit him out of nowhere. He might have crossed a line he could never re-cross.
And he didn’t care.
CHAPTER 42
THE BLAST OF TESTOSTERONE Ethan and Quinn had drenched Aunt Sandy’s chambers with seemed like a drop compared to the deluge that hung in the air in a nearly visible mist. Ethan wasn’t about to take any of Quinn’s shit; shit Stephanie knew full well Quinn could dish out. Without the decorum of the court, this battle could turn epic. She slid her buzzing phone into her lap to read the incoming texts.
BJ: Mr. Hamilton says Quinn throws a punch.
Riley: Cheapskate. Mr. Jackson says Ethan tosses him out on his ass.
Knox: Mr. Grant says they settle it.
Shane: Go big or go home. Benny wants a brawl. I’m fighting with Ethan.
BJ: Me too
Riley: OK, I’ll take Quinn.
Knox: Team Quinn if I have to.
Stephanie: Is there anything you guys won’t bet on?
BJ: No
Riley: Nope
Knox: Nothing
Shane: Nada
Stephanie: No brawl. Some of these antiques are priceless family heirlooms.
A deep, multi-toned groan filled the room. Stephanie hadn’t seen her brothers look this disappointed since the brownie boat maker at Stillman’s Ice Cream Emporium broke, forcing them to eat their eight-scoop Monster Sundaes out of an ordinary, inedible dish. They’d bitched about it for weeks.
BJ bounced his pointer finger over his lips, finally pulling it away with a waggle. “Then there’s only one way to settle this.” His slow, deliberate gaze landed on each of his brothers as they nodded in understanding. He pointed toward the French doors.
The room exploded with sound. “Laps! Laps! Laps!”
Quinn stood, stripped off his shirt, and dropped his pants. “Oh, it’s on, asshole.” He bent to take off his shoes and rip off his socks. Standing in his boxer briefs, the sun glinting off his thick gold bracelet, he placed his hands on his hips and growled, “Are you coming, or are you chicken shit?”
Ethan leaned in to whisper in Stephanie’s ear. “I’m not wearing underwear.”
Her nipples hardened immediately. Underneath those gloriously tight jeans that showcased his even more glorious ass, he hung loose and free, a single layer of cloth between him and the world. Damn, did it get hot in here?
“Bwak, bwak, bwak.” Quinn tucked his hands into his armpits and strutted across the room.
Ethan’s deep voice tickled her ear. “Another thing: I can’t swim.”
He couldn’t swim. Wait. He couldn’t swim? How did someone get to be thirty-two years old and not know how to swim? Her brows narrowed, sending him a silent question.
“Where was I going to learn? Despite its tropical-sounding name, Point Breeze isn’t exactly known for its luxury spas.”
Point Breeze. Yet another one of Philadelphia’s rat-infested hellholes. Had Ethan ever lived in a decent, safe place? Not if the hollow look in his eyes meant anything. Her strong, brave, confident husband looked like a frightened little boy, fighting off the nightmares that had plagued his childhood. She couldn’t compound that by letting Quinn humiliate him in front of everyone. Ethan would never live it down. Without a bit of hesitation, she picked the man she’d just met over the man she’d known her entire life.
“No one is swimming laps.” Stephanie crossed her arms over her chest. “You fools have ingested enough food over the past eight hours to feed a small African village for a month. There’s no way you’re getting into my pool for another one of your stupid macho, do-it-’til-you-puke contests. The last time that happened, my pool guy threatened to quit.”
More groans. Geeze, you’d think Mr. Stillman had announced he was permanently retiring the brownie boat. “And, Quinn, put your clothes back on. Nobody wants to see your underwear. Thank God, you’ve finally stopped wearing Batman undies.”
Knox snorted. “No, he hasn’t. He ran out of clean superhero shorts and had to buy a new pack to get him through the weekend.”
“He could have worn the Wonder Woman bra and panty set I got him for his birthday,” Shane offered.
Knox made a face. “Nah, he had a date last night, he wore them to impress his latest conquest. Cuz, ya know, he has to tie them down to get any.”
Quinn shot his brother the bird. “At least I’ve had some in the past six months.”
Wow, that w
as cruel, even by Quinn’s standards.
“Lucinda was sick last week, so she wasn’t able to clean my place. She won’t get to my laundry until Tuesday. Unless you want to trade days with me, Beejus,” Quinn challenged.
BJ shot Quinn a double bird. That poor fowl had to be exhausted from all of the flights it took around the Tobins. It was practically the family pet. “Hey, she was sick on my day, too, so my place resembles a sanitary landfill. Wait your turn.”
“Why do I always have to ‘wait my turn’? When do I get to be number one?”
BJ jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Talk to the ’rents. I don’t know why they bothered to have you when they already had perfection.”
More guttural groans from the brother brigade. But, after all these years, they were used to the constant bickering between Quinn and BJ and didn’t take BJ’s comments seriously.
Stephanie glanced to where his parents had been sitting, but their seats were empty. Sometime during the fray, Uncle Brian had left the room. He’d probably gone outside to sneak the smoke everyone knew he was taking, and Aunt Deb was nowhere to be seen. If Stephanie had to guess, she’d pick the nursery. The woman was obsessed.
“So, what’s it gonna be, law boy? You gonna hide behind your woman’s skirts or man up?” Quinn taunted him.
Ethan slipped his arm around Stephanie. “I’m going to respect my wife’s wishes, like any good feminist husband. Believe it or not, her opinion is way more important to me than yours.”
“You’re pussy whipped,” Quinn barked.
He kissed the top of Stephanie’s head. “Guilty as charged. You should be so lucky.”
There it was again, that strange mix of sadness, anger, and jealousy she’d seen flash across Quinn’s face in Aunt Sandy’s chambers. Apparently, her brother couldn’t understand how a man with Ethan’s reputation could stand the kind of abuse he was spewing without retaliation.
For Pete's Sake: An Enemies to Lovers Marriage of Convenience Standalone Romance Novel (Tobin Tribe Book 1) Page 21