No Perfect Princess (25 page)

Or was that the sound of fate, laughing in my face as I once again told myself that nothing I felt for Margaux remotely approached the fucking
L
word?

Margaux

A
nd they called
us the Apple Dumpling Gang…

Close, but not quite right.

Fish out of water, party of one
?

Warmer, yes. Both were appropriate in this situation, though I wondered if there was anything the fine people of Julian, along with a few thousand of their closest friends, considered
in
appropriate on this fine national holiday. Here, the Fourth of July carried an invisible subheading—“
Everything but the Kitchen Sink Day”
—and they sure as hell meant it, in every grand, bunting-and-stars-draped meaning of the word.

Michael and I dropped Di off at the high school so she could help with staging for the grand production of a parade, kicking off in a few hours. She was accompanied by Pearson’s orchard foreman, Carlo, who listened patiently to Michael’s strict instructions not to let her out of his sight. While waiting for him to finish, it was impossible not to hear the more vehement parts of Michael’s speech.

“That asshole isn’t allowed…

…copy of the restraining order…

…if Declan thinks he can make his point like this…”

I didn’t want to admit how much his fury made me a little gooey. Nothing about restraining orders and guys who punched women was remotely hot. But a man who protected his mom that way? Color me a bowl of rice pudding (sugar-free and dairy-free, please). Besides, I already adored the hell out of Di. She shared so much of the grace, class, and exuberance of her British royalty namesake, with whom I’d been obsessed as a child in my princess-themed bedroom. The world had already lost
that
beloved Di, and while it wasn’t my place to know all the details about her bruise, I cared as much as Michael and Carlo about keeping
this
one safe and protected.

We decided to leave the truck at the high school and walk the half mile into town. I especially enjoyed the experience, teasing Michael about all the possible places he’d likely made out with girls during his years there—though having enjoyed the man’s moves firsthand, I was certain he’d done more than neck in these-here parts.

It was a crisp morning that would give way to a steamy summer afternoon. The mountain wind rustled through the trees, barely noticed by the people bustling below like carpenter ants around the carcass of a hornet. Michael’s grin grew as we walked along, meshing his fingers into mine to guide me through the crowds.

He’d promised me the “best breakfast of my life” with such a sexy gleam in his eyes, I’d follow him into a pit of snakes if he asked. I’d thrown on a pair of shorts and a tank top and worked a quick messy bun, assured he’d return me back to the house for a tidy-up after we ate in “town”, as he called it.

“So this is your idea of a town?” I asked it as we skirted the chaos on Main Street by strolling up a side road.

He nodded, suddenly looking way too sober for a day devoted to fireworks and ice cream, while guiding me to a picturesque bench beneath a sprawling oak. “Can I see your phone real quick?”

I handed the device over but not without a question in my gaze.

“Things will get much busier here within the next few hours,” he explained. “I’m installing
Find My Phone
for you. If we get separated, you’ll be able to see where I am.”

“And
you
can see where
I
am?”

“Only if you let me.”

I narrowed my gaze, toying with him a little before quipping, “Hmmm. I think I’ll let you.”

He chuckled while tapping in the settings but before returning my phone, swiveled to snap a picture of me. After I made him do the same then scooted next to him to review the shots, he reached over and squeezed my knee, inciting an instant little girl squeal.

“How the hell do you land that every time on the first try?” I was only ticklish in one spot. He’d found it several months ago during one of my unguarded moments at happy hour.

“I’m good that way.” He winked, flip-flopping my chest again.

“It’s still no fair,” I groused. “You know mine but I still don’t know yours. I’m beginning to think you don’t even have one.”

“Oh, I have one.”

“Uh-huh.” I batted his hand back but he snaked it over once more, wrapping around both my calves and pulling my legs over his lap. And yeah…I let him. Because it felt damn good to. Because just giving in for a change, not worrying about hiding everything that brewed inside…that was really nice, too.

I took a chance on glancing up at him through my lashes. When he looked over at the same time, I quickly averted my eyes.

A low chuckle rumbled out of him. “You’re so busted.”

“Whaaaat?”

