42 #Recovery

The house was quiet.  Almost eerily so.  Why hadn’t she turned on her white noise machine before bedtime?  She normally did that without fail, and the absence of sound became annoying as consciousness nudged away the shadows of sleep. 

 

When she reached up to scratch a tickling nose, her hand brushed something soft.  Something that didn’t feel like her usual cotton summer gown.  Through sleepy slits, she peered down at her chest and discovered a beige sweater set – the one she’d worn for the Peabody contract meeting.

 

Dum-dum-dum-diddy-dum-dum-dum…

 

Oh God. 

 

David had followed Jon.  All the cousins descended.  Pierce brought contracts – on behalf of Jon and Endicott – and suggested having a “little thing” for her.  The last memory she held was everyone piling into the hallway as though it was one of those clown cars.

 

Slamming her eyes shut again, she pushed away the flamboyant circus imagery as a fresh knot of anxiety formed behind her breastbone. 

 

Damnation.  Did I actually faint?

 

While it had been a close call on several occasions, she’d only hit the floor one other time.  It was at Truman’s funeral when a bookie approached her with condolences and the offer of an extra week to pay off her late husband’s debt.  “Considering the circumstances and all,” he’d said.

 

With a nervous system that was already stretched to capacity, her mind and body simply hadn’t been able to withstand one more thing.  The scene in her hallway had pushed her to that same mortifying point. 

 

At least this time she was on her own sofa instead of one in a church office. 

 

Easing her eyes open again, Teddi lifted her head and scanned the surroundings.  It wasn’t the sofa. 

 

Weak beams of sunlight tinted her beige bedroom to a deceptively soothing rose-gold.  The curtains, comforter beneath her, light blanket, and wingback chair by the fireplace were all kissed with pink.  As was the man who sat in that chair, scrolling through his phone. 

 

“Hey,” was Jon’s quiet greeting when he noticed her scooting into a sitting position.  “Any suggestions for what Bon Jovi accounts to follow on Twitter?  All I’m finding are just random fans.  Some of them are pretty screwy.”

 

“Those are the fun ones,” she told him absently, while stealing a glance at the clock.  Seven thirteen.  She assumed it was evening instead of morning, since there wasn’t any stubble along his jaw.  “I’m equally horrified and grateful that you’re here, but why are you?  Didn’t you have a dinner engagement?”

 

“I cancelled.” 

 

His thumb darkened the screen, and the phone disappeared into a pocket along with one hand when he rose.  Approaching the bedside, he offered her an upturned palm, and she automatically placed hers atop it, savoring the warm fingers that folded around her chilled ones. 

 

When he didn’t offer anything further about his change in plans, she pulled a frown.  “You shouldn’t have cancelled your plans.”

 

“Oh, so I should’ve left you unconscious with the house full of people who stressed you out to the point of fainting?  Okay,” he scoffed.  “I’ll remember that next time.”

 

“See that you do.  I can’t stand the thought of your daughter being neglected because I’m a ninny.” 

 

An understated grin coaxed creases into his cheeks.  “Neglect, my ass.  She’ll pay for dinner with her friend using the ‘emergency’ credit card.  It’s more of an emergency than the designer birthday cake for her dog last week.  When you find organic and gluten-free dog cakes, you apparently have to celebrate the little shit’s half birthday.”

 

Jon’s obvious disdain for the dog was amusing, but it wasn’t guilt-soothing.  It also didn’t do anything to ease her embarrassment. 

 

“I hate that I was such a cowardly diva.  It wasn’t as though anything was that terrible.  There were just so many little things that snowballed into…”  She lifted regretful eyes to his.  “I’m sorry.”

 

“I’m sorry you were put in that situation.  For what it’s worth, I think you would’ve been fine if it wasn’t for Pierce.”

 

That was a fair statement.  His mere presence had been enough to put her off-kilter, but Teddi could’ve coped with that.  She could’ve even handled Jon’s understandable curiosity about having to lead Pierce to the kitchen.  What tripped her up was his unexpected profession, his representation of Endicott and his engagement in a “testosterone tug-of-war” with Jon.  Too many lines got blurred in a short amount of time. 

 

“He’s not still here, is he?” 

 

She could manage it if he was.  She would make herself manage, but Teddi childishly hoped everyone was gone and it was just her and Jon in the house.  Then she could pretend the fiasco hadn’t happened.  That he was just here for a normal dinner date, after which they would make their own dessert in the boudoir. 

 

“No,” Jon informed her with shadowed eyes that stole her relief at the answer. 

 

“What about everyone else?  What happened after I… folded like a card table?”

