Authors: C. C. Koen
“I love you,” he announced, bold and unequivocal.
He nipped at her gaping lower lip. “My grandfather told me everything. I’m more than ticked off at you for not telling me, but we’ll deal with that later.” On edge and reeling from that fact, his request came out louder than he intended, but then softened as hope and anticipation consumed him. “Take a chance, Maggie.” He held his hand out to her, waiting to see if she’d leap and overcome whatever reservations held her back before. “You can trust me. I won’t hurt you or Cece ever.”
The family-crammed neighborhood could almost be mistaken for a serene countryside from the deafening silence. Birds didn’t chirp, cars didn’t pass by, and no one other than Cece and Kat were outside. The longer Maggie remained quiet, the harder it became to resist the nerves of defeat that started inside of him.
Instead of her hand taking his, she placed it below his chin, brushing her thumb along the stubble. Her lips kissed his jaw and drifted to his cheek, pecked his temple, and then dragged down the center of his nose, coming to rest at his mouth. Beautiful green eyes and a hundred freckles took him back to their first encounter, a brief flash and memory of her standing in his doorway. Determination and apprehension evident in her expression then and now.
“You got me?” she whispered, her underlying message loud and clear. A firm statement, but communicated she needed assurances.
This would be a whole new territory for him. Relationships weren’t his strong suit. If it weren’t for Matt’s guidance, he wasn’t sure he would’ve gotten this far. He’d make mistakes along the way, but he’d learn and adapt, as he’d been doing all along. As if his mind and heart already knew what to do, he knelt down on the cement, and gave her what he thought she needed. “I’m gonna screw up.” Her lip twitched up on one side, replaced by a smothered laugh. “I’ve never been in love before.” Her repressed grin and smirking gaze softened. She leaned against the seat, tilting her head and brushing her hand through the floppy cowlick on his forehead. A gesture he recognized, and she often used to soothe and encourage Cece. “You got me, Maggie? Because I need you.” He glanced behind him at the little pigtailed girl who had stolen his heart too. Cece’s support came from her toothy and chubby-cheeked smile. Kat’s expression identical to her niece’s.
Maggie threaded her fingers through his, their hands joined, resting on her thigh. She stared at them for several too-quiet seconds, and then squeezed them tight. “You can depend on me . . . to tell you what to do and not.” Her teasing, happy-go-lucky response released the tension and vise grip around his chest so he could finally breathe a little.
He leaned into her, leaving just a scant inch between them. Using his confident boardroom tone, he said, “Where, when, how, it wouldn’t matter, just say yes . . .” He pulled their hands up to his lips and kissed her knuckles. His eyes never left hers while his voice grew soft and tender. “You want me?” Now he was the one who needed reassurances.
“Always,” she admitted, right before grabbing hold of his neck and sucking him into a knock-him-down-on-his-knees kiss. Good thing he’d already been in that position, because as she’d done from the start, he fell hard for her all over again.
And he’d gladly remain there if he could have her in his arms forever.
T
OGETHER, MAGGIE AND RICK STOOD
on the stoop of his grandfather’s porch. Rick’s confidence bolstered and calmed the jumping jacks in her stomach a little. He swung the door open, and she put her best foot forward, entering the domain of her nemesis. Even though Rick assured her multiple times there would be nothing to fear, she couldn’t suppress her growing anxiety. The only way out of this nightmare would be to get it over with. Avoidance had been her tactic with Jake, and that didn’t fare well. She wouldn’t back down any longer. Fear or not, she’d face challenges that came her way, head on. No more ducking, hoping her problems would just go away. That wasn’t realistic. Better to deal with them than let things get out of hand. She wouldn’t exist in a protective shell any longer.
If she’d envisioned anything about the domain of the stern and cold Horatio Stone, the surroundings didn’t match her previous interactions with him. On every wall and shelf were framed images of a loving and adored family. A mothball aroma, crocheted afghans folded neatly atop an antique settee, and lace doilies on coffee and side tables weren’t what she would have expected. A woman’s touch evident in every nook and cranny, she barely recognized or noticed the fragile man rising from a recliner. He didn’t approach her, and she hadn’t gone to him. Instead, she felt an overwhelming, internal tug of war that pulled her around the living room. Black-and-white photographs to color provided a visual history and shrine of Mr. Stone, Rick, and his father’s life. A devotion to family she could understand and relate to. And in that moment she realized maybe they weren’t as different as she thought. A sense of calm came over her as she examined baby pictures to adulthood, learning a little more about the man she loved and a grandfather who would protect him at all costs. She sensed someone come up behind her, followed by a wrinkled, age-spotted hand, pointing to a wedding photo. “My wife, Olivia.” His finger caressed the face in the picture, and his endearing, sad tone crushed her heart. “I miss her so much.”
With tears in her eyes, she asked, “How did you meet her?” How couples came together always intrigued and fascinated her. No two stories were quite the same.
“She was a nurse, and I was a soldier in Vietnam. During a skirmish, I was wounded, shot in my hip and thigh. I had surgery and developed an infection. I’d been unconscious several days, and when I woke up, there she was, reading D.H. Lawrence. There was no way she could have known I had the same book in my footlocker at base camp. I’d never seen her before.”
Small similarities and connections linking two strangers, a commonality she’d heard before. Brief encounters and windows of opportunity that had longstanding effects. Fate? Destiny? She wasn’t sure how or why love happened when it did, but there was always some unique event, timing, location that brought a couple together. So perplexing, yet beautiful, no matter the situation.
