Tough Love

by Lori Foster

  Brows up, Justice bounced his gaze from Stack to Armie. “Something happened after Saint’s wedding?”

  Playing it cool, Armie shrugged. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Right. Well, Stack was glad to enlighten him. “Last I saw you, Merissa was leading you away.”

  A sort of blindsided panic fell over Armie. “The fuck you say.”

  “Oh ho,” Justice crowed. “You booked with Rissy and don’t remember it?”

  Armie rounded on him. “You don’t say her name!”

  Justice rolled in his lips, but his big body shook with silent laughter.

  “And you.” Armie bunched his shoulders toward Stack. “Don’t start fucking rumors about Cannon’s baby sis.”

  Ah. So now she was “Cannon’s baby sis” when usually they referred to her as Rissy—a pet name Cannon had given her. Was it Armie’s way of reminding himself of her relationship to a friend? “The way I heard it, Cannon’s the one who told her to see that you got home.”

  “Bullshit. I don’t need anyone to see any damn thing, especially not Rissy.”

  Especially not Rissy, because Stack knew Armie had it for her bad. But there was that baby-sis issue, and few men would dare go there.

  Then again, he knew Merissa well enough to know it’d take Cannon’s equal for her to be truly interested. Her brother cast a big shadow, and few could ever step out from under it.

  Armie, however, had always been the exception.

  The problem, beyond her connection to Cannon, was that Armie had an outrageous, totally warranted reputation. He was a sexual glutton who broke through boundaries with gusto.

  Given his preferences for sexual variance, Armie had an almost fanatical avoidance of “nice” girls.

  And Merissa was nicer than most.

  “Saint,” Justice said, again referring to Cannon’s fight name, “knew you were smashed. He probably wanted her to play your babysitter.”

  Armie popped his neck. “I wasn’t so drunk that I don’t remember, you ass. I’m just saying, Rissy hailed me a cab, and I said thanks and goodbye at the curb. End of story.”

  Stack nodded toward Armie’s truck. “She left her MO on the back window.”

  They all turned, and there, written in the dust on the window it said, “Rissy was here.”

  Armie stared at it. Justice grinned.

  Rissy often left that particular message to let others know if she missed them in a visit or a call. Apparently she had missed Armie recently—or maybe she’d driven his truck home for him. Who knew?

  Now that he’d effectively deflected their interest, Stack got them moving again. “I’m guessing the next wedding will be for Denver and Cherry.”

  Armie nudged Justice. “Sounds like the Wolf has marriage on his mind, huh?”

  Grinning, Justice threw a massive arm around Stack, almost knocking him over. “That so, Wolf?”

  “What’s with the fight names today?”

  “Avoidance?” Armie accused Stack. “Okay, got it. Well, I can help you with that. See, we can talk instead about how Justice prefers his fight moniker to what he got saddled with at birth.”

  Stack grinned. “Let’s hear it.”

  Justice tried to protest, but Armie announced, “Eugene Wallington,” with proper gravity for such a weighty name.

  Balled up like a gigantic bulldog, Justice said, “That’s right, boys. Laugh it up. But if I hear either of you repeating it, you’ll pay for it in the cage.”

  Stack and Armie shared a look, then both burst out laughing. Justice was good, but he’d dropped down from heavyweight to light heavyweight because he’d hit an obstacle to the belt. Unlucky for him that Stack, Cannon and soon Armie would create even more obstacles to a LHW belt.

  “Assholes,” Justice muttered.

  “Ah, Eugene,” Armie said. “I didn’t mean to hurt your tender feelings.”

  Relieved that they were no longer poking around in his business, Stack bade them goodbye with a wave and headed toward his car. He’d be getting to the park late now, and his good morning mood was blown to hell.

  And still he’d enjoyed seeing Vanity. Even arguing with her was somehow satisfying.

  He was in it up to his neck, and he knew it. Now he just needed to make sure everyone else knew it.

  Vanity could have all the friends she wanted, as long as those friends understood she was off-limits—to everyone but him. He’d make that clear once he hit the rec center.

