Mad About You (boxed set of beloved romances)

by Stephanie Bond

  Chad sighed with impatience. "Can I go over there?” He pointed to the neon sign of a multimedia store blasting music.

  Bailey opened his mouth to say yes, but Ginny cut in. "Not by yourself. Let us rest for five minutes and we'll walk over with you."

  "But it's just right there!" Chad complained, waving his arm. Wheeling to face Bailey, Chad crossed his arms. "She wouldn't let me go to the park alone today and ride my skateboard—she followed me there and sat and watched the whole time. It was embarrassing—I was the only kid there who had a baby-sitter."

  Bailey tried to hide his smile, then looked at her. "I can see the front of the store from here, Ginny."

  She looked back and forth at them, then sighed. "Be back in twenty minutes to wake us up." Chad's new sneakers squeaked as he took off.

  Silence stretched between them, punctuated by the sounds of shoppers leaving for home.

  "I'm beat," Ginny said unnecessarily.

  "Me too."

  She laughed and leaned her head back. "And broke."

  "Me too." He rubbed his eyes in big circles. "How do people do this on a regular basis?"

  She yawned loudly. "It's become entertainment for families who have money—or credit cards."

  "We never did this."

  "That's because we never had money or credit."

  He sat up, eyes open. "I shopped for you... sometimes. I remember bringing home one fun little turquoise number that you enjoyed—"

  She lifted her head and narrowed her eyes. "Until I found out you'd spent a week's grocery money on it."

  He grinned. "It was worth every bologna sandwich."

  She reddened adorably, and he felt his body tense with longing.

  "You wouldn't happen to still have that little number, would you, Ginny?"

  She opened her mouth to respond, then glanced away and straightened when something across the mall caught her eye.

  He looked too, and immediately jumped to his feet. Chad was at the door of the store he’d begged to visit, being yanked by two men.

  "Help!" he yelled, struggling. "Let me go!"

  "They're taking him!" Ginny shouted.

  Bailey dropped the parcels he held and bounded over, with Ginny only a few steps behind. As he neared, he heard an alarm beeping shrilly, drawing the attention of passersby. The two men wearing nametags weren't taking Chad, they were restraining him.

  "What's going on here?" he demanded of one of the men who held Chad by the wrist.

  "Do you know this kid?"

  "He's my son," he retorted, widening his stance. "What's the problem?"

  "The problem, sir," the other man said in a monotone, "is your son is a thief."

  "What?" Bailey bellowed. "There must be some mistake," he said as he looked at Chad's panicked face.

  "No mistake, sir." The first man reached into the front of Chad's jeans and withdrew two compact discs. "The police are on their way."

  Chapter Eight

  VIRGINIA FELT FAINT, but anger kept her on her feet. Chad had been caught shoplifting—what a fitting end to the roller-coaster day she'd spent with him.

  She'd awakened to the sound of a blasting TV. Then he demanded pepperoni pizza for breakfast, which he ate in sullen silence while playing his Nintendo. Then he refused to budge from channel-surfing all morning. After lunch he'd asked to go to the park by himself, but she'd insisted on going, so he hadn't stayed very long. When they returned and she asked what he wanted to do about his bedroom, he made a gagging sound and said he could fix it all with a match and a can of gasoline.

  The one bright spot had been when her parents called to talk to him. He'd changed colors like a chameleon, politely answering their questions and enthusiastically agreeing to go camping with them in their RV one day the following week. When he hung up, he flopped onto the couch.

  If he'd asked once where Bailey was and when was he going to get there, he'd asked thirty-five times. Cozy little fantasies she'd harbored about getting to know her son that day were banished when he announced he needed to make a few phone calls to friends back home. She'd agreed, retreating to the kitchen. She was going a little stir crazy herself because of her abrupt hiatus from work, so she resorted to cleaning windows. She hadn't meant to eavesdrop—in fact, she'd been pretty certain he'd purposely talked loud enough for her to overhear his comments.

