by Bryce, Megan
When Maggie was settled, he leaned in. Her lips curved in invitation and he leaned closer.
He whispered, “I’m not going to kiss you.”
She tilted her head and whispered back. “You’re not? Because you’re sending that signal.”
“Oh, I want to. I’m just not going to do it.”
“Because?”
“Because it’s been a long week, I’m hungry, and if I start kissing you right now we’re never going to get dinner.”
She leaned into him. “You’d like to think so.”
“But I want you to know that after dinner will be a different story.”
“So you’re just warning me?”
Cole nuzzled her ear, inhaling deeply. “Preparing you.”
He felt her shoulders shake with silent laughter, felt her fingernail jab into his chest to push him away. Maggie was smiling when he pulled back from her.
She said, “Don’t worry. I’ll be prepared.”
He shut the door, careful that the skirt of her dress was inside, and walked around the back of the truck to adjust himself before climbing in.
He started the engine and said, “I hope you’re hungry. ”
“Are you going to stuff me with food again?”
“Yep. Slow-cooked brisket, ribs, chicken if you must, and pecan cobbler.”
She groaned. “It’s a good thing you aren’t here during the week. I’d have to buy all new clothes.”
He looked down at the loose, flowing dress and said, “It’d take a while to fill that one out.”
“I’m really getting the impression you know nothing about women’s clothing. This is how it’s supposed to fit.”
“All loose like that?”
She laughed. “Yes.”
“Like a good stiff breeze is going to flip the skirt up?”
“Oh, yes.”
He shook his head. “I had no idea clothing could be so diabolical.”
“You’ve been working with your roughnecks for too long.”
He could not argue with that. There was a certain something lacking in a room full of men. Maybe it was mystery. With women there was always this feeling that there was more going on in a conversation than what was just being said.
Or maybe it was just this woman.
He showed her the contents of his work box before throwing it into the backseat.
She shook her head at him and he leaned in close, putting his hand on her thigh. He said quietly into her ear, “Was that predictable?”
She ran her hand down his forearm, stopping his hand from wandering any higher, and said in a throaty whisper, “So predictable.”
He grinned and pulled back. “Guess I’ll just have to try a little harder.”
And chuckled when she said, “I would really prefer it if you didn’t.”
Seven
Maggie drove to Cole’s in the morning. At a decent hour.
Cole had driven her home late last night, stuffed full of brisket and ribs. And cobbler.
God, the cobbler.
The man was evil, pure evil.
And then he’d surprised her by not even trying to get her to his place, not even trying to come inside. He’d helped her down from the truck, had pulled her close and kissed her like they were eighteen again. Wild and crazy and Maggie had had to make sure her clothes were still on when they were done.
And then he’d said, “Night, Empress.”
Hopped in his truck and flicked his fingers at her to go inside.
Evil. Pure evil.
The man just did not like being called predictable.
Cole was waiting for her at the top of his stairs when she rounded the garage. He said, “I was wondering where you were. Been expecting you since four.”
“No, thanks. I can see that is a losing game.”
He watched her walk up the stairs, then wordlessly handed her a cup of coffee nearly white with cream.
He smiled at her and started to lean in and she brought the coffee cup up between them, taking a long, slow sip.
He said, “Mmm. Cranky this morning? Have a rough night last night?”
She showed him her teeth. “Slept like a baby. You?”
“I was a little. . . hungry.”
“I guess you didn’t get enough cobbler last night.”
Cole said, “No, I didn’t.”
“I got plenty. More than I wanted, actually.”
“Liar. No one ever gets enough cobbler.”
Maybe. She got more than she should want, anyway.
Cole followed her inside and Maggie saw a new recliner sitting next to his large blue one. “What’s this?”
“I got a second chair.” He went and pulled out a game, holding it up. “It’s a two player. We can see who’s better.”
“I’m not going to win, am I?”
“No way in hell.”
Maggie said, “There’s got to be a game you haven’t played before.”
“You need a little more practice and then we’ll find one.” He dug out another game. “This is a co-op game, how ‘bout that?”
“We play on the same team?”
He nodded and she said, “Do you think the game is shaking in its boots?”
“If it knows what’s good for it, it is.”
He put the game in and Maggie looked at the box sitting on his counter. “What about your paperwork?”
He said, “It’s too early for paperwork,” and she laughed at him.
“How do you run an empire?”
“I don’t. It runs me. I have to steal moments when I can.”
She kicked off her flip-flops and climbed into the chair, sitting cross-legged in the wide seat.
Cole looked down at her legs and muttered, “Jeans.”
She smiled at him and he flopped into his chair. “How long are you going to punish me for last night?”
She looked down at her jeans. “Is this a punishment?”
“There’s no skin anywhere. Jeans and a t-shirt? Yeah, that’s a punishment.”
“You complained about my skirt riding up, complained about my skirt flying up.”