  Then tonight, he’d have her again.

  It’d be a long day and a slow burn. Good thing he had plenty to keep him busy.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  MIDWAY THROUGH THE DAY, Stack went to his sister’s place. He brought a grilled chicken sandwich for his mother from her favorite fast-food restaurant, but also unloaded some groceries into the cabinet. Tabby’s preferred cereal, pasta, jarred spaghetti sauce...lots of stuff that’d keep, as well as some fresh foods.

  Tabby wasn’t on a healthy diet like him. Sometimes he envied her the freedom of junk food and the abundance of sugary treats. He knew her sweet tooth well and loaded the pantry with packaged brownies, donuts, cookies and cakes.

  “You didn’t need to do this.”

  He glanced up at his mom. “Should you be up and about?”

  Snorting, she pulled out a kitchen chair and sat down with her sandwich and drink. “I’m not an invalid.” She nodded at the lunch meat he put in the drawer of the fridge. “Tabby picked up some groceries yesterday.”

  “I know.” Just as he knew she was stretched thin and had to buy discriminately, or impose on their mom. Fucking Phil never contributed, but the bastard ate. “I wanted to.” Luckily, Phil was nowhere around, so Stack didn’t have to deal with him. “Tell her I did it for you if you want to.”

  “All right.” She nodded at the chair. “Sit with me for a little while.”

  Stack glanced at the kitchen clock. He could spare ten minutes. Barely. He turned a chair and straddled it. “No fibbing. How do you feel?”

  “Only a slight headache and a little congestion left.” She ate a fry, then said, “Tell me more about Vanity.”

  He didn’t know much more than she did, and what he did know he couldn’t share. Like how Vanity had that sweet spot behind her ear that made her breath catch. And how her breasts filled his hands. How pretty and pink her nipples were.

  The sexy sounds she made when he—

  “I’m going to blush,” his mom warned, snapping him out of the memories. She circled her finger in front of his face. “It’s all there. Plain as day.”

  “Sorry.” He grinned, unrepentant. “Let’s just say she keeps me on my toes.”

  “So I saw. I like that about her.”

  Stack liked it, too. “I never know what to expect.”

  “Perfect!”

  Never before had his mother gushed over a woman. Usually the opposite. But then, she always knew he wasn’t in it for the long haul. Whitney had been his one and only foray into an actual relationship, and that had turned into a Grade-A disaster.

  “You’re a handful,” Lynn said. “Maybe because you mostly raised yourself.”

  She did seem mighty hung up on that lately. “You did fine, Mom.”

  “So many times you told me Tabby needed tough love, not more coddling. Hindsight is a terrible thing, but now...”

  Now she agreed? “It’s never too late.”

  Her smile was fleeting.

  Stack understood. Tabby had dug herself into such a deep hole, there really weren’t many options for climbing out.

  But neither did he want her to just sit in there.

  “You’re so competent and clear on what you want in life, it makes you a little difficult.”

  “And here I thought I was laid-back.”

  “I imagine it’s tough for a woman to get a read on you.”

  Vanity seemed to read him just fine. “If you say so.”

  “It’d take a strong woman to win you over.”

&nbs
p; “No one is ‘winning me over.’ I make my own rules.” Except that Vanity had led him by the nose through the craziest rules he’d ever heard of.

  “Maybe,” she said, “you need a little tough love, too.”

  When the knock sounded on the door, he frowned at his mom. “You expecting anyone?”

  “No.” She turned in her seat to watch as Stack went to the door.

  Before he reached it, he heard the dogs, and he knew. He jerked the door open, and there stood Vanity, arms overflowing, the dogs’ leashes held tight in one hand.

  Over the top of her load, he saw her eyes widen.

  “Stack! What are you doing here?”

  He took a large box from her and an enormous tote bag with something big inside. “That’s my question to you.”

  The scent of spicy chili rose from the box.

  “Don’t tip it!” She hurried in, closed the door and unleashed the dogs, who made a beeline for his mother. “Kitchen, please,” she told Stack.

  Lynn smiled at her while petting Norwood and Maggie. “Vanity. What a nice surprise.”

