Finding The One (Meadowview Heroes 1; The Meadowview Series 5) (15 page)

After saying goodbye, Mac had dropped her off at her loft, where she flung herself into bed, only to sleep for sixteen hours straight. Waking up late in the day, she took a quick shower and grabbed a stale bagel, then jumped into her car, headed to Meadowview. Headed to Mac.

“Since you’re going out to the Johansson’s, can you do me a favor and drop something off for Doe?” Chessie asked. “I promised her a bottle of my new bubble bath for babies—Gertie’s Lavender Bliss.”

After Trudy said she would, Chessie tore off, running across the street to the general store that carried her bath and body products, leaving Trudy to chat with Sadie. And watch Jane mouth her fist.

“She’s teething,” Sadie explained. “Hence the drool.”

“I figured,” Trudy said. “My sister has five of her own. They all ended up wearing bibs over their onesies for several months straight.”

“Five kids!” Sadie exclaimed. “Wow, I’m freaking out at just one. Do you have any?”

The question settled around Sadie, as if made of a thick but invisible weight. But there was no sting, no slam of emotion. Instead, she surprised herself by saying, “Not in the cards for me.” Thankfully, Chessie arrived back at the Prius, two bags in her hands, before Sadie could ask Trudy what she’d meant.

“This one’s for Doe”—Chessie handed first one bag over to Trudy, then the other—“and this one’s from Delilah for you and Mac. Bacon and sweet potato muffins. They’re to die for.”

Her agent had told her Essentially Green liked that she was a lush size ten, but Trudy figured if she kept eating Delilah’s muffins, she’d be a size twelve in a week. Maybe she should steer clear. “Thanks so much. I’ll make sure Mac gets some,” she said.

“That Mac gets some?” Aa male voice sounded from the passenger side of her car.

She whipped her head around and her heart
trip-trip-tripped
in her chest. Oh, yum. Mac. She held the paper sack up. “We got a bag of deliciousness from Delilah.”

“Wrong answer,” he said, grinning.

“And what is the correct answer?”

“That Mac’s gonna get some…
you
know…” His grin widened and he waggled his eyebrows.

Trudy rolled her eyes and Sadie laughed. After a few minutes of checking in with Sadie, Mac asked the two women to have a cup of coffee with him at Cuppa Joe’s before heading to his place. Sadie begged off, saying she and Jane had a playdate scheduled, but Trudy grudgingly accepted. Grudgingly, because she still wanted to jump Mac’s body. She supposed she should feel guilty for being so focused on sex with Mac, but wow—the way the man brought her to climax made unicorn glitter look drab.

Inside the coffee shop, over a latte and scone delivered to the shop by a young woman Trudy learned was Jenna Swinton, a fourth-generation owner of Swinton’s Bakery (did people
never
leave Meadowview?), Mac let her know he’d called Ian Ackerley and set a date to show his Warrior Woman series—in less than a month, his work would be up on the walls at a gallery for all the view. Including art critics.

“Are you nervous?” Trudy asked.

He tipped his chin and fingered a design on his coffee mug. “Your friend Angie is a great model. She does exactly what I ask her to do—hits all the right poses. Knows how to find the light. It’s just…” Mac stopped talking and let his gaze drift to the window, where he followed the track of a tourist couple as they strode down the wooden sidewalks. After a moment, he jolted slightly, then turned his gaze back to her. “What about you? Has your agent found you any work besides the sports clothing catalogue?”

Trudy figured that was his signal to drop the conversation. Mac had been a bit reclusive about his art since he started working with Angie, and she knew enough about artists not to push. Besides, she thought as excitement churned inside her, she’d been dying to tell Mac her big news. Yesterday had been all about Milla and the newly arrived Kyle. She hadn’t even texted Mac the news about Essentially Green, and instead had waited to tell him in person.

