The Lawson Boys: Marty Page 7

  But he couldn’t walk away just yet. Leaning one shoulder against the door frame, he studied the woman sleeping on the bed. Pretty, the figure of an overblown hourglass, a contradiction at times and virtually unknown to him, Belle affected him like no other woman he’d just met.

  Mister ambled past him, crossing the room to jump on the bed and walk up beside Belle. He sniffed her dress before settling himself near her waist. From his new, rather enviable position, and dribbling a little, he gazed aloofly across the room at Marty.

  “Okay,” Marty said. “You get to sleep with her. I don’t. I get it.”

  Mister sniffed and closing his eyes, he rested his chin on her gently rounded belly.

  Lucky cat.

  “But she thinks I’m handsome.”

  Mister didn’t open even one eye in acknowledgement.

  Marty smiled slowly. “And she owes me a kiss.” Pushing away from the doorframe, he took hold of the door handle and partially shut the door, switching off the light at the same time.

  He had every intention of seeing Belle the next day.

  Moving with more purpose, he strode down the staircase to find that the kittens had abandoned the silk purple panties under a side table. Reaching under, he straightened with the fragile material in his hands and trudged back upstairs to Belle’s bedroom. Dropping them on a chair, he took one last look at the voluptuous sleeping beauty on the bed before grinning and making his way back downstairs.

  Chapter 3

  “Mum-”

  “I can’t believe it! You actually stormed the church and told everyone that Trevor took your - your - I can’t even say it!”

  “Mum, it’s not that bad.” Belle winced at both the lie and her pounding head.

  “Not that bad? Belle, the whole town is talking about it! Everyone knows you’re no longer a virgin and who did the deed.”

  “Really, I don’t want to talk about this to you.” Or anyone.

  “You have to face your friends, your boss, everyone. How do you think this looks?”

  “That I’m a total idiot?”

  There was silence on the other end of the phone line for several seconds and when her mother spoke again, it was in a softer tone. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I know this has been hard for you.”

  She had no idea. Belle rested her aching head back on the pillow. A gallon of water and two paracetamol later and her head still felt like it had been used for a football.

  “I think you should come home,” Mrs Broune added.

  “And face everyone?”

  “You’ll have to sooner or later.”

  Wasn’t that the ever lovin’ truth? And how much did that suck lemons? Blowing out a sigh, Belle stared up at the ceiling.

  “Does Diana know?” Mrs Broune asked.

  “Mrs Lawson? No, she doesn’t. I haven’t told her.”

  “I see.”

  Frankly, Belle didn’t see anything except that she’d been a total fool and now she had to go back home and face everyone. Maybe it would be better to go home and face everyone now. Meaning go home and hide in her house until she had to go back to work and then face everyone.

  “You’re just lucky that Trevor didn’t press charges,” Mrs Broune pointed out. “Being in court because you assaulted him would have been the icing on the cake.”

  “Thanks for being so understanding.”

  “Now, sweetie, you know your Dad and I love you, and no matter what happens you’re our daughter and we’ll stand by you.” Her mother’s tone warmed. “Come on, Belle, this’ll all blow over. You just need to come home, weather the curiosity, and soon it will all be in the past.”

  “And the scarlet woman of the town will fade into the background again.”

  “As soon as another scandal overrides it.”

  “Thanks, Mum. That makes me feel so much better.”

  “Okay, you can stay in the city for the rest of your holidays and then come home. It’s your choice.”

  “Yeah. It is.” Belle sighed and closed her eyes. “Sorry, Mum.”

  “No need for that. What’s done is done. Your just lucky your Dad didn’t go into the city and punch Trevor’s lights out.”

  Alarmed, Belle jerked upright, thumping head and all. “No!”

  Mrs Broune laughed. “No. I talked sense into him. He’s here if you want to speak to him.”

  Not really. How embarrassing, talking to your dad when he knew you’d - Belle cringed at just the thought.

  “Hey, Pumpkin.” Mr Broune’s voice was low and gravely as always, but thankfully not judgemental.

  “Hey, Dad,” she replied dispiritedly.