  “Am I intruding?” Pulling back the hood of a snowy-white zip-up, Vanity explained, “I won’t stay.” She pulled off mittens and dragged down the zipper. “I just wanted to drop off a pot of chili I made for you. I figured with as late as Tabby works, you might like it for dinner.”

  Stack set the box on the counter, then lifted the heavy tote bag to the seat of a chair. He started to open it to see what was inside.

  Vanity slapped it shut again, then barred the tote with her body. “That’s not for you.” She kept her hands behind her, sealing the tote.

  Interesting. Especially with the way her breasts pressed against the front of her turquoise top.

  Holding her gaze, he asked, “Why are you cooking for my family?”

  “It seemed the considerate thing to do.”

  That made little sense. Maybe his best course would be to confuse her. Given his own confusion, it seemed fair. “Chili, you said?”

  Suspicious, she studied him askance. “Yes. And fresh cheesy bread. I figured that’d be easy to reheat.” She leaned to see around him, saying to his mom, “I hope you like it.”

  “Love it,” she said. “If I hadn’t just finished the lunch Stack brought me, I’d get a bowlful right now.”

  Vanity beamed at him. “You brought your mother lunch?”

  “Yeah.” He had no idea why that pleased her so much. “Don’t make a big deal of it. She’s my mother, she’s sick, and—”

  “And,” Lynn interjected, “he also brought groceries. The cabinets are now full.” Goading him, she finished with a mushy smile. “I have such a considerate son.”

  “Awww.” Taking the bait, Vanity stroked a hand over his pec. “That is so sweet.”

  Stack rolled his eyes. She did seem obsessed with thinking that of him—and with his mother helping her along in that misconception, he saw no point in trying to deny it. “You told me you had to paint.”

  “I did.” Her cheeks warmed. “It went well this morning.”

  She was hedging about something. Stack reached around her, took the tote and held the chair for her to sit.

  She stared at it, then him.

  Lifting a brow, he waited.

  She conceded with ill grace. “Fine.” Abandoning her protection of the tote bag, she dropped into the seat.

  Stack leaned the cumbersome tote against the counter, giving her a minute to regroup. “The chili smells good.” He lifted out the big pot and set it on the stove, then removed the carefully wrapped loaf of bread.

  “There’s more for us at home. That is...” She darted an embarrassed glance toward his mother. “I mean...”

  Unconcerned, Stack said, “I’m a big boy, Vanity. My mother won’t faint if she knows we’re spending the night together.”

  “Stack!” Vanity looked like she might faint.

  Lynn laughed, then took pity on her and changed the subject. “So on top of your other many talents, you can cook?”

  “I can read a recipe as well as the next person.” She glanced again at the tote bag. “But I’m not really talented. Just...well...”

  It was a unique thing, to see Vanity showing so much uncertainty. In the time he’d known her, and especially since she’d propositioned him, she’d been balls-to-the-wall on everything. She said what she thought without holding back, went after what she wanted, full steam ahead.

  But now, she appeared anxious about the outcome of her visit. Did she seek out his mother because she missed her own? Sure, his mom was great, but he’d never had a date work to befriend her before.

  That is, until Whitney had tried to worm her way back into his life by kissing up to his mom with fake concern. Back when they had been a couple, her interest in his family had been nonexistent, with the obvious exception of fucking Phil. But Stack wasn’t stupid, and neither was his mom. They’d both seen through her ploy.

  Whitney was as transparent as glass, but as usual, he didn’t understand Vanity’s motives, and that made him wary. Being near her always made him hot. And seeing her like this, so eager to please, left his heart full.

  One way or another, Vanity kept him in emotional turmoil.

  Her cheeks colored, and she looked again at the tote bag. “I, ah...”

  “You brought my mother a gift?” Stack asked gently.

