Page 24 of Thrown

“Go on, then,” his mum smiled at him and hugged him in return.

There wasn’t enough money in the world to pry him away from his mum’s loving arms, or to tempt him to leave Gerry and the kids behind. So in more ways than the Hawthornes knew, Toby understood the impossible position they found themselves in. It was why he was willing to work so hard and put in so many hours off the clock to find ways for that family to keep what they had. It was the reason he was willing to put himself through the torture of these few days in Staffordshire.

As if his thoughts had summoned him, the doorbell rang. It could only be Robbie.

“I get it!” Gracie shouted, a biscuit in each hand, as she pushed away from the sofa and raced for the door.

“No, I’ll get it,” Toby said, jumping around toys to just barely beat her to the door.

Sure enough, Robbie Hawthorne stood on the other side, looking tense, confused, and handsome as hell. He took one look at Tommy in Toby’s arms and at Gracie as she changed her mind about greeting strangers and decided to clamp onto Toby’s leg instead, then met Toby’s eyes with a look that was near panic.

“I’m not sure I’ve got the right house,” he said, even though he knew damn well he did.

“Sorry that I don’t live in a palatial estate,” Toby said, keeping his tone civil, since his mum was approaching behind him.

“No, that’s not what I?—”

“This must be your friend from work, Robbie,” Toby’s mum said, face glowing with excitement as she opened the door the rest of the way and invited Robbie in.

“Yes, er, Robbie Hawthorne.”

Toby stepped back, grinning at Robbie’s discomfort as he inched his way into the house. He was so ready to jump down Robbie’s throat if he so much as dared to criticize a single thing he saw, but there was also something endearing and fun about seeing the great Robert Hawthorne, Jr. so out of his element.

“I’m Marcia Tillman, Toby’s mum.”

“I’m Gracie,” Gracie introduced herself loudly. She held up one of her biscuits and said, “Do you want a biscuit?”

“Oh, er, thank you?” Robbie said, taking the offering.

He got points for that, Toby had to admit. And bonus points when he actually ate the biscuit.

“This is my daughter, Geraldine,” Toby’s mum continued the introductions as Gerry stood and kicked her way through the toys to the crowd around the door. “And Toby is holding Thomas, her son.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you all,” Robbie said with a somewhat tight smile.

“Ooh, likewise,” Gerry said, pushing past Toby to extend a hand to Robbie.

The flirtatious look she gave Robbie, especially when he shook her hand, was priceless. She stood close enough to Toby that he could pretend to cough while saying, “Not your type.”

“Oh?” Gerry glanced to him, and when understanding dawned, she repeated, “Ohh.”

Of course, then she had to lean towards him and in a not-so-quiet voice say, “Nice pull.”

Robbie squirmed with embarrassment, which Toby loved.

“We’re just working together,” he told Gerry, no qualms at all about embarrassing Robbie further.

In fact, if they hadn’t been so pressed for time, he would have invited Robbie to come in and have tea so he could put him on the spot to the point where he would probably spontaneously combust.

“We really need to get going,” he said instead, handing Tommy back into Gerry’s arms. Tommy didn’t like that and started crying again.

“Are you sure you won’t stay for a cuppa?” Toby’s mom asked, just as he’d known she would.

“I would,” Robbie said, flushing a bit, “but we need to make it to Staffordshire by nightfall.”

Robbie was cute when he was flustered. Toby didn’t know many men who looked better with a flush painting their cheeks. Well, unless they were flushed from fucking. But Robbie had the sort of patrician good looks that were enhanced by awkwardness, damn him.

“Hold on one moment,” Toby’s mum said, shuffling back toward the kitchen as Toby grabbed his overnight bag and hefted it over his shoulder. “I made a little something for the drive.”

---