Dean rolled his eyes. “First of all, you’ve just had the wrong partner. Second, this has nothing to do with kink; I have a surprise for you.”
Skeptical, she eyed the blindfold but inevitably wanted her surprise enough to tolerate it and let him lead her to the pickup. They didn’t drive for long.
“Wait here a second.”
“Huh? What are you—?”
The driver’s side door shut. Inside the cab, the aroma of barbecued meat, smoke, and sauce filled her nose, teasing her senses and making her stomach rumble in hunger. She waited a while longer, then finally the passenger side door opened and he took her hand.
“Come on.”
“Don’t let me tumble out of this thing onto my face.”
“I’d never.”
He guided her to stable ground, grass blades tickling the exposed toes of her sandal-clad feet. When they stopped, Dean removed the blindfold.
Candlelight glowed from the bed of the truck, complete with a picnic dinner for two. A bottle of cider had been propped in an ice cooler, and a pair of citronella torches had been planted in the ground on either side, filling the air with their fragrance and warding off the evil mosquitoes bound to find them eventually.
“This is…it’s…” She blinked a few times, angry with her traitorous eyes for daring to sting. “This is really sweet.” The sweetest thing any man had ever done for her.
A month ago, she thought he’d only wanted her for sex. Weeks later, he’d consistently surprised her with evenings in front of the television, rides on his bike, and romantic dinners that were never the same.
“This is beautiful, Dean. Thank you.”
“Glad you like it.”
They ate and ate, stuffing their faces with ribs, potato salad, and baked beans tempered with sweet apple cider. And when she couldn’t eat another bite of those, or the apple pie sent by Ellie, she spent an hour sprawled beside him, digesting while stargazing, feeling like the luckiest girl in the world.
“It’s starting. Look.”
A flash of light shot across the sky, followed by more flickers of activity. Streaks of violet light glittered over the midnight sky. Out in Crisis, they didn’t have the light pollution of the larger cities, the meteors turning the world above them beautiful with color.
“I’ve never taken the time to watch a meteor shower before,” Maddie murmured.
“Me either. Never had time for it—nah, wait, that’s a lie. There’s one time. I was stationed out in Iraq, and there was nothing else to do so a couple of us stepped out of our tent for a look.” His fingers trailed over her thigh, smoothing higher until it reached beneath her T-shirt and was on the warm, bare skin of her flat stomach.
“Which shower was better?”
“This one. Shacking up in a tent with a lot of sweaty soldiers can’t compete to any time I spend with you.” His lips grazed her ear, and she shivered in anticipation of when his mouth met hers. It did. Somehow, every kiss was better than the last. She welcomed the warm hand slipping beneath her bra, delighted by the callused thumb flicking her stiffening nipple.
Hot and wild sex under the stars was the last thing Maddie expected when Dean invited her out for an evening picnic. But maybe she had subconsciously expected it, because the little angel on her shoulder had encouraged her to visit the town’s only—but very talented—aesthetician that morning.
How had life become so perfect that all of her dreams came true?
* * *
Afterward, they just lay there, wrapped in each other’s arms, sticky with sweat and flushed from the humid weather. Women usually didn’t want to be cuddled after sex.
Shit, Dean had never wanted to cuddle any woman after sex.
He’d also never arranged a romantic dinner for two under the stars with torches and candles.
“Too bad you didn’t bring some rags and cloth.”
“You how,” he murmured, “I honestly just wanted to bring you out for a picnic and the meteor shower. Sex was an unexpected but very appreciated bonus.”
“Then what was all that private stuff about?”
“The privacy was so we wouldn’t have to share our grub.”
Her lips curved into a rueful smile. “Well, how about…a swim then? You up for skinny dipping au naturale?”
“Damn straight.”
As she climbed down from the bed of the truck, stark naked and so fucking gorgeous she deserved her own sculpture, he blew out the candles.
15
Years of Blues Clues, Caillou, and every other irritating children’s show with his host of nieces and nephews meant Dean was prepared for an afternoon of watching Emma for Eleanor. She and Maddie were enjoying a rare girl’s shopping trip out, and he’d volunteered to substitute for the usual babysitter while they took some much-needed time to themselves to unwind and spend time together.
Around three, he’d picked Emma up from daycare and become her personal Mr. Nanny, indulging her in a half-hour of sidewalk chalk drawings on the street, followed by fishing. Then she’d begged him to show her his fox side, and they’d ended up foraging in the forest for almost two hours while some chops thawed at home.
He fed her, thanked God she was old enough to bathe on her own without oversight or assistance, and then settled on the couch alongside her for an hour of gag-inducing children’s cartoons.
Around eight, he tucked Emma into bed and learned why Eleanor had laughed at him when he said getting her to sleep would be easy. One story book after another, her wide eyes watched him from the edge of her blanket.
“I want another story.”
“I read you seven.”
“But I want another.”
“Good night, Em.”
Then she came out for a glass of water.
He tucked her into bed again.
She came out for a late-night pee around ten.
Suddenly, he understood the frustration in Samuel L. Jackson’s voice during his dramatic reading of Go the Fuck to Bed.
