Page 29 of Somebody's Watching Me
“Six and seven in the side pocket.” The balls snapped together, dropping obediently into their holes. Laura Jean tossed her long, wavy blonde hair over a shoulder and shrugged. “I could say the same for you. Albie didn’t have a clue until it was too late. Where did you learn to line up a series of shots like that?”
“Long nights in random hotels growing up.”
Moving around to where he stood, she rested her hip on the table. “Traveling with your dad?”
Yes, traveling with none other than Satan. When Charlie proved incapable of representing the Fairweather name during his teen years, the duty had fallen on the second son. “I think I was fourteen the first time I went to Texas with him for business. It was boring, so I snuck off to the hotel’s game room where I taught myself how to play and then win.”
Coming around the table, Laura Jean sipped her beer. “And while traveling with your dad did you teach yourself how to ruthlessly destroy your opponents in any other games?”
He snorted. Having James Fairweather as a father and mentor had taught him how to ruthlessly destroy all kinds of things.
Businesses. People. The world as a whole.
“I will kick your ass at pinball.”
Tapping her beer bottle against the one in his hand, she giggled. “Sounds like a plan.”
Ben wondered if Albie realized how lucky he was to have this woman. She was beautiful, of course. Dainty and feminine, like a tiny woodland fairy lost among mankind. But that wasn’t the only thing about Laura Jean that made her so alluring. Her personality matched her appearance. Enchanting beyond words, there wasn’t an ounce of pretentiousness to be found, and absolutely everything that flew out of her mouth was always one hundred percent authentic.
She never apologized for her way of thinking, or for the wicked sense of humor she occasionally let show. Two traits that came in handy when dealing with the women who constantly threw themselves at her husband.
Like now.
“Do you think he’ll do the spin and pass or the duck and run?” she asked, nodding toward Albie trapped in the hallway leading to the bathroom. “Spin and pass would be my guess.”
Turning to join in on her observation, Ben chuckled at the two females blocking his friend’s path. The crowded Port Michaelson bar wasn’t a regular spot for any of them, but Albie had insisted it was the perfect place for a bachelor party.
“You two are totally lame,” Laura Jean had complained on the drive to the bar. “Bachelor parties should involve strippers, and heavy drinking. A wild time, you know?”
That idea sounded horrible and was the very last thing Ben wanted to do. Miranda had chosen to have a quiet weekend alone with Josie for her bachelorette party, so why couldn’t he do the same?
Not that there was anything wrong with strippers. He hired them as needed, like when an investor hesitated on signing a contract. A little extra attention from a stunning woman was an old tool Fairweather Holdings often used to get the job done.
And the heavy drinking he could do without. That only led to trouble. Well, not trouble. Small, perfect miracles could happen after a night of drinking. Selah was proof of that.
Continuing to watch Albie’s attempts at deflecting the women, Ben leaned down to whisper in Laura Jean’s ear. It was now or never, and if he kept this secret any longer, she would be upset.
“Miranda is pregnant.”
Eyes on her husband, the only indication of her hearing his announcement was the subtle lift of her chin. “Congratulations.”
He wanted to kick himself when her exquisite emerald eyes shone with tears. He could pretend they were tears of joy, but he knew better because he knew her. Since the day he discovered this woman, lost and wandering the empty halls of that Louisiana courthouse, Laura Jean had become a part of him. She was Albie’s, of course, but she was also his. He could read her like a book, having spent immeasurable amounts of time memorizing each line of her story from the start.
“I haven’t told Albie yet, but I’ll want him to look Miranda over and make sure everything is running smoothly.”
A watery laugh erupted from Laura Jean, and she wiped her eyes and nose. “Jesus, Ben. She’s not a car.”
“Check her oil.” Relieved to hear her laugh, he poked her shoulder, craving the sound again. “You know, the basics.”
Giggling, she set down her empty beer bottle and swiped the one he held to polish it off. “I like your goofy side. You should let it show more.”
“No one wants to see him acting goofy.” Ty appeared out of the heavy cigarette smog to drape an arm across Laura Jean’s shoulders. “I witnessed it once, and that was enough.”
Ty was his oldest friend, although they had to be careful in public, which is why Albie picked a bar two counties over. Unwanted attention could find its way back to his father, or worse, his mother, and then there would be hell to pay.
Helen Fairweather excelled at inflicting a very special kind of evil upon her children. Ben supposed he should thank her for teaching him to hate his family early on, and the importance of molding himself to act as they did in order to survive among them.
Only once had he broken character. Only once had he given her reason to doubt his allegiance.
