by Bryce, Megan
He shrugged and she said, “Shit.”
He laughed at the expression on her face. He leaned forward. “You know I love it when you talk dirty.”
“I couldn’t help myself. Treasuries? A five year-old with a lemonade stand could make better than two percent.”
“It’s peace of mind. What about the young wife?”
“You’re losing money, Cole. Pay off your debt.”
“I find it helpful to have plentiful contacts, lots of people I owe money to who don’t want to see me having trouble paying them back. It’s not a lot in treasuries. Just enough. I’m not losing money on my debt.”
“Still.”
“You’re not touching my debt, Maggie.”
She sat back.
She wanted her debt gone. GONE. And it might be coloring her assessment slightly.
She would trust that he knew what he was doing. Anyone who’d been as close to bankruptcy as they’d been would have a healthy fear of it and she could understand that his number one goal would be to keep his debt in check. If having treasuries was part of his debt plan, okay. She’d leave it be.
She said, “Why don’t you get rid of the house?”
“I don’t want to.”
“You could buy something in Midland. Go home at night instead of sleeping in a trailer.”
He said again, “I don’t want to, Maggie. And why are we focusing on my money? You’re the one we need to work on.”
“You’re right.”
She threw the papers back in the box. It wasn’t paperwork, it was busy work. Work for an admin to do. He hadn’t brought her anything juicy to look at.
She said, “I’ll come out to Midland on Tuesday and we’ll negotiate.”
“You going to stay in my trailer with me?”
“I’ll stay in a hotel.”
“I’ve got room. Underneath me.”
Maggie said, “Maybe I’ll just head on back home after I throw your body into a shallow grave.”
He shook his head. “No. Too long of a drive.”
It was a long drive. She didn’t particularly want to do it again. She especially didn’t want to do it twice in one day.
She said unenthusiastically, “I guess we can just conference.”
“That would be the most practical.”
She didn’t say it, didn’t need to since he was sitting there with the same expression on his face as she was.
Practical was boring.
Practical was a long week like the one they’d just had. Calling him for any little reason and then drooling a little when she finally saw him.
Well, a woman dying of thirst would drool over any old bucket of water.
But it did make her a little stupid. Made it a little harder to keep his lips a safe distance from hers.
Cole said, “If you’re not going to do my paperwork, what else are we going to do?”
She glanced at the recliners, then back at him. She said, “I need to make you pay for the young wife crack.”
“Maggie. Why else would I have made it?”
When Maggie got home, Ginny was walking out of Daddy’s bedroom, carrying the newspaper. “You’re home late. Did you play more video games?”
Maggie narrowed her eyes. “What do you think playing video games means?”
Ginny smiled, following her to the living room. “Definitely something dirty.”
Maggie flopped onto the couch. “It doesn’t.”
“But you wish it did.”
Maggie didn’t say anything to that. Because what would she say? She wanted what she shouldn’t. She wanted what she couldn’t.
Ginny said, “You like him.”
Maggie shook her head. “No. Yes. I don’t know.”
Ginny laughed.
Maggie picked her head up. “I like him. He’s fun. He’s. . . safe. I can be myself around him, I’ve always been able to be myself around him. And I don’t have to worry about it because he gives back as good as he gets.”
Ginny smiled.
Maggie said, “And I don’t like him.”
“Because?”
Because. . . she couldn’t remember right then.
She’d spent the day with him, the whole day again, and hadn’t wanted to leave. She’d let him kiss her again. Let him whisper dirty things into her ear.
And hadn’t wanted him to stop.
When she’d gotten into her car, he’d been looking down at her through the window.
Watching. Waiting.
And she’d been incredibly glad he hadn’t followed her down the stairs. Glad he hadn’t pushed one more time.
She wasn’t sure she would have said no again.
Twelve years was a long time. She’d done things in her life that she wished she could undo. That she would give anything to not have done. And it didn’t make any difference.
She couldn’t go back and change it. She couldn’t do anything now to make up for it. It just was and would be forever.
To not like Cole because of something he’d done years ago, that he couldn’t undo, just seemed wrong now.
Especially when she liked everything else about him.
She laid her head back down. “I don’t know. I don’t want to like Cole.”
“Because you think he’d do it again?”
“I don’t know if he’d do it again.”
Ginny said, “You should ask him.”
“I don’t think he knows if he’d do it again.”
Ginny said, “You’ve forgiven him.”
Maggie closed her eyes. She had forgiven him. She didn’t know when, why. She remembered it clearly, but the feeling was gone. The betrayal. The hurt.
Maggie said quietly, “Tanner hasn’t forgiven him.”
“Tanner needs to.”
Maggie sat up and simply looked at her sister.
