by Clay, Verna
Everyone glanced at each other and when no one said anything, Cecelia clanged the spoon on the pot again. She grinned, "Now don't be shy. Elf-barista Justin awaits your orders."
Sean rolled his eyes again. Were these people for real?
Toby called, "I'm not shy. I'll have a Peppermint Razzle-Dazzle."
Cecelia said, "That's what I like to hear…a man who knows his mind. Anyone else want a Razzle-Dazzle?"
Harris said, "I'll have one of those, too."
Cecelia waved the spoon in the air. "That's two, anyone want to make it three?"
Tessa shyly lifted her hand.
Cecelia continued the joking until there were four Razzle-Dazzles ordered. The fun continued with Sarah ordering a Lumpy-Luscious-Blueberry Frappe. After everyone had ordered, Cecelia turned her attention toward Sean. "Journeyman-elf Sean, what can we make for you?"
Sean had been so engrossed in listening to the craziness that he hadn't ordered anything. "Ah." He glanced at Tessa. "I'll have whatever Tessa is having." He heard Toby snicker and glanced from him to Preston, who was frowning at Sean. He looked from Preston to the crazy old lady. She winked at him again.
Justin called, "First Razzle-Dazzle is ready!"
Chapter 17: Wrecking Ball
Mac listened to Cecelia recount their day decking out the coffee shop. He glanced at his son and when she got to the part about serving Razzle-Dazzles, the boy almost smiled. Cecelia's enthusiasm was infectious and he found himself asking questions and even chuckling. All-in-all, Mac considered the day a success as far as making progress with Sean—thanks to Cecelia.
After Sean said goodnight and Mac was left alone with Cecelia, she said, "I think he had fun. He met several teens and Sarah Tanner invited him to her ranch. Her boys are about Sean's age and if we could get him to the Lazy M, I just bet he'd have a great time. Sarah and her husband, Sage, operate a dude ranch so there's a never-ending list of activities. I wonder if Sean likes horses?"
A wave of thankfulness flooded Mac. "Thank you, Cecelia."
She reached to place their cups on a tray and then shyly lifted her eyes to his. "I enjoyed every minute. Sean is a good kid. He just needs time to adjust to you."
Mac sighed. "There isn't much time before his return to Denver. I hope we can at least become friends in the next week and a half."
"Perhaps you should invite him back. Maybe start a yearly get-together."
"I know you're right, but I don't know the outcome of my surgery just yet."
Cecelia frowned, "What does that have to do with being with your son?"
Mac studied her face. "I'll be honest with you, Cecelia. If I lose my ability to paint, I'll be no good to anyone, especially Sean."
Cecelia stood, lifted the tray, and said softly before turning to leave, "That's a copout." When she returned to the living room, she said quickly, "Goodnight. See you in the morning."
Mac watched her retreating back. He'd give her one thing; she had guts to speak her mind when provoked.
A week later, Mac hadn't progressed any further with his son. The boy had started going to the coffee shop daily with Cecelia. She said he showed interest in watching Justin make drinks. She also paid him cash to help with cleanup, like sweeping and mopping. When he was back at the house however, he spent most of his time in his room and Mac was feeling very frustrated. Once, to curb his frustration, when no one was home, he'd unlocked his studio and tried to mix some paints. The effort ended with a mess on the floor and him spouting profanities into the empty room.
The night of that same day, while Cecelia tried to engage him in conversation, he'd barely responded. He'd been surprised by a flash of anger in her eyes. She was usually so calm and understanding. He'd expected her to speak her mind, like before, but she merely said goodnight to him and Sean. Rather than stay in the same room with his father, Sean also headed to bed.
Two days later, Mac received a phone call that sent him through the roof. "What!" He practically yelled into the phone. "Sean can't stand the sight of me and now you want him to stay until January. What kind of Christmas can he have here? I don't even decorate a tree."
His arguing had been useless.
That evening, after sitting around the coffee table finishing a dinner of Chinese takeout, he broke the news. "I received a call from your parents, Sean."
