Tough Love: Back to Buckhorn

by Lori Foster

  “Eventually Tabby will see it, too. But you know how she is, sweetie. The more we press her, the more she’s going to dig in.”

  “You mean the more I press her.” He’d been the only one protesting. His mother, curse her patience, kept her nose out of her children’s lives as much as possible.

  “She’s determined to prove you wrong. Leave Phil be. I promise you, he’ll screw up enough all on his own that eventually Tabby will wipe her hands of him. Just you wait and see.”

  Stack had never looked at it that way before, and now that he did, he had to admit to the possibility. “I’ll try.”

  “Thank you.” Letting out a weary breath, she said, “Now I really do want to nap.”

  “All right.” Still worried, he said, “Love you.”

  “I love you, too, son.”

  For the remainder of the drive Stack’s thoughts bounced between his mother’s illness, his sister’s a-hole husband, and Vanity. Sweet, hot, irresistible Vanity.

  Waiting on him. Anxious for him.

  Would she be ready the moment he walked in the door? He wouldn’t mind showering with her again. He’d love teasing her body more. He couldn’t wait to take her completely...

  That thought died an immediate and painful death the moment he saw her driveway filled with cars.

  What the hell?

  He parked on the street, slammed the car door and stalked up the walk with bad intentions.

  As if she’d been watching for him, Harper opened the door.

  That drew him up short.

  “You get the joke now, don’t you?” Hooking her arm through his, Harper drew him in. “It is funny, Stack. Surely you’ll see that, right?”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  NO. STACK DIDN’T SEE a damn thing funny about all his hot plans turning into a puff of smoke. Usually football parties were boisterous. Not so this time. Someone made a touchdown, and everyone cheered in near silence.

  Lounging in various positions on the couch were Armie, Leese and Gage. No feet on tables, no misplaced pillows. Miles shared a chair with Norwood, and as Brand came out of the kitchen, Maggie followed him. Stack understood why when Brand slipped her a bite of cheese.

  Stack looked at the beers and Cokes sitting on coasters, and the big bowl full of nachos—without a single crumb on the coffee table. It was like stepping into the land of Oz or something. “What the fuck is going on?”

  “Keep it down,” Armie told him. “Vee’s still in bed.”

  Brand offered him a beer. “She hadn’t slept.”

  “Not a wink,” Leese said. “And it showed.”

  “Dogs wouldn’t let her,” Miles chimed in.

  “So we stayed.” Armie pushed away from the couch, and Brand immediately took his seat. Maggie crawled into his lap.

  Stack’s mouth tightened, and though he had a lot to say, he couldn’t get a single word out. Gently but firmly, he pried Harper off his arm, walked her over and “gave” her to Gage. Without taking his gaze off the TV, Gage pulled her into his lap and nuzzled her neck.

  Armie nudged Stack toward the kitchen. “Let’s talk.”

  “Yeah. Let’s talk about all of you getting out.”

  Fighting a grin, Armie soothed, “Now, Stack,” while still corralling him from the room. “You know no one is budging, at least not until halftime. And Vee’s dead-out anyway.”

  His eyes flared. “How the hell do you know that?” If Armie had peeked in on her, he’d—

  “She hasn’t come out of her room. The girl is a born hostess, so if she was awake, she’d have been out here, right? Especially with the dogs here. She did seem to feel personally responsible for them.”

  Damn.

  “Took us a bit to talk her into resting. And seriously, dude, if we’d left, the dogs would have been on her. The poor things are starved for attention.”

  Another failing of his sister’s. Why the hell had she let Phil talk her into getting dogs anyway? He knew Tabby tried, and he didn’t doubt she loved the animals, but she worked fifty-hour weeks or more, so she didn’t have a lot of free time.

  And she damn well should have known Phil wouldn’t step up.

  Unaware of the path Stack’s thoughts had taken, Armie continued. “She needed to sleep, so why not let her catch up? In the end, I’m guessing that’ll work out better for you. You know, having her frisky instead of wiped out.”

