The Lawson Boys: Marty (6 page)

Marty greeted
the bouncer at the doorway as they entered, and once inside he
stepped to the left and pulled Belle up beside him, his arm going
around her shoulders as he glanced around. His head was bobbing
along to the music and he was totally relaxed in the rowdy pub. He
was even humming along to the music.

Leaning down,
he placed his mouth to her ear. “We’re going upstairs to the
dinning area where we can hear our own thoughts and talk without
yelling.”

Nodding, she
half expected him to take her hand once more and lead her to the
staircase on the other side of the room, but instead he moved to
her other side and slid his arm once more around her shoulders,
holding her close as he manoeuvred them along the wall, ensuring
that she was between him and the wall.

The man sure
knew how to make a girl feel protected.

The dining area
on the second floor had an old world charm. The wooden floor was
scratched from countless shoes and boots, and the tables and chairs
were all wooden with worn cushions. There was another bar along the
far wall but it was definitely quieter up here, though not a
genteel quietness. More of a happy, relaxed atmosphere.

Stopping at a
table next to the wide window, Marty waited until she’d sat down
before taking the chair opposite. They’d barely sat down when the
barmaid arrived.

“Hey, Marty,”
she greeted him.

“Bronwyn.” He
nodded to her. “How goes it?”

“Same old, same
old. You know the drill.”

“Work, work,
and more work?”

“That’s about
it.” Bronwyn flashed Belle a smile. “Ready for drinks?”

“I’ll have a
Diet Coke, thanks,” Belle answered.

“Make mine a
light beer,” Marty added.

“Be back soon.”
Bronwyn gestured to the menus in the stand on the middle of the
table. “I’ll get your food orders then as well, unless you’re ready
now?”

“We’ll check
out the menu,” Marty replied. “Thanks, Bron.”

Looking around,
Belle doubted that any of these customers would have been to
Trevor’s wedding. She was safe here.

Several young
couples held hands over their tables, speaking softly. The music
from downstairs was subdued here, but it provided a pleasant
background.

The sight of a
couple kissing in the far corner booth made Belle look away
quickly, a feeling of sadness sweeping over her.

“Don’t.”

Startled, she
looked across the table to meet Marty’s steady regard. “What?”

“Don’t feel sad
for getting out of what was a nasty situation.”

“I’m not.”

“Really?” That
one word was filled with heavy sarcasm.

That stung.
“What would you know about it?”

“I was at the
wedding, remember?” Marty shrugged. “I kind of got the whole
story.”

“Really?” It
was her turn to be sarcastic.

“Really.”

“Then we don’t
need to discuss it, do we?”

“Were we going
to discuss it?”

“Isn’t that
what we were doing?”

“In that case,
what happened?”

“I thought you
knew?”

“I can guess in
a nutshell.”

“Enlighten me.”
Annoyed that he had the gall to presume to know what had happened,
she folded her arms and sat back in the chair.

Playing with
the coaster on the table, turning it around and around in dexterous
fingers, Marty continued to regard her steadily. “Trevor came to
your town on business. He met you somewhere. He wined and dined
you, was attentive, wormed his way into your trust, you slept with
him, he promised everything and came back to the city. How am I
doing so far?”

Pretty good,
actually, but Belle wasn’t admitting it.

Apparently it
didn’t faze Marty, for he continued relating exactly what had
happened. “He sent you a phone call, said he was busy and couldn’t
come to see you for awhile and you decided to surprise him. Down
you came with stars in your eyes but you found out he was getting
married. Am I still on the right track?”

What, had the
man been standing by her side the whole last couple of weeks,
invisible to sight? Belle swallowed, feeling like a fool for being
so transparent. “I guess a country mouse is easy to read, huh?” A
lump rose in her throat.

He grinned
crookedly. “I have to say, crashing that wedding was hot.”

In the act of
trying to swallow the lump down and not burst into tears, Belle
gaped. “Huh?”

“There you
came, Trevor’s little country fling, storming down the aisle to
make him pay penance. He was found out, and rather than hide under
a rock somewhere, you, Belle, called him out in front of all and
sundry.” Marty shook his head admiringly. “He found out that not
every woman was going to let him get away with it. You are some
woman, Belle Broune.”