  “Slapped the bastard, huh?” Her father gave a short, barking laugh of approval. “That’s my girl.”

  Warmth swept through her and she relaxed. “Made a fool of myself, Dad. Again.”

  “Ah, Pumpkin, life’s like that. You come on home and we’ll face the gossips together.”

  “Sorry about the gossip, Dad.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Other indiscretions have been the talk of the town, such as Bertha Mixton getting caught sneaking out of old Bernie Bartho’s house in the early hours of the morning.”

  Belle’s brows shot up. “Really?”

  “Yeah. Was the talk of the town until…”

  “Until my indiscretion became public knowledge?” Belle finished dryly.

  “You have to admit, Pumpkin, you topped it.”

  “Yeah, I did.”

  After a moments silence, Mr Broune spoke again. “Something juicy will soon pop up and your little episode will fade. Now buck up, you have to decide whether you’re going to come home or stay in the city for the remainder of your holidays.”

  “Yeah, about that. I haven’t decided yet.”

  “Well, if you want me to come and pick you up, just say the word.”

  “You’d fly over here?”

  “You’re our Pumpkin, of course I would.”

  Her frazzled nerves were calming, no doubt about it. “Thanks Dad, you’re the best.”

  “You just let me know.”

  “I will.”

  After a few more minutes of talking, he rang off. Rolling onto her side, Belle placed the mobile phone on the bedside table and closed her eyes. It was midmorning on a sunny Monday, her head was thumping, and she’d managed to convince Mrs Lawson that she had a bad headache and nothing more serious. Luckily, her sympathetic host had plied her with paracetamol and kept the curtains drawn, leaving Belle in peace.

  Even the kittens seemed to know she wasn’t well, for they were asleep on the bottom of the bed. Mister had disappeared. All she wanted was a few hours to get over this hangover and then she could deal with facing Marty.

  Belle winced. She could only remember bits of the previous evening, but it was enough to know that he had told his friend who she was and she’d proceeded to drink herself into a half remembered state. Oh God, what a mess. She had never gotten drunk in her life, and she couldn’t believe she’d behaved so atrociously while with her host’s son. Regardless of whether or not he was a devious turd, she should have maintained control.

  Trevor had really screwed her up.

  The mobile buzzed on the table and she tried to ignore it, but it kept buzzing insistently. Finally she grabbed it and peered at the number showing.

  Holly, her best friend. News travelled fast. There was no way that Holly would leave her alone until she got answers.

  Actually, she was glad that Holly had rung. Placing the mobile to her ear, she said, “I’m a slut. I’ve fallen to pieces since I got here. I got drunk, I crashed a wedding, I slapped a man, I made a fool of myself. I’m The Other Woman.”

  “Wow,” said Holly. “I’m impressed.”

  With a reluctant laugh, Belle went up onto her elbow, reaching out to the little bottle of water that Mrs Lawson had left by her bedside table.

  “So the city is having a dubious effect on you?” Holly continued.

  “You could say that.”

&nb
sp; “How about I come over and we vandalise Trevor’s car and house?”

  “I don’t think my parents would approve.”

  “They don’t need to know.’

  “I somehow think they’ll find out. Besides, I’ve done enough damage to the family name right now. The town needs time to recover.”

  “Belle, lovey, you’re a heroine here.”

  Belle nearly choked on a mouthful of water.

  “Seriously,” Holly said. “Mr Bartho said if he were ten years younger he’d come and claim you for himself.”

  “Ten? He’s eighty five!”

  “He prides himself on his stamina.”

  Belle shuddered at the image.

  “And you’re the local heroine of Mrs Harris’s garden club. The old ladies there reckon you’re a prime example of a decent woman not taking - how did Mrs Harris elegantly put it? Oh yes, any shit, I believe it was.”

  “Mrs Harris didn’t say that!”

  “Okay, I ad-libbed, but she meant the same thing. My version just had a little more punch to it.”

  Belle laughed.

  “So don’t worry about being a slut, lovey, your reputation is okay here.” Holly hesitated. “Mostly.”

  Belle closed her eyes. “In some places.”