  “Shut up.” They got to the kitchen and Stack groaned, dropping his head against the fridge.

  Behind him, Armie snickered. “Looks like you could use a few zees, as well. You don’t want to disappoint her. I have a feeling her expectations are pretty high.”

  He’d rather have Vanity over sleep any day.

  Taking pity on him, Armie clasped Stack’s shoulder. “I promise to get everyone moving soon as we hit halftime. I’ll bribe them all with pizza to ensure they go. How’s that?”

  His eyes felt gritty, his limbs heavy, and a dull throbbing reverberated through his brain. Yeah, he was pretty damned exhausted, so Vanity had to have felt the same.

  That made him wonder, so he turned and straightened away from the fridge. “Did she tell you she was tired?”

  Armie snorted—and scooted him aside so he could get a bottle of water. “No. She was all about manning up. It was cute.”

  If Vanity heard Armie say that, she’d find some nice, sweet way to eviscerate him. No doubt she’d smile the entire time.

  That was another thing Stack liked about her. Her quick wit, always delivered with deceptive good humor. “I’m going to take a shower.”

  “Here?” Armie asked.

  “Yeah, here. What of it?”

  Holding up his hands in surrender, Armie said, “Just didn’t realize you guys had gotten to the stage where you made yourself at home.”

  His shoulders bunched. “But you guys are okay moving in?”

  Armie grinned. “Dude, I get it. Jealousy is a bitch. But you know the guys better than that.”

  “I know all of you.” And that was part of the problem. Other than Gage, who was fully committed to Harper, they were all players.

  And Vanity had admired each of them.

  “You wanna back up that particular train wreck?”

  Yeah, maybe he did. Scrubbing a hand over his face, Stack said, “Fuck you,” by way of apology.

  And Armie took it as such. “Guys in love are so pathetic.”

  Love? Whoa. Rallying real anger and a heaving heapin’ of frustration, Stack took a stance and opened his mouth—

  “Checked the fence,” Armie said, cutting him off. “I fixed a few spots, and now it’s secure. I even did you a solid by taking the mutts out a few times so they could get used to things. Give them a few chews—which I picked up for you when I made a snack run—and they should give you an uninterrupted hour. Anything beyond that, though, is dicey.”

  Damn, but friends were nice. “I owe you.”

  “I won’t let you forget,” Armie promised him. “Now go take your shower. Make it cold enough to freeze out the stupidity.”

  Yeah, he’d shower, and hopefully that would revive him, too. “Keep it down. And seriously, the second halftime hits, I want everyone gone.”

  “Got it covered.”

  Yeah, he’d owe Armie. Big time. But right now, all he could think about was what he owed Vanity.

  It was a debt he couldn’t wait to pay.

  * * *

  WHEN THE BACKGROUND noise faded, Vanity stirred awake. A little disoriented, she lifted her head and glanced at the clock on her nightstand. Wow, for sure she’d slept long enough.

  Levering up on to her forearms, she realized she hadn’t moved. She’d literally crashed to the mattress face-first, and that’s where she’d stayed. A touch to her
cheek confirmed a few creases caused by the comforter. Yawning, she rolled to her back and indulged in some luxurious stretching.

  Now, finally, she’d get things underway with Stack. Smiling widely, she bounced out of the bed.

  Taking two minutes in the bathroom, she splashed her face, brushed the tangles from her hair, and quickly cleaned her teeth. Makeup was out. She just plain didn’t care enough. But she could at least change out of her wrinkled clothes.

  Still feeling ebullient, she rummaged in a drawer and found one of her favorite T-shirts representing the SBC. It had special meaning to her for many reasons.

  After she’d followed Yvette from California to Ohio, Cannon had given it to her. He’d told her it made her an official part of his family now that he and Yvette were reunited. Such a great guy. She couldn’t be happier for them.

  Lacking any close family, Yvette had become like a much-loved sister to her, and now she had a brother in Cannon, as well.

  She’d also seen Stack eyeing her in the shirt whenever she wore it. It was big and boxy—clearly a man’s shirt—from a limited-edition collection the SBC had done. Did Stack wonder if a fighter had given it to her?