Sean jerked his eyes away from the fortune cookie he'd just cracked open.
Mac scratched his eyebrow. "You won't be returning home until January."
"What! No way!" Sean shot off the couch.
As calmly as he could, Mac explained, "Your parents got a call from your grandmother in Italy. Seems your grandfather fell and broke his hip. Ruth insists on going to help her mother and James won't let her go alone. They said your grandfather is a crotchety old man and the time spent there will not be pleasant, so they want you to stay here—in fact, they insisted that you stay here."
"And they think this is better? You're just as crotchety as him. I won't stay!" The boy tossed his sliver of paper from the fortune cookie onto the table and stormed from the room.
Mac rubbed his forehead trying to ease the headache that was trying to gain a foothold. "That went well." Cecelia was so quiet he finally glanced up. Their eyes met and he ground out, "Go ahead and say what's on your mind."
She started cleaning the cartons off the coffee table and placing them on a tray. "The boy's right."
Mac couldn't believe he'd heard her correctly. "Excuse me?" He absentmindedly picked up the fortune cookie slip, read it, and disgustedly tossed it back down.
SURPRISES ARE INEVITIBLE.
Cecelia stopped her busywork and stared into his soul. "I said, 'the boy is right.' You have so many walls erected a wrecking ball couldn't reach your heart."
Even though Mac knew her words were smack on, they pissed him off. "Really? And what about you, Cecelia? What about your walls? You hide behind your coffee shop."
She gave him a startled look and then rushed to the kitchen with the tray.
Mac was so angry he grabbed his cane and followed. He stood in the entrance watching her sling half full cartons of Chinese food into the trash. He said, "Well?"
She jerked around. "Well, what?"
"You didn't respond to my observation."
"I didn't respond because I have no idea what you're talking about."
He advanced forward. "Don't give me that bullshit. You can sure dish it out, but you can't take it."
Suddenly, she became perfectly still and stared at the box in her hand. Tears welled up and spilled down her cheeks.
"Aw, crap." Mac walked to stand in front of her. He took the box from her hand and tossed it on the counter. "Forget what I said. I'm an asshole. I was just lashing out in frustration." He lifted a hand to her chin and tilted her face until she was looking at him.
More tears gushed. Her nose sounded stuffy when she said, "You're right. My coffee shop has become my family, my escape, my lover."
Mac sucked air and caressed her lovely face with his eyes and then his thumb. "I'm so sorry, Cecelia. Forgive me."
For a long moment they stared at each other, and then, because he was powerless to stop himself, he leaned forward until his lips gently touched hers. He hadn't connected with a woman in so long he was immediately intoxicated by her fragrance, her feel, her honesty, her sweetness. He deepened the kiss and she sighed into his mouth.
When Cecelia wrapped her arms around his neck and molded her lips to his, he figured he was on the verge of experiencing nirvana. He forgot the pain in his arm when he gripped her waist and tightly fitted his body to hers. The passion he always kept contained—the passion he unleashed only while painting—for this moment, belonged to her. He explored her mouth and when she tilted her head he moved his lips across her cheek and then down her neck. Her rapid breathing inflamed him and he moved his lips lower while bringing his hands higher. In a moment of exquisite excitement he fondled her breasts with his mouth and hands, and when she breathed a
passionate exclamation and pulled his head closer, he figured he'd surpassed nirvana and entered uncharted territory. And we're only kissing.
A noise in the living room broke the magic moment and Cecelia jumped backward. When Sean entered the kitchen, her eyes went wide and she quickly turned to face the sink. With his body standing at full alert, Mac had never felt so embarrassed. Awkwardly, he bent to retrieve his cane that had fallen to the floor.
Sean didn't say anything for a moment—a moment that stretched to eternity. Then he snarked, "I thought you said there was nothing between you two. Sheesh, can't anyone tell the truth around here?" He walked to the fridge, grabbed a Pepsi, and left the room still shaking his head.
