The Lawson Boys: Marty (7 page)

“Amen,
sister.”

They clinked
glasses once more, drained their drinks and called for more.

Yes, this was
just what she needed. A few harmless drinks with a like-minded
female, and to forget about the lying, betraying, male of the
species.

~*~

Sitting at a
back table nursing a Coke, Marty kept watch on Belle. Whatever she
was drinking was pretty potent, going by the way she and her new
friend were talking more and more animatedly. He just hoped she
wasn’t spilling secrets to Carrie, who had the biggest nose in the
pub for gossip. The daughter of the pub owner, she was fun,
vivacious, and currently nursing a broken heart of her own.

No doubt they
were verbally ripping apart the very idea and image of men.

“Wow.” Alan sat
down in the opposite chair. “The big chick is certainly putting
those drinks away.”

Marty scowled
at him. “For a cop, Alan, you can’t keep a poker face worth
shit.”

“Hey, man, I’m
off duty.” Alan crunched happily from a packet of BBQ flavoured
chips and proffered it to Marty. “Want one?”

“No.”

“Aw, come on,
Marty. She’ll get over it.”

“Not that
easily. First she was made a fool of by Trevor, and now she thinks
I made a fool of her.”

“But you
didn’t.”

“
I
know
that. Jesus, how did you ever pass your cop exams?”

“Intelligence.”
Alan winked at a pretty little blonde with perky boobs, who giggled
right before turning back to her hulking boyfriend.

“Oops,” said
Alan, completely unconcerned.

“You’ll get
your ugly mug smashed in one day,” Marty warned.

“Nah. You’re
with me. You lift weights and shit. You’ll protect me.” Alan
grinned.

“You’d want to
hope so.”

“I know so.
You, however.” Alan munched thoughtfully on the chips. “Who is
going to protect you?”

“From who?”

“The big
chick.”

Marty looked
across at the crowded room to where Belle sat on the barstool, the
flowing skirt of the maxi dress caressing her legs, her deliciously
rounded rump plumping out on the cushion of the bar stool. Curly
brown hair fell in riotous curls around her shoulders. “I don’t
need protecting.”

“Huh.”

“She does.”

Alan’s eyebrows
shot up.

“You ignorant
bastard,” Marty observed mildly. “Have you got
any
brains
rattling around in that big cavern of a head?”

“Sure.”

“Then use them.
She’s hurt.
I’m
here to protect
her
.”

“Seriously? You
think she needs protecting?” Alan angled the chip bag in Belle’s
direction. “After she nearly smacked ol’ Trev’s lights out, you
think
she
needs protecting?”

“Yeah,” said
Marty. “I do.” Seriously, he did think that exactly. He’d seen the
hurt in those brilliant green eyes both in the church and again
when she’d realised that Alan had known her identity.

And he’d sure
noticed the sadness in her eyes several times during lunch, both
times of which he’d sought to divert her attention by making her
annoyed. There was something beguiling about her, so fresh and
wholesome and innocent.

Glancing over,
he saw Belle and Carrie clink their glasses together, laughing, a
touch of derision in their eyes as they glanced around at the
men.

Nope, she still
retained that innocence, even if she was probably talking about
drawing and quartering all men in the world. Because deep
underneath, he doubted she could hurt a flea.

Apart from
slapping Trevor silly, of course. There was that.

Her cheeks were
a little flushed now, but they’d been redder when she’d accused him
of mentally undressing her. To be truthful, he hadn’t known what to
say, inwardly shocked at the realisation that he
had
been
undressing her mentally, wondering how much those luscious breasts
would overflow his hands and if her hips would cradle him sweetly
while he sank deep-

Jesus
.
Shifting on the chair, he willed his rising boner to subside. What
the hell was the matter with him? Belle was the daughter of his
mother’s old friend, and he’d promised his mother that he’d look
after her. Instead, what had he done? Mentally undressed her,
embarrassed her, and was now watching her get tipsy.

Not cool. Not
at all.

Sighing, he
took a mouthful of Coke. He could only hope that Belle would keep
her tongue between her teeth when it came to the subject of Trevor.
Short of tossing her over his shoulder and leaving the pub caveman
style, all he could do was sit and wait for the right moment to
approach her and take her home.