  "Yeah, he's real cool, but I have to live with her…Expects me to sleep in some sissy pink room, yuck…Drives a fancy car, but lives in a cracker box with no yard…I feel like I'm in prison."

  Ironic word choice, she thought, considering he was now courting detention time.

  Frightening visions popped into her head: Chad shoplifting, then stealing cars, then armed robbery... an exaggeration perhaps, but she knew criminal behavior could usually be linked back to petty crimes at a young age. She had the feeling Chad's behavior, at least in the immediate future, would depend on the way they handled this infraction.

  One thing was certain—she did not intend to raise a thief.

  "Bailey," Chad whined, crocodile tears spilling down his cheeks, "help me! I was going to pay for the stuff—honest! I was coming to get some money from you."

  She watched her son carefully. He was lying. She'd bet he'd shoplifted before, and if given the chance, he'd do it again.

  She saw Bailey waver.

  Obviously attempting to wear him down, Chad said, "I was trying to get your attention, but you weren't watching like you said."

  Virginia pursed her mouth. The little hustler.

  Bailey looked at the two men still holding Chad. "Can't we settle this before the police get here?" He removed his wallet. "I'd be happy to pay for the merchandise."

  "No," she said.

  Everyone turned to look at her. Bailey frowned. "What did you say, Ginny?"

  She set her chin. "I said no, let the police handle it."

  Bailey took a step in her direction. "But, Ginny, he said—"

  "Can't you see he's working you? I won’t have a hoodlum living in my home."

  Chad's eyes narrowed in contempt. "I don't want to live with you anyway."

  She arched an eyebrow. "So you’re trying to get yourself thrown in jail?"

  "Jail would be better than living with you," he yelled. "I hate you!"

  She ignored the sharp pain that shot through her chest. "I'm sorry to hear that, because I happen to love you."

  Chad's mouth tightened and he turned his head.

  Bailey touched her arm and spoke for her ears only. "Ginny, getting the police involved might be too much for him."

  She shook her head. "He’s testing us. He needs to know now what he can’t get away with."

  He studied her face for a moment, then gave a short nod of concession. "You're his mother," he said quietly, then turned back to the men. "We'll wait for the police," he affirmed.

  "But I didn't mean it!" Chad yelled.

  She watched to see if he was getting to his father, but Bailey simply looked at him. "Like I said before, you need to learn when to be quiet."

  The police arrived within fifteen minutes, and Ginny gave thanks the two officers were both brawny and intimidating-looking. By the terrified look in Chad's eyes, she concluded he'd never been caught before. She and Bailey listened patiently while the store personnel explained the situation and presented the merchandise they'd removed from Chad's clothing. A closer search also revealed a keychain and a pack of temporary tattoos.

  The older officer filled out a report while he shook his head. He looked up. "You the parents?"

  "Yes, officer," Ginny volunteered, stepping up. Bailey did the same.

  "Ma'am, I'm afraid we're going to have to file a juvenile complaint."

  "What does that mean?" Bailey asked.

  "It binds the case over to juvenile court. It'll take a few minutes, then we'll release him into your custody until the court date."

  Virginia nodded gravely.

  Chad had mustered a little bravado. "Are you taking me to j
ail?" His voice held only a tiny tremor.

  "Nope." The cop ripped off a copy of the form. "Not this time anyway. We're releasing you to your folks."

  Chad looked relieved.

  "But you’re not off the hook," the officer warned him. "You'll have to deal with Judge Brice in a few weeks, and that's a scary prospect even for an adult. You'd better clean up your act, kid." He handed a copy of the report to Bailey and said good night.

  Bailey and Virginia apologized to the two men at the store for their trouble, and at Bailey's urging, Chad finally mumbled he was sorry. They shuffled back to their mound of abandoned packages in the center of the mall, where a security officer waited for them. The mall had been closed for thirty minutes, and they were the only customers left.

  They loaded Chad down with packages and silently made their way back to Virginia's car.

  "When will my bike be delivered?" Chad asked, breaking the quiet on the drive home.

  "It won't be," Virginia said.

  "What?" Chad screeched.

