Tools of Engagement Read online

  “We have so much in common,” Bethany said, sinking down into the couch and promptly finding herself with a pair of little girl feet in her lap. It was nice.

  Very nice.

  They’d been watching QVC for fifteen minutes, discarding their previous favorites for whatever bling was on the screen several times, when Bethany heard a car stop at the curb outside. It didn’t sound like Wes’s truck. Maybe it was one of the neighbors? With a prickle on the back of her neck, Bethany carefully set Laura’s feet back onto the cushion and crossed to the front window.

  There was a woman climbing out of the back of what appeared to be an Uber. Her hair was unbrushed and she wore a man’s flannel. Though her eyes were shadowed, there was no mistaking the resemblance to Laura.

  Becky tripped a little on the path on her way toward the front door, and Bethany knew something was off. Way off. Bethany didn’t know a lot about this woman, except that she’d been a foster child like Wes and hadn’t been able to cope with raising a child alone, at least for the time being. She also knew that Becky had used drugs before—and that meant she could be using them now. In other words, she needed to intercept Becky before she came into the house. No question. At least until Wes could get there.

  As quickly as she could, Bethany shot off a text to Wes and opened the front door without making a sound, slipping out onto the stoop. She descended with the brightest smile she could muster, highly aware that this woman’s reception of her could range from friendly to hostile. Especially if she suspected Bethany was barring her entrance to the house. Come on, Wes. Get here.

  “Hi,” she said, trying to keep her voice low, so Laura wouldn’t hear them from inside the house. “I’m Bethany.”

  The other woman’s gait slowed, suspicion blanketing her features. “This is my house. What are you doing here?”

  “I’m a guest. Of Wes.”

  “Oh.” Becky rubbed her tongue along her gums. “He’s not here, is he?”

  “No, he went to pick you up.”

  She avoided Bethany’s gaze, her hands disappearing and twisting in the cuffs of her flannel. “I’m just here to get my kid.”

  The bigger picture cleared. “You didn’t want Wes to be here when you came.”

  “I don’t need to talk to you. I don’t even know you.”

  “No, you don’t,” Bethany said calmly. “But Wes is on his way. Why don’t we just wait until he gets here?”

  She coughed into the crook of her elbow. “I got a place to take her.”

  Bethany couldn’t help the flame of anger igniting in her chest. Becky was just going to take Laura and go without telling Wes. She was trying her best to have empathy for this woman who was obviously going through something, possibly addiction, but she couldn’t help but want to rage on Wes’s behalf. He would have been devastated.

  “Wes is coming. Let’s just wait.”

  “I don’t have to wait to go into my own house. To see my own kid.”

  “If you didn’t want Wes here, you know there’s a reason you shouldn’t.”

  That logic took a moment to infiltrate, but when it did, Becky’s eyes filled with tears. She started to issue a rejoinder, but Wes’s truck came flying around the end of the block, braking hard where the Uber had been moments before.

  His attention was locked on the window of the house when he climbed from the truck, relief crossing his features when he didn’t see Laura. He must have put on his hat after leaving Project Doomsday, but he took it off now and slapped it against his thigh restlessly, as if unaware of the nervous gesture. “Why did you have to do that?” Wes said finally, addressing his sister with a thick voice. “You’re unfit to see her if you’re playing these kinds of games, Becky. You left me in charge until you sorted yourself out. You made me promise I wouldn’t leave until you had. You haven’t. So what the hell am I supposed to do?”

  “I do have my shit together, Wes.” She sniffed hard. “I’m living with my boyfriend in Linden. I got a job.”

  “Boyfriend,” he echoed in disbelief. “You’re not even divorced yet.”

  “If I could track his ass down, I would be!”

  “Keep your voice quiet,” he growled. “She doesn’t need to see you like this.”

  “I’m fine.”

  Laughing without humor, he paced in a circle and came back. “You got a room for her in Linden? Babysitters? Have you enrolled her in school?”

