Perfect Kiss (Mason Creek Book 9)

by Lacey Black

  To City Hall.

  I got lucky though. As much as I wanted to see Malcolm, I’m glad he was stuck in an executive session, resulting in a longer than normal meeting. It gave me an opportunity to figure out what I was going to do in regard to losing the job this morning.

  Ultimately, I decided not to mention it. Why should I? In my line of work, clients come and go. Just because this particular client was someone who used to have an informal relationship with the man I am currently seeing doesn’t mean anything. I mean, she’s probably right too. If and when my relationship status changes with Malcolm, well, she’s probably saving me the heartache, because if there’s one thing I know, it’s the fact I’m falling fast and hard for Malcolm Wright. Knowing he was back with Jessa would hurt, but knowing he was at her house—or worse, seeing him there—would be downright excruciating.

  Now, all I want to do is kick off my shoes, take a hot shower, and shake off the uncertainty I felt throughout the day. As I slip into my apartment, I find my mom standing in the kitchen, waiting. “How was work?”

  “Good. How was Trace?”

  She slips her purse strap over her shoulder. “Oh, he was an angel. He’s such a good boy, Leni.”

  I can’t help but smile. “He is. Thank you for always helping me with him.”

  Mom waves off my hand. “I’m happy to do it. I enjoy spending time with him,” she says, walking toward the stairway.

  “Be careful driving home,” I tell her, giving her a quick hug before she descends down and secures the door behind her.

  I groan in pleasure as I peel off my shoes and wiggle my toes, grateful to feel cool air on my tired feet. My next stop is down the hall to check on Trace, who’s cuddled into his pillow, sleeping heavily under his favorite Spider-Man blanket.

  Just as I return to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water, I hear a knock at the bottom door. Considering my mom just left a few moments ago, I worry something may be wrong with her car. I move quickly down the steps and pull open the door, only to come face-to-face with the one person I didn’t expect to see.

  Greg.

  “Surprised?”

  I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. At least not right away. Instead, all I feel is anger spreading through my veins like fire. He’s standing there, smiling like it hasn’t been months and months since he last saw his son.

  “Well, aren’t you gonna invite me in?”

  What? Seriously?

  “No.” When he arches an eyebrow in confusion, I add, “It’s late, Greg. Trace is sleeping. He has school tomorrow.”

  His smile falters for a fraction of a second before slipping back into place like a well-practiced response. “Kindergarten. I can’t believe he’s old enough,” he says with a chuckle.

  “Of course it would come as a shock to you. You’ve missed more than half of his life, Greg.”

  His shoulders sag as the grin finally falls completely from his face. “I know,” he mumbles, averting his gaze. “I’m sorry, Leni.”

  Shaking my head, I reach for the door. “Don’t apologize to me. I’m used to seeing your backside as you walk away, but Trace doesn’t deserve this.”

  “I know,” he says in a rush, reaching out to place his hand on the door to keep me from shutting it in his face. “Can we talk? I guess…well, I owe you an explanation. Please?”

  Sighing, I step back, allowing him to enter. Even though I probably shouldn’t, a bigger part is curious as to what he has to say. I’m certain I’ll regret this decision, but right now, I just need to know why he kept leaving and where the hell he’s been for the last eight plus months. “Be quiet,” I mutter, closing the door behind him and following him up the stairs.

  Greg stops in the kitchen, hand shoved in the pockets of his jeans, and glances around. “Nice place.”

  I shrug, stepping to the fridge and pulling out two bottles of water. Greg takes a seat and waits for me to join him.

  “Thanks,” he says, taking a hearty drink. “You own the place downstairs? I think I heard you used that little inheritance your grandma left you.”

  A smile cracks across my face as I try to figure out which of the few friends I had back in Washington shared that little detail. “Yes, I did.”

  He nods. “Looks like you’ve done good for you and Trace.”

  I clear my throat, trying to tamper down my annoyance. “Yes, I have.”