  Let him. It couldn’t hurt her cause to keep him guessing.

  But another reason she liked it was that it represented his beloved sport. Stack was a fighter through and through, and she liked supporting him while wearing the shirt.

  Skipping a bra, she pulled on the shirt, pairing it with her most comfortably worn skinny jeans.

  Barefoot, she emerged from her bedroom feeling like a new woman ready to take on the world—or one very sexy light heavyweight fighter.

  Following the faint sounds of movement, she entered her kitchen and found Leese putting empty paper plates and napkins in the trash. As he bent over the can his T-shirt stretched tight over his shoulders, and his jeans hugged his backside.

  One thing about having fighters for friends—the view was amazing.

  The second she walked in, he looked up, then straightened. “Hey.”

  He spoke softly, and his smile looked wicked enough to seduce a hundred women. Just not her. “Hi. Everyone else is gone?”

  “Pretty much. Armie used pizza to bribe them away to his place during halftime.” Leese went to the sink and washed his hands, speaking to her over his shoulder. “Feeling better?”

  “Much, thank you.” The day had totally gotten away from her. Had Stack decided against coming to see her? God, she hoped not. She could barely wait a minute more; waiting another day was out of the question.

  Drying his hands, Leese grinned at her. “You are so transparent.”

  “Really?” Not that it’d take a mind reader for Leese to know where her thoughts had gone. More than the others, he knew of her interest in Stack. She confided in her girlfriends—to a point. And she got along great with all the guys. But Leese had become a very dear friend, and whether he liked it or not, a confidante.

  After putting aside the dish towel, he tweaked a long hank of her hair. “He’s passed out on the couch.”

  “Stack?”

  That made him laugh. “I sure didn’t mean the pope.”

  Turning in a rush, Vanity headed to her living room but slowed at the sight of Stack’s long, leanly muscled body slumped in the corner of the couch, legs stretched out and feet crossed on the coffee table. Maggie lay in his lap, and Norwood sprawled on his back with his head tucked up against Stack’s side.

  Her heart turned over. It was the oddest feeling, sweet but disturbing, life-altering.

  Denial had only worked for so long. After seeing him rescue people without concern for his own safety, watching him interact with his sister and care for his mother...well, she couldn’t deny the truth any longer. She loved him. So, so much.

  It looked as though his light brown hair had dried without being combed, and he’d recently shaved.

  “You’ve got it bad,” Leese said beside her, then he looked at Stack and grinned. “Lucky bastard.”

  “Shhh!”

  But it was already too late. With a deep rumbling, Stack stretched out his arms and tucked in his chin, flexing all those gloriously hot muscles on his gloriously hot body, making her pulse quicken in a delicious way.

  She spun to Leese and said, “Thanks for everything. Appreciate it. You can go now.”

  His quirking smile turned to a grin, and that led to a bark of laughter. His gaze went from her face to the couch, and he said, “She’s throwing me out.”

  Vanity pivoted to Stack and wanted to sigh with greed.

  Now relaxed, his eyes heavy but open, Stack stared at Vanity while saying, “Good idea. Later, Leese.”

  One-armed, Leese drew her in for a hug. “If you need anything else with the dogs, give a holler.”

  She nodded and walked him to the door. She watched as he got in his truck and backed out of the driveway before closing the door. She turned and almost ran into a solid wall of muscle. Eye level with Stack’s chest, she said, “Good grief. You move like a ninja.”

  Both dogs sat beside him, expressions anxious to see what would happen. Reaching past her, Stack locked the door.

  “Oh.” Her heartbeat started tripping. She gazed at his mouth. Man, she loved his mouth. Looking at it made her mouth tingle, and she started to go on tiptoe to reach him.

  “Hold that thought.” After brushing his knuckles along her cheek, Stack headed for the back of the house. “You guys want to go out?”

  Barking enthusiasm shattered the quiet. The dogs took off in a zigzagging run, occasionally turning circles, leaping.