  Becky’s expression was the very picture of a woman treading water. “I’m . . . I’m going to take care of all that. Jesus. Give me five seconds.”

  “Take care of it first and then we’ll talk.”

  “You can’t stop me from seeing her.”

  Strain appeared at the corners of Wes’s eyes. “No, I can’t. But do you really want her to see you like this? Or do you think you can do better?” Wes sent Bethany a pleading look. “Could you go inside and distract her? Please?”

  “Yes, of course.” Bethany wheeled around and started to walk up the path, but then stopped and looked back. “Wes, could you give her my number?” she said for his ears alone. “No pressure. I just want to help.”

  After a moment, he nodded, temporary warmth moving in his face. “Yeah, darlin’. I will.”

  Wes stared into the sunken eyes of his half sister and he could see her as she’d been at seventeen. Lonely, unsure of herself, just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

  Like he’d told Bethany, Becky had a harder time than him. He suspected he only knew the half of what she’d gone through while being wrung out by the system. By the time he’d met her, the damage had already been done. To both of them. He’d been too jaded by his experience to love her the way a brother should. The guilt he’d harbored over that might even be part of the reason he’d gotten on the plane to New York—and thank Christ he had.

  Never in his life had Wes felt like he was standing in the right spot. Until now.

  Not only with Laura. Or Bethany. Or the friends he’d made in Port Jefferson.

  No, he was meant to be there standing in front of Becky at this crossroads in her life. This wasn’t about him. Or his pain. Or lack of belonging. It was bigger than any of those things. And for once, he wasn’t thinking about skating away and avoiding entanglements. This was it. He was going to let himself get tangled up.

  The cool sweep of relief in his chest only reinforced his decision.

  “Hey.” When his voice emerged unsteady, he took a long breath and centered himself. “Look at me and listen good.”

  She crossed her arms and waited, her stance belligerent but her eyes full of tears. Damn, he hadn’t done enough for her. Not by a damn sight. But he could change that now. He could stop using his past to excuse his commitment issues and dig the hell in.

  “You’re my sister and I care about you.”

  Her arms dropped slowly to her sides.

  “You’re a survivor and a fighter, all right? You’re going to come out clean on the other side of this and see your daughter again. You don’t have a choice. Laura needs her mother. She needs you, Becky.”

  “That’s why I’m here,” she croaked.

  “You’re here because you love her. Of course you do.” He stepped closer and put a hand on her shoulder, visibly stunning her. Had he ever even hugged his sister? “Look, there is no time limit on me being here. I’ve got Laura while you figure everything out. She’s happy here.”

  His niece was happy . . . with him. It was still almost impossible to believe that he’d come here totally inept in all things family. All things children, love, and . . . permanence. But he’d created stability where none had existed before. Not only for Laura, but for himself. Jesus, he really wasn’t going anywhere. He was in this. And it felt right.

  “Look.” Wes squeezed Becky’s shoulder. “If I can figure this shit out, Becky, anyone can.”

  That got a watery laugh out of her. “Who are you anymore?”

  “Your brother.” He swallowed hard. “I know I wasn’t a good one in the pa
st. But you can count on me now, all right?”

  Emotion clouded over her features. “I knew I shouldn’t take her. I just thought . . . it’s been so long. What kind of a mother am I, leaving her kid for over a month?”

  “You made sure she’d have someone to care for her. That’s more consideration than we were given a lot of the time.”

  “God knows that’s true.” She swiped curious eyes. “Who was that woman?”

  Wes considered the question. “Let’s call her my reluctant girlfriend.”

  They shared another bittersweet laugh and for the first time, he acknowledged the bond that lay between them. An acknowledgment that was a long time coming. Maybe it would change things. He didn’t know, but he had hope, and he was pretty sure the two people waiting for him inside the house had a lot to do with it.

  Having that safety net gave him the courage to say what came next. “I don’t know how these things work, but I can find out about becoming Laura’s temporary guardian. If you’re open to that. It won’t be forever, but I want her to have some proof I’m staying as long as she needs me. I would have killed for that when I was a kid, you know?”