  No thanks to you.

  Finally, after a few very long seconds of silence, my curiosity gets the best of me. “Where have you been, Greg? It’s been months!” I demand, making sure to keep my voice down so I don’t wake Trace just down the hall.

  He closes his eyes, and for a second, I wonder if he’s going to answer me. When he opens them and meets my fury head on, he says, “I was lost, Leni. That’s the only way to describe it.” He takes another deep, calming breath before he continues, “My job is all I know. It’s what I do, and I love it, but when I’d come home, I’d feel restless. Even when I was with you and Trace, I just couldn’t sit still. So, I’d go out. I’d meet my friends and we’d drink, but I was always moving.”

  Greg meets my gaze. “What I did to you, to Trace, was wrong, but I just…I guess I didn’t know any different. I left you to take care of our son, and even when I was home, I wasn’t present. I know that now.”

  All I can do is stare at him across the table. For years I waited, wanted to hear this apology, this explanation. Every time he left, and I went to bed alone, often crying because I didn’t understand why I wasn’t good enough. Every single time Trace asked where his daddy was and when he was coming home.

  “I’m sorry, Leni,” he whispers, reaching over and squeezing my shaking hand. “I was a shit boyfriend and father. You two deserved better than what you got.”

  I find myself blinking to clear the moisture from my eyes. So many questions filter into my head, all vying for the top of the list. It’s almost overwhelming to sit here with him right now. Why is he really here? Why now? “What do you want?” I finally ask, a lump firmly wedged in my throat.

  “Trace. And you.”

  Chapter 21

  Malcolm

  I’m restless as I drink my second cup of coffee. Not only did I sleep for shit, I’m still bothered by the fact I kept missing Leni last night. First, at City Hall while she was working. An extensive executive session, followed by the conclusion of the Council meeting ensured I didn’t get to sneak away to my office and steal a kiss.

  After I finally left the building, I shot her a quick text, only to realize she was probably already in bed. Mondays are one of her long days, with houses and businesses to clean, as well as a two-hour stint down at the laundromat.

  A part of me wants to call her now, but it’s still early, and on the off-chance Trace is still sleeping, I don’t want to be the asshole who wakes them. Instead, I drink my second cup of joe and contemplate my next step. I still have almost three hours before I planned to be at the law office for a little work, which leaves me plenty of time to burn off this excessive energy.

  After a quick change into something to run in, I lace up my favorite shoes, do a few stretches on my front lawn, and take off running. My pace is fast and hard, my heart beating just as strong. I work on controlling my breathing and feel the burn in my calves and my lungs.

  I head out of town, not paying attention to the scenery around me. Usually, I enjoy the view of the mountains, of the water sources, and the trees, but today, I just focus on moving my feet, on breathing in and out, and not worrying about the fact it bothers me I haven’t heard from her.

  Why?

  Because I’ve fallen for her.

  Hard and fast, just like the pounding of my shoes on the roadway.

  I wish I could say I didn’t see it coming, but that’d be a lie. I saw it a mile away, blinking roadside lights in the middle of a dark, empty night. Like a moth to a flame, I was drawn to it.

  To her.

  Is this what love is? The constant need to see her, talk
to her, touch her? Wanting to know how her day was and if she ate good enough during the short lunch break she awards herself? To make sure she puts her feet up and rests after taking care of everyone else? A desire to take Trace fishing all the time just so I can see the happiness on his face when he catches something?

  Yeah, I think it is.

  Even though I’ve never experienced it, I’m not dense.

  I’m in love with Leni.

  Probably have been since that first night I saw her standing in my office bathroom, completely stunned at finding me naked.

  But do you know what? I’m not afraid of it. The man who pushed everyone aside, kept them at arm’s length his entire life, finally fell. The crazy part is it was easy. She made it so damn simple just by being her.