“I wouldn’t complain if we were alone when those things happened. Now we’re alone and there’s no skin.”
“And you’re complaining.”
He pointed at her legs. “You do this on purpose.”
“Yes, Cole. I plan my wardrobe around you.”
“You plan your wardrobe around turning every man into a blathering idiot.”
“It’s worked for you, apparently.”
He muttered, “Apparently.” Then he eyed her, sitting in her chair. “Want me to climb over there, show you how to play this game?”
“I think I’ve got it.”
“This is just turning into one great morning. Can’t wait to start that paperwork.”
They played for a few hours, Cole had lunch delivered, and then Maggie started taking papers out of the box. Interested to see what he was bringing home.
First thing she pulled out was an invitation to the club gala.
“You’re a member of the club?”
Cole shrugged, rinsing their plates. “Every once in a while some yahoo tries to make me feel uncomfortable by meeting at the club.”
“And you make them lick your boots?”
He shot a grin over his shoulder. “I wear my dirtiest boots, smear a little more mud on the truck, and run up their tab.”
She laughed. “Are you going tomorrow?”
“No need.”
“I have need.”
He turned around, wiping his hands on the dishtowel hanging over his shoulder. “You want to go?”
She nodded and he said, “Boy, this weekend. I was so excited to come home, maybe get to see you naked, relax after a long week.”
“I would probably wear something fairly skimpy to this.” She waved the invitation in the air.
He turned back around. “Great.”
“I could go with Tanner. He’d like that; I think he
misses the club the most.”
“It’s my invitation. Maybe I should go with Tanner.”
Maggie tried to picture it, the two men sitting together not talking the whole time.
She said, “I’ll call him for you,” and Cole shook his head. Maggie could see the smile hovering on his lips.
She walked into the kitchen, leaning against the fridge. She watched him drying dishes, putting them into cupboards. She could see he’d gotten more than just a chair. New dishes in the cupboard, food in the pantry. Cream in the fridge.
Cole said, “I’ll go with you on one condition.”
Maggie took a deep breath, then waved her hand. “Let’s hear it.”
“Wear something below the knee.”
“You’re leaving me a lot of room there.”
He nodded. “I know. Just. . . below the knee.”
“You’ve really got a thing about knees.”
Cole said, “I’ve really got a thing about above the knees. It’s called being a man.”
Maggie guessed her smile said everything she needed to about that.
Maggie walked back to the box, setting the invitation down beside it. “I’m sure I’ll be able to find something.”
“By tomorrow?”
When she nodded, Cole said, “Need my credit card?”
A pulse of anger hit her, her vision blurring, her heart speeding up. The insult of it swamped her, as if she could be bought. As if she was a child who needed Daddy’s credit card. As if she needed a sugar daddy.
She bit out, “No.”
She was a grown woman. A grown woman in financial straits but a grown woman nonetheless. She would provide for herself. Buy her own damn clothes.
“Maggie?”
She looked up at Cole and he took a step back. “Whoa. What happened there?”
Maggie looked down again, fisted her hands and took a deep, deep breath.
She said, “You hit a button.”
“By offering my credit card?”
She nodded sharply. “It’s always there, Cole. Always a question in the back of everyone’s eyes, wondering why I’m working so hard when I could just lay back and be taken care of. Because a woman like me doesn’t have to work. Surely some man would pay for the pleasure of having me at his beck and call. Depends on the man whether it would be marriage or not, but it would still be me being bought.”
Cole said, “I’m sorry.”
At his quiet acceptance, she almost cried. At his understanding that that was how the world worked, she wanted to rest her head on the counter and never lift it back up.
She asked softly, “Would you?”
He walked around the counter. “Pay to have you at my beck and call? In a heartbeat.”
She looked at him and he said, “I, like a great many number of men, would have you any way I could get you. And would expect to pay in a number of painful ways, money being only one of them.”
When her lips thinned, he said, “But just to set the record straight, I wasn’t trying to buy you for the price of a dress.”
Her heart stopped its mad rush. “It does sound silly when you say it like that.”
“Not silly. Especially when you’ve sold yourself to me once already.”
“I didn’t sell myself to you. We traded favors.”
“There’s a difference?”
Maggie said, “There was no money involved.”
“There’s just something about money, isn’t there?”
“There is indeed something about money. Which is why I don’t want yours.”
He nodded slowly as he hopped onto a stool. “This won’t work without a little bit of trust, Maggie. The benefit of the doubt that I’m not plotting ways to get you into my debt.”
“It’s not going to work. I’m using you, remember?”
“You could use me a little more.”
She leaned against the counter, put her chin in her palm. “You mean sex now.”
“I always mean sex.”
She smiled slightly. “Could I buy you?”
He raised his eyebrows and she said, “How much would it cost?”
“It doesn’t work in reverse. I’d do it for free. As we already established, I’d pay for the pleasure.”