  His sister cast a wistful glance toward the house, not speaking for several moments. “I think that could be a good idea. I’ll think about it.”

  Wes let out the breath he wasn’t aware he’d been holding. “Becky . . .” He hesitated for a moment, then pulled her into a hug. “It’s going to be all right.”

  Wes walked through the front door of the house, sending Bethany’s heart into a marathon. He was alone and Bethany didn’t know whether to be relieved or sad about that. For Laura’s part, she bounded off the couch like a shot, squealing and skidding to a halt in front of her uncle. Without missing a beat, he tossed her up in the air like pizza dough, catching her on the way down in a hug. “Hey, kid.”

  She patted his back with sticky ice cream hands. “Hey.”

  There was a smile on his face, but when he met Bethany’s eyes over his niece’s back, there was unrest spinning in their depths. “I wasn’t sure what to do about dinner, so I ordered pizza. Again. It’s on the way,” she said, her stomach full of helium. “I should go,” she breathed, stuffing her cell into her purse.

  “Wait.” Wes set Laura down and ruffled her hair. “Can you go wash your hands for dinner and pick out a bedtime book for later? I need to talk to Bethany.”

  Laura gaped at Bethany. “Is she in trouble?”

  “Naw, she’s not in trouble.” He tapped her nose. “Go ahead.”

  “Okay.”

  The little girl sped from the room, sliding in her socks as she rounded first into the hallway. Bethany remained rooted to the spot beside the couch watching Wes enter the kitchen and return with two bottled beers. He offered her one and she declined with a headshake, waiting as he drained half of his own. Twice he opened his mouth to say something, but closed it and shook his head instead.

  Bethany’s feet were moving before her head issued the command. She stopped in front of Wes, plucked the beer out of his hand, and set it down on the table. And she put her arms around him.

  Wes wrapped her in such a tight embrace, the breath in her lungs was expelled in a giant whoosh.

  “I can’t leave Laura,” he muttered into the crook of her neck. “I can’t.”

  Her fingers threaded into his hair. “No, of course not.”

  “I mean ever.” He lifted his head, emotion rippling along his jawline. “I put Becky in another Uber back to Jersey. She’s not going to push seeing her daughter for now, but even if my sister gets her life on track, I think . . .” Self-doubt flickered in his eyes. “Laura needs me, right?”

  “Yes.”

  He let out a hard breath. “I have to stick, Bethany.”

  There was something familiar in the way he said those words. They sounded like every single time she’d questioned her own capabilities. Or done something that scared her, like flip a house, plan a wedding, lead a Just Us League meeting, or babysit a child. She knew that rush of fear for the unknown very well, and she suddenly felt connected to him in a way she didn’t think could be severed easily, to this man she’d once loathed. Or thought she loathed, anyway. Had any of her vitriol toward him ever been real to begin with?

  Bethany didn’t know. She only knew she wanted to smooth the jaggedness inside of him now, the way she’d wished was possible for herself so many times.

  “Wes,” she whispered, levering herself up on her toes until her lips landed against his surprised ones . . . and they tripped slowly into a kiss that was equal parts voracious and pure. Honest. He let himself be kissed, let Bethany hum comfort in her throat while mating their tongues, let her fingers twist in his hair and drag him down, before he grunted and tried to yank her up into his body at the same time. His arms were still around her as far as they could go and the embrace was so intimate, she could feel his entire body pulse, his inhales and exhales, the thick swells and sensual dips of his muscle. Could smell his sweat and deodorant.

  The tempo turned desperate, but her need to give solace never abated, and she could feel him being undone by it. And it gratified her when Wes reached out for more, attacking her mouth and taking possession of the understanding she offered.

  His right hand dove into her hair, gripping and angling her for deeper tastes, his body bowing over hers until she was almost bent backward. God, it was glorious, being needed this badly. Needing in return. Being in wordless agreement and not having to guess what a man was thinking. She knew every thought in his head because he was expressing it with his tongue, lips, and teeth.

