One Flight Stand: A Bad Boy's Baby Romance

by Kim Linwood

  Emilio shakes his head. “None that I’ve heard her mention. Not since high school. Gloria?”

  She tips her shoulder in a tiny shrug. “How would I know?”

  “Because you’re her mother?” I ask, not bothering to hide my disgust.

  “We aren’t close.”

  They’re useless. I turn to Franco. He and Andrea are nearly the same age, and they seem friendly. “Any favorite places? Somewhere close enough to drive. It’s too cold for a park or anywhere outside. I don’t think this was planned.”

  “I don’t know, but…” Licking his lips, he turns to Emilio. “Lake Geneva?”

  “Why would she go there?” Gloria frowns. “Didn’t we sell it?”

  Emilio shakes his head. “No. It’s closed up, but still ours. The utilities are on, and I paid the landscaping bill at the end of the summer.”

  The phone. “It would’ve been easy enough to dump Franco’s phone at Six Flags if she took I-94 north.”

  “Franco, you check her cards. And you,” Emilio fixes me with a glare. “I’ll give you the address so you can check the house, but don’t mistake me.” His face is a stone mask, devoid of emotion, but his eyes glow with rabid intensity. “Andrea is my daughter, and if you hurt her, I don’t give a shit what it means afterwards. I will see you dead.”

  Only the cold, hard truth. I believe him, no doubt there. It’s in his eyes. We’re two men with very different claims to a woman we both care for.

  I don’t bother replying. Nothing I say would matter to him anyway.

  But what hangs unsaid, is that I don’t give a shit about his threats, because if anything happens to Andrea or the baby, it will kill me anyway.

  33

  Andrea

  The Uber crunches onto the gravel in front of the lake house. Three hours ago, I was supposed to go downstairs and let other people decide my life for me. God knows what I’m going to do next, but I’m already breathing easier just being out of the house and away from my family.

  “Nice place!” Josh, our heavyset driver, whistles in appreciation. “I love summers around here. My folks took my sister and me out camping at Big Foot a couple times when I was growing up. Really pretty here at that time of year.”

  “Yeah, it is.” I give him a smile.

  “Won’t that be fun once the baby comes? You two are going to be so happy. I can just tell.”

  Evie grins and puts her arm around my waist. “Couldn’t be happier than we already are. Right, love?”

  I roll my eyes, but laugh. “Right.”

  Josh loves kids, which is good because he has two of them. Jacob (eight) and Lizzie (thirteen) were all he could talk about the whole way up. I don’t know why, but he was just so proud of his two that I found myself confessing to having one on the way. Saying it out loud felt really good, especially with someone getting so excited about it.

  “Remember what I told you about ginger tea, okay? Alice swore by it for both kids.” He pulls our barely packed bags from the trunk with ease.

  “I will,” I promise. “And you tell your mom to get her flu shot this year. She got lucky last winter.”

  “Will do.” Josh looks up at the house. The yard is perfect, but the shutters are closed and there’s a pile of leaves swirled up onto the stairs. It’s huge, impressive, and very empty. “You girls going to be alright out here on your own?”

  “Would I let anything happen to her?” Evie gives me a peck on the cheek and smiles at Josh.

  I’m uncomfortable letting anyone—even someone as nice as Josh—know we’re on our own. “My family’s coming up later. We’re just here to open the house.”

  He looks skeptical, but shrugs. “Well, that’s okay I guess. You two take care, you hear? You have my card, right?”

  “Got it right here.” I pat my pocket.

  And then he’s off, leaving me and Evie to check the state of the house. The key to the garage is exactly where I remember it, under a marble angel hiding behind a bush next to the steps. I show it triumphantly to Evie.

  Inside, the air is stale and there’s a thick coating of dust on top of everything. Surprisingly, there’s power, and the door code, drilled into me when I was a girl, is still the same.

  “Bloody hell. How long’s it been since anyone was in here?” Evie coughs, and waves her hands around. “Remember when Neville wanted an old house to shoot his horror film for class? This would’ve been perfect.”