“Some woman,”
she echoed almost bitterly. “I made a fool of myself. I should have
just left the city as soon as I heard.”

“Nah.” Marty
waggled the coaster at her. “You’re not the sort of woman who cuts
and runs.”

“You don’t know
that.”

He studied her
consideringly. “I’m generally a pretty good judge of
character.”

“You hardly
know me.”

His smile was
slow and oh, so knowing. It made her feel a little flustered and
she glanced away, fiddling with the clutch in her lap. When she
glanced back at him, he was still watching her.

Really watching
her. Studying her. His brilliant blue-eyed gaze slid from her eyes
to her lips, lingered, darkened, and trailed lower, stopping on her
breasts briefly before lifting once more to meet her gaze head
on.

Her cheeks
flamed.

His lips
quirked.

Her eyes
narrowed.

His eyes
darkened even more.

“I find your
lecherous regard of me totally offensive,” she said in a low, angry
voice.

Surprise
flickered across his face. “I beg your pardon?”

“You should do.
Do you look at all women like that?”

“Like
what?”

“Like you’re
undressing them in your mind?”

His expression
went blank.

And then she
realised of what she’d accused him. Oh crap. No way would a man
like Marty be looking at her as though visually undressing her. Not
her. Not a woman with an overblown figure that required shopping in
the plus-sized section of clothes shops and ordering clothes from a
dressmaker.

Oh no!
Mentally cringing, she hurriedly stood up. “I need - I need to go
to the bathroom.”

“You do?” Marty
repeated stupidly, his expression confused.

“Um - I’ll be
back.”
Maybe. Probably not
.

She fled to the
bar, asked directions to the ladies, and almost ran down the stairs
and behind them to where the toilet doors were secreted out of
sight. Once inside, she was relieved to find it empty and bracing
her hands on one of the basins, she sighed and hung her head, her
cheeks burning and insides shrivelling at just the thought of what
she’d insinuated.

Of course he
wouldn’t look at her like that! Marty was legendary for dating
beautiful women, the slender picks of the crop, the high society
women who dressed like models with their model figures and
expensive clothes and elegant manners.

No way would he
be mentally undressing her, not Belle Broune with her overblown
curves, her foolish behaviour and her big mouth.

Ooohhh, this
is so not good
. Belle shook her head. She’d made a fool of
herself yet again. Marty looking at her as though mentally
undressing her, geez, of course he hadn’t!
Stupid stupid
stupid!
She thunked the heel of her hand against her forehead
several times.

“Man troubles,”
a sympathetic voice said behind her.

Glancing into
the mirror, Belle saw a woman smiling in commiseration as the door
swung shut behind her.

Grimacing,
Belle straightened. “I’m starting to wonder if I’m the
problem.”

“Sweetie, trust
me, it’s
always
the man,” the woman replied cheerfully.

Belle couldn’t
help but give a small laugh.

“You can either
take a taxi home or make him pay exorbitantly for the most
expensive drinks in the pub.” The woman flashed a grin over her
shoulder as she entered one of the stalls.

“I’m his
guest,” Belle replied. “And unfortunately I’m the big mouth. No one
to blame but myself for this one.”

“Make him pay
anyway,” the woman advised right before the door shutting cut her
from sight.

Washing her
hands, Belle did a last check of herself. She couldn’t very well
skulk in here all night. She had to go back out there, apologise to
Marty and try not to make a fool of herself. Again. The only good
thing to come out of it was that he’d undoubtedly find a way to
drop her back off at the house quickly. Then she’d die of
embarrassment in privacy. But first she had to face him.

Sometimes being
a grown up sucked lemons.

Coming out of
the bathroom, she ascended the stairs a lot more slowly than she’d
come down them. At the top she glanced around, half expecting Marty
to have done a runner, though commonsense told her that a Lawson
would never be so crass.

Sure enough, he
was still sitting and talking to a young man who was standing by
his table and pointing at a newspaper in front of him.

