Below the Belt(47)

He knew the feeling. With a kiss to the top of her head, he let himself drift again. Now that they’d taken care of the whole “disclosure” portion of their relationship, they could move forward.

Because with Marianne Cook, forward was exactly where he wanted to go.


*

MARIANNE tossed the knife in the sink and smiled at her PB and J. Her one regret was that Brad had left and wouldn’t be sharing her sloth-like lunch with her. He’d had errands to run, as well as wanting to check on Tibbs and make sure he was feeling okay after his additional workout the night before. He promised to come back later, though, this time with a pile of laundry.

Just like a little domestic couple. Doing laundry on a Sunday evening while watching a movie or TV. The thought should have made her gag, but it only made her grin wider.

For now, she had two choices. Eat her lunch of a sandwich and a bag of chips at the coffee table while she watched some of her DVR’d shows, or take it back to her bedroom and surf Facebook and Pinterest while she ate.

Pinterest won. She loved finding inspirational quotes and pictures. When she had her own training room again—a permanent space—she wanted it decked out in quotes for the athletes to read through while they iced or got their massages or just hung out, talking.

She had just set the plate down on the comforter when she heard her front door open. Since she’d locked it after Brad, she knew the only other person possible was . . .

“Marianne! Your car was in the parking lot.”

“Be there in a sec, Mom.” She grabbed the lunch and headed back out. Looked like she’d be eating on the couch after all. Her mother was standing in the living room, waiting. When she saw Marianne enter, her eyes widened.

“Oh, my Lord. What in the world have you done to yourself?”

She glanced down at her sweatpants and tank and shrugged. “Woke up?” She sat on one end of the couch, legs curled under her, and took a bite of her sandwich.

“It’s noon, sweetheart. You just woke up?”

“Day off.” Marianne took a big bite of her sandwich and grinned around the flopping crust. Her mother winced.

“You look a bit . . . rough, sweetheart.” Her mother sat more delicately on the opposite end of the couch. “There are adorable Marines all over this apartment complex, you know.”

“And none of them are looking in my window, so no problem.” No way in hell was she going to mention she’d just had an adorable Marine in her bed not three hours ago, and he hadn’t minded her being “rough” at all.

In fact, he might have liked her even more when she was rough.

“Marianne, what’s that smile for?”

“Hmm?” She glanced up from her plate to find her mother staring at her. “What?”

“Nothing. I came by to . . .” Mary trailed off, and she glanced down under the coffee table.

A moment too late, Marianne realized what her mother was reaching for. “No, don’t. I’ll get it . . . later,” she finished as her mother pulled two condom packets from under the table and held them with two fingers.

“Do I . . .” Her mother cleared her throat and set them on the empty table. In the middle, as if they were a freaking home decor item. “Do I want to know?”

“Probably not.”

Her mother stared at them for a moment. “Will you be embarrassed if I say I’m glad you’re having some fun?”

“Yes,” Marianne said immediately. Shut it down, shut it down. Abort. Abort. “Yes, I absolutely will.”

Mary shot her a disbelieving look. “You know that won’t stop me. So, who is he?”

Marianne rolled her eyes and settled back against the armrest.

“Have we met him before? Old friend from high school?”

In response, she smiled blandly and took a large bite of her sandwich. Couldn’t answer with her mouth full, could she? No. That would be rude.

“He’s not a Marine,” her mother mused, using one finger to spin one shiny foil packet like it was a freaking top. “You were never really into that type. Maybe—”

“Please, God, strike me now.”

“Fine, fine.” Her mother huffed. “Just thought we could have a nice conversation.”

“Could it not involve those?” Marianne asked, and pointed at the table.

“If you insist. Though I must commend you on your safety.”

“Okay!” Marianne popped up and snatched the condoms, crumpling them in her fist. Her neck burned. “How about I shower, and we can go do whatever it is you came over here to drag me out for?”

“Shop. I wanted to know if you wanted to run down to Wilmington to shop.” Her mother stood and glanced around the room. Marianne could all but see the wheels churning in Mary’s head. Her mother was trying to place where they’d had sex for them to need condoms under the coffee table. The sooner she shuttled Mary out of her apartment, the better.

“Sounds great. I love shopping. Shopping is good. Shopping, shopping, shopping!”

Mary eyed her curiously. “Are you sick?”

“Nope. I’m just excited to spend time with you, you know, shopping.” Honestly, she hated shopping. It wasn’t fun, she never found something that fit her short frame without being tailored, and she’d rather spend her money on other things. But at this point, anything to get her mother out of the porn palace.