La Fleur de Love: The Series: Books 1 - 4

by Leger, Lori

  Drake nodded, admiring his sister’s gumption. “I am too, we have a long drive and I’m tired.” He stood up and helped her to her feet. “Red … Everyone … it was nice meeting all of you. Tell Annie I’m sorry I missed her. Bailey, tell your husband I think his band is excellent.”

  Tiffany turned to the group at the table. “Good night all.” She faced Red, who sat silently; wearing the same grim expression he’d worn for the last hour, and nodded before leaving the table without one word to him.

  Drake asked for the keys as soon as they exited the club. After fumbling in her purse, she passed them over to him. He could see her struggling to keep her emotions under control. “Hang on, Sis. Wait until we’re in the car.”

  As soon as Tiffany buckled herself in the seatbelt, she crumbled.

  Drake let her cry for a minute before questioning her. “Okay, what the hell happened in there?”

  Between sobs, hiccups and sniffles the story of the bathroom incident unfolded. “He’s just a player, Drake, and I almost let him play me, too.” She wiped her eyes and sniffed loudly. “I thought he was better than that.”

  “Maybe he is, and you don’t have all the facts yet.”

  She answered groggily, “Maybe he’s not, and I already do.”

  “Look, Tiff, it’s understandable that you’d be leery after five years of Tanner, but I’m telling you now, Red is not the least bit like him.”

  When he didn’t get an immediate answer from her he looked over, seeing she was already passed out in her seat. He sighed and smiled to himself. In her state of drunken sleepiness, she looked just like she did when she was sixteen years old. “Thank God you quit torturing your hair,” he said, as he touched one of her curls and became flooded by memories. Memories of his protective big sister, punching a bully in the face, the day she got her braces and how he’d made fun of her, the day he got his own braces and how she’d comforted him and told him it was no big deal. She’d always been a better sister than he was a brother, and she deserved to be happy. He couldn’t, for the life of him, understand why his parents treated her like a redheaded stepchild. The thought made him laugh out loud.

  “Redheaded,” he murmured. “Annie ‘Nicole’ McAllister, with your red hair and beautiful blue eyes—If you think I’m letting you off the hook that easily, you are so seriously wrong.” He shook his head and laughed again, thinking this was the first Christmas in years he’d actually look forward to. He looked over at his sister again, thinking that if Red didn’t find a way to get back into her good graces, neither of them would be at his place for Christmas. Tomorrow would be soon enough to call him.

  Red waited until Tiffany was out of sight before pushing his chair back roughly. He stood, zeroing in on the brunette across the room.

  “What the hell just happened, Red?” Bailey asked.

  “Did you say or do something to hurt her feelings?” Melissa accused.

  “I didn’t, but I’m thinking someone else did, and I’m about to deal with her right now. Excuse me while I confirm my suspicions.” He strode toward Angelique.

  She was talking to a man on the other end of the bar when Red walked up behind her. “What the hell did you tell her?”

  Angelique turned to him. “Excuse-moi?”

  “Cut the crap, Angel. You know what I’m talking about. What did you tell her?”

  “Oh, sweetie I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she gushed. “Did your little friend leave you in a bad way, Red baby?” She rubbed up against him suggestively. “Maybe I can help you out.”

  He grabbed her by the elbow and marched her toward the opposite end of the club, then on down the hallway. He stopped in front of the restroom doors and pointed up toward the ceiling. “Do you see that? It’s a camera. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  She rolled her eyes at him until he shook her by the elbow again. “Answer me!”

  “Mais oui, yes, I understand!”

  “The electronic video files are in my office right now. I’ll see you follow her into the ladies room, won’t I?” He shook her arm. “What did you do to her? Did you threaten her?”

  “No!”

  “Then what did you tell her?”

  She pulled away from him angrily. “You are out of your mind Red! You turned me down for a skinny little thing like that? What is she, some silly little school girl? You need a woman, Red.”