  As if the suspense had been killing her, she went limp. “Yes.” Then in a rush to his mother, “It’s just a little thing. Well, I mean, the gesture is little. Clearly the gift is not.” She gestured at the oversize tote. “Not too big either, at least, I hope not. I hadn’t planned it, but then I was inspired, so I just went with it. I don’t expect you to hang it or anything. And if you don’t like it, that’s okay. Seriously. But I thought—”

  “Wow.” Stack couldn’t believe it when he peeked into the tote.

  Vanity went quiet.

  Lifting out the painting, Stack took in the impression of Norwood and Maggie. He had no words. The exact way Norwood’s tongue hung out of his mouth, the way Maggie let one ear droop, the glimmer in their dark eyes, the barely suppressed energy and happiness—she’d captured it all.

  Slowly, he turned it so his mother could see.

  She stared while Vanity chewed her bottom lip.

  Amazingly, tears stung his mother’s eyes.

  Well, what do you know? It took a lot to make his mother well up, and Vanity had done it...with consideration.

  “It’s beautiful.” Hand to her heart, Lynn sighed. “Oh, my, just beautiful.”

  “Really?” Vanity laughed as she blew out a relieved breath. “I’m so glad you like it.”

  “I love it, and I know exactly where to hang it.”

  Vanity glanced at him, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about his wide smile.

  “I know the dogs aren’t really yours,” she explained. “But it’s clear you love them and they love you—”

  “If Tabby would give them to me,” Lynn swore, “I’d keep them.” She stared at the painting. “This is the next best thing.”

  Stack had no idea how Vanity had completed the painting so quickly, but he liked his mother’s reaction. When she left her seat and went to Vanity, taking her hands and drawing her up, Vanity freely accepted her embrace.

  “Thank you, Vanity. Thank you so much.”

  Vanity squeezed her back. “You’re very, very welcome.”

  Stack met his mother’s gaze and saw happiness along with the same emotional uproar he often felt.

  Vanity had that effect on people.

  Feeling the need to remove himself from the disturbing overload, Stack set the painting aside. “I need to get going.”

  His announcement separated the women, but they both continued to smile.

  Looking happier than he’d ever seen her, Vanity said, “This was fun. I’m so glad I stopped by.”

  His mother laughed. Stack had the same reaction. How could Vanity consider so much imposition on he
r life fun? She not only babysat his sister’s dogs, dragging them around with her nearly everywhere she went, but now she was cooking for them, and bearing gifts, as well.

  “I want to go home now, just so I can get the painting hung on the wall.”

  “Not yet,” Stack cautioned. “You promised to stay put a few more days.” He carried the painting to the room his mother used. When he returned, Vanity was bundled back up in her hoodie.

  “I need to get scooting, too.” She picked up the leashes and called the dogs to her.

  “You’re coming to the rec center?” Stack asked her. After her impromptu visit, he wanted her more than ever.

  “Yes, but I have to get Norwood and Maggie back to my place first.” She hooked the leashes to each dog’s collar, then allowed them to go to his mother for goodbyes.

  When his mother stood, Stack took the leashes from Vanity. “We can walk out together.”

  Lynn stopped them with a hand to Vanity’s arm. “Will you visit again?”

  “I’d love to.” As if they were old friends, Vanity said, “I’ll call you tomorrow to see what works.”

  “Thank you.” His mother shot him a look. “Since Stack won’t let me go home and Tabby works all the time, I’ll enjoy the company.”

  Holding up his arms, Stack asked, “What am I? Chopped liver?”

  “You’re wonderful, that’s what you are. Now come here.” She hugged him close, then made him bend down so she could kiss his cheek. Being sly while trying to act innocent, she said, “Maybe the two of you could visit together next time?”

  Vanity busied herself unnecessarily with the dogs.

  Shaking his head, Stack told Vanity, “Subtlety is not her strong suit.”

  “No,” Lynn agreed. “It’s not. So, what do you say?”

  He turned to Vanity. “You free?”

  She looked surprised, then more than willing.

  Now if he could just keep her in that frame of mind.

  “I’d love to visit again, thank you. My schedule is a little nuts tomorrow, so how about Stack and I see what we can work out, then one of us will let you know.”

  Just like an official couple, Stack thought. “Well, Mom? Does that work for you?”