Tough Love: Back to Buckhorn

by Lori Foster

  Armie repeated, “Prime-condition fighter.” He knuckled her chin. “There’s no comparison.”

  “Okay, yes, I’m tired.” Why not admit it? “But I’m not a wimp, so I’m not going to shirk my duty.”

  “Caring for his sis’s dogs is now your duty?”

  “I offered, so, yes.” And whenever she offered, she took it seriously.

  Armie was about to say more when another knock sounded on the door. They both looked, Armie frowned, then almost got jerked off his feet when the dogs went manic all over again.

  Vanity stepped around them and opened the door.

  Leese, Brand and Miles stood there.

  “Wow,” she said, eyeing each of them in turn. “Was there a casting call for certified studs that I somehow missed?”

  The men all grinned at her.

  Ducking his face, Leese ran a hand over his unruly black hair. Sunshine reflected off the inky depths and also highlighted a few dark bruises that contrasted with the paleness of his striking blue eyes.

  Vanity knew him better than most of the others; as she’d told Stack, Leese was her wingman, aiding and abetting when she needed to dodge interested men.

  Brand elbowed Miles, asking in a stage whisper, “Is she saying we’re studs?”

  Rubbing his ribs and scowling, Miles said, “If she is, I’ll add it to my résumé. Endorsed by Vanity Baker. That has to carry some clout, right?”

  “Studs,” she repeated. “And also insane.” Unlike Leese and Armie, who were light heavyweights, Miles and Brand were thicker heavyweights, each with dark brown hair. The difference, at least to Vanity, was in their eyes. Miles had vivid green eyes, and Brand’s were the darkest she’d ever seen.

  Because she liked all of them, she held the door open. “Come on in.”

  As they entered, they saw Armie holding back the dogs.

  There was a moment of surprise before Armie said, “What are you guys doing here?” and the guys said almost in unison, “We thought she was alone.”

  Scowling, Armie turned the dogs loose, and the guys got slathered in wet doggy tongues and unrestrained love.

  Laughing, Vanity separated herself from the chaos, going to the couch to sit with a deep sigh. It felt good to be off her feet, but now a steady throbbing started in her temples.

  Around the raucous noise, she asked, “Did Stack send you guys, too?”

  Studying her with concern, Leese came to stand over her. “I came to check on you.” Two fingers beneath her chin lifted her face, then turned it side to side. “Mutt and Jeff just decided to trail along.”

  Miles settled the matter of jumping dogs by lifting Norwood into his arms. The dog looked momentarily shocked, then joyous as he rolled to his back to be cradled like a baby.

  Laughing, Miles strode over and took a seat beside her. “We’re all heading to Brand’s to watch the game.”

  “Game?”

  They gave her appalled stares. “Football,” Armie finally explained.

  Copying Miles, Brand lifted Maggie and joined them. “Bengals are playing the Steelers.”

  “So?”

  Again they all stared at her.

  Vanity shook her head and, around a yawn, muttered, “Never mind. I don’t even care.”

  Leese crossed his arms. “You need to get some sleep.”

  “Exactly what I was telling her.” Now that Armie didn’t have to hold on to the dogs, he sat down and propped up his feet on the coffee table.

  Brand shoved him. “Idiot. She decorates. You can’t do that here.”

  Muffling a laugh, Vanity said, “It’s okay.” Yes, she had some decorative items on her coffee table, but she wanted visitors to be comfortable.

  Too late, because Armie had already removed them and was now sitting straighter. To the men, he said, “Stack wanted me to look over her backyard, make sure the dogs couldn’t get out. She needs some shut-eye before he gets here.”

  They all grinned, and ribald comments circulated the room.

  “She won’t get any after he’s here, that’s for sure.”

  “Oh, she’ll get some, all right.”

  “Rested women are better than the comatose kind any day.”

  Feeling like an official member of the pack, Vanity smiled at each of them. Being Yvette’s best friend, she’d already been accepted by them. But now, because they knew she and Stack had hooked up, they’d decided she was part of the inner circle.