  “Hey, there’re always going to be dicks around. You can’t let that rule your life.”

  “I’m not afraid.” Terrified, maybe. Possibly. Okay, definitely.

  “Listen, I’m not going to lie. You know there are a couple arses dying to see your face and make snide comments, but you gotta stand up to them, Belle.”

  “I’ve always stood up to bullies, regardless of their ages.”

  “Good. Now to something else.”

  “If this is about Mrs Mixen having it off with old Bernie Bartho, I already know.”

  “Wow, word travels faster and further than even I realised. How did you hear about that?”

  “Mum and Dad just rang me.”

  “Ewww.”

  “I know. Mixen and Bartho? Double eeewww.”

  “No. Your parents hearing of your cherry popped.”

  “Thank you for that, Holly. Just the reminder I needed.”

  “Sorry.”

  Belle rubbed her aching forehead.

  “So,” Holly continued. “You coming home?”

  “You don’t think shifting away to the other side of Australia would help?”

  “Running never helps. Now listen, people here know what happened, you seriously think word won’t travel? For all you know, newspaper reporters could be hot-footing it to the Lawson’s door right now.”

  That did make Belle sit upright. Oh God, it was true! Word would somehow travel, especially if those dicks back home thought about doing it.

  “Do the Lawsons know?” Holly added.

  “No! Well, one.” Getting up, Belle leaned across to the window and peered outside, half expecting the house to be besieged with reporters and TV vans.

  All was quiet.

  “One?” Holly queried. “Who?”

  “Marty Lawson.”

  “You told Marty Lawson?”

  “No. He saw me at the wedding and recognised me.”

  “Marty was at the wedding?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Friend of the bride or groom?”

  “What? I don’t know.”

  “Well, he had to have had an invite. So he was either friend of the bride or groom.” Holly paused before bursting out, “Oh my God! You don’t think he’s a friend of Trevor’s, do you?”

  “No, of course not.” Was he? Sitting back on the bed, Belle bit her bottom lip. She really had no idea. He certainly hadn’t said anything about being the friend of the cheating bastard, but then again, neither had he leapt to the defence of the bride. “Uh-oh.”

  “That doesn’t sound good,” Holly said.

  “I have no idea. Oh shit. Holly, if he is a friend of Trevor’s, why is he being nice to me?”

  “The Lawson boy is being nice to you?” Holly was dubious. “Be careful, Belle. He’s a womaniser and a heart-breaker. He could be faking sympathy to get into your panties.”

  “I seriously doubt it, Holly. Marty is a handsome hunk who has scads of beautiful women falling at his feet begging him to get into their panties. He’s definitely not trying to get into my plus-sized panties.” Worse luck. Shit, where did that thought come from?

  “I dunno, Belle. Just be careful, that’s all.”

  “No need to be, but thanks.”

  “So, let me know when you’re coming home and I’ll meet the plane.”

  “Thanks Holly.”

  “Okay, I have to go. Work is calling. Unlike some of us, I have to make a quid.”

  “That’ll be me next week. If I still have a job.”

  “Of course you’ll still have a job! Geez, a little scandal is good for business. Mary’s thrilled.”

  “Thanks for that. Really.”

  “No worries. Gotta go!”

  Not particularly wanting to talk to anyone else, Belle switched off the mobile before placing it on the bedside table. After scrutinizing the driveway and having the reassuring sight of emptiness, she slowly stretched and worked the kinks from her neck.

  Okay, she had decisions to make. Holly spoke the truth, sooner or later word would leak that it was Belle Broune, aka The Other Woman, who had crashed the wedding and slapped the groom. And following that it would soon be known that The Other Woman was staying with the wealthy, well respected and prestigious Lawsons.

  And once that happened, the Lawsons could be besieged with reporters.

  Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, Belle told herself. Maybe she wasn’t such big news. She certainly wasn’t wealthy or prestigious, and was respected only in her home town, though that was a little dubious now amongst some of the people, no doubt. Oh joy.

  Then again, she wouldn’t be such big news if she hadn’t crashed the wedding of another prestigious family. Two prestigious and wealthy families, in fact. This was a local scandal that had the gossips drooling at the mouth.

