Chapter 8
Two hours later, Prissy glanced up from a report she’d been perusing to watch as Stan entered their bedroom suite and closed the double doors behind him.
“Boys in bed?” she asked.
“Yes, ma’am. Homework completed, baths taken, teeth brushed, clothes laid out for tomorrow. Check, check, check and check.”
“Thanks, honey.” Prissy smiled ruefully. “I didn’t mean to desert you like that, but I needed to put as much distance as possible between myself and our firstborn.”
Stan chuckled. “He’s lucky you did. I honestly thought you were gonna strangle him with your bare hands.”
“I certainly wanted to,” Prissy muttered darkly. “If I didn’t think it would traumatize our other children, I just might have.”
Stan laughed, tugging off his undershirt as he sauntered to the walk-in closet. The sight of his thick, rippling muscles defused some of Prissy’s anger. Some, not all.
Setting her paperwork on the cherry nightstand, she asked, “Did you get the full story out of him?”
“Of course. You know I don’t play that.”
Prissy waited not so patiently as Stan disappeared into the closet to change his clothes. Two minutes later he reemerged wearing gray pajama bottoms and no shirt. Prissy bit her bottom lip as her gaze latched onto his broad, muscular chest. It was downright criminal how utterly virile and sexy the man was.
Heading to the master bathroom to brush his teeth, he explained, “Manny told me he was defending a girl that Rory Kerrigan was picking on.”
“Taylor,” Prissy supplied.
“Right.”
“I saw her at the school. When we were leaving the principal’s office, she came up and hugged Manny and thanked him. So I figured he must have gotten into the fight because he was standing up for her.” Prissy frowned, folding her arms across her chest. “Why couldn’t he have just told me that?”
“Guess he figured it wouldn’t matter,” Stan said pragmatically. “Regardless of the reason he was fighting, he knew he was in deep trouble.”
“That’s exactly what he said.” Prissy scowled. “He really is your son.”
Stan chuckled around a mouthful of toothpaste.
“He’s always been stubborn,” Prissy continued, adjusting the heavy bed covers at her waist. “But it seems that the older he gets, the more hotheaded he becomes.”
Stan finished brushing his teeth, then switched off the light and left the bathroom. “Don’t be too hard on him, babe. You know boys will be boys.”
“Excuse me?” Prissy sputtered indignantly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Boys fight,” Stan stated matter-of-factly. “Back in Atlanta, Michael and Manning brawled with other boys all the time. It was practically a rite of passage.”
“Only because the neighborhood was overrun by hoodlums who terrorized anyone who was afraid to fight back. The boys had no choice but to defend themselves and protect their younger brothers.” Prissy gestured around the large, elegantly furnished bedroom. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’re not in the old neighborhood anymore.”
Stan looked amused as he climbed into the king-size bed. “So I guess there are no hoodlums in Coronado, huh?”
“That’s not what I’m saying,” Prissy protested. “And I can’t believe you’re defending Manny’s behavior when you know what the repercussions might be.”
“I’m not defending his behavior,” Stan countered mildly. “I’m just asking you to cut him some slack. What he did today was honorable, standing up for a young lady who couldn’t stand up for herself. You know as well as I do that if he’d let Rory get away with bullying Taylor, we both would have been disappointed in him.”
Prissy couldn’t deny it. Even as angry as she was that afternoon, she’d been undeniably moved by the touching encounter between Manning and Taylor. What mother wouldn’t have appreciated witnessing her teenage son’s kinder, gentler side?
Watching her expression soften, Stan smiled. “I seem to recall a few fights I got into while defending your honor when we were in high school. Do you remember?”
A tender, reminiscent smile curved Prissy’s lips. “Yes, I remember,” she admitted, awash with memories of being a shy, brainy student who’d miraculously captured the heart of one of the most popular boys at school. While Prissy had never been as woefully frumpy as poor Taylor, she’d been enough of a Plain Jane to go largely unnoticed by most guys…until Stan came along and turned her world upside down.