  She’s not wrong. The house is in perfect order, but the air is only marginally better in here than it was in the garage. The lights come on after a moment’s hesitation, illuminating every dust particle floating around in the still air. There’s a five year old copy of Better Homes and Gardens sitting on the counter.

  I pick it up as I look around, amazed. “I bet they haven’t been here since I moved out.”

  “But the grass is clipped.”

  “My father pays to keep that up so neighbors don’t complain that we’re letting it go.” God. Mom always hated this place, but to let it just sit empty? “Let’s open a few windows. I’ll turn on the heat and we can start a fire while we’re waiting for it to warm up.”

  Evie groans, but before long the first licks of flame crawl over the logs in the fireplace, fueled by the draft of fresh air coming through. A quick inventory of the kitchen reveals our first major problem.

  “So…” I call out from the kitchen.

  She’s standing by the back of the living room, looking out at the lake. “So?”

  “How hungry would you say you are?”

  Evie wanders in and leans on the counter, then picks up her arm and dusts off her elbow with a grimace. “On a scale of ‘nothing for me, thanks’ to ‘hangry hangry hippo?’ I’m one hangry short of a bad kids’ game metaphor.”

  Normally, I love the fact that our house isn’t one of those little holiday spots crammed on top of a hundred just like it. We have three acres of land and lots of lakefront access. What we don’t have is year round neighbors and a store within easy walking distance.

  “Then we have a problem. There’s a box of six year old crackers and a can of olives.”

  She wrinkles her nose. “Let’s save that option for the next post-apocalyptic themed tapas party.”

  “Agreed.” I frown at the ancient crackers. “I could call Josh. He’s probably not back to Chicago yet.”

  “Oh, no, you can’t do that. Lizzie has a tuba recital tonight. She’d be crushed.”

  “True.” Dammit. This is one of the dangers of becoming too attached to your Uber driver. You feel bad making them do a pizza run. “I bet someone delivers out here, right? We aren’t that far out of town. You can check your phone and—”

  “Bbbbzzzzttttt. Wrong answer.”

  “Oh right.” We both left our phones back at the house anyway. Shit.

  “Wait. Is there a house phone?”

  “I… yes! Oh my God. I can’t believe I forgot that was even an option.” I rush through the living room into the study. There at least used to be an old-fashioned phone in there, with a wire and everything.

  Bingo.

  Wiping off the dust with my sleeve, I pick it up and hold the receiver to my ear. “It’s still here! And there’s a dial tone!”

  “Brilliant. Now who do we call?”

  We stand there staring at each other.

  I know three numbers by heart. My father’s, my own and 911. By the look on Evie’s face, she’s realizing the same thing. “We’re in trouble.”

  An hour later, we’re still in trouble.

  And out of olives.

  34

  Andrea

  The doorbell rings, and our heads swivel towards the front of the house like two bird dogs catching the scent of a wounded duck.

  “It’s the pizza,” Evie says with a note of reverence in her voice. “I think I can smell it from here.”

  Pizza, or my life come back to fetch me, but I don’t mention that possibility. I have no illusions about being able to stay here forev
er without anyone tracking me down. “Thank God for Josh leaving his card and being such a good sport about finding a number for us.”

  “We need to send that man flowers. He’s an angel in relaxed fit jeans.”

  I nod, crawling out reluctantly from under the blanket by the fire. “Go get some plates. I’ll get the food.”

  The house is warming up, but the floor is still cold, and my feet leave a softly smudged trail in the dust. We really have to do something about that, but the loud, rumbling roar from my stomach makes my priorities clear.

  Frosted glass surrounds the front doors, turning the person outside it into a blurry mosaic, a shadow with faint colors. Still, if it were family, they’d pull into the garage, right? And not ring the doorbell, so it’s got to be pizza. With enough bills for food and tip in my hand, I use the other to swing the door open.

  Not pizza.

  Montana.

  With his arms crossed across his broad chest and an intimidating glare baring down at me. It’d be kinda hot if I wasn’t in seriously deep trouble.