She leaned forward, elbows on the table top. “I got a new contract—a really big one!” She went on to tell him about Essentially Green, how she’d been a front-runner but they’d selected someone else who’d dropped out, and how they were now offering the five-year deal to her. She kept out the part about her almost losing her loft and going into the red on her credit cards—Mac didn’t need to know the wobbly balance she had on her finances.

“My agent did want me to ask if your lawyer has sent the nullification papers yet,” she added, sipping her now-cold latte. “Lisa doesn’t want any conflict to occur when I sign with Essentially Green. Not that there would be, of course, but still…”

“Yep,” Mac said. “According to my lawyer, he got your signed copy from your agent. My lawyer’s sending it to Doe for my signature. Then it goes on record in the courts.”

Trudy twisted a strand of hair around her fingers. “No worries—I’m sure it will all get taken care of. I’m just so excited. They want me to go to LA to meet with the artistic director.” She caught Mac’s gaze. “That means I’ll be gone for several days.”

“Are
you
nervous?”

“A little,” she admitted. “I guess they want to go over their expectations of me. Of my behavior. I’ll be more than a model—I’ll be their spokesperson. I understand they were a little put off by the Tubster Trudy thing—”

“You cannot be serious. That wasn’t your fault.” A frown formed on Mac’s face and his eyes grew dark. “You’re a fabulous model. They’re lucky you’re even willing to work for them.”

She smiled. Mac’s overprotection of her was sweet. Touching, even. She was a big girl, though—she didn’t need anyone to fight her battles. But wow—it sure felt nice to have someone other than her sister in her corner.

F
ive days later
, a little tired due to her flight from Los Angeles to Sacramento, and the two hour drive to Meadowview (small towns and airport hubs apparently didn’t get along), Trudy arrived back at Mac’s house. “Is he here?” she asked Doe, after giving the girl a brief hug.

Doe nodded toward the back door. “I think he’s up at the pond, taking photographs of worms and bugs and things. Follow the path around his studio and up the hill. You’ll find him.”

Trudy didn’t bother to ask why Mac would be photographing bugs, and instead took off on the path that led up the hill behind the house. The day had grown humid—a storm was moving in, and clouds were heavy along the horizon. The heat, enhanced by the weight of liquid in the air, bore down on Trudy. She followed the path around Mac’s studio and noticed Nanny partway up the hill, grass dangling from her mouth as she stared at Trudy.

“Glad to see you eating greenery. Stay away from the condoms,” Trudy said. “Goats don’t need to practice safe sex.”

Nanny bleated again and bounded off up the trail.

The trail wound its way up the hill to the crest. There, Trudy stopped, and took in a sharp breath. In front of her, on the other side of the hill, lay a large pond surrounded by several willow trees, bright yellow-green leaves just forming on the branches. White and blue and purple flowers dotted the surrounding field. The view was intoxicating, but not as intoxicating as the sight of Mac. He stood bent over before a large box-like contraption. All Trudy could see of him was his jeans-clad butt, protruding from underneath a black cloth he had draped over him and the box. Nice.
Very
nice. (His butt, not the camera). Hmm… She knew Mac had a thing for old-fashioned cameras, but this contraption seemed like something out of the Civil War.

She headed down the hill, careful to not disturb him. He’d laid a quilt out on the grass a short distance from the camera. A picnic basket sat off to the side, along with several other cameras.

“Trudy?” he called out, his voice muffled from the black velvet.

“It’s me. Doe told me where you were. What are you doing under there?”

“Taking pictures of still life with an old daguerreotype. It’s Civil War era.”

But of course.

“I’ll be done in a few minutes,” he added. “There’s a bottle of wine and some munchies in the basket if you’re hungry. They were props.”

Trudy ignored the food. Instead, she curled up on the quilt and closed her eyes, lulled by the rhythmic mechanical sounds made by Mac as he photographed what appeared to be drooping lilies (
not
bugs) at the edge of the pond.

After she answered his questions about her trip to LA, they settled into silence as Mac worked. She must have dozed off, because the next thing she knew Mac was waking her up by tickling her nose with a long piece of grass. She groggily eased herself upward onto her elbows.

