Her Old-Fashioned Husband Page 5

  Austin’s father was a strict but loving man. Tom had been surprised to realize that like Frankie’s parents, Austin’s dad disciplined his wife. And he’d also been a little relieved to find it was more common that he’d realized.

  Because it was the sort of relationship he wanted.

  Although he didn’t enjoy punishing Frankie, it was something he believed to truly be necessary. And he never shied from giving one when it was needed. One thing he strived to always be was consistent. He was sure Frankie considered him strict, but she thrived under rules and structure. It was how she’d been brought up and he knew she’d never respect a man she could walk over.

  Rubbing his eyes, he looked at his watch and realized he had five minutes before the conference started again. What they needed was a holiday. Some time away just the two of them, where he could work on getting Frankie to fully open up with him. The only time she truly let go was when he disciplined her.

  Then often her emotions were so raw and real that she would shy away from them and retreat. He now realized that she was just as insecure as she had been when they’d first got together. His fault, he needed to spend more time reassuring her of his love.

  It was time to fully take charge.

  Except how was it fair for him to expect her to fully open up when he wasn’t doing the same. He’d never told her about Austin, not because he didn’t trust her or love her. But because he still found it so painful.

  But it was time to tell her.

  Tom scrolled through the contacts on his phone until he reached Heath’s name. His brother-in-law picked up on the fourth ring.

  “Hey, Tom, what can I do for you?” Heath’s voice was calm, unhurried. Tom admired the man a lot. He was the rock in his family, had been since his parents death. He’d held his family together and kept them the strong unit they still were. Tom knew no matter what else was going on, any of them—Tom included—could go to him and he’d give them his full attention.

  “Hey, Heath. How’s it going? How are Ava and Jaron?”

  “Jaron’s good. Growing fast,” Heath said with very real affection for his stepson in his voice. “Running around and getting into mischief. Ava isn’t very happy. She wants to be running around after him. I’m not her favorite person at the moment.”

  “You want me to check up on her?” Tom asked with concern. Ava was nearly five months pregnant and it wasn’t going easy on her. Her blood pressure was high, she was excessively tired and having a toddler to chase around wasn’t helping matters much.

  “That would probably be a good idea. When you have time. Not that she’s any worse, but if you could just reiterate the need to rest and not stress. She’s pushing me hard. I’m not sure how much stricter I can get with her.”

  Tom heard the tightness in his voice, knew worry over Ava’s health was starting to wear on the stoic man.

  “I’ll come out some time this week,” Tom promised. “I hate to ask, but can you do me a favor?”

  “Of course.”

  “Go and check on Frankie for me tonight. She’s a bit upset. I’ll be home tomorrow, but...”

  “But you’re worried about her and you’d feel better if someone checked on her,” Heath finished understanding exactly how he felt.

  “Yeah,” Tom said with relief.

  “Course I will. She’s still my little sister. If I think she needs it, I’ll bring her home with me.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Hey, no thanks needed. We’re family, remember?”

  Tom hung up, feeling much happier.

  *****

  Later that night, Tom tiredly climbed the stairs to his hotel room. He was glad that the conference was finally over and he could get home to Frankie.

  His cell buzzed just as he entered his room. He looked down, hoping to see Frankie’s name. Instead it was Heath’s.

  “Hi Heath,” he answered as he sat on a chair and toed off his shoes.

  “Tom.”

  Tom immediately sat up at the displeasure in Heath’s voice.

  “What is it? What’s happened?” Tom asked urgently.

  “I’m at your place. Frankie’s not here.”

  Tom looked over at his clock. Seven forty-five. She should be home by now, even if she’d stopped on the way home to get groceries or takeaways.

  “Your house is all locked up and her car isn’t in the garage.”

  “Damn,” Tom sighed. “I’m sorry to get you all the way there for nothing. I’ll ring her cell; she must have gone out to dinner with friends. She might be home soon. She knew I was going to call her.” And he always called at eight.