  “I gave at the office.” I move quickly to shut the door, but he’s faster, catching the edge in an iron grip. Once he’s got it, I’d have more luck trying to shut the house on the door than the other way around.

  Crap.

  He laughs dryly. “Nice try. Going to let me in? Or should I just climb through one of the many open windows? If you can sneak out, I figure I can sneak in.”

  Stepping back with a sigh, I make a half-hearted gesture. “Come on.”

  “Don’t sound so enthusiastic.”

  “I wasn’t going for enthusiasm,” I grumble at his back as he walks in the house, looking around curiously, “but I’d have given it a shot if you’d brought food.”

  Evie comes out of the kitchen with plates and cups, then stops, her face falling. “I thought we ordered extra cheese, not the spicy Italian sausage.”

  Montana’s cheek twitches. Is he trying not to laugh, or resisting the urge to kill her? “Can we talk?” He throws a pointed glance in Evie’s direction. Her face tightens. “Alone?”

  I suppose I knew that was coming. “Upstairs.” Turning my back to him, I lead the way. Dust flows in front of my hand as I slide it along the winding wood railing that leads upstairs. At the top, I catch it in my fist and let it fall down to the first floor like snow.

  “This place doesn’t get much use, does it?” Montana muses from behind me.

  I brush my hand off on my jeans while I take in the second floor. There are a lot of memories here. “Not anymore.”

  As he joins me on the top landing, he pauses. “Was it worth it?”

  The tension in his question should tip me off that I’m in trouble, but my thoughts are a million miles away. “Hm?”

  He grips my upper arms and spins me around so suddenly that I squeak. Storm clouds cross his face and his dark eyes flash with angry lightning. I back up, and he follows, walking me backwards until I’m pressed against the wall in the hallway, next to the door to my old room

  “Why’d you run? I thought we were in this together.” The hurt is plain in his voice.

  “We are, but—”

  “But what? There is no but,” he growls. “We’re either a team or we’re not, and considering you’re carrying my baby, it’d sure as hell better be the first option, because I’m not going anywhere.”

  “There’s a huge but,” I snap up at him. “Did you know your brother was taking me out for lunch today? Sounded like he had the whole day planned. A real ‘woo your fiancée’ type schedule. Excuse me for panicking a little.”

  Montana scowls down at me. “I didn’t know he had gotten that far, but I don’t see why that matters. I asked you to trust me.”

  Oh my God. Could he be denser?

  “Why it matters?” I struggle unsuccessfully against his grip. “Maybe because I’m sick of this whole mess. Maybe because I needed to do something that felt like my own choice. Maybe because I don’t want him, you idiot. I want you!”

  Before I know it, he’s kissing me like I’m the air he needs to breathe, his rough lips tight against mine. His hands slide from my arms past my neck and into my hair, clenching firmly. I taste him as our bodies melt together. Reaching around to grip the back of his shirt, I hold him close.

  His hold on me is no less unbreakable, but I’m not struggling to get away.

  My heart beats against his chest like I’ve just run a mile. Reluctantly letting his shirt slip from my fingers, I grope behind me until I find the doorknob to my room and twist it open. Maybe I’m weak, but my anger has fled, and I have a sudden desire to rip his clothes off as quickly as possible.

  The latch clicks and we tumble into the stale air of a room that hasn’t been opened in over five years. Absently, I notice a leather jacket I’ve been looking for forever hanging over my chair in the corner. So that’s where it’s been.

  Then I forget all about it as Montana puts his hand around my waist and tosses me right into the center of my king-size bed.

  Oh my God, was that a mistake.

  My ass hits the top of the blankets, and the world turns gray. A cloud of dust blossoms around me like a slow motion atomic bomb test, thickening the already dense air. Totally unprepared, the first thing I do is just about the worst thing I could, given the circumstances.

  I take a deep breath.

  It’s like breathing grit.