Softly, as if unsure whether he might offend her, he claimed, “A woman was made from a man’s ribs for a precise reason.” Once again, he surprised her, a spiritual admission she hadn’t thought possible from the man who’d threatened her welfare. “They’re protectors, providing a foundation for a man’s entire being, shielding vital organs, yet flexible and yielding. Without her, he’s nothing but loose flesh, wandering existence alone. God ensured the idiot males of the world would recognize what was made from him.”
She giggled as he laughed at himself and his gender. Another contrast, Mr. Stone had a sense of humor. Who knew?
He placed a framed photo of a baby boy in front of her, one she noticed on a side table nearby. “My boy, Max. The second happiest day of my life was when Olivia told me she was pregnant. No parent should outlive his own child.”
A gasp caught in her throat, and she placed her hand on top of his in a comforting gesture. She glanced up at him, and he gripped her shoulder. “I’m sorry for what I said to you. I’ll make no excuses, except to say that my family means everything. I didn’t know you or care to. All I wanted was to protect my grandson and what little I had left. I forgot what it was like to fall in love. Olivia passed away in her sleep twenty-five years ago, and I’ve been going through the motions. Then when Max died, I . . .”
She squeezed his arm and shook her head. “I want you to know something, Mr. Stone.”
“Horatio,” he insisted, gently.
“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to protect my family. As much as I hate to admit this, I can understand why you did it. But please know that I love Rick. I have no intention of harming him.”
“Oh, I realize that now. My grandson told me how you met, and how much he cares for you and your daughter. I hope you’ll give me a chance too. I’m not such a bad person, once you get to know me.”
“I don’t hold grudges, Mr.—” When he scrunched his bushy eyebrows and shook his head, she corrected herself. “Horatio, I’d like that very much. I miss my grandparents and so does Cece. After you spend time with us though, you might take back your invitation. We’re a rowdy bunch.”
His grip on her shoulder tightened a bit. “Olivia didn’t let me get away with anything, and her daredevil attitude kept me on my toes. After what I’ve been through, I need a zing to get me out of the rut I’ve been living in. I’m ready for a change, a breath of fresh air.”
She tucked her arm around his waist and pulled him into a hug. Leaning up on her tippy toes, she pecked his cheek. “I’m warning you.” He tilted his head, a tender expression she never envisioned he’d aim at her. “For the record, ‘I told you so’ now.”
He laughed and walked her around, telling her all about his adorable wife, son, and grandson. Every tale full of affection and fondness. She’d never forget that moment and the effort he made to welcome her into his home, setting her at ease by establishing a connection they could both relate to.
A turning point for all of them.
Lucky for her she worked in the same building as Rick. They fell into a routine that seemed so natural and comfortable, she had to pinch herself to make sure she wasn’t walking around in a dream state. After classes she stopped by his office before going to Westlake, sometimes with Cece and other times alone, depending on how late she arrived. Any breaks throughout the evening were spent with him, since he adjusted his schedule. He came in later in the afternoon when possible and stayed till midnight so he could drive her home. “No more bus,” he insisted. In most instances she’d protest at such pushiness, but she hadn’t because of the sweet way he requested the change, and the fact he diverted the spotlight onto him by admitting, “I need to see you before I close my eyes every night, Maggie.” What woman could argue with that?
Around nine o’clock, excited about their rendezvous, she skipped past the empty desks. When she approached his doorway and heard a female voice she recognized, her blood pressure spiked and teeth clamped down. Good manners be damned. Instead of knocking, she stormed into his office. Both Rick’s and Julia’s conversation came to an abrupt halt.
“Well, look what the garbage man forgot to pick up.”
“Leave, Julia, now,” he barked, but it didn’t matter. The prima donna hadn’t moved an inch from her shoulder-to-shoulder position.
The sight of them ticked Maggie off, and her mental countdown began. By the time she reached zero, she’d reined in her temper. During their twenty-question sessions while driving home, he’d told her nothing ever happened between them. Even so, she didn’t like the witch within a mile of
her
man. Possessive much? She didn’t care. No way she’d allow anyone to cause friction between them again. They had something great going, and she’d fight if she had to.
“Julia, I guess you couldn’t use your daddy’s money to buy him off either, like you tried to do with me. Ya know, the twenty thousand you offered me to stay away from Rick.”
The man in the middle shot Maggie a pointed look, indicating there would be a long discussion about that detail, and the story she hadn’t told him about yet. Heck, it had been just a week since their relationship became official, and she didn’t want to taint their getting to know each other with something so negative. Besides, since she hadn’t heard from or seen Julia since that encounter, she figured the matter over and vanquished the spoiled brat from her mind.
As she exposed Julia’s devious plan, she advanced on them too and didn’t stop until she eased herself in between Julia and Rick. His hands took hold of Maggie’s hips, but he remained silent behind her.
Julia’s glare dropped to his possessive grip, and her mouth fell open.
It would’ve been easy to bash her, but Maggie took a different tactic. “Have you ever been in love, Julia?” She felt the question a safe one, interpreting Julia’s bribery as desperation and an established bad habit of using her father’s riches to get her way without any regard given to whether the object or person sought was something Julia really wanted or not. Cold and indifferent were accurate classifications for Julia as her stare flicked over Maggie’s shoulder. The longer Julia didn’t answer, though, the more Maggie saw the hairline emotional fractures: a hitch and sag in her shoulders, and rapid blinking.