The next thing I know, he’s bending down, pressing his lips to mine. I’m frozen in shock, unsure if I should pull away for Margo’s sake or if I should keep going for my own desire. Every last thought falls from my head the moment his hand lands on the small of my back, pulling me closer. The dam built up inside of me breaks, and emotion comes pouring out. My lips begin to move against his, and my arms raise to wrap around his neck. I pull him closer and he pulls me closer. He turns me around and walks me backward until my back is pressed against the side of the garage. There, our kiss deepens.
His tongue comes out, tangling with my own, and my heart starts racing inside my chest. My breathing picks up as our kiss grows in urgency. My fingers lace into his dark hair, tugging slightly, and one of his hands moves up to cup my jaw. The kiss slows and he pulls back, his eyes finding mine.
Suddenly, we’re both in shock. How did we get here? What lead us to this moment? Why did he kiss me, and why did I kiss him back? Other than the obvious—he’s sexy, strong, and a good man.
I remove my arms from around him, and he steps back. I press my lips together and let out a giggle. “Sorry, I don’t drink much and one beer gets me. I should go,” I say, not giving him time to respond. I dash for the car and climb behind the wheel. I twist the key, throw it into reverse, then hit the gas. I don’t look back until I’m already down the road. Then I’m hit with the nerves. What was that? We kissed! And it was epic! His lips were soft and smooth, and he knew just the perfect amount to pressure to apply to make my knees weak. The way he held his hands against my body was hot and heavenly. And his scent—he always smells good, but up that close, it’s intoxicating. My head is still swimming from kissing him. But he has so much going on…and there is always Margo to consider. Is this something we can explore without hurting her? Without this ending badly?
Six
Carson
I stand back and watch as her taillights disappear into the darkness. I’m breathless from our kiss, and I have a million thoughts in my head, all of them similar: what the fuck did I just do? Why did I kiss her? I probably just chased her off for good now. I took the only other person here that Margo has gotten close with and chased her away. Why did I do that? It doesn’t matter how hard I’m trying to ignore how badly I want her. I never should have risked something like this. And for what? A kiss? An innocent kiss?
I’m angry and disgusted with myself as I head into the house, locking the door behind me. The first thing I do is check on Margo, and she’s sound asleep in her bed. Her dark hair is smoothed into a braid and her lips are pursed together. The room is quiet except for the sounds of her deep, even breathing.
I close the door behind me and go for a shower, needing to get all this sawdust off of me and out of the places it doesn’t belong. I shower quickly and head back downstairs. I open the fridge and pull out the leftovers and a beer. I toss the plate of spaghetti and garlic bread into the microwave and pour some dressing over the small salad that’s in its own separate bowl.
I open the beer and take a swig. By the time I’m setting it down onto the counter, the microwave is beeping. I remove the plate and take everything back to the couch to eat in front of the TV. I turn on the news and dig into my spaghetti. On the first bite, I’m hooked. I only had one jar of sauce in there, and it doesn’t taste anything like this. I’ll have to ask her what she added into it. After this, jar sauce will never be the same.
I eat every last bit of food, unable to stop. By the time the plate is clean, I’m unable to move I’m so stuffed. It’s been a long time since I’ve eaten like that. Years. Since…Kate. I never cook real food. Maybe that’s something I should do. Take some classes so that I can at least feed Margo a little better. That kid lives off frozen chicken nuggets, mac and cheese, and SpaghettiO’s.
Full and tired, I end up passing out on the couch. I’m surprised when Margo is waking me up in the morning. “Daddy, breakfast,” she demands, shaking my arm.
“Alright, alright,” I agree, pushing myself up to sit. I rest my elbows on my knees and hang my head as I try to wake up. She just shoves her way up onto the couch, grabs the remote, and flips until she finds cartoons.
As the sounds of SpongeBob play through the speakers, I get up and head to the kitchen. I pour her a glass of milk like usual, but then decide to try my hand out in preparing something that isn’t frozen. I grab some eggs and whip them up to make scrambled eggs.