Ginny said, “It’s destroying him and he needs to let it go.”
“It happened, get over it?”
“Sometimes you just have to. Sometimes it’s all you can do.”
“Are you talking about me or Tanner?”
“I would have been talking about you a few weeks ago. But now you’ve forgiven him; you just haven’t stopped punishing him or yourself yet.”
Maggie said, “Fool me once. . .”
Ginny said, “To err is human. . .”
Maggie nodded. “Hard to say if I’m being smart or holding a grudge.” She said softly, “Hard to say if I’m denying myself or protecting myself.”
Ginny pointed to Maggie’s pants. “Are you denying yourself? Your jeans are unbuttoned.”
Maggie groaned, remembering Cole’s wicked fingers down her pants. She closed her eyes and muttered, “I’m torturing myself.”
“Why?”
“Because I said I wouldn’t sleep with him. Because I have nothing left but my pride. And I won’t give it to him.”
Ginny said, “‘Proud people breed sad sorrows for themselves.’”
“Yes, Emily. We do.”
“But I don’t think pride is what he wants from you. And it’s not all you have left.”
Maggie raised her eyebrows and Ginny said, “You have hope. He’s given you hope.”
“He’s given me a chance. It’s still not worth my pride.”
“Then I will leave you with one more quote before I track my husband down and have loud, wild sex with him.”
“Are you this cruel to everyone or just me?”
Ginny pet Maggie’s hair softly and Maggie closed her eyes. Remembered how her mother had pet her hair just like this.
Ginny said, “Only you. That’s what sisters are for.”
“Then give me your quote and go find your husband.”
“‘I would always rather be happy than dignified.’”
Maggie opened her eyes and smiled at her sister. “I know you would, Charlotte. I’m just not sure the opposite of dignified is happy.”
Ginny said, “Do you think the Brontë sisters were cruel to each other?”
>
“Of course. That’s what sisters are for.”
Ginny tapped Maggie’s head and stood. “Night, sister dear. I hope we don’t keep you up.”
Maggie laughed softly, knowing it wouldn’t be them keeping her awake tonight.
Eight
Cole arrived at Maggie’s later the next night, dressed in a tuxedo, black-tie, and shoes so shiny he could’ve shaved looking into them.
He’d tried to come by earlier but Maggie had called him an unflattering name, insulted his mental faculties, and told him if she saw his face before tonight she’d use it as a nail file.
He guessed she was having a hard time finding something to wear on such short notice.
Women and their clothes.
And then there was Maggie and her clothes. She who used every item as either a bludgeon or a lure.
He knocked on the door and when the housekeeper answered he jerked his thumb back at the cars. “When she’s ready.”
The short, round woman shut the door in his face.
Cole chuckled, wandering back to Maggie’s little car and leaning against it.
He stared at the long one-story house that looked like someone’s well-loved home. Then looked toward the direction of his house. A tall three-story monstrosity that looked like exactly what it was. A dare, an eyesore, a showpiece.
Not a home.
Maggie was right, he should sell. Buy something in Midland.
Be practical.
But he lived as close to where he really wanted to be as he could get without moving into the ranch house.
The door opened and Maggie walked out.
She wore a black halter pantsuit, her long arms bare, a large chunky bracelet on one wrist. The pants were so loose and wide they looked almost like a skirt, her high heels guaranteeing she would be taller than nearly every man there.
Maggie stopped, running her eyes down him, then back up to stare wide-eyed into his. Her eyes swirled to blue and Cole’s breath got stuck in his chest. He wanted nothing more than for her to walk to him, wrap herself around him, and forget about tonight.
Forget about everything but him.
He pushed himself off the car and walked towards her.
She blinked, tipping her chin up, and Cole nodded approvingly at her outfit. “Well, that’s–”
Maggie turned around, showing him there was no back, the material skimming the sides of her breasts, the collar going around her neck like a choker, her hair up in a loose knot so everyone could see. The pants scooping below the dip in her back.
He choked. “I left you too much room, I see.”
She turned around. “I did warn you.”
“You did. Anything going to fall out?”
Maggie smiled. “It’s secure.”
Cole looked at the flimsy material. “Are you sure?”
“It’s taped.”
“To what?”
“My skin.”
He started to reach for her. “Let me see.”
She waved him off. “You’ll just have to trust me.”
“Any nip slip and I will probably have a coronary.”
She laughed.
He said, “And any man touches your back down there, I’ll be digging his grave.”
“You do caveman very well.”
He grunted. “Mine, mine, mine.”
She smiled wider. “And any man touches my back down there, I’ll be digging his grave.”
He leaned in, breathed her in, said softly, “That’s exactly what this outfit says. Touch me. At your peril.”
“Maybe you do speak women’s clothing after all.”