During this, he checked his phone to find a teasing text message from Eleanor.
Eleanor: How many stories has she made you read?
He lied.
Dean: Barely any at all.
Her laughing face emoji showed she had not been fooled.
Finally, just shy of midnight, the ladies texted that their movie was over and they’d be coming home soon. He checked on Emma to guarantee she was asleep and had not been tricking him again, then he slouched down on the couch with a beer and watched sports highlights from the recent Stanley Cup Playoffs game. He’d missed it, sadly, as Emma had no care about whether Toronto trounced the Norfolk Privateers in game seven of the series.
“Damn. That was a good game,” he muttered.
His phone rang, as if voicing agreement. “Are you alone?” Pete asked the moment he picked up.
“I’m watching a kid. Why?”
“I have good news for you. It’s over. We got the right hireling to flip on Carlisle, and he told us where to find him. Our false intel had him thinking he could cross the border into Mexico to take you out personally.”
“That’s it? What happens now?” Anxiety churned in his gut. It seemed too good to be true that everything could be over and his time in Crisis was drawing to an end.
He didn’t want it to end. Somehow, the little trailer had started to feel like home. People counted on him in this place, and they appreciated him. They needed his skills.
“We convince the judge to deny him bail, prove he’s a flight risk, and work on a trial date. Once it goes to trial, you testify, and everything returns to normal. This guy may think he’s a modern-day gangster, but his empire is about to crumble. Nobody wants to go down with him, and we have two more witnesses turning state’s evidence. You’re safe, bro. It’s time for you to come back to Dallas.”
* * *
A cool breeze snaked between the trees as Madeleine relaxed in lawn chair in the shade of Ellie’s backyard. At Dean and Ellie’s insistence, she�
�d taken a day off from the studio. The orders had started picking up—some Facebook celebrity had discovered her, shared photos of her work on his page, and now she was gaining over fifty likes a day as people waited for her to post new and original works.
Life was good.
Almost too perfect, she thought, sipping a strawberry daiquiri made by El.
“I noticed you have a frequent visitor popping by the bakery,” Madeleine started. “Have you done anything about this crush with Chief Dimples?”
“No, and I will not. He’s only there for his doughnuts.”
“Dean said he never misses one of your shifts. Said he’s there every day.“
“Dean doesn’t know shit. How would he when he’s inside sweating in the restrooms?”
Maddie laughed. “Okay, fine.”
“I’m telling the truth. Just like I told you the last two times you asked me about it. He’s just a lonely man trying to bounce back from a nasty divorce. That’s it.”
Emma pranced up to them in her swan form, gray and molting and simultaneously adorable and hideous all at once. She transformed and threw herself onto Ellie in her lawn chair. “Mama?”
“Yes, baby?”
“Are we gonna go visit Mr. McAvoy when he’s gone?”
Cold spiked into Maddie’s gut. Gone?
“Gone where? He’s only gone hunting for some rabbits for stew, sweetie. He’ll be back for dinner as promised.”
“He said on the phone to somebody that he’s going home soon. To, um, Dallas.”
Ellie’s startled gaze met Maddie’s. Then she swallowed and turned to her daughter. “Emma, you shouldn’t gossip and pry into grown people’s business.”
Maddie wanted to agree, but a frisson of nerves told her everything happened for a reason.
“He said he’s going this weekend. And he was real excited. So, are we gonna visit him? I’m gonna miss him and—”
“Emma.”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“What did I say about eavesdropping?”
Dean was leaving? Leaving her and going home to a city three hours away where she couldn’t just walk next door and into his arms for a movie, or a chat, or ask him for a stroll in the woods or swim in the lake?
“I didn’t mean to, Mama. Mr. McAvoy was on the phone and I wanted him to tuck me in again. You told me to wait when grown folks are on the phone. You said not to interrupt them.”
“I did,” Ellie agreed, mouth flattening into a severe line. “Just the same, you should have gone and gotten your little butt back into bed again on your own. Which is what you ought to do right now.”
“But Mama—”
“No buts, missy. Go get in the shower.”
“Fine.”
The moment Emma left earshot, Ellie turned to her. “She probably misheard something. He wouldn’t just pick up and leave like that.”
“Yeah, I’m sure he wouldn’t.”
Ellie reached over the small table between them and set her frosty fingers on the back of Madeleine’s wrist. “When he gets back from hunting, you can sort this all out. I’m telling you, it’s just a misunderstanding.”
But if it was just a misunderstanding, why did it fill her stomach with nausea?
* * *
The Sam Houston National Forest wasn’t far from Swan Lake. The great thing about being a shifter was that he didn’t need permission to hunt, a license, or a gun. He scared up a pair of plump rabbits and came bounding back into the community just as the setting sun set the lake aflame in shades of gold and ember.
Maddie was waiting for him on the porch.
Damn, he loved that woman.
Tail swishing with enthusiasm he couldn’t hide, he bounded toward her and dumped his bounty at her feet. See how I can provide for you?
He didn’t say it, but he thought the words as he transformed, shaking off the foxlike body and trading it for hands and feet. The fur vanished, rippling away as jeans and a T-shirt took its place. Transforming with clothes intact was a talent some shifters never acquired. He knew dudes well into their fifties who still left their duds piled on the floor.