“I caught you checking me out.”

“You wish.” Once more I batted at him but he caught my arm, this time pulling me all the way into his lap. Like a love struck high school girl, I slid right across the bench, surrendering to his strength.

When his lips came down on mine, I heard a tiny whimper come from somewhere…before realizing it was me. Unreal. I was desperate and horny just from a kiss, like the teenagers we’d just been making fun of. But dammit, my need was reaching a critical level, and Michael Pearson was playing with fire. His kisses drove me insane as no other ever had. How the hell did he do it? He was a dichotomy, so much divergence in one incredible package. He was powerful and gentle, sweet and dirty, kind and cruel…in all the best ways.

In all the scariest ways.

If I ever did let him in my bed, he’d seep right into other things, too. Hard lines would be crossed. Not a chance my psyche would emerge unscathed.

I forced myself to face the facts. Even here, locked in a desperate make-out, sorely tempted to let him drag me into the trees for wild monkey sex, I had to keep the walls up. Had to tread carefully. Had to keep his game plan in mind. And oh yeah, he had one. Come on,
everyone
did. Relationships were always giant chess games, everyone waiting for their “opponent” to make their next move. Knights and ladies did it down back halls with passed notes; these days the match was waged over coffee, via text messages.

But even with that knowledge, I was in dangerous waters with Michael Pearson—because for one of the few times in my life, I had an opponent I
wanted
to lose to. With every beat of my galloping heart, I longed for it.
Take my white flag, Captain America. Please.

When we finally parted, panting and dazed, I blinked and looked away, left in a haze.

“I’m wishing for a lot of things right now, sugar.” His voice had descended lower, a husky, yummy after-effect of our kiss. His crotch, pressing at the undersides of my thighs, was discernibly tighter, too.

“Huh?”
Dammit
. A serious opportunity for full sexy snark, and that was all my brain could muster.

A low, sensual rumble vibrated from his throat. “Fuck me,” he growled. “You’re so gorgeous, all dazed and sex-struck like this.”

“I am?” Opportunity number two, blown like a Yugo gasket.

He toyed with a wisp of hair gone AWOL from my bun. “Makes me want to skip breakfast altogether, if I’m being honest.”

I reached up, rolling fingers over his wrist while letting out a long sigh. “You are
not
fighting fair, mister.”

His gaze narrowed, crinkling the corners of his eyes. “Why are we fighting this at all, Margaux?”

“It’s complicated, remember?” I flattened his hand against my face, savoring the warm security of his skin next to mine, if only for a moment.

Taking one minute to feel truly safe.

There was no way Trey would find me here. A former mining camp in the Cayamacas was the last place
anyone
would think to look for me. That made everything about this moment, small as it was, utterly mine.

It was like my pinkie ring from childhood. Andrea may have bought me every trendy outfit of the season and every perfect toy for my bedroom, but no material possession would ever mean as much as that ring.

Guess it was true what they said, about the smallest things being the best. Since I had few of them, I guarded mine with vengeance, so my enemies wouldn’t know how much they truly meant to me. These few minutes in the sun with this amazing man…yeah, definitely added to the list. If Trey found out how much Michael meant to me, he would set out to destroy him too.

Resolve surged through me. I had to make the most of all the days I had here. I needed to fill my heart and head with memories now—for when we returned, everything would be stuffed away, pushed as far back from my head and my heart as I could get them. It was the only way to ensure they’d be safe from Trey and his filthy touch.

And yeah, I had to confront the possibility of the mandate including Michael himself.

Not yet. Now’s for embracing the happy stuff only.

“Okay, let’s eat.” I pushed at him and righted myself. “Feed me, stud. I’m starving. After that, you can tour me through the rest of this happenin’ hamlet.”

Michael stood. But not without gaping like I’d sprouted a second head.

“What?”

“That was the strangest one-eighty I’ve ever witnessed, even from you. And God knows I’ve seen you pull some crazy shit, blondie.”