Somehow he
doubted the caveman action would win her approval. It certainly
would make her the subject of gossip and speculation. But something
inside him stirred just a little at the thought of that sweetly
rounded body over his shoulder, helpless to do anything against his
nefarious intentions and-

The crumpled,
empty chip packet hit him on the forehead. Scowling, he picked it
up from where it had fallen into his lap and tossed it onto the
table.

“Earth to
Marty,” Alan drawled.

“What?”

“You’re making
a spectacle of yourself, man.”

“What?”

“You’re staring
at the big chick like you want to lick her like an ice cream.”

Not a bad idea.
“No, I’m not.”

“Yeah, you
are.”

“Don’t you have
somewhere to be? Someone to arrest?”

“Are you
kidding? And miss this?” Alan’s eyes gleamed.

“Miss
what?”

“You’re
interested in her.”

“Of course.
She’s my mother’s guest.”

“No, I mean
interested
in her.” Alan’s eyebrows went up and down
suggestively.

“I don’t know
what you mean.”

Making a
doughnut shape with the finger and thumb of one hand, Alan thrust
the forefinger of his other hand lewdly through it and leered.

“I can’t
believe Mike has you as his partner,” Marty said, “and hasn’t yet
killed you.”

“He loves me.
I’m the little brother he never had.”

“Or
wanted.”

“Jealous?”

“Relieved.”

Alan winked at
a shapely brunette who eyed him back frostily before turning away.
“Wow, cold in here, isn’t it?”

Marty shook his
head.

Alan was
completely unperturbed. “So what are you going to do about the big
chick?”

“Stop calling
her ‘the big chick’. Her name is Belle.”

“Fine. Belle.
What are you going to do about her? Because I can tell you right
now, man, you’re not getting any from her.”

“I don’t want
anything from her. I’m trying to protect her.”

“I have a
feeling we’ve just circled the park and are back where we
started.”

“Don’t you have
somewhere to be?”

“Heard that
before, too.”

Marty drained
the rest of the Coke. “I’m waiting for her to decide she’s had
enough of this place so I can take her back to Mum’s house.”
Catching the gleam in Alan’s eyes, he added, “Unmolested.”

“Losing your
touch, man.” Alan caught the eye of a buxom redhead, who returned
his smile with an even wider one. His eyes lit up and he shoved to
his feet. “Gotta go.”

“At last.”

“Let me know if
you need a hand with Belle.” He clapped a hand on Marty’s
shoulder.

“Seriously?
You’d leave a hot redhead to help me?”

“No. I just
said let me know. On your way out. With Belle. I’m going to be
busy.” Alan took off after the redhead and within seconds they were
seated at a table talking, the redhead flirting and Alan more than
up to the challenge.

Shaking his
head, Marty looked back to where Belle sat at the bar. Carrie had
disappeared and Belle was now sitting and looking mournfully into
her empty glass. The bartender came forward and pointed at the
glass, but she shook her head and slipped off the barstool to stand
unsteadily beside it, bracing her hands on the bar to regain her
balance.

Seeing as she’d
drunk quite a few glasses of potent drink, Marty was fairly certain
that steadiness was going to be a bit of a problem but he was
prepared. For the last two hours, in fact.

Leaving the
table, he strode over to the bar and put a hand in the small of her
back, bracing her easily just as she swayed backwards. “Need a
hand?”

Belle looked up
at him. “I think I’m tipsy.”

“I think you’re
right.”

“I think I may
need some help getting home.”

“I think you’re
right again.”

“I don’t drink
much.”

“You broke that
record tonight.” He couldn’t help but smile.

“I’ve never
been drunk before.”

“Always a first
time.” Manoeuvring around, he slid his arm around her waist and
tucked her into his side before picking up her little clutch and
nudging it under her arm. “Hold this, honey. We’re going home.”

Leaning into
him, she sadly shook her head. “Since I came into the city, I’ve
crashed a wedding, slapped a groom, made the bride cry, lied to my
Mum’s best friend, and gotten drunk.”