  She looked at Bailey in the dimly lit interior, challenging him to defy her, but he simply nodded. She turned her head slightly toward the backseat. "After the stunt you pulled tonight, you're not getting a new bike."

  Chad slammed back against the seat and grunted in frustration. He turned on his game and the car was soon filled with the sounds of jarring music, beeps and sirens. Ginny prayed he was playing an age-appropriate game, but that was a battle for another day. She could almost feel the hatred aimed at the back of her head. She swallowed, remorse filling her, but she bit her tongue hard. No one said parenting was easy.

  After they arrived at her place and carried in all the packages, Chad huffed off to the television room.

  Ginny followed him, with Bailey close behind. "Wait just a minute." She held out her hand for the remote control. He frowned and gave it to her. "Sit down."

  Chad dropped onto the couch, his eyebrows knitted together.

  "I'm appalled at your behavior,” she said. "Shoplifting is a crime. You might get off with a hand-slap the first time, but if you keep it up, you'll wind up in jail."

  He worked his mouth, saying nothing.

  "Is that what you want?" Bailey asked. "To go to jail? To have an arrest record that will haunt you the rest of your life?"

  "No," he mumbled, as if they were stupid.

  "Then the next time you want a CD," Ginny said, "ask for it."

  He frowned. "You wouldn't have liked the music, I knew you wouldn't buy it for me."

  "Try me next time," she urged.

  "Meanwhile," Bailey said, "Ginny and I will talk about an allowance, so you'll have your own spending money."

  "Now go to your room," Ginny said.

  "I'm not sleeping in that pink room."

  "I took down the curtains and removed the comforter."

  "The walls are still pink!"

  She pointed to the stairs. "Go."

  He grabbed up his Nintendo, flounced out of the room and bounded up the stairs. His bedroom door slammed.

  Ginny sagged onto the couch, removed her ball cap, and leaned her head back.

  Bailey sat down, his leg brushing against hers. "Are you sure we did the right thing?" he asked, his brow furrowed.

  "No," she replied honestly, trying to ignore her bodily response to his nearness.

  "Aren't you afraid it'll only make him more hostile toward you?"

  She smiled and shrugged. "I have experience taking grief from Kallihan men."

  He had the grace to blush. "Can't argue there. Did he give you a rough time today?"

  She glanced at him sideways. "He's just feeling me out, I think, seeing how I react to certain things."

  "Smart boy," Bailey said, his voice suddenly husky.

  Her stomach jumped when she realized how close he'd gotten. He studied her face, his eyes hooded with desire. She lifted her head and held up a hand. "Remember our handshake, Bailey."

  He wet his lips. "I think the memory of our kiss has blocked it out," he said, his face grave.

  Uh-oh. She could handle the teasing, the flirting. But when he turned serious, her resolve always weakened. Why did he have to be so damned desirable?

  The touch of his fingers against her hand roused her to move. She sat up, prepared to stand, but he gathered her hand in his and gently pressed her to stay. "Ginny, I need to talk to you about something that should have been said long ago."

  Her heart thudded as he begged her with his eyes to listen. She inhaled and nodded for him to continue, not sure what to expect.

  He dragged in a ragged breath and expelled it noisily. "I was a terrible husband to you. I guess I've known for a long time, but it took me a while to admit it."

  Tears gathered in her eyes and she looked away from him. His grip on her hand tightened.

  "Our marriage didn't fail because I didn't love you, Ginny—I was never unfaithful."

  She raised her eyes to him and blinked them free of tears. A small frown marred his brow.

  "I just wasn't mature enough to handle the responsibility of being married."

  Ginny chewed on the inside of her cheek, then said, "And you're telling me this now because you've changed, is that it?" Her voice sounded amazingly strong—and dubious.

  He sighed. "I'm working on it."

  A choking laugh escaped from her throat, and she shook her head slightly. "And what's all this supposed to mean to me, Bailey?"

  "I don't know," he said. "I just wanted to tell you I'm trying to turn my life around. If there's any love for me left in your heart, please be patient. I can't do anything about the past except say I'm sorry, but I want the three of us to be together, Ginny, as a family."