  And damned if that didn’t get her teary-eyed, a sure sign of her true exhaustion.

  For the longest time she’d wanted a family. A real family who was there for you when you needed it, who dropped in unexpectedly, who teased and supported and...included.

  Here, in Warfield, Ohio, well away from her beloved California beaches, it felt like home.

  When she sniffled, the men froze into awkward, helpless lumps of muscle. They watched her as if expecting her to crack, or maybe sob. Wariness kept them wide-eyed and poised to act.

  She laughed around her tears. “You guys are pretty terrific, you know that, right?”

  Armie was the first to relax. Shoulders dropping, he said to Leese, “Happy tears,” in this nauseating, indulgent man-to-man tone that conveyed she was a little woman and fragile, and expressing her happiness in such a way was to be expected.

  Leese said only, “Ah, right.”

  Cautiously staring at her, Miles asked, “You’re okay now?”

  Okay, happy, content.

  Touched by their concern.

  But telling them all that would probably turn them mute again. Smothering another yawn, she nodded. “I’m fine.”

  “Know what?” Brand nodded at her TV. “We could watch the game here.”

  Before she could weigh in on that one way or the other, the guys did.

  “Yeah,” Armie said. “The dogs are attached to Mutt and Jeff.”

  Brand said, “Ha ha,” and cuddled a happy Maggie closer. She licked his chin, making Armie fake-gag.

  Miles tried to put Norwood down, but the dog wasn’t having it. “I’m covered in fur,” he complained to Norwood. But without a single sign of remorse, the dog stuck his nose in Miles’s neck and sighed.

  “You’re turning them into lapdogs.”

  “They turned long before we got here,” Brand insisted. Then to Maggie, his voice high-pitched, he said, “Didn’t you, baby? Yes, you did. Yes, that’s a good girl,” making the dog’s tail go nuts.

  Leese pulled Vanity from her seat. “Go to bed. We’ll visit with the dogs.”

  Keys in hand, Armie said, “I’ll go grab some snacks.” He tipped his chin at Vanity. “Anything you need while I’m out?”

  Laughter got the best of her. And once she started, she couldn’t stop. They were all so intrusive and hilarious and...wonderful. She fell against Leese, leaving him no choice but to hold her up.

  “She’s hysterical,” Brand accused.

  Armie joined Leese, and together they walked her down the hall, peeking into each room until they finally found her bed.

  Leese pried her loose. “Go,” he told her. “Sleep.”

  “We’ll try to keep it down,” Armie promised.

  With one last chuckle, she hugged Leese and even kissed his cheek. Armie had his brows up over that until she grabbed him next. He hugged her off her feet in return.

  “This is so nice of you guys.”

  “Sleep well,” Leese said.

  “And Vee?” Armie winked at her. “We promise to clear out once Stack gets here.”

  She winked back. “Appreciate that. Thanks.”

  They were both speechless as she closed the door. Had they expected her to be subtle about her attraction for Stack? Not likely. She cared for Stack too much, and was far too exhausted to
be subtle.

  In one long stride she reached the bed, collapsed facedown across it, and immediately fell asleep.

  With a smile on her face.

  * * *

  STACK FINISHED SPARRING with Denver, but as he stepped toward the end of the mats, Havoc called him over.

  “You okay for a few more minutes?”

  He was bone tired and covered in sweat. But that was nothing new. To be a top contender in the sport, he had to be able to deal with it—and he could. Depending on where you fought, the altitude or heat could factor in. Minor injuries often sidelined men who didn’t have enough stamina and heart to push through.

  Stack knew he could deal with just about anything, and had. But raging lust was a new one for him. Knowing Vanity was at home, waiting for him, that when he got there he’d finally be able to strip her down, kiss her all over, then sink into her... Yeah, a big distraction.

  He wasn’t about to tell Havoc any of that.

