Ain't Misbehaving (9781455523801)

by Cannon, Molly

  Libby flapped a hand at her older sister. “It’s nothing, Ellie. You know how clumsy I can be.” She held out the tray of appetizers again. “Go ahead, Jake. Try one.”

  Jake smiled and took two. “Thanks, Aunt Libby. I haven’t had these in years.” He popped one in his mouth and chewed. Libby watched him with the expectant look of a kid waiting for puppies to be born.

  After he swallowed he said, “Mmmmm, these are great. Just like I remember.”

  His aunt beamed and patted him on the head. He reached for another and his mother piped up. “Not too many. You’ll ruin your appetite.”

  “Oh leave him alone, Ellie. He’s a growing boy, and I don’t get a chance to spoil him like I used to.”

  Jake and his mother had arrived right on time for the dreaded dinner party, and he was doing his best to be civil. His mom had been on his case all the way over about being nice to Bradley, about how much this get-together meant to his aunt, and about how she was really happy he wasn’t making her go alone.

  When they’d pulled up in front of Bradley’s house he’d squeezed her hand and promised to behave. Now that they were there, she seemed a lot more anxious about the evening than he did. And the sight of her baby sister’s battered face clearly had her worked up.

  Jake sat on a big brown leather sofa, while Libby perched nervously on an ottoman. Jake didn’t believe for a minute that his mother had given up on getting every detail about how her sister came to have two black eyes, but for the moment she sat at the other end of the couch engaging in innocent small talk. “This is a lovely room,” she said.

  Bradley walked in at that moment carrying a tray of drinks. “Yes, Marla Jean had a nice eye for decorating.”

  Libby’s smile slipped a bit.

  Jake looked around the place again with new eyes. He’d been trying to forget it had been Marla Jean’s home not that long ago. In fact, he’d done his darndest not to think about Marla Jean at all today. He’d tossed and turned all night on the lumpy twin bed at his parents’ old house. He should have driven home to his own bed in his own apartment, but that was way across town. And even though he knew if she needed anything she wouldn’t call—Lincoln would make sure of that—he still felt better being across the street, two doors down.

  All day, like gate crashers, memories of the way she’d felt last night, soft and yielding under him, her hands moving over his body like she wanted to learn every inch of him, would barge into his head at the most inappropriate times. Like right now. Holy hell, even now his body tightened remembering. And then it was almost impossible not to think about what could have happened if Linc hadn’t walked in on them. About what almost certainly would have happened.

  Linc. Shit. He would have to talk to him soon, straighten things out, but best friend or not, he didn’t think he could bring himself to apologize. He could promise to keep his distance, though. He’d already concluded that staying away from her from now on was the best way to handle things.

  After he talked to her. After he made sure she was okay.

  Oh man, the look on her face when the lights came on had been like a punch in the gut. Her dark hair fanned out on the pillow, her eyes slumberous with lust as they met his, and her smart, sassy mouth, wet and bruised from his kisses.

  In that moment, she had the look of a woman who knew she was desirable and sexy and gorgeous and hot, even wearing that old, faded hockey jersey and an ACE bandage on her leg. But thanks to Bradley and his aunt, he also knew she had plenty of moments when she still felt a little bruised and a lot cast aside. The last thing he wanted was to add to those feelings.

  But he was probably overthinking everything. More than likely, Marla Jean would agree. Nothing like that should ever happen between the two of them again. And then she could go her merry way, and he’d go his.

  He shook his head, making an effort to refocus as Bradley chattered on. The man didn’t seem to realize the bucket of ice water he’d dumped over the group’s mood when he mentioned Marla Jean. “But once Libby moves in, she’s got a free hand to redo the whole place. I want it to feel like it’s her home.” He put the tray on the coffee table and gave Libby a kiss on the cheek.

  Part of Jake had to admire Bradley for not pretending the specter of Marla Jean wasn’t sitting in the big middle of the room like the ghost of first wives past. On the other hand the guy was never going to win any sensitivity awards.