  There was nothing for it, she couldn’t repay the Lawsons’ kindness by bringing the scandal to their doorstep. She had to go home. It wasn’t as if there was anything to really keep her in the city, anyway, not now.

  Picking up the mobile, she called the airport and made reservations for the following day at eleven in the morning, the earliest flight she could catch. Getting a taxi home was one option, but she really didn’t feel like being scrutinized by someone who would probably know her, so she left a message on Holly’s phone to let her know what time her flight would arrive. Now she just had to make her excuses to her hosts without appearing ungracious.

  It was a shame, she liked Mr and Mrs Lawson and had looked forward to meeting the rest of their family. They had sounded delightful. True, she had imagined meeting them all while on the arm of an adoring Trevor, but that ship had sailed.

  Spectacularly.

  Now it was time to go home and weather the scandal.

  Yep, being adult and responsible sometimes sucked lemons.

  Going to the bathroom, she washed her face and then surveyed it. The shower she’d forced herself to have when she first woke up, along with a brisk teeth clean to remove traces of alcohol smell, hadn’t exactly made her feel better, but she’d been glad of it when Mrs Lawson had entered her bedroom after a polite knock. Having one’s host finding one sprawled on the bed in a wrinkled maxi dress with booze-riddled breath just wasn’t polite. Thank God for showers, toothpaste, windows and air freshener.

  Not that she was entirely certain that had done the trick, never having gotten drunk before, but it surely had to have helped. She hoped.

  Sitting by the window, she took in breath after breath of fresh air, sipping water and waiting for the headache to pass.

  By lunchtime she was feeling a whole lot better, and she headed downstairs to have lunch and inform her hosts that her time at their lovely mansion was coming to a finish a lot ea
rlier than anticipated.

  She was met at the foot of the stairs by a tiny, white poodle wearing a pink satin bow in the poodle curls stop her head. A florescent pink collar with fake diamantes- at least she thought they were fake - sparkled around her little neck. One dark eye looked at her. The other eye was missing, the place where it should have been a closed eyelid. A scar ran down one side of her muzzle, pulling the lip on one side of her mouth upwards a little. It resulted in her face looking a little off balance.

  The poodle took one look at her and stopped in her prancing footsteps.

  Belle had had no idea that the Lawson’s also had a poodle, or maybe it belonged to a visitor. Voices were coming from the direction of the lounge room.

  Loud voices and some panting.

  “You iron-pumping jerk!”

  “Say you’re sorry.” That was Marty’s voice.

  “Not on your nelly!”

  “Then I’ll rub all the hair off your head.”

  “Cindy!”

  “She’s not listening. She doesn’t care.”

  “Cindy!”

  “Say you’re sorry.”

  “No! You’re the one dressing that dog in pink!”

  Marty had put the pink bow in the poodle’s hair and the pink collar around her neck? Intrigued, Belle peeked around the door.

  Marty had another man in a headlock. The man was tall and lean and trying to push Marty over. Unfortunately, Marty was a lot more muscular and it showed, mostly because his shirt was half hanging off and his impressive muscles were on display while he easily restrained his hapless victim.

  “You put a pink bow in that dog’s hair!” The other man tried to throw his weight against Marty, grappling him around his waist.

  “Sugar is a girl,” Marty argued, deftly turning and throwing the other man off balance.

  “Cindy!” the man bellowed and tried to look towards the corner of the room.

  Following his gaze, Belle’s eyes widened. Sitting in an armchair, completely ignoring the goings-on and seemingly engrossed in a magazine, was a woman. Tall, definitely plus-sized, and wearing clothes that Belle hadn’t seen a woman that size wear. She was dressed in a tight red top that clung to her impressive breasts, the only thing holding it up the strap around her neck. Her tight white pants came to mid-calf and she had on a pair of gold stilettos that made Belle’s arches ache in sympathy. Gold bracelets adorned one wrist and blonde hair was piled in a careless knot atop her head, from which several blonde strands fell down to bob around her cheeks. Lipstick, mascara, she wore the works when it came to make-up. Dangling earrings completed the picture.