For as long as she lived, she would never forget the day their paths had collided—literally. She’d been rushing to class when suddenly she’d run right into the solid wall of Stan’s chest. The impact had sent her books scattering across the floor, but that was nothing compared to the way her heart had somersaulted when Stan grabbed her arms to keep her from falling backward.
She’d fallen anyway…fallen hopelessly in love.
Sighing deeply at the memory, Prissy shifted onto her side to face Stan, imitating his pose with her head propped in her hand. She wore one of his oversize CFD T-shirts and had her hair wrapped in a satin scarf.
“Okay,” she relented, “so maybe I can cross one or two things off my chore list for Manny. But only after we know what the fallout will be from Rory’s injury.”
Stan chuckled, affectionately tweaking her nose. “Rory’s parents aren’t gonna sue us, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Prissy raised a brow at him. “How do you know that?”
“For starters, hiring a lawyer is expensive, and I know the Kerrigans don’t have money like that. Second, I’ve worked with Rory’s father, so I know the type of man he is. I’m sure he realizes that filing a lawsuit against us would only draw attention to the fact that his son got his punk ass whupped by our son, who happens to be a freshman. Believe me, no self-respecting man would subject his own kid to that kind of public humiliation. Right now he’s probably just hoping that this whole thing will die down as quickly and quietly as possible.”
Prissy sighed. “I sure hope you’re right. Because the timing of this incident couldn’t be worse.”
“I know,” Stan agreed, gently stroking her cheek. “Tell you what. If you don’t hear back from Mrs. Kerrigan tomorrow, after I drop you off at the airport on Thursday, I’ll swing by the firehouse to have a man-to-man talk with Rory’s father. How does that sound?”
“It sounds good.” At the mention of her upcoming business trip, Prissy was suddenly reminded of the phone call she’d received from Celeste that morning.
After a brief hesitation, she murmured, “I spoke to Celeste today.”
Stan’s expression instantly darkened. “What did she want?”
Again Prissy hesitated, knowing all too well how Stan felt about his former sister-in-law. “She wants to see me while I’m in Rochester for the conference. She’s spending the next four months there with Grant, who’s working on a research project for the Mayo Clinic.”
Stan stared at Prissy. “You’re joking, right?”
“You know I wouldn’t joke about something like this.”
“So let me get this straight,” Stan growled, angrily pushing himself up to a sitting position. “While my brother is working his ass off to make ends meet, keep food on the table and raise two sons who’re still reeling from the divorce, Celeste is off playing house with her fucking boyfriend?”
Prissy grimaced. “In a nutshell, yes.”
“That selfish bitch!” Stan exploded, his dark eyes flashing with fury. “Just when I thought she couldn’t get any more shameless, she proves me wrong!”
“I know,” Prissy murmured. “I couldn’t believe she had the audacity to call and invite me to dinner.”
“And what’d you tell her?”
“I told her no, of course. I have no interest in hearing anything she has to say at this point.”
Stan scowled. “How the hell does she plan to keep her court-appointed visits while she’s in Minnesota? Does she plan to fly back to Atlanta every weekend?”
“I don’t know. She claims she’s going to work out an arrangement with Sterling. That is, whenever she gets around to telling him that she’s in Minnesota.”
“What? She hasn’t told him yet?”
“Apparently not.”
“Son of a bitch,” Stan growled, shaking his head in angry disbelief. “No wonder Sterl didn’t say anything to me when we talked yesterday. He doesn’t even know that Celeste has flown the damn coop.”
“And I don’t think we should be the ones to tell him.” At the dark look Stan shot her, Prissy elaborated, “As furious as we both are, and as much as we want to intervene on Sterling’s behalf, we have to let him and Celeste work through these issues on their own. They were married to each other for sixteen years. Ultimately, they’re the only ones who know what truly went wrong in their marriage. But they both love Michael and Marcus, so I believe they’ll do what’s best for their sons.”
Stan scowled, muttering an expletive under his breath.
“Do I have your word that you won’t interfere?” Prissy pressed gently.
Stan didn’t answer.
“Stanton?”
He blew out a harsh breath. “Yeah,” he grumbled darkly. “I won’t interfere. Damn it.”