While I wait for them to start cooking, I throw a couple of pieces of bread into the toaster. When I turn around, the eggs are sticking to the pan, brown on one side. I quickly stir, hoping that it isn’t too far gone. Of course, I forget about the toast, and it pops up on its own, both sides black as can be. I grab the butter knife, scraping the black off until it looks normal.
I throw everything onto a plate, but even I have to admit it doesn’t look appealing. “Margo, breakfast is done,” I call, hoping she doesn’t notice.
She walks into the kitchen with her milk and sits at the table. I put her plate down in front of her, and her nose wrinkles. “What’s this mess?”
I almost laugh but hold it back. “It’s toast and scrambled eggs, just like you eat at Mama and Papa’s.”
She picks up the toast and lays it back down after looking at it carefully. “This isn’t like Mama’s.”
“Just taste it. It’s good.”
She takes a bite of the toast. “Blah. It taste burnt.”
“Fine. Try the eggs.”
She takes a bite and chews slowly. “Why are they crunchy? Mama’s eggs are soft.”
“Fine,” I say, taking the plate. “I’ll get you some cereal.”
She spins around in the chair to watch me. “We could go get donuts, you know?”
“No, we can’t go there and bother her every day. She has to work, Margo.”
She frowns. “But she likes us, Daddy.”
I smile. “She likes you, Margo,” I tell her as I pour some Cheerios into a bowl.
“No, she likes you too. She told me.”
I freeze. “What did she tell you?” I ask.
“That she likes you. Duh!” She rolls her dark eyes dramatically.
“What else did she say?” I feel bad pumping my five-year-old for information, but that doesn’t stop me. I pour milk into the bowl and take it to the table.
Margo turns and sits upright, grabbing the spoon and taking a big bite. “She said that you’re nice and a good daddy. She said you were cute too.” She giggles.
“She said I was cute?” I ask, confused as to why she would say that to a child.
She nods. “Yep. She said that I was lucky to have such a good daddy and I said, do you think he’s cute? And she said, of course he’s cute, where do you think you get it? Then she messed up my hair.” She takes another bite, and I can’t help but to smile to myself.
I wonder if she’s really attracted to me or if it was just something she felt she had to say to Margo’s question. Surely, the latter. But she did kiss me back so maybe not. Either way, it doesn’t matter, I remind myself. No matter how badly I want her, I can’t let it happen. For Margo’s sake.
I push away the excitement that fills my body. “Eat up. We’ve got some time to spend in the garage today.”
“Ugh, Dad,” she complains.
I laugh. “Sorry, kiddo, but you got out of it yesterday and I have some work to do.”
“Ugh,” she groans, rolling her eyes again.
“You know, if you keep rolling your eyes that way, you’re going to lose all control of them. That’s all they’ll do all day, just roll around in your head.”
She giggles, picturing it.
After breakfast, we both head out to the garage and Margo plays in the corner. We bring some toys out and her iPad for her. She plays for a while, then she moves on to watching YouTube Kids and snacking on Goldfish. She behaves extremely well for a young child, and I never have to get onto her. She doesn’t run off or play with things she knows she shouldn’t. It
gives me the time I need to get some actual work done.
I take a break around lunch and decide to treat Margo for being so good and patient all day by taking her to the restaurant in town. We drive over to the diner and head inside.
“For being so good, you can order anything you want,” I tell her, picking up a menu.
“Anything?” she asks, her eyes wide.
I laugh and nod.
“Ice cream sundae?”
“Sure, but after your lunch. Deal?”
She nods twice. “I want a corndog and fries. And ice cream,” she tells me.
“Okay, I got it.” I go back to looking at the menu to figure out what I want. The bell above the door rings and I look up, finding Violet. She hasn’t noticed me, but she’s got a donut box in her hands and she goes straight to the counter.
“Here’s the order you placed, June,” she says, handing the box across the counter.
“Thank you, honey. Let me get you some money,” the waitress tells her.