  Libby stood and turned to her sister. “Ellie, why don’t you come help me in the kitchen. If you gentlemen can entertain yourselves, dinner will be ready in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”

  Bradley smiled and handed Jake a beer before sitting down in a big leather recliner. “Sounds good, sweetheart. Jake and I will hold down the fort.”

  The women hurried off to get dinner on the table, and Jake racked his brain for a neutral topic of conversation. He needn’t have bothered because as soon as the women were out of earshot, Bradley leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, an expression of earnestness on his face. “Jake, I was hoping to get a minute alone so we could talk man to man. There’s something I’ve been wanting to discuss with you.”

  Jake scratched his neck and shifted uncomfortably on the leather cushion. He really hoped Bradley wasn’t going to start getting all mushy about his feelings for Aunt Libby. Even though he’d promised his mother he’d be nice, he wasn’t the greatest actor in the world, and if he was going to ask for his blessing or some other nonsense, he wasn’t sure he could hide his real feelings about the situation.

  Bradley leaned closer. “What do you know about Marla Jean and Donny Joe?”

  “What?” The question caught him off guard.

  “Marla Jean and Donny Joe. I’m worried that she’s getting mixed up with the wrong kind of men.” He whispered the statement from the side of his mouth.

  Jake frowned. “That’s not really any of your business anymore, is it? And why are you asking me?”

  “Well, Jake, I know she always thought of you as a big brother, and I’ve heard the rumors about you and Donny Joe getting into that fight over her. I figured you must not think too highly of the idea of Donny Joe sniffin’ around her, either.”

  That image of the way she’d looked last night, all mussed up and well-kissed, popped into his head again. He fidgeted around in his seat and didn’t look Bradley in the eye. “I don’t feel comfortable discussing this with you, and for my aunt’s sake, I really wish you would drop it.”

  Bradley sat back, drumming his fingers on the armrest. “I wouldn’t hurt Libby for the world, but I still feel some responsibility for Marla Jean’s predicament.”

  Jake raised an eyebrow. “Predicament?”

  Bradley held both hands up like it should be obvious. “You know, being single again. Out honky-tonking every weekend.”

  “Because you dumped her.” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, but he wasn’t sorry. The man had some nerve, Jake would give him that.

  Bradley’s cheeks flushed a baby pink and his nostrils flared. “That’s a little harsh. We came to a mutual understanding that we weren’t right for each other anymore.”

  Jake could feel blood pounding in his temples. All the promises he’d made to his mother were about to fly out the window. “Was that before or after you started sleeping with my aunt?”

  “Now listen here, Jake—” Bradley stood up, his fists clenched at his sides.

  Jake stood up, too, trying to hold onto his temper. The little weasel was asking for it, but for his aunt’s sake he counted to ten, and because his mother would tan his hide, he counted to ten again. He forced himself to take a calming breath and held up his hands in a conciliatory manner. “Okay, okay, I was out of line. Let’s just drop it. Besides, Harry Beal is the one I’d worry about if I were you.”

  Bradley took a moment but seemed to simmer down as well. “Harry. Yeah, he’s had a crush on her since junior high. God, he made an ass of himself at the game last night, didn’t he? With that crazy-asse
d flower thing?”

  Jake didn’t know why, but he felt the need to defend Harry. “I don’t know. He’s a nice guy, and he’s making his move. He’s single. She’s single. Game on, right?”

  Bradley seemed to consider it. “I guess. Do you think Marla Jean likes him?”

  Jake didn’t answer as a flurry of high heels clacking against the hard wood floor snagged his attention. A second later his mother rushed into the room pulling a protesting Libby along behind her by her elbow. “Let’s go, Jake. We aren’t staying in this house a minute longer, and Libby is coming with us.”

  “Let go of me, Ellie. I’m not going anywhere.” Libby jerked away from her sister’s hold.

  “What’s going on?” Bradley demanded.

  Ellie grabbed her purse and said in a shaky voice, “Once we were alone I asked her again what happened to her face.” Her voice rose in volume, and she was glaring at Bradley with enough heat to light him up like a Tiki torch. “And do you know what she said?”

