Joe looked like he was ready to take the guy’s head off, and in his anger, he left my sister hanging. With a wink at Kelly, I pushed my chair back and headed in Molly’s direction. Molly studied her sparkling shoes and did her damnedest to look dignified. She’d always turned heads, but in her sparkling white gown that was fit for a princess, she was picture-perfect. I couldn’t help but imagine what my father would have thought about her on this day, and it brought tears to my eyes to consider it. Molly and I hadn’t been right since the day he died, and there was no time like the present for us to bury the hatchet.
Molly looked up as I offered her my hand, and her lips parted in surprise. When I pulled her into my arms to stand in for my dad, she fell apart. She’d not shed a tear all day long, and I suppose it was just overdue. Still, the sight of her crying floored me, and I scrambled to give her a handkerchief.
I used the three and a half minutes it took for the song to play out to tell Molly how proud dad would have been, how much he’d always liked Joe, and how I was a dick for saying all the horrible things I had to her on the day he died. I have to admit that it felt good to get it off my chest, and Molly seemed as ready as I was to make amends.
As we danced, I looked to my right and saw Kelly on the dance floor with her father. Her body language told me that she was incredibly uncomfortable, but Francis was smiling ear to ear. When that song ended, Mason gave me the thumbs up, and we assembled Nick and our gang of troublemakers to go trash Joe’s truck. I grabbed Kelly by the hand, but when she saw what we were up to, she told us we should be ashamed of ourselves and begged off, saying she was heading back inside.
Not long after that, the party died down. It was midnight by the time I pulled into the driveway of our house. I’d just carried M.J. into bed and forced him to wake up long enough to get him out of his suit and into pajamas, when I heard a light tapping on my front door. When I moved the curtain aside and saw Kelly was standing there, I felt like a kid in a candy store.
“Hey.” I threw the door open and moved to pull her inside.
“No,” she said. “I need to stay on the porch, or I’ll let you talk me into doing something I’ll regret. Can you come out here and talk to me?”
“Alright,” I replied with a bit of apprehension. Grabbing a blanket from my couch, we headed out onto the porch where we settled on the swing together.
“What’s up, Sugar?” I asked, reaching over and pulling the comb out of her hair. I watched with admiration as it fell softly around her shoulders in long cocoa colored waves. She shook her head and tried to smooth her hair down. “Why are we out here in the cold when we could be warming up my bed?”
“I had every intention of going home and then I find myself pulling into your driveway. I had to come. It was more than a want. I needed to be with you.” It was the perfect line, and I was tempted to let loose with a fitting double entendre. But something in her voice warned me to keep my smart-ass trap shut. She went quiet, staring out at the streetlight across the road.
“What’s on your mind, Kelly?” I pushed. She glanced at me, but her face was masked by the dim light, leaving me clueless as to her intent.
“I don’t trust easily, especially when things seem way too good to be true.” Sighing, she fiddled with her hands, not making eye contact. “I know trust is hard for you, too. After Patty…I know that wasn’t easy for you.”
Unsure where she was headed with this train of thought, I waited. She seemed to choose her words with care.
“What you did for Molly tonight—”
“Anyone would have done it,” I said.
“You did it, Mac,” she interjected. “Not Mason, not Joe. You. I’d like that kind of man in my life. You’re the one I want to be with. There’s no disputing it.”
“I want to be with you, too,” I said.
Kelly watched me for a moment before lowering her eyes.
“But then there’s Junior, and we have to be smart about that. We’ve got to get to the other side of that issue, and I don’t know how.” Her high-pitched voice sounded breathy, and I wished I could see her better. I knew if I could see her eyes, I could read the nuances of what she was feeling.
“Kids adapt.” I pulled her into the crook of my arm and ran my hand along her silky long hair. “He’s smart. We just need to sit him down and explain.”
“Explain what? That Dad and Miss Palmer have slumber parties? That the squeaking mattress is just us jumping on the bed?” She sounded like she was trying to joke, but there was an undertone of desperation in our voice.