  “I’ll wait,” Heath said.

  “No, you need to get home to Ava. I’m sure Frankie’s fine. You know how easily she loses track of time.”

  Heath was quiet. “Sure you don’t want me to go looking for her?”

  “No. Honestly, go home. Thanks Heath.”

  “You ring me if you need to. Promise.”

  Tom smiled. Heath sounded like a concerned parent, and he guessed in a way he was. He’d raised Frankie from a teenager.

  “I promise.”

  He closed his phone then rubbed his forehead. A headache was forming in his temples. He’d give her until eight then he’d ring. After all, she didn’t know he’d asked Heath to come around. Tom hadn’t wanted it to look like he was checking up on her when that was exactly what he was doing.

  Tom hated the fact that he was miles away from her right now. Not when she was hurting, confused. The fact that she wasn’t safely tucked up inside their house ate at his guts.

  He paced. Never had fifteen minutes seemed so long.

  Seven fifty-eight. Close enough.

  Tom called the house phone. It rang until the answer phone picked up.

  Letting out a deep breath in an attempt to cage his fear, he called her cell. No answer.

  “Goddamnit, Frankie,” he swore. “I’m going to whip your butt good for scaring me like this.”

  He called the house phone then her cell again, leaving messages on both.

  Sitting back on the bed, he prepared himself for a long night.

  Where the hell was she?

  *****

  What the hell was she doing here?

  Frankie stared around her with blurry eyes as she sat in the crowded nightclub. She’d only intended to go out to dinner with her workmates. They’d begged her to join them and she’d given in. She hated eating alone. Instead of driving home to Hamilton to change, she’d showered at Libby’s house, borrowing some of her clothes.

  Unfortunately, Libby was a bit smaller than Frankie, so a top that looked fairly good on Libby was basically obscene on Frankie. At the restaurant she’d kept her jacket on to cover herself up, but it was too hot inside the club to keep it on.

  God, what was she doing here?

  After a few drinks with dinner it hadn’t taken much for the others to persuade her to come here, but she really wished she hadn’t. Tom was going to kill her. Not only was she supposed to be at home, but she wasn’t supposed to be drinking without him. When they’d first gotten together she’d been drinking too much and partying. He’d eased off on the complete alcohol ban he’d given her back then. But if he wasn’t with her, she was supposed to limit her intake to two drinks. When Tom was with her, he always stopped her before she got too roasted. The trouble was that after three or four drinks she sort of lost track of how much she’d drunk.

  Damn, she should check her cell. She’d turned it off when they went for dinner, ignoring the masses of guilt that had formed in her stomach.

  She was allowed to have dinner with her friends, she defended to herself. But that didn’t excuse the fact that she hadn’t text him. She knew he was going to call her and she hadn’t even given him the courtesy of a text to say she was out.

  And she didn’t even know why she was acting this way.

  To top things off, she wasn’t even enjoying herself. She felt nauseous from a combination of guilt and alcohol. She was exhausted. Her feet hurt from being stuffed into Libby’s too-small high heels and she’d been hit on so many times, she’d lost count. She’d actually had to stomp her heel down on one guy’s foot just to get him to back off.

  He was none too pleased either. Even now, he stood glaring at her from across the room.

  It was time to leave. She had to call Tom. She had no idea what time it was, but she could only imagine how mad he was. And worried.

  Frankie was in big trouble.

  Heaving herself up, she swayed as she attempted to search out her friends. Dragging out her cell, she nearly heaved as she tried to read the screen.

  God, this wasn’t good. How was she going to get home?

  She could taxi but it would cost a fortune. There was no way she could drive. Not in this condition. Pulling off her shoes, she held them in one hand, her cell clutched tightly in her other hand as she pushed and shoved her way to the door.

  Stumbling out the door, she took in deep gulps of cold air.

  Shivering, she glanced down at herself in confusion.