  Jake walked over and put a hand on his mother’s arm, trying to calm her down. “Hang on, Ma—”

  Ellie was in no mood to be soothed. “She insisted that she walked into a door. A door! I mean I lived with an abusive man long enough to spot the signs a mile away, and Libby, you are not staying here another minute. Let’s go.” She started marching toward the door as if she expected everyone to follow.

  Libby stood her ground. “I did walk into a door, Ellie, and I’m not going anywhere.”

  Jake’s mother whirled around. “What did he say after he hit you? That he was sorry? That it would never happen again?”

  During their exchange, Bradley had been standing with his mouth open, but now he jumped to his own defense. “Wait a minute. You think I hit Libby? Is that what this is about? I wouldn’t hurt a single hair on her head.”

  Jake tried again to get his mother’s attention. “Ma, listen to me. I was there when it happened.”

  His words seemed to sink in, and she deflated like a kid’s punctured swimming floatie. “You were where?” she asked.

  “At Romeo’s pizza place after the game Friday night. Aunt Libby ran into the bathroom door as someone was coming out of it.”

  “She did? You did?” she asked turning back to her sister. “Why didn’t you say so?”

  “I did say so, Ellie, but you were so ready to believe the worst about Bradley that you wouldn’t listen to me.”

  Bradley walked over and wrapped his arm around Libby’s shoulder. “It’s okay. Ellie was just looking out for your best interest, and I admire that.”

  “She owes you an apology,” Libby maintained staunchly.

  “Not at all, sweetheart.” Bradley kissed her on the cheek. “Ellie, this isn’t exactly how I planned to say this, but I love your sister. And if she’ll let me, I’m going to do my best to make her happy. As her family, it’s important that you and Jake know that.”

  Libby smiled so big Jake thought her face might crack and fall off. His mother looked ruffled as if she was having trouble making the switch from potential abuser to devoted loving man in her head that quickly.

  Then Bradley got down on one knee, and Jake’s eyebrows shot to the top of his forehead and stayed there. Bradley took his aunt’s hand and spoke sincerely, “I was going to wait a while, but I can’t think of a single reason not to do this now, Libby.”

  His Aunt Libby’s eyes resembled bouncing beach balls and her cheeks flushed to a feverish shade of pink in anticipation. She put a hand over her heart as if she needed to hold the beating organ inside her chest, and then exhaled his name in a quavering voice, “Oh, Bradley.”

  “Libby, I don’t want you to just move in with me. I want you to be my wife. Will you marry me?” Little beads of sweat popped out on his forehead. The man actually looked like he might be nervous.

  “Wait a min—” Jake started to protest, but his mother grabbed a couple of pigs-in-a-blanket from the nearby tray and chunked them into his open mouth before he could speak. He had no choice but to chew. Apparently, all of his mother’s doubts evaporated as soon as the man popped the magic question. What was it with women and marriage that made them go all gaga?

  Aunt Libby screeched like a Buick with bad brakes and launched herself at him. “Of course I’ll marry you, Bradley. Yes, yes, yes, yes.”

  Good God, thought Jake, his mouth still full of sausages. The two of them were making a spectacle of themselves down on the floor, laughing and kissing without any consideration for those having to watch. His mother had tears in her eyes and beamed like she’d orchestrated the whole thing. God help him, he’d never understand women in a million years. He finally swallowed and grabbed his beer to wash down the rest.

  Bradley stood up and helped Libby to her feet. “Well, now we really have something to celebrate, don’t we? What do you say we eat dinner, and we can talk about setting a date while we’re at it?”

  “Oh, my. I’m so excited. I’m so happy. And I love you, Bradley.” Libby kissed him once more and then giggled before dancing off into the kitchen to dish up the food. Bradley was all puffed up and pleased with himself as he herded Jake and his mom into the dining room. He laughed like a little kid before kissing Ellie on both cheeks and helping her to her seat. Then he slapped Jake on the back hard enough to dislodge fillings, but he seemed so happy Jake didn’t have the heart to complain.