 

What happened?  More than she probably needed to know, in Jon’s opinion.

 

When Cookie crumbled, he hadn’t been close enough to do anything other than yell for someone to catch her.  Dave’s arm went tight around her back and Pierce grabbed for her waist, but neither could keep Teddi from folding “like a card table” onto the glossy hardwood. 

 

They at least managed to guide the collapse, ensuring that her head didn’t bounce against the floor.  Their combined hold allowed them to ease her into a graceful heap of dead weight as Tori shouted profanity.  Jon was striding down the hall to crouch at Teddi’s side when Maggie shrieked behind him, and that was the siren that drew everyone else to swarm the cramped hallway. 

 

Scanning her lax features, he truthfully hadn’t thought she’d be out more than a minute but Teddi had different ideas.  She completely removed herself from the scene and refused to come back.  There was no rousing her, but since she breathed without distress, they collectively chose not to call an ambulance.  

 

Even though that left them with nothing to do but wait it out, the women declared that no family member of theirs was going to be left lying on the floor.  The men were ordered to move Teddi to a more comfortable location, so someone found a blanket to use as a make-shift stretcher, and once they eased her limp form onto it, the male cousins carefully navigated her up the stairs and to bed. 

 

If Teddi had happened to awaken during that, she would’ve passed right out again, because it turned out to be… interesting. 

 

Evidently, none of them had ever been to the upstairs of the house, because not a single person knew which bedroom door was Teddi’s.  Pierce thought he did, and his utter confidence in giving directions to the boudoir earned some narrowed looks. 

 

From Jon, the guy got more of a glare, because Teddi wouldn’t want her damn family in that room.  It did, however, prove the legal lothario never spent the night here.  If he had, he’d know the boudoir was a “playroom” and not where Teddi slept.

 

Jon would’ve felt smug about that, but he was busy holding a breath on Teddi’s behalf as Maggie reached for the boudoir knob.  That breath was only released when the room was found to be locked.  Teddi had kept her secret safe, leaving Stef to suggest trying the next door.  That’s when she landed on her own bed without anyone realizing Jon’s familiarity with the upstairs floorplan. 

 

“I don’t know who is still downstairs, but Pierce isn’t.  I came up here after Tori kicked his ass out.”

 

Weary eyes briefly fell shut before easing open again.  “Dare I ask why?”

 

To put it bluntly, the cousin that Jon would’ve considered the quiet one went ballistic on Pierce’s ass.  Tori called him every name in the book for coming into this house as a “double fucking agent” and cited him as unethical for working both sides of a business deal.  He’d defended himself of course, saying that the parties and shares involved in Jon’s part of the deal were completely separate from Endicott’s offer to Teddi. 

 

That’s when Maggie piped up saying that Endicott couldn’t buy Teddi’s share, anyway.  There was evidently some clause that prevented any of the Peabody heirs from buying out the others – a clause that Pierce hadn’t heard about, because he was obviously shocked at that bit of news.  Jon supposed that was why he let Tori stand there and rip the contract to pieces. 

 

She threw the it at him with some very creative suggestions on what he and Endicott could do with it before informing Pierce that whatever “friendship” he had with Teddi was over.  She threatened to set his car on fire if the “two-faced son of a bitch” dared drive it onto the property again.  While it blazed, she would toast marshmallows in the flames and stick them to his beard for the sole pleasure of shoving him face-first into an anthill.

 

Tori was his kind of people. 

 

“She wasn’t impressed that he was representing both me and Endicott,” Jon said mildly.  “By the way, Maggie says that Endicott can’t legally buy your share.  Is that true?”

 

Her brow drew down thoughtfully, as though searching her memories, and then popped back up when she struck upon one.  “She’s right, he can’t!  He’s got me so flustered with his persistence that I must’ve forgotten that bit.”

 

“Or you were too drunk at the will reading.”

 

Rather than scolding him for the teasing, she cocked her head to one side and shrugged.  “Not drunk enough, in my opinion, but at least I didn’t faint.” 

 

“You make a habit of that?”

 

“No.  This evening only makes twice in my life.”

 

“This is probably a dumb question, but have you ever tried to do anything about your anxiety, other than medicate it away?  Therapy or something?”

 

She slid her focus from him to the TV hanging above the fireplace.  “Having a psychology degree is awkward when you have psychological issues.  It provides just enough knowledge for me to question everything a therapist says.” 

 

“Is that a ‘no’?”

 

Sheepish eyes dropped to her lap.  “I went once.”

 

“And?”