Margo’s head pops up, and her eyes get big when she sees Violet standing only a couple of feet from us. “Violet! Violet!” she shouts, sitting up on her knees and waving like a crazy person.
Violet turns and finds us. She looks a little nervous at first, but then she smiles and walks over. “Hey, what are you two out doing?” she asks, eyes moving from Margo to me and back.
“We’re having lunch! I’ve been a good girl today.” She beams proudly.
She laughs. “I have a feeling you’re a good girl every day.”
“Have lunch with us, Violet. Please, please, please,” Margo begs.
This kid is trying to kill me. I’m sure of it.
“Oh, well, I don’t want to ruin your lunch. You guys go ahead.” She tries to turn away, but Margo clutches onto her hand, stopping her.
“No, you’re not ruining anything. You make it better. Please stay. Dad, tell her to stay,” she adds on, looking at me.
I laugh. “Violet, you’re always welcome.”
“I really do have to get back to the bakery. There’s a few more orders to deliver.”
“No, Violet. After lunch. Come on. Please?” she asks again, this time giving her the saddest face she can make.
I see Violet’s resolve fall away. “Alright,” she agrees.
“Here, sit by me,” Margo says, scooting over in the booth.
Violet takes her seat. “What are you ordering?”
“Corn dog. You?”
“Hmmm, I think I’ll get a big juicy cheeseburger.” Her eyes stretch wide.
Margo giggles. “That’s what Daddy always gets too.”
Violet looks at me with a grin. “Is that so?”
I nod. “I do. Every time, without fail. I don’t know why I bother looking at menus anymore.” I drop it onto the table.
The waitress makes her way over. “Here’s that money, Violet.” She passes her some cash and then looks at the rest of us. “You folks ready to order?”
“Margo will have a corn dog and fries. And I think Violet and I will have cheeseburgers and fries.”
“Oh, you don’t have to buy,” Violet interjects.
“It’s fine. After yesterday, I owe you,” I insist.
“And to drink?” the waitress asks.
“Apple juice,” Margo says.
“Just a water for me, please,” Violet adds on.
“I’ll just have water too. Thanks.”
The waitress walks away and leaves us alone.
“That spaghetti you made was amazing. What did you do differently?”
Violet’s cheeks turn a soft pink. “I just added in a few things.” She bats her eyelashes. “I’ll have to give you my recipe.”
“I would like that,” I tell her.
Lunch arrives and we devour it, talking casually as we finish up our food.
“Violet, Daddy said that we could have a scary movie night tonight. Will you come?”
“Scary movies?” Violet asks.
I lean forward. “They’re not scary movies. It’s Hocus Pocus. Margo is getting impatient for Halloween, so we’re starting early. We’re going to have popcorn and candy. The whole shebang”
“Wow,” she says, looking back at Margo. “Hocus Pocus is my favorite Halloween movie of all time. Halloweentown is my second. Have you seen that one?”
Margo shakes her head. “Dad, can we watch that too?”
I laugh. “I don’t see why not. So, what do you think, Violet?”
Violet smiles. “I would love to. What time?”
“After dinner? Say, around six?”
She nods, smile wide. “It’s a date,” she agrees, looking at Margo and reaching out to tickle her.
Margo giggles and tries pushing her hands away, but she’s too weak. Violet knows to pull back. She looks up at me with a smile.
“Should I bring anything?” she asks.
“I have plenty of popcorn and candy,” I tell her, but Margo butts in.
“Cookies! The yummy ones.”
Violet laughs but nods. “Okay. I’ll see you guys tonight then.”
I take Margo’s hand and lead her toward the door. She skips out ahead of me, and I wave one last time to Violet before chasing after her.
I help her into the backseat and climb behind the wheel. I had planned to work on the boat some more, but now that Violet is coming, I want to get everything ready for our little movie night. I clean up around the living room and make Margo a frozen pizza for dinner. She eats and then takes a bath. Then the two of us start pulling out all the goodies for the movie and putting everything in its place on the coffee table. Margo is bouncing around with excitement, and she hasn’t even had the candy yet. I have a feeling it has more to do with Violet than sugar.