  “She’s a surgeon, Angelique.” He saw the stubborn lift of her chin as her green eyes flashed angrily.

  “She is pas bon—no good for you. She is nothing compared to me!”

  Red stood nose to nose with her. “She is everything to me. She is the woman I love and you will never speak to her or go near her again. Do you hear me?” His voice rose to an angry crescendo.

  Angelique’s eyes grew wide at both his admission and the tone of his voice, but she remained stubbornly silent.

  He pulled her out of the hallway, past his shocked family.

  “Red, don’t do this!” She struggled to keep up with him while he kept a firm grip on her wrist.

  He stopped in front of the exit and pointed at the door. “Get the hell out of my club and don’t come back.”

  She tried to touch his face. “Oh, come on, baby, don’t be like this.”

  He turned her by the shoulders and opened the door to give her a much gentler than she deserved shove through the portal. He pointed a thumb at her while addressing his door man. “Take a good look at her Benji. She’s no longer welcome in this, or any of my establishments. I’m holding you personally responsible if she gets by.”

  Benji tamped out his cigarette then took out his camera phone to snap a picture of her. “Got it, boss.”

  Red nodded and slammed the door in her face before storming back to his table. He addressed his sisters and brother in law, who had obviously watched the entire display in shock. “Sorry, but I need to attend to some business in my office,” he ground out through jaws clenched tight with anger and frustration.

  Red walked resolutely into the quiet seclusion of his office, and sat in front of his state of the art workstation with several large screen monitors. He stopped the digital video connected to the hidden camera so that he could watch it replay, starting from approximately one hour earlier. That was about the time Doc’s demeanor toward him had changed from heated to decidedly icy. Just as he suspected, he saw Angelique enter the rest room while Tiffany was still inside. The vindictive Creole beauty came out grinning so big he expected her to break out with a victory dance. He continued watching, and growled when Tiffany walked out a few minutes later looking like ice water ran through her veins.

  “Aw hell, Doc. What did she tell you?” He rubbed his face and sat back, sighing. Hoping for some kind of explanation, he pulled out his cell phone to call her. A deep voice answered on the fifth ring.

  “Hey McAllister. It’s Drake.”

  “How is she?”

  “She passed out about five minutes after she got in the car. That’s her ‘screw it all’ drink, you know. Did you figure out what happened?”

  “All I know is an ex-girlfriend had something to do with it. She followed Doc into the restroom, but wouldn’t admit to anything. She’s a spiteful bitch when she wants to be,” he seethed. Drake’s low chuckle reverberated in his ear.

  “She told her you were a player, and that she was only one of hundreds of women you’ve manipulated into sleeping with you. Something about you getting your DJ to play certain songs? She was slurring pretty bad during that, so I may not have caught all of it.”

  “Hundreds, huh? That’s stretching it quite a bit. Now, I admit to having requested a couple of songs before, but only once, and only when I wanted to dance with Doc. I wanted to give her something to remember me by before sending her off with Tanner.”

  “Was that after you broke his nose?”

  “Yep.”

  “Man, I’ve wanted to do that for years. How did that feel?”

  “Pretty damn good. I c
ame close to a repeat performance tonight,” he said, as Drake laughed aloud.

  “Hey, did anyone hear from your sister, the one with the migraine? Did she make it home?”

  “Nobody’s heard from her, but I’m sure she’s okay,” Red answered, wondering why he’d be that concerned.

  “The traffic’s kind of hairy tonight, that’s all. It could be dangerous for somebody with bad migraines like you said she’s prone to. Uh, what does Annie do, anyway?”

  “She’s a physical therapist in Kenton. She moved into a position there about three months ago.”

  “How old is she?”

  “She’s thirty; the spoiled rotten baby of the family, but she’s something else. She was part of the reason for Tanner’s broken nose, you know.”

  “Is she the sister her threw himself at during some wedding reception? I didn’t know who Tiffany was talking about at the time. But now that I’ve seen her, I can’t imagine her standing up to him; she’s such a tiny little thing.”