Cecelia continued to face the sink and Mac cleared his throat. "Ah…" He tried again. "Ah…I'm really sorry. I don't know…" He couldn't finish his sentence. The hell he didn't know what had come over him. He'd been lusting after Cecelia for weeks and he'd finally given in to it. "Goodnight, Cecelia." He left the room.
*
Lifting a shaking hand to her face, Cecelia swiped the tears that kept escaping. How could you let this happen? She knew perfectly well how—she was crazy about that stubborn, hurting, mixed-up man. He's so locked into the past he'll never let you in.
Another tear leaked and Cecelia hurried to finish cleaning the kitchen. She needed to find solace in her room and consider her next course of action.
After a sleepless night that involved erotic dreams of Mac, followed by heartbreaking dreams of rejection, Cecelia woke at daybreak and lay in bed for a long time. Finally, with resolve, she arose, donned her housecoat, and grabbed the clothes she would wear to work. The sharing of the bathroom had been worked out so that each person got thirty minutes, with Cecelia being first. She was about to knock softly, just to make sure the coast was clear, when the door opened and she came face-to-face with Mac.
She gasped and he sucked a breath. Quickly averting her eyes from his, she stepped sideways so he could leave. He said softly, "Good morning, Cecelia."
She responded automatically, "Good morning."
He stepped past her and paused as if he wanted to say something else. Quickly, she ducked into the bathroom and shut the door, leaning against it. You're being ridiculous! It's not as if you spent a passionate night in his bed! Lightly she banged her head against the door. Again, her inner voice demanded, How could you let this happen? Angrily, she responded, Oh, how could I let this happen? He just happens to be a man of integrity, passion, humor, and he's sexy as hell. That's how!
Chapter 18: No Protests
Cecelia prepared a bagel and cream cheese and poured a cup of the coffee she'd brewed. She sat at the table just as Sean entered the kitchen and grabbed the box of Honey Nut Cheerios he ate every morning. When he glanced at her, he must have read something in her face that said, "Don't even go there." Silently, he sat across from her and poured milk in his cereal.
Mac entered the room and headed toward the coffee pot. He grabbed a large mug from the open shelving and poured it to the brim. Sean lifted his bowl of cereal and said, "I need to get my backpack," and left the room.
Cecelia and Mac spoke at the same time. She said, "I should let you know…"
He said, "I want to…"
They looked at each other and he said, "You first."
Cecelia set her cup on the table and circled the rim with her finger. "I just wanted to let you know I'll be leaving in January, when Sean leaves. Of course, I'll always be available if you need me to grocery shop or help with anything." She tapped her fingernail against her cup.
Mac said, "I appreciate that." He sighed. "I just want to apologize again for last night."
Against her better judgment, Cecelia glanced up. When their eyes met, electricity sparked between them. At least it sparked on her end; she couldn't speak for him. She said, "I'd like to believe we've become good friends over the past weeks–"
He interrupted. "We have."
She smiled slightly, "So, let's not read more into last night than two lonely people in unusual circumstances. I'd hate to lose your friendship."
"That will never happen."
There was a long silence while they both sipped their coffee.
Cecelia spoke first. "So, here's what I was thinking." When Mac turned an intent gaze on her, she almost lost her train of thought. "Um, you know Sean has been helping out at the coffee shop and I've been paying him under the table."
Mac nodded.
"Anyway, I checked with city regulations, and he's old enough to work a regular job if he gets a work permit." Mac lifted an eyebrow and Cecelia hastened on. "He really shows an interest in being a barista. If he were to get a permit, I could hire him, and Justin could train him to make all the drinks. That way, when he returns home, he'll have skills for working at a coffee shop if he wants to earn extra money while going to school."
Mac took another sip of his coffee and Cecelia held her breath. He said, "I think that's an excellent idea. Have you talked to him about it?"
"Not yet. I wanted to run it by you first."
Sean reentered the room and took his cereal bowl to the sink. He glanced curiously at his father and Cecelia. Mac said, "Have a seat, son."
Cecelia saw the boy's eyes widen at his father's address of "son." Without his usual cockiness, he sat in the chair next to Cecelia.