“What do you want to do first—have intense outdoor sex or go skinny-dipping in the pond?”

“What?” she laughed. “Who says we’re going to do either?”

“Skinny-dipping it is, then.” Mac shucked off his shirt.

“Hey, I didn’t say I’d go skinny dipping.”

He stopped unzipping his jeans and shot her a hopeful look. “Outdoor sex?”

“Mac!” she squealed, pretending to be outraged. But truthfully, the idea of being naked with Mac out of doors held a certain appeal, whether in the water or on dry land.

He tugged his pants down over his hips. He’d gone commando (yum!) and was apparently quite serious about the whole skinny-dipping thing, because he spun off, racing toward the pond.

“Last one in is a rotten egg,” he hollered over his shoulder before he dove cleanly into the water. When he came back up to the surface, he called out, “Double-dog dare you to come in!”

Her hesitation fled. She never backed down from a double-dog dare—she’d learned the hard way to walk into a new foster home with confidence and bravado, even if she felt none of that. Fake it, and fake it well. Taking on any double-dog dare had earned her the respect of other foster kids. And had sometimes landed her in trouble.

She stood and stripped. Treading water, Mac watched every move, a wide smile on his face.

“Try the rope swing,” he called out, gesturing toward the large oak several yards up the hill from the pond. Now naked, Trudy walked over to the tree and located the thick rope. She grabbed a high knot, edged her way up a muddy path to the top of the hill, and stood.

“Jump!” Mac encouraged.

Trudy stared. From the ground, the pond and the rope swing and the hill and the tree all had seemed so close. Now, standing at the top of the hill, she felt a frisson of adrenaline pump through her system.

Her foot slipped. The ground, wet from a rain the night before, had formed mud under her feet. She slipped again. Suddenly it seemed like a long, long way down the hill to the pond. Okay, so maybe her double-dog dare days were over. “Uh…Mac? I’m not too sure about this. How do I get down without using the rope swing?”

A low chuckle came from below. “You don’t.”

She made the mistake of looking down again. “Oh god!” she shrieked as her feet slipped in the mud. Failing legs did nothing to stop her descent down the slippery and muddy slope. At the bottom of the hill, still holding tight to the rope swing, she went soaring, far out over the pond. Time seemed to hang, suspended. Sound disappeared, as if she were in a vacuum. At the apex of the swing, she hear Mac shout at her to let go and she did, the rush of air passing over her naked body like thousands of tongues. She landed with a splash and allowed herself to sink low.

When her head broke through to the warm air above, Mac met her, his eyes excited and bright. “Watching you slide your way down that hill, getting covered in mud, was an absolute hoot. And a total turn-on.”

She sputtered and splashed him, but he continued, thoughtfully this time. “You know, you’re the first woman I’ve ever been with who would jump into the pond with me.”

She gasped for air, then asked, “And how is this fact important?”

“Doe has this thing called the ‘pond test.’ She claims that I can’t ever get married to a woman unless she’s willing to jump into my pond with me. You just passed.”

“Uh…what does that mean, exactly?” Trudy asked, a little uncertain. He was joking, right?

Mac hesitated. His eyes flickered, then shuttered. “Forget it. Just some stupid family thing. How’s the water—feel good against your skin?”

She nodded, cognizant of the fact that he’d evaded her question. Maybe she shouldn’t have even asked for clarification—because the ‘M’ word was too much to even think about right now. She still hadn’t even told him she was infertile. She’d managed to come clean to Milla…maybe it was time to do the same with Mac.

But not now. She had a naked guy treading water in front of her. Besides, the sensation of water against her naked skin felt fabulous, indulgent. She couldn’t remember ever going skinny-dipping before. She twirled in the water, then did a deep surface dive. Under water she circled about, luxuriating in the sensation of water on her skin. Because of her belly scars, she’d been wearing a one-piece bathing suit for years.