  Red snorted. “Man, you don’t ever want to tangle with Annie. Believe me, she’s tougher than she looks.”

  “So, you two are the only ones who never married?”

  “Yeah, but if I can straighten this thing out with your sister, I hope to rectify that.”

  “Well, if it’s any consolation, I wish you luck. I want her to be happy.”

  “Thanks man, I appreciate that,” he said before ending the call.

  Red pulled a flash drive out of the top drawer of his desk to download the file. He’d bring it by her house tomorrow and pray she wouldn’t slam the door in his face. He pocketed the drive, turned the camera back on, and left his office.

  Sunday Morning

  Red sat in front of his computer with a cup of coffee, dressed and ready to go. He rotated his neck slowly, trying to get the stiffness out of it. After coming in around two o’clock in the morning he hadn’t slept well—no surprise there. He planned to swing by Doc’s after church to show her the surveillance video.

  He plugged in the jump drive, deciding to watch the video from the beginning to check things out. There were cameras at three different locations in the club, and three screens appeared showing the different views. The camera near the dance floor also caught action at the entrance, so he was able to see the moment Tiffany and Drake entered the club. He’d just reached to fast forward the video when he witnessed the body slam between Annie and Drake. A particular look between them had him glued to the screen throughout their entire encounter. He watched until Drake re-entered the club after going after Annie.

  “I’ll be damned.” He sat back in his chair then checked the time. He rubbed his chin, wondering what to do with this newly discovered revelation. He pocketed the jump drive and left the house.

  Red exited the mission style church and pulled his cell phone from his pocket on the way to his truck. He pulled up Tiffany’s number, let it ring several times—nearly gave up when a faint voice answered.

  “Doc, is that you?”

  “Yes.”

  “You don’t sound well. Are you okay?”

  “No.”

  “Is Drake there to help you?”

  “I don’t know. What do you want?”

  “I wanted to tell you that the woman who spoke to you in the lad—”

  She cut him off quickly. “I can’t—talk—right now.”

  The phone clattered, as though she dropped it on the floor. Red heard her cough, and then cringed at the distinctive sound of dry heaving.

  After a quick trip to the nearest grocery store, he stood at her door, waiting for her to answer the bell. Realizing she wouldn’t, he took a chance and walked inside the unlocked door. He placed two grocery bags on her table and reached for the folded piece of paper with the word ‘Sis’ written on it. Curious, he opened it and read the brief note.

  Tiff,

  I know you won’t feel like having company when you wake up so I’m going back to Houston. I have some loose ends to wrap up if I’m going to relocate to Lake Coburn.

  Hope you’re not feeling like death warmed over today, but, we did try to tell you. I’ll call you tonight and let you know my plans.

  Love you!

  Drake

  P.S. Try not to give old McAllister such a hard time. I think he’s a good man. Give him a chance.

  He refolded the letter, placed it back on the table then walked quietly into the hallway. “Doc, I’m here to help.” He heard a faint response from the last door on the right.

  “Red?”

  “Yeah, it’s me, Doc. Are you okay?”

  “No.”

  He stood outside her bedroom door. “Do you need help?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m coming in.” Red opened the door and slowly made his way inside the semi-darkened room. Once his eyes became accustomed to the dim light, he was able to make out Tiffany’s form in her bed. Upon closer inspection, he found her wrapped in sheets, as pale as the worm at the bottom of a bottle of Mexican tequila. Her curly hair was in wild disarray and she lay still as death, clutching a plastic bucket to her.

  He sent her a piteous look and shook his head. “Doc, even if what she’d said had been true, it wouldn’t be worth that.”

  After several attempts, her eyelids finally fluttered open. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she managed to speak. “I’m s-sick, Red.”

  “I know. Will you let me help?” Red waited for her nod before doling out a portion of thick, clear, sweet smelling liquid from a bottle he’d just purchased. He helped her to sit up and brought the dosage cup to her lips. “Here, this will help with the nausea.”