  The miles tick by as I worm my way through the backroads of Mason Creek. The sun is rising gloriously in the sky, peeking over the mountains in a breathtaking sight, and suddenly, all I want is to see her. To kiss her good morning and tell her to have a great day. I want to watch as Trace goes off to kindergarten, his Spider-Man backpack huge on his small back.

  As I approach the downtown square, a few more vehicles are out and about. The coffeehouse guys, all headed to enjoy a few cups of joe and talk about the weather. I start to walk when I reach the fire station, in desperate need to start my cooldown. If I don’t, I’ll be a panting mess when I knock on her door.

  It’s just after six when I spy the back of the laundromat. I stop in the middle of the sidewalk, place my hands on my head, and take a few deep breaths. Only when I feel like my heartbeat is starting to return to normal do I continue on my way, ready to see Leni.

  Movement catches my attention, and I’m instantly on alert. First, my mind prepares for trouble, only to be quickly replaced by utter confusion. The door leading to her apartment opens and a man steps out.

  I stop in my tracks. He’s tall, not as tall as me, but still probably around six foot. He’s wearing a wrinkled T-shirt and jeans and looks as if he just rolled out of bed. He’s carrying a duffle bag, and every alarm bell is going off in my brain.

  He heads toward where I’m standing but hasn’t noticed me yet. He pulls his phone from his pocket and curses. Just when he gets about ten feet in front of me, he glances up and startles. “Oh, shit, sorry,” he says with a chuckle. “Didn’t see you.”

  “It’s okay,” I reply, stepping aside as he keeps coming toward me. “Leni around?” I ask, trying to school my expression. I look to her back door before returning my gaze to the man who’s now directly beside me.

  “Yeah, she’s upstairs. In the shower. I locked up though, so you’ll have to wait for her to get out to let you in.”

  The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end as something foreign and unwanted races through my veins. Jealousy.

  “I gotta get on the road. Have a nice one,” the man says, continuing his walk to a truck parked on the side of the road. He tosses his bag across the seat and jumps in, moments later pulling away from the parking spot and disappearing.

  All I can do is stand there, glancing between the vacant spot where the truck once sat and the door that leads upstairs. My mind races. Who was he, and why was he here? Most importantly, why did he look like he just spent the night? At Leni’s.

  My stomach churns, and I find myself walking in the direction of home. I need to think. I need a shower. I need to know who the fuck that guy was.

  All I know is pounding on her door wouldn’t be in my best interest. Not yet anyway. I’m aggravated and frankly, I’m not sure how to handle the energy coursing through my body. Until I can get these crazy emotions under control, I think it’s best I just go home.

  Maybe after a shower, I’ll be able to think without feeling like I’m one step away from losing my mind.

  One can hope.

  When I get out of the shower and dressed in a charcoal gray suit for the law office, I finally glance at my phone. There’s a message from Leni.

  Leni: Hey, sorry I missed your message last night.

  Me: No problem. Busy night?

  It takes several minutes before she replies, and I feel like I’m about to come out of my skin.

  Leni: Not really. I passed out pretty much as soon as my head hit the pillow.

  I stare at her message, waiting for more. Waiting for an explanation as to why there was some guy coming out of her place at six this morning. But it never comes.

  Leni: We’re running late and I need to get Trace to school. Catch up later?

  Me: Sure.

  I wish I could say this is the point where my mind goes into a darker territory, but to be honest, it’s already there. I’ve already thought—repeatedly—that she has done something with him. Cheated on me. And right under my fucking nose.

  Even now, as I drive to the office, I can’t stop picturing him walking out of her apartment. My mind, the ruthless bastard that it is, is imagining every single scenario of them being together it can come up with. And fuck, in such a short amount of time, it’s come up with a lot.

  I’m grumpy as I stop at Java Jitters for a cup of coffee. Not because I need the caffeine but because I need to give myself something to do with my hands, and apparently, drinking more coffee seems like the perfect fit. As I come out with my black coffee, I almost walk straight into Betsy Reed.