“That we love each other,” I said simply. She blinked up at me with wide eyes, but she didn’t contradict me. I took her hand and pulled it to my lips. “And that when two people love each other, they want to be together all the time.”
She nodded slowly, looking a bit dazed in the faint light. When I stood and ushered her into the house, she didn’t object.
WITH JOE ON his honeymoon in Cabo, Mac was stuck working twelve-hour days. Without even discussing it, we’d fallen into a routine. I’d bring Mac Junior home from school with me, and we’d cook dinner in my apartment over the store. Then we’d plate it up and take it down to the break room so Mac—and whoever was still around—could eat it with us. Junior loved to cook, and though I was nowhere near the chef his Aunt Molly was, he loved to give his dad a report of every step it took to prepare the evening’s fine dining experience.
“Guess what, Dad!” he exclaimed, as we came through the door with our meager offering on the sixth day. “I helped Kelly make a salad!”
“Salad!” Mac groaned, winking at me when Junior wasn’t looking.
“It’s a great salad,” I defended with a smile, and Mac smirked as he abandoned his project and wiped his hands on a towel. “You’re gonna love it!”
“Ain’t no such thing as a ‘great salad.’” Heading across the shop toward us, Mac greeted M.J. with a pat on the back.
“It has bacon in it,” Junior announced, beaming up at his dad. “You’re gonna want seconds.”
“Well, in that case…” Mac reached out for the nape of my neck and brought my mouth to his, kissing me quickly with no regard to M.J., my father, or the two interns who were watching us with interest. “Kelly’s a keeper. Guys, you did good today. Clean up your tools and put them away. Time for some grub.”
“It smells delicious,” one of the interns, a particularly unfortunate-looking blue-haired kid, chimed in.
“There’s plenty for everyone.” I saw how all the interns were smiling as they put away their tools. There was a marked difference in how they reacted to Mac, something which showed more than anything how far they had all come. Mac was turning out to be a far more patient teacher than he had ever given himself credit for. When I realized that everyone was watching, I studiously ignored our captive audience, though I could feel my father’s eyes boring into my back. After serving M.J., I busied myself dishing up plates of salad and garlic bread sticks. “When do Molly and Joe get back?’
“They already landed.” Mac took the plate from me and dug into the food enthusiastically. “Joe plans to come in tomorrow, and I’m taking the day off. You should play hooky.”
“Uh, no. Someone around here needs to set a good example.” I graced him with a sly smile and glanced down at his nearly empty plate. “Good salad?”
“Great salad,” the interns said in unison and Mac’s eyes slid to me. He had a tendency to tease me about the interns crushing on me. I think they were just happy to be fed.
I got Junior back to Mac’s and made sure he had his bath. We had some hot chocolate and watched a Halloween movie. I was tucking him in when Mac appeared in the doorway.
“You don’t want to be anywhere near me until I’ve had a shower,” he said with a wave. By the time I was done with M.J.’s bedtime rituals, Mac was waiting for me on the bed, wearing boxers and a smile. He was propped up on one elbow, watching me.
“I’m ready for dessert,” he drawled, as I locked th
e door behind me.
“I don’t know…based on your response to my salad…” I twirled my hair around my finger stopping just out of arms’ reach.
“I had seconds, didn’t I?” He didn’t move.
“So you liked it?” I kicked off my sandals and inched closer.
“I loved it.” He moved so fast that it startled me, even though I’d come to expect this sort of tactic from him. Before I knew it, I was on my back on the mattress caged between his arms.
“Does that mean I’m a ‘keeper’?” I quipped, but the look in his eyes held no humor whatsoever. One of his hands traveled up my inner thigh and disappeared underneath my dress.
“Hard to say.” His lips teased mine, and his husky voice made me wet before his fingers reached their final destination. I inhaled a quick loud breath, and spread my legs wider, eager to accommodate his large, calloused fingers. “I might need to test out the merchandise.”
He gently nipped my bottom lip, and his tongue plunged into my mouth just as his finger dipped inside my panties. I couldn’t keep my hands out of his hair, and I forced his mouth harder onto mine. I could feel my heart accelerating in time with his stroking finger, and he groaned against my mouth, grinding his rock hard erection against my thigh.