  It got to be too much, the pulse points throughout her body hammering, her mind reeling, her balance obliterated. So much feeling directed at one person and she was afraid of defining it, so she forced herself to put an end to the kiss and there they stood, still wrapped in each other’s arms, frantic breaths filling the scant space between them.

  “Is that a yes to drinks?” he said, finally.

  Bethany puffed a laugh. “Oh, now it’s drinks, plural?”

  He brushed a hand over her hair. “One of anything could never be enough with you.”

  There was a vicious tug in her middle. “Is that a fact?”

  “Damn straight.” He nipped at her bottom lip. “I’ll ask you again, is that a yes?”

  She drew a circle on his chest, finishing with a playful finger shove. “It’s an I’ll think about it.”

  Wes growled. “God, you make me fucking crazy, Bethany.” He picked up a piece of her hair and twisted it around his finger. “When I walked back in here, I didn’t know up from down. Now I’m halfway to solid. How’d you do it?”

  “You should know,” she whispered, unable to look him in the eye. “You’ve done it for me, more than once now.”

  Admitting that was so exposing, her body broke his hold involuntarily. Though she immediately wished to be back in his arms, she all but dove for her purse, slinging it over her shoulder. When she chanced a look at Wes, he was tracking her movements with single-minded intensity. “Stay.”

  “I . . . have plans,” she blurted.

  His eyebrow ticked up. “Come again?”

  “With Rosie.” Not that her friend knew about said plans, but Bethany was in sudden need of tequila and girl talk.

  He grunted, but didn’t relax. In fact, there were thoughts churning behind his gaze. A multitude of them. “I asked Becky to think about giving me guardianship. Of Laura.” She was given no time to process that revelation, because Wes advanced on her, not stopping until her head was tilted back and their fingertips were brushing, his breath feathering her lips. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m here to stay, so when you get in bed tonight and think of me, remember to change the way you do it. Instead of that one sweaty session where we break the headboard, I’d be in your bed night after night after fucking night, learning what makes your thighs shake. We’d have to lose the headboard altogether.”

  Her ears turned into wind tunnels. “You do
n’t make the design choices in this relation—”

  “Relationship?” he prompted when she cut herself off, his tone triumphant. “When you’re ready to say it out loud, I’ll be waiting right here.”

  Catch your breath. “With your blue balls?”

  “They’re more of a blackish purple at this point.”

  “Ouch.” The doorbell rang and she took the opportunity to escape his magnetism. “Good night, Wes.”

  He groaned. “Good night, Bethany.”

  Bethany opened the door to the pizza delivery guy and asked him to wait, unable to resist a final glance back at Wes over her shoulder. She found his powerful arms crossed, hair still mussed from her fingers. So masculine in his dirty work clothes, it should be a crime. “Your pizza is here,” she said, her tone more suited to a poetry reading.

  He reached for the wallet in his pocket. “Thanks.”

  “Wes?”

  “Yeah?”

  She swallowed hard. “If Becky says yes, you’re going to do an amazing job.”

  A muscle popped in his cheek. “Thank you.”

  Get out of here while you still have the willpower.

  Her reserve of the stuff was running dangerously low.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Every time Bethany walked into Buena Onda, something new had been woven seamlessly into the atmosphere. Rosie wanted the restaurant to be an experience, and Bethany could safely say she’d accomplished that task.

  Tonight, there was a string of lights, an angled rug hugging the floorboards, a new picture on the wall. Only a decorator’s eye would pick out the changes, they were so subtle, and the ambiance never changed. It was always a warm hustle-bustle. A noisy welcome that she could sink into and decide what journey to let the menu take her on.

  She’d been right to come here tonight. Bethany weaved through the tables toward the back of the restaurant where Rosie would be putting together takeout orders and supervising the kitchen, and the sparkling depth swallowed her up in a hug. She waved at Dominic where he sat at his reserved table, sipping a beer and reading the evening edition of the Daily News. Several patrons called out to her or lifted their glass, not-too-discreetly whispering in her wake.