  Not until he said, “Hell, Jake, I just realized something. I’m going to be your brand new uncle. Come here and give me a hug.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  As it turned out, Donny Joe looked mighty fine in an apron, and he wielded a mean broom. Harry showed off his muscles in an impressive display, by practically carrying the daybed down from the attic one-handed. Dinah ran from room to room scrubbing and dusting like a mad woman. Lincoln ate another doughnut and cheered their efforts.

  Marla Jean supervised from the couch, feeling guilty that she couldn’t help and feeling more and more anxious at the thought of her parents’ return home. Part of her, the fragile part that was still healing from having her life so rudely rearranged by Bradley, wanted to curl up and let them take care of her like she was still their baby girl. And now with her broken toes, nobody could blame her for letting them coddle her. But the biggest part of her felt like she’d be taking a big step backward if she didn’t try to maintain some degree of independence.

  Earlier that morning, Hoot and Dooley stopped by with casseroles from their wives and told her they’d put a “Gone Fishing” sign on the barber shop. Then they’d called and rescheduled her appointments for the coming week. Most of the business was walk-in so there wasn’t much to rearrange.

  Marla Jean still hoped she’d get a walking boot and be back to work in a couple of days, but now with her father riding to the rescue, it was a relief not to worry about letting down her customers.

  Her clothes had been moved back to her old bedroom, the daybed set up, and her art supplies put away in the closet. It looked scarily like her childhood bedroom, minus the stuffed animals.

  Donny Joe and Harry both pitched in like they were glad to do it, but they also seemed to be trying to outdo each other in an effort to gain Marla Jean’s attention.

  “I thought you could use some iced tea, Marla Jean.” Harry walked in with a tall glass with lemon and a sprig of mint. She wondered where the hell he found the mint.

  “Thank you, Harry, but you’re the one doing all the work.”

  “I like being useful. You just tell me what you need, and I’m ready to pitch in.”

  Donny Joe bounced into the room with a bag of frozen peas. “Here ya go, sugar. That bag of ice is getting all melty. In my opinion, frozen vegetables are the way to go, and I find generally that baby green peas work the best.”

  “You have a lot of experience with this kind of thing?” she asked.

  “I’ve twisted my ankle playing soccer more times than I can remember, and the only reason I’m still walking today, is baby peas.” He’d been a soccer st
ar in high school and still played in an adult league.

  She let him arrange the bag on her ankle without further protest. “Well, then, it sounds like you’re the authority.”

  Harry looked miffed and decided to throw in his two cents. “Well, in football, we’re no stranger to injuries. The best thing would be to plunge your foot into a bucket of ice water and leave it in as long as you can stand it.”

  Marla Jean smiled weakly. “Maybe I’ll try that later, Harry.”

  Encouraged, he continued, “That’s really the only way to get the cold down into the swollen joints. And your pillows for your foot should be higher than your heart.” He grabbed some cushions from other chairs and started reshaping the mound supporting her foot.

  Donny Joe was trying to get the peas to stay balanced on her foot at the same time. “Thanks, really guys, my foot’s fine now.” Since they’d been so nice she resisted the urge to swat them away like gnats, but their fussing was about to make her scream.

  Dinah came into the room and collapsed on a chair. “That’s it. We’re done. I’m not lifting another finger.”

  The house sparkled by anyone’s standards. Bitsy would be hard-pressed to find anything lacking. After the men made a pizza and beer run, everyone sat around the living room, tired but pleased with a job well done.

  Harry scooted his chair closer to Marla Jean. “Would you like some more parmesan cheese on your pizza?”

  “No thank you, Harry. I’m fine.”

  Donny took a swig of beer and asked, “So, where’s Jake? I’m surprised he’s not here helping.”

  The question hung in the air unanswered, like a low-lying cloud of smelly bug spray, while Marla Jean finished chewing her pizza. After she swallowed, she said, “I believe he had plans with his mother today.”

  “Why are you asking about Jake, Donny Joe?” Lincoln asked casually.

  “No reason. It’s just lately, every time I’m around Marla Jean he seems to turn up like a bad penny.”