“Good.” Suppressing a small smile, Prissy curved an arm around his waist and laid her head against his muscled bare chest. She felt the tension ebb from his body moments before he kissed the top of her head and wrapped an arm around her, drawing her protectively closer. She sighed and closed her eyes, enjoying the sinewy warmth of his skin and the strength of his heartbeat beneath her cheek.
They were silent for a few minutes, content to just hold each other. Since Stan spent half the week at the fire station, Prissy cherished these moments of togetherness when she could enjoy having him all to herself. As the wife of a firefighter, she understood the dangers that Stan faced every time he went out on an emergency call. She knew that he could be taken from her at any time. So she never, ever took his presence for granted.
“You’d better not be falling asleep,” Stan murmured, his deep baritone rumbling through her.
“Why not?” she teased without opening her eyes. “It’s been a long, stressful day. I’m tired.”
“You can sleep after I collect on my rain check.”
“What rain check? I don’t remember promising any—”
She was silenced by the warm pressure of Stan’s mouth covering hers. As a soft sigh of pleasure escaped her, Stan shifted on the bed until they were lying on their sides facing each other.
Prissy opened her mouth as his tongue slid inside, sensually stroking hers. As her nipples tightened, she lifted her leg and draped her thigh across his waist. Groaning softly, Stan pressed the hard, heavy ridge of his shaft against her belly and reached around to cup her butt cheek.
Prissy moaned as moisture seeped onto her panties, making the cotton crotch stick to the pulsing folds of her sex. As Stan deepened the kiss, she sucked on his tongue and rocked her hips against his.
Through the hazy fog of desire clouding her mind, her conscience nagged at her, demanding an answer to the question that had taunted her all day.
With a supreme effort, she broke the kiss and pulled back, ignoring Stan’s protesting groan. As his lashes slowly lifted, she searched his face. “Baby?”
“Yeah?”
She looked him in the eye. “Who paged you today?”
He blinked at her, nonplussed. “When?”
“This morning after we made love in my office. Someone paged you.”
“Oh.” His heavy brows furrowed in confusion. “I thought I told you it was someone from work.”
“No,” Prissy countered evenly, “I assumed it was someone from work, and you never actually corrected my assumption.”
“Because you were right. It was one of my coworkers.”
Prissy shook her head slowly at him. “No, it wasn’t.”
He frowned. “What’re you talking about?”
“I called the station after you left my office. I asked Dora to check if anyone there had paged you. No one had. So again I ask, Stanton. Who paged you?”
He eyed her incredulously. “I can’t believe you called my workplace to check up on me, Pris.”
“Just answer the question.”
“I’ve given you no reason to—”
She bolted upright. “Just answer the damn question!”
“I did, woman, but you ain’t trying to hear it!”
“Because I know you’re lying to me!”
Stan stared at her, his face as hard and impenetrable as granite.
Prissy stared back at him, her heart pounding violently against her ribs. She could feel the white-hot flames of that inferno sweeping dangerously closer, licking at her, threatening to consume her.
As tears scalded her eyes, she abruptly rolled away, turning her back on Stan.
Without warning he hauled her against him, his muscular arms banding tightly around her resistant body.
“Let me go, Stan.”
“No, goddamn it! You’re not going anywhere, and neither am I!”
Prissy squeezed her eyes shut, letting the tears escape as she cried out, “I don’t know what’s going on with you. I feel like I’m losing you, and I don’t know why!”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Stan groaned against the nape of her neck. “I’m so sorry.”
What are you apologizing for? Prissy wanted to scream. What have you done?
But suddenly she thought of the weekend they’d flown back to Atlanta to visit Sterling, Michael and Marcus after Celeste moved out. She thought of how devastated they’d all been, how utterly lost and bereft Sterling had looked.
And she’d realized, then, that sometimes ignorance could be bliss. Because if Celeste’s infidelity had never been discovered, her family would still be intact.
“I love you,” Stan whispered fiercely, rubbing his face back and forth against Prissy’s hair. “I love you so damn much, baby.”
“Then just hold me,” Prissy pleaded tearfully. “Hold me, and don’t ever let go.”
“I won’t.” His arms tightened around her, as if he were trying to absorb her into his body. “I swear I won’t.”