  She turned his words over in her mind, separating emotion from fact. "Forgive me, Bailey, for not jumping into your arms." She heard the pain clearly in her own voice. "But it's hard to erase the past with a few nice words, even if they are sincere." Withdrawing her hands, she pushed herself up from the couch and walked over to the window.

  For a few seconds the only sound was muffled noise coming from the TV. Her miniature grandfather clock chimed the half hour, then she heard Bailey shift on the couch and rise to his feet. His footsteps made a whooshing sound as he walked across the rug to stand behind her.

  "Just tell me there's hope, Ginny," he said, his voice cracking.

  She bit her bottom lip and clasped her hands together, then turned to face him. "I can't do that to myself, Bailey," she whispered. She raised her chin, realizing she'd just admitted she still had feelings for him. "I won't do that to myself."

  Pressing his lips together, he nodded sadly, glancing at the floor. Then he placed his hands on his hips, inhaled deeply, and said, "Well, I guess I'd better be going."

  She followed him to the front door, her chest tight, her nerves frazzled. Bailey turned and gave her a small smile. "I'm going to make my standard offer to stay."

  Her pulse vaulted with the knowledge that she was getting much too used to Bailey's company, especially in light of the words they'd just exchanged. "Then I guess I'll make my standard reply of 'thanks anyway.' "

  He nodded and smiled tightly, then caught her gaze. His eyes darkened and he stepped toward her. When she realized he meant to kiss her, Ginny pulled back. Bailey stopped, his face inches from hers. She watched his eyes move over her face, regret imprinted in their blue depths. He lowered his mouth to sweep a kiss across her cheek, then walked out the door.

  * * *

  The next couple of days found Ginny and Chad at a stalemate. He didn't talk, and she didn't cave. She offered to take him to the pool, but he refused to move, just played video games for hours on end. She mentioned the zoo and going out to eat, but he wouldn't budge. In fact, he'd hardly made eye contact with her since the night of the shoplifting incident. Bailey came by in the late afternoons to help wallpaper and paint, plus arrange the new bedroom furniture. Around him, Chad acted excited about his room, only to slip back into a funk when Bailey left.


  It seemed that Bailey, too, was not his usual flirty self. Unfailingly cordial, he kept his distance during his evening visits, staying busy but seeming to go out of his way to avoid all physical contact with Ginny. In the beginning she was grateful not to have to keep up her guard, but near the end of the evenings, she found she missed his playful banter. And even though he was noticeably exhausted after lifting and bending for hours, he didn't ask to spend the night, an action that bothered her more than it should have.

  By Thursday morning she'd had enough of Chad's cold shoulder. She put on her running shoes, retrieved his new basketball from his room, and trotted down the stairs to find him in his standard position, prostrate in front of the television. She reached over and clicked it off, only to be assaulted with loud protests.

  "Come on," she said. "We're going to the park."

  He scowled. "I don't want to go."

  "I didn't ask you if you wanted to go, I said we're going."

  "You can't make me," he challenged.

  "I'd planned on bribing you with money," she said bluntly.

  "What?"

  "A game of horse. If you win, I'll give you twenty dollars."

  He looked suspicious, but at least she had his interest. "What if you win?"

  She shrugged. "If I win, you have to wash my car. That's the best deal you'll get all day."

  He frowned and reached for the remote. "What do you know about basketball?"

  "I know that when it comes to shooting, women players top the men."

  Chad lifted one eyebrow. "Can you really shoot?"

  She smiled. "Bailey practically lived in the gym when we were in college. I rebounded for him, so I picked up a few pointers."

  He still looked skeptical, but pulled himself up to a seated position.

  She took it as a good sign and nodded toward the door. "Put on your new shoes."

  After much huffing and sighing, he dragged himself up the stairs, but when he came back down wearing baggy shorts and the spanking new shoes, he had a decided bounce in his step. He leapt up to smack the door frame, grabbed the ball from her hands, launched over the steps, and zigzagged as he dribbled down the driveway.