  Montana is nearly on top of me when I land, and we both explode into epic coughing fits that only grow worse with each gasping breath. My eyes tear up and the gasping rattling in my throat turns into uncontrollable sneezing as the room goes blurry. In panic, I roll off the bed and drop to the floor with an awkward thump.

  Oh right, it’s smoke that rises. Apparently dust falls. At least until you land on it and it goes up your nose.

  “Open… window!” I gasp.

  Montana rubs his eyes with one hand while struggling with the window latch. When it finally gives, a gust of fresh air cuts through the grime.

  He sticks his head out the window and sneezes. “That went differently in my head.”

  I sneeze too. “Oh my Dod. I deed a dissue! Fasd!”

  The doorbell rings again.

  “Money!” Evie yells from downstairs. “Quick! Before I pass out from hunger.”

  My stomach yodels in agreement.

  Montana rubs his face and leans against the wall, defeated by dust and hungry women. “We still need to talk.”

  I sniffle and nod. “Absoludley.”

  But first food.

  And maybe a vacuum.

  35

  Montana

  “I know, Ma. Just buy us some time, alright?”

  I could only hold off on the status reports for so long. At least we got a decent night’s sleep before I started calling. DiFiero knows I’ve got Andrea, and that I’ve got as much interest in keeping an eye on her as he does. More than he thinks, even, but then he doesn’t know about the baby. After that, I called home.

  “This can’t stay a secret forever.” Mom’s voice is tense and clipped. “If Marc wasn’t so distracted with his father’s work, he’d already be on your back about this. You know I want to help you, but he’s my son too. He deserves to know what’s going on.” She pauses. “I don’t like this.”

  “You think I do?”

  Leaning against the arch between the foyer and the living room, I have a good view of the first floor thanks to the open plan. And of Andrea, who’s in the kitchen, picking through the leftovers for something to eat. Still wearing yesterday’s clothes, she tucks back a couple of strands of hair come loose from her messy ponytail. If she bothered with makeup today, I can’t see it.

  And it doesn’t fucking matter. I still can’t take my eyes off her.

  “Have you and Andrea talked?” There’s resignation in Mom’s voice, and determination, if not acceptance. “I hate to ask this, but are you two… together?”

  I don’t know anymore. If I ever did. I thought we were, b
ut then she pushed me out of the house and ran. “Of course.”

  Mom sighs. “I’ll think of something, but this is it. You’ve got till tomorrow.”

  “Thank you.”

  We say our goodbyes, and I hang up.

  I’ve never given marriage a lot of thought, but I guess I’ve always assumed I’d eventually meet some nice, quiet girl and she’d… I don’t know. Cook? Take care of me and a couple of kids.

  Andrea’s a DiFiero, someone who could tear a hole in my life.

  Or end it.

  Physically, she’s everything I could ask for. Tall, gorgeous, and with curves to keep me busy for a lifetime. Two lifetimes. She’s mouthy, reckless and frankly, kind of spoiled, but she speaks her mind and she’s no pushover. I fucking love that.

  She’s prickly, but she makes me laugh.

  Walking slowly, deep in thought, I let my eyes follow her to the windows. She stops and takes a bite of cold pizza, her hand resting on her stomach. The look on her face is somewhere between terror and awe.

  She’s going to have my baby.

  Is her mind as fucked up as mine right now?

  Probably worse. It takes two to screw, but only one of us carries it to term.

  “You guys have one of these places too?” I jump at the voice right behind me. Somehow, I missed Evie sneaking up. “When Andrea said ‘lake house’ I wasn’t expecting a bloody estate. Good enough for the Queen Mother herself, this is.”

  “Hm?” I look around. The house is enormous, on an exclusive stretch of the shore. There can’t be more than a handful of properties like this in the area. I bet it’s been in their family for ages. “Nah. We have a couple places in Chicago, but nothing out here.”

  “Aw. I was hoping it was a mob thing, and maybe you all got together for sailing holidays and Fourth of July picnics.”

  I snort at the image of DiFieros and Caporossis trying to sink each other, or swapping fireworks out for dynamite. Talk about blood on the water. “We do have a vineyard in Tuscany, though.”