  “Oh, Malcolm, I didn’t see you there,” she says, the familiar aroma of her cheap perfume tickling my nose.

  “I apologize, Betsy. I was in a hurry and not paying attention,” I state, smiling politely and taking a step away to continue on my journey.

  “That was some meeting last night, huh?” she asks politely, oblivious to my desire to cut the conversation off and make a posthaste exit.

  “It sure was. Necessary, but glad it’s over.” I take another step away.

  “Very true. You know,” she starts, following me, “I was a little concerned about you being seated as mayor.”

  That makes me pause. “Really?”

  Betsy shrugs and pats my arm the way a grandma would her young grandchild. “I did. I knew it was in your blood, and I served with your father, my late husband with your grandfather. I was worried you were too young for such a seat.”

  Okay, wow. Wasn’t expecting that.

  “But I think you’ve done a lot of good for the city in your short time as mayor, Malcolm. I foresee a lot of positive changes on the horizon.”

  I swallow over the lump that formed in my throat. Yes, this job has been one I’ve wanted for as long as I was able to dream about it, but in the back of my mind, I had always wondered what everyone thought of me in that position. I won by a landslide, but I never knew if it was because of my name or the fact they truly thought I could do the job.

  “Thank you. I appreciate the vote of confidence.”

  Betsy nods and turns to head for the coffee shop. “Oh, and it’s time you settled down, young man. Make your mom a grandma, will you? She’s been talking about it at church group. Maybe that nice Abbott girl, the one with the little boy you’ve been taking fishing and spending time with. She’s lovely and would make a fine wife for you.”

  Then she disappears behind the glass door, leaving me standing on the sidewalk with a stunned expression on my face.

  Yesterday, I would have agreed wholeheartedly. Hell, even now I agree, but I just can’t get over what I saw this morning and the fact she didn’t mention it. I sigh and head for my car, eager to continue about my morning. I have a client meeting at nine and another at one, and if I don’t hurry, I won’t have time to get settled before they arrive. Plus, my coffee’s getting cold.

  “You’ve been busy today.”

  I glance up and find my dad standing in the doorway to my office. “Almost finished here, and then I’m heading to City Hall for a while. There’re a few things to take care of there.”

  Dad nods. “Well, I won’t keep you.”

  “Hey, Dad?” I holler before he can completely disappear.

  He stops and ent
ers my office, taking a seat in one of my empty chairs. “What’s up?”

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Of course.” He props an ankle up on his knee and gets comfortable in the chair, waiting.

  “Do you and Mom keep secrets from each other?”

  If my question confuses or shocks him, he doesn’t let on. “Well, I can’t say on behalf of your mother, but I usually don’t keep anything from her. Secrets have a way of biting you in the ass, which, as a lawyer, you’re very well aware of.” When I nod, he goes on. “There will always be the little things you keep, not out of malice, but out of necessity, like a surprise party or a gift, but something tells me you’re not talking about those secrets.”

  I shake my head. “No, I’m not.”

  Dad sighs. “Well, all I can tell you is trust is key. You have to be completely honest with the person you’re with or it won’t work. Even when it’s something that could hurt to hear, if you don’t come clean, it’ll have a way of coming back around again.”

  “Again, with the biting of the ass,” I reply with a small smile.

  Dad chuckles and says, “Exactly. I made a few mistakes early in our relationship, as will you. No one is perfect, but if your relationship is going to work, you have to be willing to put in the time and effort. You have to be ready to get dirty and face the ugly that arises, and I promise you, it will. No relationship is without it.”

  I stop and consider his words, knowing he’s absolutely right. “What if you saw something and are afraid you’re overreacting?”

  “Are you overreacting?” he asks, reading my thoughts.

  “Maybe.”

  Dad snorts a laugh. “You know the first rule when sitting down with a client is to find out as much information as possible. Info is key so you can make an informed decision. Never jump to conclusions, Malcolm. Not at work and most definitely not in your personal life.”