“You’ve had a
busy time of it,” he agreed, barely hiding his amusement when she
sighed heavily.

“My mum and dad
will be so ashamed of me.”

Steering her
through the throng, Marty couldn’t resist giving her a little
squeeze of comfort. “They don’t need to know.”

“They know
Trevor.”

“Oh.” Of
course.

“They’ll know
that I’m…” She paused before adding in a hushed whisper he wouldn’t
have heard over the music if he hadn’t bent down to listen closely.
“
The Other Woman
.”

“Another
first?”

Tipsy she might
be, but her head jerked back and she looked right up at him. He’d
expected anger. What he hadn’t expected were the tears sparkling in
her eyes. “Yes.” Her voice was small.

Ah man. That
just shot straight through him, that little heart-wrenching
confession and the tears in those big green eyes. He couldn’t help
but press a kiss to her forehead. “It’s all right, honey.”

“Are you
sure?”

“Yeah.”

“New
girlfriend, Lawson?” someone yelled.

Marty glanced
up to see Tyrell Baker, part-time photographer and part-time pain
in the arse. He was holding a mobile phone and snapping pictures of
different people.

Well, shit.

“Just a
friend,” Marty replied easily, steering Belle through the throng
and closer to the door. “Alan’s friend, actually.”

“Oh.” Baker was
disappointed but not for long. Spying someone else, he took off in
another direction. Obviously Marty’s unsophisticated companion
didn’t cut the grade for photos. That was a good thing. Baker
usually prowled around top-end restaurants, not the pub, so he must
have been on a night off. But as usual, the dickhead was taking
photos of anyone and everything just in case he spotted something
or someone he could make money off from the newspapers and glossy
gossip magazines.

Time to
leave.

Steering her
though the crush of people near the door, he led her outside and
through the car park to his car, taking the key from his pocket and
unlocking the car remotely. Opening the passenger side door, he
settled Belle into the seat and leaned over her to clip in the
seatbelt.

The movement
brought his arm into direct contact with her breasts and he felt
the generous mounds push against his arm as she shifted. That
contact was a little warmer than he expected and he turned his head
to look at her.

Nope, her eyes
were anything but aware. In fact, they held a wealth of sadness and
tears.

Belle was a sad
drunk.

And he was a
sad case to find anything about her pitiful state attractive. Not
that he didn’t find her attractive, he obviously did going by the
inconvenient boner that had started back inside the pub at the
thought of doing naughty things to her and going all caveman - and
where the hell had that come from? - but he should have been
thinking of comforting her rather than lingering on the sensation
of her breasts against his arm.

Clipping the
seatbelt closed securely, he quickly backed out of the car and shut
the door, straightening and drawing in a deep breath of air.
Someone in the pub must have been smoking grass because he sure
wasn’t thinking clearly, and considering that he’d only drunk one
light bear and had been nursing Cokes for the rest of the evening
while watching Belle get sozzled, it was the only excuse with which
he could come up.

Sad. Very
sad.

Speaking of
sad, he had one sad woman in his car whom he had to get home and up
to her room without his parents noticing her state. His mother
would be full of sympathy for Belle and furious with Marty.

Mum furious
with him he didn’t want. He grinned a little as he swung open his
door and got inside. A grown man afraid of his mother’s
displeasure, what was the world coming to?

Glancing
sideways as he started the engine, he saw that Belle had her elbow
on the windowsill and her chin propped mournfully on her palm as
she gazed through the window. A tear spilled over to trickle down
her cheek.

Nope, Belle
definitely wasn’t a happy drunk. Or a noisy one. He was a little
sorry about the first and glad for the second. Still, after the way
Trevor had treated her, who could blame her for getting tipsy and
having a pity session? It would only be later that she would see
what a narrow escape she’d had.

Trevor deserved
a kick up the arse. He had a good mind to just give it to him next
time he saw him.

Deeming it
prudent to remain silent, Marty switched on the radio and turned it
low before pulling out of the car park and into the traffic.

They were
partway to his parent’s house when Belle suddenly straightened and
said loudly, “No!”