  Vanity rushed behind them. “Aren’t we going to—”

  “Damn straight.” He opened the back door, and the dogs shot out without a care.

  Huh. That morning she’d had one heck of a time getting them out. They’d only wanted to go if she also went, and whenever she tried to come back in, they followed.

  Hands on her hips, she watched Maggie and Norwood chase after a bird, then bark at a squirrel. Together they ran the perimeter of the yard, then tussled like happy children.

  “Remarkable.”

  “Armie said he worked with them a little while you napped.”

  “Armie, too, is remarkable.”

  That made him frown—and almost made her grin.

  “Armie also bought them some treats. I should have thought of that myself—” he sent her a scalding look “—but I was too busy trying to get you naked.”

  Wondering how soon they could get to it, Vanity bit her bottom lip and nodded.

  Standing in the open doorway to the yard, Stack slowly looked her over. “Speaking of naked, you aren’t wearing a bra.”

  “No.”

  “Where’d you get the shirt?”

  So he had been wondering. Nervous, anxious fingers twisted in the hem. “Cannon gave it to me.”

  That seemed to appease him. “Looks good on you.” Turning, he whistled to the dogs, and once he had their attention, he knelt down and offered the big chew toys.

  Norwood got his first. Eyes big with gluttony, he carried it over to a tree and hunkered down to enjoy it.

  Maggie sniffed hers excitedly, then with delicate care, closed her teeth around it and joined Norwood.

  “That ought to keep them busy.”

  Yes, she wanted uninterrupted time with Stack, but she refused to put the dogs at risk. “Is it safe?”

  “Armie said he checked your fence. It’s all good. And trust me, if they want back in, they’ll let us know.”

  Ridiculous shyness came over her. “We’re finally going to do this?”

  Stepping in and quietly closing the door, Stack watched her. “You tell me.”

  “What?” He didn’t sound all that anxious.

  Snagging her hand, he pulle
d her in close and feathered a kiss over the bridge of her nose, the top of her cheek, her jaw. “It feels like I’ve been waiting forever.” One hand opened over her back, urging her closer. “But if you think you need more time, I’ll deal with it.”

  Such a remarkable offer. “You are the sweetest man.”

  Squeezing her in close, he put a tickling, growling bite to that sensitive spot where her neck met her shoulder.

  Vanity wanted to both melt and giggle. “Stack.”

  “I’m not sweet, I’m horny.” He cupped her face. “So what’s the verdict?”

  “It sure isn’t waiting.” She pushed out of his arms, grabbed his hand and practically hauled him down the hallway. Laughing behind her, Stack allowed himself to be led.

  Right before they reached her bedroom, he took the lead, drew her into the room and closed the door with her up against it. Pressing his body to hers, he took her mouth, all soft and gentle—for about three seconds. Angling his head for a better fit, he licked her bottom lip, then stroked his way inside, playing with her tongue, exploring, getting her hotter by the second.

  She clung to his shoulders and felt the rising tension in him as the kiss went deeper, wetter, more possessive. He needed this worse than she did—and that was saying a lot, given how badly she wanted him. But where he’d ensured her pleasure, twice, he’d forgone his own.

  He could deny it all he wanted, but he was about the sweetest man on the face of the earth.

  Snaking a hand down his shoulder, Vanity reveled in his strength, how her touch caused him to skip a beat in the middle of the devouring kiss—then to ramp it up tenfold with a deep groan of encouragement.

  His abs were a thing of beauty, and when she slipped her hand up under his shirt to touch his hot, taut skin, he freed his mouth. His forehead to hers, he breathed heavily—and waited.

  “I love your body,” Vanity whispered, touching him all over, reaching around to his back, to the granite muscles there, the hot, sleek skin. Gliding her palm back to his chest, she dragged her fingers through the chest hair there, then followed the happy trail down to the front of his jeans.

  Using only one finger, she traced his erection beneath the denim. His breathing stilled; his cock did not. She felt him pulsing, flexing as she wrapped her fingers around him as much as she could, stroking through the stiff material.