  Normally they’d all have taken off the Sunday after a wedding, especially given it was Cannon’s wedding and they’d been out late, some of them drinking.

  But Havoc spent the week at his own camp, and Sunday afternoon was one of the few times the rec center was open only to established fighters. During the week they had classes for grade school kids, college grads and every age in between. The fighters also took turns teaching self-defense to women.

  So he pushed aside all discomforts, including the discomfort of wanting a specific woman more than his next breath, and said, “I’m good.”

  “Great. I wanted to work on some boxing moves with Denver.”

  Denver was one hell of a well-rounded fighter, excelling in his stand-up and his ground game—but no one turned down instruction from a seasoned pro like Havoc. The fact that Simon Evans, another icon in the sport, was also on-site made it a day of invaluable input.

  “You good with that?” Havoc asked Denver.

  Denver set aside the water bottle and grinned. “Hell, yeah.”

  “Just instruction,” Havoc said. “You’re too close to a fight to risk an injury.”

  And so for the next half hour Dean “Havoc” Connor went through moves on Stack, demonstrating for Denver, then had Denver go through the moves with Stack so he could watch.

  Just when he thought they were done, Simon joined them with a few pointers of his own.

  When he finally got a break, Stack went to the side to chug down some water. Of course his thoughts were already on Vanity. Had Armie secured the yard? Were the dogs letting her get any rest?

  Harper, Gage’s wife and the most frequent volunteer receptionist for the rec center, strolled over to Gage and Justice.

  Stack was involved in lurid visions of Vanity naked in bed, hopefully dreaming of him, when he picked up on the words “party” and “football” in Harper’s conversation. Justice declined, but Gage nodded agreement and headed to the shower.

  Harper glanced his way. “What about you?”

  Without asking for details, he shook his head. “Not this time, but thanks.”

  Looking impish and up to no good, Harper shook back her brown hair and propped a hand on her hip. “Got plans of your own, huh?”

  He had no idea why her blue eyes were so bright and mischievous, but he knew Harper well enough to know it meant something. Probably she’d heard about his aborted rendezvous with Vanity. Women, he’d learned from Denver, liked to gossip. Of course, Cherry had been gossiping about Denver’s size, and given the man was hung like a horse, he supposed he couldn’t blame her.

  “I do,” Stack said, then he pointed at her. “Stay out of trouble.”

  Her laughter livened up the gym, making several guys pause to look. Luckily, Gage, a massive heavyweight, wasn’t the jealous sort. He knew that most at the rec center considered Harper a kid sister.

  She shook her head, saying, “You poor, poor man,” and walked away from him.

  He was wondering about that when Denver joined him.

  “Thanks for hanging around. I know you had better shit to be doing.”

  “I won’t tell her you said that.”

  Denver paused comically. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

  Because they both knew he could be doing Vanity right now. Stack grinned. “You won’t see me passing up instruction with veterans.”

  “Yeah, that’s how I figured it. Still—the timing sucked.” Denver swiped a towel over his face. “Armie, the ass, should have stayed, too.”

  “He’s still getting used to the idea of being in the SBC. He’ll come around, though.”

  “Why he has to get used it—that’s what I’d like to know.”

  True. It confounded Stack, as well.

  Cannon, as Armie’s best friend, was the only one to understand Armie’s reservations over signing on to the elite SBC. He’d already taken apart the competition in local venues. Upping the ante was all he had left if he wanted to continue in the sport.

  Not being the modest sort, Stack knew he was good. Denver, too. Hell, all of them were good. But Armie had something the rest didn’t. Some insane drive, a remarkable fluidity of movement. He countered strikes and submission attempts as if he knew things his opponent didn’t. As if it was a sixth sense. Because of that, he walked through the best with ease.

  Yet he hadn’t fought at the higher-level shows. Stack didn’t doubt that Armie would win once the SBC got him on a card, but everything would be different—the size of the crowd, the fanfare, the rules. The pay. Most jumped at the opportunity.