A feeling of
dread prickled through Belle. Surely not…

The young man
shook his head and Marty laughed. The man picked up the newspaper
and started laughing as well. Marty’s gaze lifted and he looked
toward the stairs, his smile fading as he saw her.

Oh great, no
doubt remembering of what she’d accused him.
Please God, let a
big hole open up and swallow me whole right now.
Mentally
bracing her spine, she force a polite smile and started across the
room, only to falter again when Marty tried to take the newspaper
from the man talking to him, only to have the man snatch it back
and then follow Marty’s gaze with his own when Marty muttered
something to him. The man’s gaze fell on Belle before flickering
back to the newspaper and once again at her, his eyes widening in
his boyishly handsome face.

“
Her
?”
The shock was clear in his voice even from where he stood half a
room away.

Marty
swore.

The bastard had
betrayed her and told his friend!

Furious and
humiliated all over again, Belle swung on her heel and went right
back downstairs.

“Belle!”

Ignoring
Marty’s call, she forged through the throng of people and fronted
up to the bar. Perching on a stool, she waved her hand to get the
bartender’s attention.

“What’ll it
be?” he asked.

“Something
strong but sweet tasting.”

“You got
it.”

Belle hardly
drank, but right now she felt like she needed something to steady
her nerves right before she killed Mrs Lawson’s beloved son.

The beloved son
who was now right behind her. “Belle?”

“Go away.”

“Come on,
Belle, it’s not what you think.”

“Come on,
Marty, try another cliché,” she mocked.

“It was
nothing. Alan doesn’t know anything.”

Belle swivelled
around on the barstool to glare at him. “Oh, really?”

“Okay.” Marty
sighed. “He guessed.”

“Oh,
really?”

“I didn’t tell
him. He saw you and put two and two together.”

“Oh,
really.”

Marty’s face
was serious. “Belle, I wouldn’t betray you.”

“Funny, that’s
what I thought about Trevor.” Turning back to the bar, Belle
retrieved the money from her clutch and handed it to the bartender.
“Thanks.”

“Belle-”

“Look, I’m in
no mood for men right now. Do me a favour and just go away.”
Picking up the drink, she took a sip. Mmmm, nice. And with a kick
like a mule. She blinked the tears from her eyes and slouched
against the bar with her arms folded.

The man beside
her moved away. Marty perched on the stool and places one big, warm
hand on her arm. “Belle, I’m sorry.”

“So am I.” She
looked pointedly at his hand. “Move it or lose it.”

“Be
reasonable-”

“Reasonable?”
She glared at him. “Seriously? Look, Martin, take a hike, all
right? I won’t tell your mummy about your bad behaviour and I’ll
get myself home. But I’m warning you right now, if you think I made
a scene at the church, you haven’t seen anything yet.”

It was a bluff
but he didn’t know her well enough to call it. The scene at the
church had been born from shock, fury, humiliation, hurt, and
acting without thinking as soon as she’d heard the news. Right now
she was just angry, hurt and humiliated. If he insisted on staying
she’d simply leave the pub, but he didn’t know that, either.

Regarding her
steadily, Marty finally let out another sigh and nodded. “Okay. But
I’ll be over there when you need me.”

“About as much
as I need a hole in the head.”

Getting up, he
hesitated before shaking his head and heading back into the crowded
room.

Good riddance
to him. Good riddance to all men.

Draining the
glass, Belle motioned for another.

“Men,” said a
familiar voice beside her.

Glancing up,
Belle saw the woman from the bathroom. “Men,” she agreed.

“We girls have
to stick together.” The woman placed a cocktail of some kind on the
bar and settled onto the recently vacated barstool. “I’m
Carrie.”

“Belle.”

“Pleased to
meet you, Belle. Want to talk about it?”

“Not
really.”

“Then let’s
just rubbish all men in general.” Grinning, Carrie held her glass
up.

Belle eyed it
before lifting her glass and clinking it against Carrie’s.
“Let’s.”

“Men,” Carrie
began, “are all cheats.”

“And lying
bastards,” Belle added.