  She smelled it and turned her face away, gagging.

  “I know, it smells sweet, but I promise it’ll help.”

  She wrinkled her nose but drank it down with a shudder.

  “Do you have a blender?” he asked.

  “In the kitchen—somewhere,” she groaned, covering her eyes with one hand.

  Red placed a gentle kiss on the top of her head. “I’ll find it and promise I’m going to make it all better, Doc.”

  After a quick search through her cabinets and several minutes of prep time, he poured a blended noxious looking concoction into a glass. He brought it to Tiffany, along with a couple of aspirins, some vitamins and a glass of water. Helping her to sit up again, he held the glass under her nose.

  She looked at it warily. “You expect me to drink that?”

  “Trust me, it works.”

  “What’s in it?” she asked.

  “I’ll tell you later. Come on, it’ll make you feel better.”

  She took a sip and shuddered.

  “Don’t sip, gulp it down. Hold your nose if you have to.”

  She did as she was told, gagging once in between gulps. When she’d finished about half of the large glass she pushed it away from her. “That’s all I can take right now, I swear.” She put both hands on her head. “Oh my head …”

  He handed her a glass of water, two aspirins, and the vitamin tablets. “Take these now.”

  She took them and collapsed on the bed, holding her head.

  “Do you have an ice pack, Doc?”

  “No.”

  Red left her just long enough to scrounge through her freezer, came back with a bag of frozen peas wrapped in a clean, dry dish towel. “This will help.” He placed the bag carefully on her head.

  Tiffany covered his hand with her own. “Thank you,” she said weakly, as a single tear rolled out of the corner of one eye.

  Red brushed the tear away with his thumb. “Sleep now. You’ll feel a lot better when you wake up. Call me when you do.” He tried to stand but Tiffany gripped his hand tightly.

  “Please. I don’t want to die alone.”

  He gazed down at her, curled up on her side, facing the edge of the bed with her eyes closed. If he hadn’t already been in love with her, the sight of her, so vulnerable but wanting him with her—that would have done it for him, for sure. “You’re not going to die
, Doc, but I’m not going anywhere.” He walked around to the other side of her full sized bed, kicked his shoes off and crawled in with her. Scooting as close to her body as he dared, he covered her with his left arm. Red barely managed to smother his groan of satisfaction when she grabbed his forearm to pull it close while pulling his right arm under her head as a pillow.

  He lay holding the woman he loved, overcome by a feeling of languid belonging, and eventually, blissful sleepiness.

  Something cold and wet woke Tiffany. She lay surrounded by a luxurious warmth and struggled to remember what had led up to her being there. Nausea—awful nausea—and a debilitating headache from hell. Her stomach felt fine, but she rolled her eyes around under her lids, trying to determine if she’d need a pain reliever stronger than an OTC. Miraculously free from pain, she opened her eyes. She saw two glasses on her nightstand, one with water and one still half-filled with that awful stuff that Red made her drink.

  Red. He’d come by, offering help.

  The cold and wet made its presence known again by dripping on the bridge of her nose. That’s when she remembered the bag of frozen something he’d put on her head.

  She attempted to raise her arm to remove it, but something very warm and heavy pinned it down. Something so very strong and masculine that smelled wonderful.

  Red. Again. He’d stayed with her, just as she’d asked him to.

  She looked down, saw his left arm wrapped around her, and then realized her head rested on his right arm. She snuggled closer to him and felt him stir, moving his arm just enough to free hers. She lifted her hand to remove the cool, wet bag of—she stared at what used to be a bag of frozen peas. Now it was a soggy bag of room temperature peas soaking her head and pillow. It fell to the floor with a soft, squishy shplat. She used her hand to push her hair back from her damp forehead as Red spoke, his voice deep, raspy with sleep, and sounding sexy as hell.

  “How do you feel?”

  “Warm—and cozy, actually.”

  “Any residual nausea or headache?”