And for now, that was enough.
Sometime around midnight, Manning was awakened by a light tapping noise.
Groggily opening his eyes, he peered around his darkened bedroom. When he realized that the sound was coming from the window, he threw back the covers, climbed out of bed and padded across the room.
Reaching the window, he shoved the curtains open and was shocked to see Caitlyn’s face pressed to the glass.
She smiled and waved at him, as if it were perfectly normal for her to be crouched outside his bedroom window in the middle of the freakin’ night.
When he stood there gaping at her, she grinned mischievously and mouthed, Aren’t you gonna let me in?
Manning hesitated, casting a furtive glance at his closed bedroom door. He was in enough trouble as it was. If his parents caught him with a girl in his room, he’d be grounded till he graduated from high school—assuming he lived that long.
Another tap on the glass drew his gaze back to the window.
Please? Caitlyn silently cajoled, batting her lashes at him.
Needing no further encouragement, Manning quickly raised the windowpane and reached down to lift her through the opening.
“Mmmm,” she purred appreciatively, gripping his biceps as he set her down on the floor. “So strong.”
“Shh!” Clapping his hand over her mouth, Manning whispered sharply, “What the hell are you doing here?”
Her hazel eyes glittered in the moonlight as she responded to his question. When her words came out muffled, Manning frowned. “Huh?”
She lowered her eyes, pointedly staring at his hand over her mouth.
“You have to keep your voice down so no one will hear you,” Manning warned. “I’m serious. All right?”
At her obedient nod, he removed his hand.
She smiled coyly, sliding her arms around his neck and pressing her soft body against his. Her dark hair was swept into a bun, and she had on a pink trench coat that made him wonder what she wore beneath.
“I came to congratulate you, slugger,” she whispered, her candy-scented breath fanning his face. “Everyone at school is talking about how you totally kicked Rory Kerrigan’s ass, had him bleeding everywhere and whimpering for his mommy.” She snickered. “No one’s ever stood up to that douchebag before. You’re a hero, Manning.”
“Yeah?” he murmured with a wry half smile. “Tell that to my parents.”
“I will if you want me to. Seriously.”
“Uh, thanks, but I don’t think it’d do any good. How’d you get up here?”
“I climbed up the trellis.”
“The what?”
“The trellis.”
An image of the rose-draped ladder attached to the side of the house filled Manning’s mind, and he chuckled. “I didn’t know that’s what it was called.”
A delighted grin curved Caitlyn’s lips. “God, you’re cute.”
Manning suddenly remembered that on the ride to school that morning, she’d casually asked him whether he had his own bedroom and where it was located. Now he knew why she’d been so interested.
As a cold gust of wind swept into the room, he pulled away from Caitlyn to close the window. As he turned around, she caught his face between her hands and kissed him. He kissed her back, sucking on the cherry-flavored tongue she plunged into his mouth.
Moaning softly with pleasure, she backed him toward the bed and pushed him down. Heart pounding with excitement, Manning watched as she unbuttoned her trench coat and slipped it from her shoulders.
His eyes flew wide. “Shit!”
Her naked body glowed softly in the moonlight as she climbed onto the bed. She helped Manning pull off his shorts, then reached up and removed a foil packet tucked inside her bun.
It was all Manning could do to hold still as she covered him with the condom and straddled his waist.
“Are you a virgin?” she whispered.
He swallowed hard. “Hell, no.”
Her eyes twinkled. “That’s too bad,” she lamented.
“Why?”
“I wanted to have the bragging rights of popping your cherry.”
That sounded fair enough.
“Okay,” Manning quickly amended. “I’m a virgin.”
Caitlyn laughed, low and wicked. “They say you never forget your first. Do you think you could ever forget me, Manning?”
Not in this lifetime.
“Depends.”
“On what?”
“What you’re working with.”
This startled another laugh out of her. “What I’m working with?”
“Yeah.” Manning grinned cockily. “You might be my first, but you damn sure won’t be my last. So I can’t answer your question till I see how many moves you got.”
Caitlyn smiled seductively. “Oh, I’ve got plenty.”
“Show me.”
So she did.