I smacked him in the arm as I pushed at him to get going down the sidewalk. He obliged but yanked me close to him again, towering over me more than he usually did due to my thong-type sandals in lieu of my usual heels. For once, I didn’t pull away or make even one snarky excuse about needing to get something out of my bag, my pocket, or my trunk. I breathed deep, reveling in his great outdoorsy scent, though being up here really brought out the foresty part of it more. His unique musk still tingled through my senses in all the best ways, inspiring me to wrap my arm around his waist and hook my thumb into his back pocket. I relished the little growl I received for the boldness.

We took a left on B Street and immediately came upon the wooden steps to a place called Buffalo Bill’s. Lots of people were milling around outside, enjoying the sun, birds flitting through the natural chaparral bushes, and chatting.

As we arrived, a voice called out on a PA system: “
Joe, party of four. Joe, your table’s ready
.”

“Wait here and I’ll put our name in.” Michael was off in a flash before I could protest. Weirdly, I seemed to be the new subject of attention for half the people in the crowd.
Anyone have a venti latte I can hide behind, please?
Just as fast, I tried to laugh at myself.
Even fish out of water can embrace the memories, girlfriend. Screw them if they’ve never seen a pair of Jimmy Choo flip-flops.

The restaurant was decorated for the holiday with red, white and blue bunting on the outdoor patio. Homemade flower boxes along the railing had matching flowers in them. It was quaint and pretty—and definitely not like any place I’d ever stepped foot in before. Did I really see a buffalo head mounted on the wall inside, wearing an Abe Lincoln stovepipe hat?

Menu options began to be a concern. I normally stashed protein bars in my purse to be prepared for situations like this but
someone
had only given me ten minutes to pack back in San Diego. As Michael reemerged and jogged down the steps, I suddenly remembered why I’d let that happen. Wow, was the man beautiful. A smile illuminated his face, fitting his white T-shirt and canvas shorts as easily as it did a tailored suit and silk tie. He really was just as at home here as he was in an office overlooking the bay, surrounded by legal briefs. Now I just couldn’t decide which side I liked more. Lawyer or hillbilly?

“Well, if it isn’t little Michael Pearson!”

Looked like I was going to get a better preview of hillbilly at the moment. The exclamation was issued by a silver-haired, apple-faced woman with hidden gusto behind her sweet little façade. She yanked at his elbow, bringing him to a full stop just before he reached my position on the railing near the road. Had she actually made him blush a little, too? Oh
hell
yeah, that was a blush.

“Well, Mrs. Beatrice. Hello there. Happy Fourth of July.”

“Happy birthday, America!” she replied.

Michael smiled, being kind to the older woman. “How are you? How’s Mr. B? And the boys?”

“Well, Mikie, you know I’m not one to complain, but this knee of mine…”

“Awww,” he soothed. “Sorry to hear that.”

“Yes, it’s really acting up these days. And Mr. B…” She shook her head, now milking the sympathy a little, though Michael dutifully leaned in, anyway. “Well, you know how his hip gets the best of him some days. But our Johnny and Brian are both coming home on leave soon, so that should cheer him up real good!”

“I bet it will, Mrs. B. You give everyone my best, okay?”
Nick of time.
He finished the interruption by leaning over and hugging her, then smacking her cheek with a fast kiss. “And enjoy your breakfast.”

He had similar exchanges with two other elderly couples before finally returning to my side. By then, I was the one grinning from ear to ear.

“Uh-oh.”

“What?” I smiled wider. His glow was impossible to ignore.

“I’m afraid to hear what that smart-assed mouth of yours is cooking up.”

“I think you are beautiful and kind.” I stretched up on my tiptoes to kiss his cheek. He took instant advantage of the opportunity to wrap his arm around my waist, pulling me against him. I was already getting way too used to it to resist. A perfect moment—until he started peering around with one eyebrow cocked, on a melodramatic hunt for something.

“Pearson?” I laughed. “What the hell?”

“I’m searching.”

“Duh. For what?”

“The hidden camera. Margaux Asher just paid me a compliment and I’m not sure—but wait, yes—I think she meant it!”

I rolled my eyes and pushed away. “Fine. I take it back. You’re exactly the ass I thought you were. Take me home.”