“I’d kiss you, but I know how you feel about rabbit breath.”
Maddie didn’t smile. She stood slowly, lower lip trembling. “When were you going to tell me?”
“Tell you what?” He blinked at her.
“That you’re leaving? What were you planning to do, Dean? Just finish up all your projects and pack it all up back to Dallas without saying anything to me?”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” He held out both hands. “Let’s back up a few. Where did you hear that I’m leaving?”
“From Emma. From a child. Please, just tell me she’s wrong.”
Last night, a call from his brother had delivered the best news he could have gotten…three months ago. Now, he was convinced returning to Dallas was the worst mistake he could make.
He missed his apartment.
He missed his family like hell.
But Swan Lake provided a sense of belonging he hadn’t felt in, well, ever.
“She’s not wrong. Technically?”
Her stricken expression pulled at his heart. “Technically?”
“I’m just heading back to settle some business, Maddie. I’d never leave without telling you that. You know me.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me they found the guy after you? I went searching through all the Dallas papers until I found this.” She thrust her phone at him, the mobile browser opened to a digital article dated for that morning.
“Dallas Drug Lord Daniel Carlisle Arraigned on Murder Charges.”
It had made the front-page news.
“You came in after midnight, Maddie. Was I supposed to pounce on you at Ellie’s door and say, ‘Hey by the way, that dude who wanted to kill me is behind bars now. My life is no longer in danger.’?”
“Yes!”
“Baby, I planned to tell you about it today. If you’d given me a couple hours, I would have come to you on my own and told you they caught the fucking bastard and tossed him in jail. There’s a mountain of evidence against him for a host of other crimes aside from killing Sarabeth. My testimony’s just the tip of the iceberg now.”
Looking at her, he could tell she’d thought something else entirely. “You should have told me.”
Dean dipped his head. “It’s not what you think, Mads.”
“Then what is it? It looks to me like you had a fun summer fling and now you’re dipping out back to your life in the city.”
She may as well have slapped him.
“No, Maddie. But I’m not going to stand here and let you badger me into a fight ’cause you’re looking for me to do wrong.”
“I am not.”
“You are. But before I go inside, I want you to know I was planning to head back to Dallas to talk to my landlord about breaking my lease,” he growled. “Because I want to stay here with you.
To his surprise, she backed off. The fury melted from her stunned face, and pale blue eyes stared at him. “What?”
“Feeling a little ridiculous right now, huh? That’s what happens when you listen to fucking gossip, especially gossip from a child. You get shit wrong!”
“I didn’t mean to come throwing accusations. I just—I got—I didn’t mean to,” she finished lamely. The heat and fire in her voice had gone, leaving only exhaustion in their wake.
“But that’s just what you went and did, Maddie,” he said in a softer voice. With the fury gone, she looked defeated. He wondered who had hurt her in the past.
Her mouth opened and shut. He watched her struggle for a response, reminding him of a wounded animal the whole time—a scared one ready to bite. “Why get all mad if you’re innocent?”
He sighed. “No matter what I say to you, you’re going to believe what you want. I am not going to hurt you, because I’m not an idiot. But tell me, what the hell is the point of this all if you’re never going to trust me?” When she didn’t answer, he picked up the
rabbits from the porch. “I’m going inside. There’s rabbit for lunch tomorrow. If you wanna be there, you’re invited.”
Then he took his brace of conies into the trailer and didn’t look back. Sometimes, people needed to come to their own conclusions, and no amount of sense or talking could do it for them.
16
Maddie was too mortified to show up for lunch. Feeling like an asshole for jumping to conclusions, she spent the afternoon sipping wine and drawing sloppy sketches of upcoming projects. The hours dwindled.
When she finally sucked up her pride that afternoon and stepped onto the porch, determined to storm Dean’s home and apologize for her foolishness, the setting sun had streaked the sky with the dark lavender of twilight.
Dean roared past her on his bike. He didn’t even glance her way.
A dark and foreboding knot of dread tightened in Madeleine’s stomach until she convinced herself he likely hadn’t seen her standing there, barefoot on the porch. Instead of kicking herself in the ass, she decided to feel him out and send a single text message an hour later.
He replied just before midnight.
Dean: Hey yourself. What’s up?
Those weren’t the words of a man so pissed he planned to return to his home in Dallas, never to speak to her again.
Maddie: Where’d you go?
Dean: To Dallas. Thought you were busy when I left, so I didn’t come bother you.
Bother her? She hesitated. Everything she wanted to say, she’d wanted to tell him in person. Dean deserved more than an impersonal text message. And he certainly deserved more than speculation.
Positive he had to be exhausted from the road, she kept her message brief. Good luck in Dallas. We’ll talk when you’re back, if that’s okay.
Maddie was her own worst enemy. Hell if she knew when he was due to return, but each day would probably feel like a year.
* * *
Dean knew better than to expect Madeleine to join him for lunch, but he waited for her anyway, daring to hope that she’d be ready to talk about whatever it was that freaked her out.
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