  But for far too long Armie had dodged it. Havoc had to literally run him to ground and corner him to make it happen.

  One of these days, they’d all know why.

  “You heading to the showers?” Denver asked.

  Stack shook his head. “I’ll shower at Vanity’s.” Like most of the fighters, he kept a change of clothes in his gym bag, so he didn’t need to run to his apartment first.

  With every second that passed, some anomalous urgency burned in his blood. He’d anticipated sex with other women. He’d been caught up in the moment.

  This was as different as night to day.

  He knew Vanity was dealing okay with the dogs; Armie would have called him otherwise. But for a woman who’d only wanted a sexual experience, she’d taken on a lot of shit that wasn’t hers to deal with.

  On the drive over, Stack called his mom again to check on her. He’d spoken to her once already, and she’d insisted she was fine, claiming Tabby had set her up in the family room on a big soft couch with pillows, a blanket, the TV remote and her meds close at hand.

  This time she answered on the first ring. “Why aren’t you at home getting some sleep of your own?”

  “Mom.” Her chiding tone made him smile. “It was a special day at the rec center. I didn’t want to miss it.”

  “Well, then, tell me you’re heading to bed now.”

  Yeah, he was. But not alone and sure as hell not to sleep. “How are you?”

  “The same as I was this morning when you called—perfectly fine.”

  He checked the clock, then cursed low when he realized it was after four. “Have you eaten?”

  “Why do you and Tabby keep acting like I’m teetering on the edge? Of course I ate.”

  He knew his mother well. Usually when she got defensive, it was because she knew she was wrong.

  Like the time she loaned money to Tabby, knowing fucking Phil had blown their budget on gambling. Or the time she’d paid Phil’s outstanding tickets because Tabby was crying over it. And still they’d lost that car. Like an idiot, Stack had replaced the transportation for his sister—only to find out last night that Tabby let Phil drive it.

  In the past, whenever he thought of the twisted relationship his sister had with a dick li
ke Phil, it enraged him. Now, on his way to Vanity, it only pissed him off a little.

  “’S that right?” Stack said, wondering if she’d outright lied about eating. “So what’d you have?”

  “Your sister brought me soup on her break.”

  Huh. So Tabby had done something right. “Is that it?”

  She huffed in exasperation—and ended up coughing.

  “I’m swinging by,” Stack told her when she caught her breath. He’d make sure—

  “No,” she protested. “Stack, honey, you know I love you. But right now I just want to close my eyes and sleep. I promise I’m eating enough.”

  Given he was so anxious to see Vanity, he caved easily. “I’m coming by tomorrow, then.”

  “That would be very nice.”

  New suspicions gnawed on him, and damn it, he couldn’t let it go. “No fibbing, Mom.”

  “I don’t—”

  “Is Phil there?”

  Silence.

  Right eye flinching, Stack asked, “What’s he doing?”

  “It’s his home, Stack.”

  Right. A cheap apartment in a shit part of town—that was the best fucking Phil could do. But if he had to bet, he’d say Phil didn’t even contribute on that. Most of the bills fell to Tabby to cover. “Mom.”

  She coughed, got a drink, and finally said, “He has a poker game going on.”

  Son-of-a-bitch.

  More times than Stack could remember, his mother had bailed Phil out of trouble, and he repaid her by having a party while she was ill?

  In a rush, she added, “They’re in the kitchen and I’m in the family room. I can barely hear them...” Sensing that explanation wouldn’t cut it, she lost the pleading tone and adopted the this-is-your-mother attitude instead. “Stack Hannigan, you will not come charging over here, do you understand me? We’re nearing the holidays, and I don’t want a lot of strife in the family. I’m fine, and Phil, even with his shortcomings, is the one your sister wants.”

  “She can do better,” Stack said, for about the millionth time.

  Understanding took the edge out of his mom’s voice. “You know it, and I know it.”

  Wow. First time she’d admitted that.