Mac said, "Since you're going to be here until January, Cecelia came up with something to keep you occupied until you leave."
Sean glanced at Cecelia.
After a quick look at Mac, she outlined what she had just told him. She finished with, "Of course, you'll still have to keep up your school work via the internet. But Christmas vacation should give you a reprieve." She expected Sean to protest—he protested about everything—so when he shrugged and said, "Okay," she was shocked. What? No smart-ass remark?
Cecelia moved her gaze to Mac's and registered the look of surprise on his face, too.
Chapter 19: Bless the Bird
The aroma of Thanksgiving wafted throughout the house as Cecelia pulled the turkey out to baste it. The pumpkin and apple pies she'd baked early that morning now rested on the counter. Another hour and we'll be blessing this bird.
Glancing around the small kitchen that she'd made efficient and homey during the time she'd been staying with Mac, she felt herself choking up. Another few weeks and her stint would be finished. He had improved greatly in the past week and now had the ability to clench and unclench his hand. He was about to graduate to more intensive exercise therapy and a complete recovery was looking better everyday.
As far as their romantic encounter, neither of them mentioned it, although it was always an invisible force between them.
Cecelia removed salad makings from the fridge and began cutting veggies. She smiled when she thought about Sean. He'd taken to working at the coffee shop like a duck takes to water. He had learned how to mix all the coffee specialties and now was Justin's backup for lunch and breaks. City regulations allowed him to work no more than thirty hours a week, but he hung out at the shop more than he did at home, bringing his laptop to do school lessons after work. He had also made a friend in Cecelia's nephew, Harris, and the boys often met up at the coffee house.
Frustration with Mac made Cecelia sigh. Once, when she had broached the subject of him revealing his identity to Sean, he'd adamantly refused, saying he was protecting the boy. Although she didn't refute that, Cecelia thought it was only partly true. She figured Mac was protecting his own heart because revealing something that important would only anger Sean more. She knew Mac loved his boy, but he'd been reclusive and secretive for such a long time, he didn't know how to behave differently. Cecelia could see the hurt in Mac's eyes every time the boy rejected him. But if there was one thing she knew for a fact, it was that Sean would not embrace his father until his father opened his heart to him. It was a vicious cycle.
"That sure smells wonderful," Mac said from the doorway.
Cecelia had been so w
rapped up in her musings that she hadn't heard him. "I just hope it tastes as good as it smells."
Mac glanced at the pies. "What time did you get up this morning?"
"A little after six."
"You know, I appreciate you staying with us on Thanksgiving, but you should be spending it with your family."
Cecelia reached for a carrot to grate. "I wanted to celebrate Thanksgiving with you and Sean. When I lived in New York, I had no one to cook for. I always spent the holidays with my parents with lavish meals prepared by their chef. The atmosphere was–" She searched for words, "–regal and stiff." She blushed when she admitted, "I'm loving this."
"But I'm sure the atmosphere is anything but regal at your brother's house with five children."
Cecelia laughed. "That's true. You could call it the opposite of regal. More like chaotic." She winked. "But I couldn't be in charge of the kitchen there."
*
The wink that Cecelia gave Mac was so endearing he wanted to sweep her into his arms and kiss her endlessly. Since their kiss, he'd been bombarded by visions of the two of them together, and not in a platonic way. He ground his back teeth and willed those thoughts to the recesses of his mind. Leaning on his cane, he headed toward the coffee pot.
Cecelia said, "Oh, let me pour you a cup."
"No, honey, I've got it." The endearment just slipped out and they both stared at each other.
Sean said from the doorway, "Hey, do you guys need a private moment?"
Mac jerked his mug off the shelf. "Of course not. Come on in."
Sean got that shit-eating grin that was appearing more and more and Mac sloshed hot coffee over the edge of his cup. "Damn!"
Sean's grin widened. He said, "After dinner, Harris and I are going to the movies. There's a new Transformer flick out. We've been waiting ages to see it."
Mac said, "Are you telling me or asking?"
His son frowned. "What do you want me to do?"
Mac rubbed his eyebrow. "Have fun."