 

“And I found myself giving the answers that would make me look ‘normal’ instead of the truth.  It was a waste of time for everyone involved.”

 

He briefly wondered what “the truth” was, but before Jon got a chance to ask, she jumped in with, “What happened with the contracts?  Did Tori and Craig sign? What was Pierce’s reaction to Endicott’s inability to sell?”

 

“I suggested your cousins have a lawyer look at theirs rather than signing them tonight.  Just to give them peace of mind.  Pierce,” he said neutrally, with no intention of mentioning marshmallows or anthills.  “He was confident that there must be some explanation.  That there was a loophole in the will or something.  He’s going to investigate and get back in touch with you.”

 

Although the guy’s “thing” for Teddi would’ve had him back in touch, anyway. 

 

A thing. 

 

What the fuck that meant was anybody’s guess, but Jon had spent a fair amount of time contemplating that definition since Dave texted him. 

 

[6:30 PM]DAVE: btw, if you’re gonna make a move on TB, you better do it before the other guy seals the deal.

[6:31 PM]JON: Tom Brady?  I think his wife keeps him straight.

[6:32 PM]DAVE: Teddi Bear you stupid fucker.  Pierce admitted he’s got a thing for her.  If you don’t tell her the same, it’s gonna be game over before it gets started. Take advantage of an empty house and some alone time, man.

[6:34 PM]JON: Mind your own fucking business.

[6:35 PM]DAVE: This is the thanks I get for escorting everybody out of there and leaving you to play nursemaid?  Ungrateful SOB.

[6:36 PM]JON: You’re so full of shit.

[6:37 PM]DAVE: Not even kidding.  The cuz clan was not cool with leaving their familia out cold until I pointed out there was no point everybody watching her sleep.  That you had a concierge dr. who would make a house call if she wasn’t awake in a couple hours.

[6:39 PM]JON: I don’t have a concierge doc

[6:40 PM]DAVE: Better hope she wakes up then.  Hey! Try that Sleeping Beauty trick.  Always wondered if that works...    

 

Right now, Jon would rather kiss Teddi than watch the strain resurface on her face.

 

“You think they’ll still sign?”

 

“There’s no reason not to,” he said calmly, stroking a thumb across the back of her knuckles.  “It’s a good offer.”

 

“I’m starting to have second thoughts about this whole thing.”

 

Her sigh was the final straw.  Fuck if she was going to sit and work herself into another knot of nerves over this.  Her cousins had the contracts, Endicott was barking up the wrong tree, and there was nothing for Teddi to do but wait to take that fucker’s puny power from him.  Until it came time to do that, she needed to mentally separate herself from the whole thing.   

 

“Know what I’m having thoughts about?”  he drawled, easing closer to the bed and reaching over her with his free hand.  Making a fist and planting it next to her hip, he used it to support his weight and leaned in so that there was only a couple of feet between their noses.  

 

Like a genie trapped in a bottle, the Gypsy inside her danced behind eyes that were no longer weary or worried.  They were tinted with intrigue as he brought their joined hands up and kissed her knuckles. 

 

“I think your thoughts are becoming pretty obvious.”  That husky voice expertly stroked his libido and invited his imagination to run wild – until she added, “But we’re not doing anything in this bed.”

 

“Ah, c’mon,” he coaxed with his best panty-dropper smile.  “You never thought about doing dirty deeds in this bed?  Fantasized about having my face between your legs?”

 

Her chuckle was soft as she traced a finger along his jaw.  “Nope.  This bed makes me frigid.”

 

“Liar.”

 

The Gypsy’s hips shimmied in the depths of inky black pupils.  “Maybe, but I promise it’ll be much better in the boudoir.  It was made for carnal pleasure.”

 

“You were made for carnal pleasure,” he murmured against her cheek as the fist on the mattress broke to cup her hip.  “Room’s got nothin’ to do with it.”

 

Gentle fingertips scraped his scalp in a rhythmic pattern, as though she was weighing the truth of what he said.  Teddi was quiet for so long that Jon thought she was caving to his wisdom and the kisses being smudged along her jaw.

 

Then she drew back with a somber expression.  “I’ll do and be anything you want.  Just don’t ask me to do it here.  Not tonight.”

 

The pleading undertone soured his stomach.  He hadn’t suggested sex as another obligation for her to fulfill.  God knew she’d done enough of that tonight.  Endured enough.  All Jon wanted was to make her feel good for a little while.  To give back some of the control she probably felt was stripped from her.

 

He’d push another time. 

 

For now, he dipped in for a soft kiss and conceded, “Okay, baby.  Whatever you want.”