Even though I’m excited to see her again, I’m also nervous because I know that means that we finally have to talk about that kiss, and I’m not sure how to explain it. What do I say? “Sorry, but I’m seriously attracted to you and I have no idea how to handle it because you’re the first person I’ve noticed since my wife’s passing?” Ha, I highly doubt that would work. It doesn’t sound like a good pickup line to me.
Seven
Violet
Lunch was nice and easy thanks to Margo being there. Carson and I couldn’t talk about last night or that kiss, which I’m thankful for today, but I know we need to address it soon, which is why I agreed to Halloween movie night. I’m hoping for a few minutes alone with him after Margo falls asleep. I have to tell him that whatever that was can’t happen again. Not that I’m against the idea completely, but there is Margo to figure in, and that kiss was moving a little fast. If he’s interested in me, then we need to move slow and make sure that we’re actually compatible before jumping into something neither of us are ready for and possibly hurting Margo in the process.
After lunch, I leave them behind to get back to work to make the rest of the deliveries. I leave around five, letting Jane close herself so I can go home and get cleaned up. Like most days, my clothes are covered in a flour, sticky icing, and dried sweat from being near those hot ovens all day. When I make it home, I go straight to the shower. I wash and condition my hair, then go about shaving like normal. When I get out, I smother myself in my favorite scented lotion, Warm Vanilla Sugar, then I blow dry my hair. It falls down sleek and smooth like always. The only way I can get my hair to hold a curl is if I leave it in a knot all day or all night. Washing it takes all the curl out. I don’t bother with makeup. My usual thing is just some black mascara and lip gloss. Tonight, I add a touch of highlighter to makes my cheeks sparkle.
I go into my room and find a pair of black leggings. I pull them on with my Hocus Pocus sweatshirt and a pair of black Ugg boots. Might as well dress the part. I grab the dozen Halloween-themed sugar cookies I made before I left the bakery and hit the road.
I knock on their door, and Margo throws it open with Carson chasing after her. “Yay! You made it,” Margo says.
I laugh. “And I brought t
reats,” I tell her, bending down so she can see inside the box through the clear plastic panel.
“They’re Halloween cookies!” she cheers.
Carson laughs but takes the box from my hands.
“And look at my sweatshirt!”
She gasps. “Dad, can I wear my Halloween shirt?”
“I don’t see why not. Go ahead.”
She rushes out of the room.
Carson leads me into the living room. The coffee table is already littered with popcorn, candy, and drinks. He places the box of cookies down, and it completes the spread.
“Who would’ve thought we’d be having Halloween in the middle of June?” He laughs.
I shrug. “Hey, that’s my kind of thinking right there,” I joke, taking a seat on the far end of the couch.
He sits at the opposite end. “Listen, Violet—” he starts, but Margo is back and she’s jumping onto the couch in between us.
“We’ll talk later,” I tell him and he nods in agreement. He picks up the remote and turns on the movie.
Many hours later, both movies are over, and despite the sugar high Margo had, she’s out, sprawled out on the couch between us. Carson picks up the remote and turns off the movie, the blue light from the screen filling the room.
“I’m going to carry her up to bed. Then we can have a drink and talk if you want.”
I nod. “I’ll just start cleaning some of this up.”
“You don’t have to do—”
I hold up my hand, cutting him off.
He picks Margo up and holds her in his arms, against his chest, to carry her upstairs. I stand up and bend over the table, cleaning up candy wrappers and empty popcorn bowls. I take the load I have in my arms into the kitchen and put things away. I head back into the living room, and Carson is just coming down the stairs. He passes me by, walks into the kitchen, and opens the fridge. I hear the clattering of glass bottles. I take my seat on the couch, angling my body toward his seat.
Grand Lake Colorado Series: A Complete Small Town Contemporary Romance Collection Page 31