“Race you to the raft,” Mac challenged when she finally popped up to the surface. He took off toward the floating wooden raft, and she followed at a leisurely pace. Once she reached him, she held out a hand and Mac pulled her next to him. The raft, covered in towels and large enough to fit several people, was oddly comfortable, rocking gently in the water.

“Why did Doe invent a pond test?” Trudy asked. Oops, she’d brought the topic up again. What was with her subconscious? Ugh. She
so
did not need a serious conversation right now.

“I guess because I kept dating women who weren’t right for me. They’d try to make me out to be something I wasn’t. They couldn’t accept me for what I am.”

Trudy turned her head and their eyes connected. “What are you, Mac?” she asked.

He curved toward her and ran a finger across her lips. “Good question. Honestly?” He let out a low laugh. “I have no idea who or what I am.”

“I know who you aren’t,” Trudy said, teasing.

“Really?” He quirked an eyebrow at her. “Who?”

“A perfect gentleman, that’s who. You lost your claim to that fame when you palmed my breast in public.”

“I swear, that was a total accident.”

“Yeah, right…” Her light and breezy laugh faded when she saw the intense, animalistic heat glowing in Mac’s eyes. Time for talking had passed, apparently.

He cupped her face in his hand, tugged her in close. With a groan, she rolled close and allowed him to cover her mouth with his. The kiss seared hot and deep, with Mac’s tongue delving into her mouth as if out of need. The kiss conveyed hunger, thirst—and Trudy fed Mac all he needed, responding with an intensity that matched his own.

When he finally pulled away, he murmured, “I could kiss you forever, Trudy.” He kissed her again, and she took his kiss and gave back all she had. With her thighs, she clutched his hips and nudged her core close to him. He pulled away from their kiss to murmur, “Condoms are back on the grass.”

“It’s okay,” she answered, breathless. “I won’t get pregnant.”

Mac sat up. “C’mon.” He gestured toward the quilt on the other side of the pond. “I’ll race you over. Last one to the beach has to give the other multiple orgasms.” He stood, dove, and stroked toward the beach.

Trudy ran her fingers over her stomach, tracing the cobweb of scars while she caught her breath. She needed to tell him. She knew she did, but…

Mac had walked up the sandy beach and grabbed a towel before he turned around to notice her still lying on the raft. “Hey, I was just kidding about that multiple orgasm thing. I’m happy to take only one,” he yelled across the water.

She grinned and slid back into the water, then lazily stroked her way across the pond. Mac greeted her at the water’s edge with a fluffy white towel. Moments later, he was sheathed in latex and inside her, rocking her, making her back arch as she sought to merge with him. Time for talking could come later. He wrapped one arm around her back and held her to him as he drove her higher and higher until something inside her shattered and she came, crying out his name through inchoate sobs.

Still in that nebulous space of pleasure, Trudy became vaguely aware of the open space surrounding them. The willow tree with its yellow-green budding leaves stood stark against the deepening blue sky. Mac’s breath, heavy but slowing, brushed against her skin. Crickets and frogs joined voices in their evening chorus. With trembling arms, Mac let her go and rolled off to lie on his back and she realized how the afternoon had deepened, nudging near to dusk. Trudy shivered as the cool air hit her skin. Mac let out a small chuckle when she whined in complaint. She watched his face, noting his closed eyes and sweat-beaded brow.

“Did you see glitter?” Mac asked, his eyes still closed.

Trudy let out a satiated sigh. “And there were butterflies,” she said, languorously. “Unicorns.” She stretched, long and lean. Mac edged himself up onto his elbow to stare down at her.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured. “And amazing. Strong, brilliant, compassionate…”

“Stop. You’ll give me a complex,” she said with a lazy smile. Their gazes met, his so filled with warmth and…she couldn’t pinpoint what exactly she saw in his eyes, but the same bone-jarring chill she’d experienced that night at the art center rushed through her.

The day couldn’t have been more perfect. Mac couldn’t be more perfect.

Until he reached for his camera.