She shook her head at him and he said, “I could mean money, too. I have it, you need it.”
“Then I would owe you.”
“You already owe me.”
She took her chin out of her palm, climbed onto one of the bar stools. “No. You owe me. This is making us even.”
“And money would tip the scales again?”
“Money would. . . make it something different. Turn it into something not between friends.”
He took her hand, looking down into it as he said, “Friends?”
When he looked back up, she nodded slowly.
He smiled. “Not frenemies?”
She smiled back. “Probably still frenemies.”
He shook his head. “No. I wish you all good things, Maggie. I wish you all the money you need to buy all the men you want.”
He surprised a laugh out of her and she shook her head. “That’s no fortune since I don’t want to buy any men.”
He nodded in agreement. “It’s always been lopsided, Empress. We want you; you wouldn’t stoop to wipe us off your shoe. And that question in our eyes isn’t us wondering why you don’t let some man buy you. We know why. We’re not worthy. There’s no man that would ever have enough to be worthy of you.”
“Then what’s that look I see in every man’s eyes?”
“It’s just us looking at what we can’t have. Just us wanting. Just us hoping.”
She took her hand out of his. “It looks to me like you’re all just waiting for me to get desperate.”
“Oh, there’s that, too. Definitely that.”
Her chin rose. “I never will.”
He sighed. “Yeah. But hope springs eternal.”
She rifled through the box. “You could make it harder for me. At least try to get me closer to desperate.”
“Like Harwood?”
She nearly laughed. “That’s not what he was doing. He wanted revenge, not a repeat of a very poor performance.”
He snorted. “Right.”
She looked at him. “It was a very poor performance.”
“Firstly, I don’t want to hear about it. Secondly, no one will ever believe it. Especially someone who can remember your performance.”
She didn’t argue with him. She didn’t really want to think about her and Jackson either.
She looked through the box some more and said, “I’ve got only two more contracts to go through on Monday and then I’ll be done.”
“Did everyone come in with better terms?”
“Yes. Do you have accounts with everyone?”
“Most. I’m guessing the few that I don’t, want them.”
She smiled. “Lucky for me. And for the first time in a long time, income exceeds expenses.”
“Now we just need to start making you some more cash. Those moratoriums are only for a year.”
Maggie didn’t point out the we. She said, “If only I knew someone running a profitable business light on partners.”
“What are you bringing to the table, Caldwell?”
“Diversification. You’re heavy on oil, Cole.”
He snorted. “That’s an understatement. And it’s called specialization.”
“What happened to Midland in the eighties when the price of oil crashed?”
He nodded, rubbing his mouth. “Bye-bye, empire.”
“Not if you spread it around a little.”
“I’m not looking to get any bigger. Or wider. I’m busy enough as it is.”
“Which is why you need a partner.”
He sat back, his expression calculating. “I may have a few projects I’d be willing to spin off.”
“Trade off.”
“Only if what you’re trading is established and won’t take any of my time
.”
Maggie tapped her fingers on the counter. “Real estate?”
“I don’t care because I won’t be doing anything with it.”
“So what you’re saying is I give you something safer than oil, you give me something with higher returns, and I do all the work.”
He grinned. “Yep.”
“And we split profits 60-40.”
“An even fifty.”
“70-30.”
He laughed. “You’re going the wrong way.”
“I’m not going any lower than 60-40. Not if I’m doing all the work.”
She sat quietly, letting him think about it. He finally nodded. “Bring me something you’re willing to trade and I’ll look at it.”
She said “What about your debt? Do you even have any?”
“I have debt. I’ll just be able to pay it all off when the shit hits the fan.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re waiting for the price of oil to drop.”
He wobbled his head. “Not waiting, exactly. But it’ll be my clue to retire. Take a break.”
She thought about really getting into oil and said, “Are you giving me a ticking time bomb?”
“High risk-high reward, but I’m not seeing any hint of a turnaround yet. There’s still plenty of money to be made.”
“Where’s the danger zone?”
“In the eighties. Anything above 82, I’m profitable. I could probably keep pumping until it went below 80, squeeze some costs.”
Maggie tried to remember what the price of crude was but didn’t have a clue. Born and bred in Texas she might be but oil had never been on her horizon. “What’s it at right now?”
“105.”
She smiled at him and he smiled back. A 25 point profit was worth the risk. She agreed with him that oil would drop again. Up, down, up, down. That’s how it went.
Anyone who forgot that ended up knee deep in debt with bankruptcy breathing down their neck.
She wouldn’t forget. She never wanted to get near that monster again.
She said, “And when the price drops below eighty? What then?”
“Unless Uncle Sam goes belly up, I’ll be alright. Take my money, buy a little cottage on the coast, put my feet up and drink some beers. Maybe get a young wife who likes to wear bikinis.”
Maggie sucked in a breath. “Don’t tell me you have money sitting in treasuries earning two percent.”