  “Damn, where is my jacket?” she muttered. She ran her hand over her hair. Where had she put her it? Did she leave it in the club? She must have.

  “I need to go back inside,” she muttered.

  “Are you all right?” a deep voice asked.

  Frankie glanced up at the voice, her gaze narrowing as she stared at the smartly-dressed man in front of her. He had dark hair and bright blue eyes, his tanned skin a nice contrast to the white shirt he wore tucked into black pants.

  “Yep. I’m just going home.”

  The man frowned, looking even more handsome if that was possible.

  “How are you getting home?” he asked. “Do you need me to call you a taxi?”

  She shook her head, groaning as that made her feel ill. “No thanks,” she slurred. “No taxi. Too expensive. I live in Hamilton.”

  He frowned. “Can I give you a ride home then? You’re very drunk, young lady,” he said sternly. Damn, now she was being scolded by strangers, it was too much!

  Frankie matched his frown. “I’m fine. I’m going to call my brother. One of them. Brax probably, he’ll be less likely to spank me.”

  Oops, had she said that out loud? She smacked her hand across her mouth.

  The man’s eyes gleamed and she squirmed a little. There was something about him. He kind of reminded her of Tom. Not in looks, he was far larger and had dark hair where Tom was blond. But that tone of voice, the firm look in his eyes that brooked no argument, the overwhelming self-confidence. Yes, those were all traits her husband had.

  “You’re shivering. I wish I had a jacket to give you.”

  “That’s ok. I had one. Guess it’s lost now.” Frankie closed her eyes briefly, wobbling. “Whoa.”

  Suddenly she found herself held up against a wide chest. She pushed, fighting as she opened her eyes, panting heavily.

  “Easy, kid. I won’t hurt you. You were about to fall over.”

  She blinked and realized she was held against the stranger’s chest.

  “Oh, thanks. You can let me go.”

  He stared down at her sternly. “I let go of you and you’ll be on your ass. Now tell me where you need to get to or give me your brother’s number and I’ll ring him. Did you say his name was Brax? I know a Brax Jamieson, is that him?”

  “How’d you know?” she asked suspiciously.

  He snorted. “Brax ain’t a common name.”

  No, she supposed not. “How do you know Brax?” she asked.

  “Mutual acquaintances,” he replied smoothly. “So what’s it going to be, miss?” he said in a tone of voice she knew well. “Am I calling Brax or giving you a ride home because I am not leaving you out here. You’re in no condition to look after yourself. You need a bottom warming for this little stunt.”

  Frankie groaned. “Not you, too. Don’t worry. I’m sure my husband will take care of it when he gets home tomorrow.”

  “Yeah?” he asked as he began walking, tugging her along. “And who is he?”

  “Tom Sanders,” she replied tiredly. She should probably resist him, but she really wanted to sleep.

  “Yeah?” he said, his voice amused for some reason. “Well, can’t let Doc Sanders wife stand around in the cold, can I?”

  “You know Tom?” she asked as they reached a dark car. She couldn’t tell what make it was.

  He helped her inside and pulled the belt across her.

  “I’m surprised your husband let you out without him.”

  Frankie frowned. “I’m not a child,” she said sulkily, folding her arms across her chest as she pouted.

  “Doesn’t seem that way to me, little girl,” he scolded. The car started moving and she closed her eyes, hoping that would help the nausea. “You deserve a damn good spanking for this. I’m half tempted to do it myself.”

  “What is it with the men around here?” she complained. “All you ever do is spank and scold.”

  He snorted. “You’re obviously married to the wrong man if that’s all he does, sweetheart.”

  She sighed. “More like he’s married to the wrong woman.”

  “I find that hard to believe.”

  A sob escaped. “I can’t have children.”

  A warm hand encased hers. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Did you just find out?”

  “We’ve been trying for a year and nothing. He deserves better. He needs a wife who can give him the perfect life.”

  “No such thing as perfect. If all he wants from his you is children then he doesn’t deserve to have you.”