And then his phone rang. I recognized Joe’s ringtone, which in a fit of inspiration, Mac had programmed as “I’m Too Sexy.”
Mac pulled his mouth from mine with effort, his breathing labored. “Shit.”
I groaned, knowing he had to take Joe’s call. Mac pushed up off of me and scrambled for the phone.
“This had better be good, brother, you’re…” he trailed off and his posture shifted instantly. “Wait. What? Joe, I can’t…what the hell are you talking about? When?”
My heart raced in response to his tone, and I knew something terrible had happened. Mac flushed a deep purple, and the look that appeared on his face scared the hell out of me. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
Dropping his phone on the bed he grabbed some clothes and started dressing.
“Mac.” I heard the anxious timber of my own voice. I was sure he was going to tell me there had been an accident or that something had happened to his grandmother. Though I didn’t want to ask, I had to know. “What’s going on?”
“Molly’s missing. Logan, too. A neighbor saw them leave with a man who’s been squatting in their house. I gotta get over there.”
He scooped up his phone, and I blinked at him stupidly, wracking my brain for something to say.
Finally, I nodded. “I’ve got M.J.”
He stopped and pulled me into his arms. I could feel him shaking, and his heart galloped wildly against my cheek. His voice cracked as he spoke.
“Thanks, Sugar. I’ll call you when I can.” He raced out the door and into the darkness.
I couldn’t sleep. I felt drained and exhausted from my week, but every time I closed my eyes, I could only picture little Logan, and wonder what in the world had happened to make Molly take him and leave with a stranger. I paced the house and started a load of laundry and dishes. Not being able to talk to Mac was killing me, but I knew the family had their hands full without me calling or texting. I finally passed out on the couch sometime after 3:00 A.M.
Mac Jr. woke me at about 8:00 A.M. asking where his father was and wondering if he could have Cocoa Puffs for breakfast. I told him his dad had gone to help Joe, which wasn’t really a lie. He accepted my explanation without question, which was a relief. I had no idea what to tell Junior, and honestly I didn’t want to have to tell him anything. I suddenly realized the incredible responsibility with which Mac had entrusted me. This was the terrifying side of parenting. The yin to the yang of picture day and cotton candy. The enormity of this role crystalized, and I was humbled by the faith Mac displayed leaving me to see Junior through this. I hoped I could swim, or at least tread water, since I was far beyond baking cookies and singing lullabies.
Junior asked if he could go outside to play, and after I made him promise he wouldn’t leave the back yard, I agreed. The moment the door closed, I switched on the television in an attempt to distract myself. I wasn’t prepared to be greeted by an image of Molly in her wedding gown. In the picture, she was holding Logan, and his infectious grin eerily matched hers.
I watched with horror as a reporter standing outside of Joe and Molly’s cute little brick cottage detailed the facts of the abduction of newlywed Molly Hildebrandt Jensen and her infant son, Logan.
“Authorities have released a picture of the man they believe to be responsible,” the somber reporter said in a hushed tone, “Mrs. Jensen’s ex-husband, Draven Cirone. According to an eye witness, the man had broken in and been squatting in the Jensen’s house while they were in Mexico. Sources say that photos of the suspect show him going in and out of the house. Investigators have confirmed that Cirone was recently paroled after being incarcerated for stalking and the attempted assault of Mrs. Jenson. Sources confirm that the Jensen’s were unaware of Cirone’s release.
“The couple had just returned from their honeymoon when Mr. Jensen left to pick up his daughter from a family member. When Mr. Jensen returned home, Mrs. Jensen’s purse and phone were found on the kitchen floor, and there were signs of a struggle. Police are asking for the public to assist in this case. If you see the suspect or either of the abductees, please call the hotline below. This is Kurt Upton, Channel Seven, live on the scene.”
When the news station flashed a photo of Draven on the screen, I slapped my hand over my mouth. I shivered as if someone had walked over my grave. I’d seen this man outside of Molly’s and Joe’s reception, and I’d actually spoken to him.