  She sniffled miserably.

  “Is that why you were out getting drunk tonight?” he asked in a deep voice.

  For some reason, maybe because the alcohol had reduced her inhibitions or she just needed to tell someone, Frankie found herself confessing everything. Her pain over another failed pregnancy test. The fact that she thought Tom would be better off without her. Her failure to be the perfect wife.

  When she finished, she realized he’d stopped the car and was holding her against his chest as she cried.

  “Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” she apologized, mortified. She moved back to her own seat, wiping her hands over her cheeks.

  “Don’t be, little one. Sounds to me like you needed to get that all off your chest. Sometimes it’s easier to talk to someone you don’t know. Someone that has no investment in your life.”

  “Tom wants me to see a counselor. I feel like all I ever do is cause him trouble, I mean what do I ever give back?”

  “Ahh, sweetheart, I’m sure you give plenty. And if he wants more, then your husband seems like a man who will take charge and let you know.”

  She frowned; her alcohol buzz had long died; now she just felt sick and tired. “I don’t know, sometimes I feel like he holds back.”

  “Ahh, sweetheart.” He gathered her close and kissed her forehead. “Talk to him. He will listen. Here, if you ever need someone to talk to, come and see me.”

  He pulled out his wallet and handed her a card. “You call me any time you need to talk, okay?”

  She clutched the card and nodded.

  He started the car. “Now, how about you tell me where your house is? It’s well past your bedtime, little one.”

  Feeling subdued and thoroughly exhausted, Frankie gave him directions. This was turning into one hell of a night.

  Chapter Three

  Tom waved goodbye to Jeff before striding up the walkway to his house, pulling his suitcase behind him. He quickly unlocked the door. As soon as he was inside, he dropped the case and started striding up the stairs, pushing back the exhaustion weighing him down.

  He hadn’t been able to sleep last night; his worry over Frankie kept him awake, fearing the worse. He prayed to God he’d find her safe and sound in their bed. Nearly too afraid to look in case he found the room empty, Tom slowly pushed their bedroom door open.

  And nearly collapsed in relief.

  She was sound asleep, dressed in some atrocious clothes, but she was there.

  “Thank you, God,” he whispered, running his hand over his forehead. Part of him wanted to immediately shake her awake, hug her, scold her, spank her. The other part knew he had to get some sleep, get himself under control. He was so tired and furious that he was worried about what he’d say in this state.

  As he walked towards her the smell of alcohol hit him, and he screwed up his nose as he took in her state of dress. She wore a too-small top, her breasts nearly bursting out of the sequined top. A short skirt had ridden right up her legs until he could see her bare ass, the tiny G-string doing little to cover her. Normally, he loved those tiny scraps of lingerie she wore, but right now he wondered how many people had seen her butt in that pathetic excuse for a skirt.

  Her dark, normally silken hair lay tangled and messy around her head and her mouth was open as she snored softly.

  “Obviously someone had a good night while I was worrying myself sick,” he muttered, not concerned about waking her. Frankie was sleeping like the dead.

  Taking a deep breath to cool his ire, Tom turned to move towards the attached bathroom. He needed a shower then a long sleep.

  As he turned, his attention was caught by a card lying on the floor. Picking it up, he frowned, staring at his wife in surprise.

  “Where the hell did you get this from?” he asked.

  One thing was for certain. When his wife woke up, she was in a hell of a lot of trouble.

  *****

  Frankie groaned as she woke up, her head pounding incessantly, her mouth hellishly dry. She covered her eyes, hoping to hide from the world.

  “Finally, she joins the land of the living.”

  Her eyes popped open at that statement, her gaze immediately focusing in on her husband who was sitting in his armchair by the window. He stared at her solemnly, his face tired and sad looking.

  “Tom? When did you get home?” she asked in shock. Damn, she glanced down at herself, why didn’t she get out of these horrid clothes last night?

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