It happened right after I realized Mac and the boys were trashing Joe’s truck. Even though I knew they weren’t causing permanent damage, I couldn’t stand the thought of that stunning wedding gown having to get into the mucked up truck. Since I couldn’t stand by and watch, I had walked the long way around the glass and wood reception hall, and I almost ran head-first into a very well dressed man, who was smoking a cigarette and watching Molly and Joe cuddle their twins through the large windows. He turned to me in surprise and then flashed me a charming smile.
“Gorgeous night,” he remarked, exhaling a thin line of smoke.
“Gorgeous wedding,” I responded awkwardly. I didn’t normally strike up conversations with strange men in the dark, but I felt obligated to since I’d almost slammed straight into his chest.
“It was. And she is, too.” He nodded at Molly, and I heard just a hint of East Coast in his accent.
“Can’t argue with that,” I replied. “Are you a friend of Joe’s?”
“No.” He sounded almost sad when he said it, and his boyish face flashed darkly. He dropped his cigarette and stepped on it. When he looked back up at me, his smooth smile had returned. “I’m an old friend of the bride.”
I saw the cigarette was still smoldering in the dry grass, and I kicked some dirt onto it, concerned that this guy’s habit might start a fire that would burn the entire building and surrounding pecan grove to the ground. When I looked up, he’d vanished into the trees.
The memory of the incident chilled me, and I yanked my phone out of my back pocket and dialed Mac’s number. It rang until it went to voicemail. I gnawed nervously on my lip. There was no way I could call Joe, but I had to tell someone, and the only person I felt comfortable calling was Robin. Luckily she answered on the third ring.
“Hello.” She sounded hoarse and congested. It was obvious she’d been crying and knowing her, probably chain smoking.
“I just saw the news,” I said in a rush, and I quickly explained about my interaction with Draven. She sighed heavily.
“There’s no way you could have known.” Robin sniffed. “And the cops already know it’s him. Joe’s neighbor snapped his picture when she saw him lurking around the house. When she confronted the bastard, he convinced her that he was Joe’s brother. You should probably talk to the agents anyway. Y
ou never know what might help their case.”
“Do they have any leads?” I nearly bit my nails and forced my hand to my side when I realized I was doing it.
“The cops turned it over to the FBI. They have no idea where he took them. Mac’s out driving around with his biker buddies as we speak, searching. It’s pointless, but there’s no talking sense into him.”
“Can I bring anything?” My exasperation was probably obvious, but I needed to take some action and felt so helpless that I was ready to scream. I peeked out of the window and saw Junior playing with his bike pedals. “Can I do anything?”
“We’re drowning in tuna casseroles and Jell-O salads. Molly would be horrified at the shit that’s sitting in her fridge right now. Like Corn Flakes are an acceptable ingredient.” She uttered a humorless laugh and squelched it midway through. “It’s everything we can do to get Joe to let us hold Eva. He hasn’t slept and barely sits down. Just stay by the phone. I promise I’ll let you know if there’s anything we need.”
Later that evening, I put on a movie for Mac Junior, and I snuck into Mac’s bedroom to turn on the evening news. Another reporter was broadcasting live from outside Molly and Joe’s house. They managed to catch footage of Mac and his biker friends parking their motorcycles in front of the house. I watched as Mac hurried up to Mason and Joe, who were loitering in the driveway. Mason said something to Mac, and whatever he said must have pissed Mac off, because he stormed away and punched his truck repeatedly. Mason easily overpowered him, pulling him away from his truck, and though the cameras couldn’t pick up their words, he was obviously trying to talk Mac down. Seeing Joe was heart-wrenching. He just sat by watching them, his handsome face wan and ashen.
Unable to watch any longer, I flipped off the TV and immediately called Mac. I was sure I was headed straight to voicemail again, when he picked up, sounding out of breath.
“Hey, Sugar.”
“Mac! Are you okay?” My voice cracked, and the image of him going berserk on his truck was impossible to shake. “Did you break anything?”
Wood U (Carved Hearts #4) Page 24