He slid his arm around her waist, ran his hand lightly down her back, and whispered, “Are you wearing those shoes?”
She stepped closer and it was not lost on him that he was still standing after daring to touch her back. His hand slid lower and she said huskily, “You have a fetish.”
He fingered the collar around her neck with his other hand. “I think you’re right.”
He reluctantly let her go, opening the driver’s door for her, and Maggie said, “No muddy truck?”
“Not tonight.” Cole waved at her clothes. “Not for this.”
She sat and he watched her outfit for any gaping. She said, “See anything?”
“No.”
“It’s pretty secure.”
“It doesn’t look it.”
“That’s the whole point.”
She watched him walk around the front of the car, waited for him to get in before starting the car.
Maggie said, “You dressed up.”
“I know how to.”
“I just wasn’t expecting it.”
“You thought I’d go in jeans and boots?”
She said, “This is nice, too.”
He got the distinct impression she would have preferred jeans and boots.
Cole said, “Don’t worry. I’m still wearing the same thing underneath.”
She shook her head, reversing the car. “I don’t want to know.”
“I’ll leave it to your imagination.” He looked down at her legs. “If you’ll return the favor.”
She glanced at him. “If you like. But it’s entirely likely I’m wearing the same thing underneath as you.”
Cole’s breath caught again for a long moment and then he let it slowly. “I hate how you always win that game.”
She laughed, smiling at him, and he said, “You look beautiful.”
She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. So beautiful it almost hurt.
She turned her head away. “And you clean up better than I expected. I thought the mud had seeped in too deep to really ever get out.”
Like a fist to the gut, it knocked the air out of him.
After a long, silent minute, she put her hand on his knee and said softly, “I was teasing you. About your oil.”
He took a deep breath, turning to face her in the small car. He nodded curtly at her and she squeezed his knee.
She said, “I was actually looking forward to driving up in a mud-covered truck. I like watching you make everyone tiptoe around.”
He blew out his breath slowly. He finally said, “Next time.”
“Hit a button, did I?”
When he grunted, she patted his knee. “Remember that whole benefit of the doubt thing? I didn’t do it on purpose.”
“I believe you. I’m just wondering why we always end up even.”
She laughed, taking her hand off his knee. “Because we’re hard people, Cole.”
When they got to the club, the lights were blazing. The men in their tuxedos, the women in everything from short and tight to long and flowing.
Maggie towered over all of them, figuratively and literally.
The men stared and the women ignored, and Cole knew she hadn’t been kidding about not having friends.
He’d only ever had one himself and he took her hand, sliding it through his arm. She leaned into him and whispered, “I’m not going to be able to use my outfit if you keep me draped all over you.”
“We, Maggie. Tonight it’s we.”
She scanned the room, finally noting the interest in the two of them together, and turned toward him. “Oh.”
He smiled into her eyes and her shoulders relaxed.
The hostess came toward them, holding her hands out to Cole. “Cole Montgomery! We’ve never seen you at a function before.”
He took her hands and didn’t say what he wanted to. Didn’t say he’d rather be buck naked, trying to outrun a thousand angry bulls than to be dressed up and swimming with these sharks.
The woman glanced at Maggie. “Margaret, it’s been too long.”
“Paula.”
Cole dropped Paula’s hands, reaching for Maggie’s again.
Paula gave a tinkly laugh and said, “And here we’d thought we’d got ridden of you for good. You’re like a cat, always landing on your feet.”
“Better than landing on my back, don’t you think?”
>
Paula’s nostrils flared and Maggie said, “And here comes your husband now.”
Cole froze, sure he wasn’t hearing that right. He looked at the anger on Paula’s face, the stupid one on her husband’s.
Cole motioned for a server, then grabbed a flute of champagne for Maggie, then himself.
The husband cried, “Margaret, my darling! I’m so happy you could come, and you brought Cole Montgomery! Those rumors must be true then. Engaged, are you?”
The man lifted Maggie’s free hand, bending to kiss it, and Cole bit out, “Yes.”
Paula looked down at the hand her husband was slobbering over and said, “No ring?”
Cole said, “You know Margaret. It has to be just right, which means we haven’t agreed on one yet.”
Maggie pulled her hand away from the lecher moments before Cole ripped his lips off, saying, “You haven’t met Cole, have you, Simon? All the rumors about him are true, I’m afraid.” She said to Cole, “And I don’t know why we have to agree about the ring since I’ll be the one wearing it.”
“It’s my ring on your finger.”
Paula said, “Not to mention, your money.”
Cole said, “For a little while longer, at least.”
Paula’s eyes widened to saucers and she squeaked, “No pre-nup?”
“A pre-nup? Why would I need one? I’m never letting her go.”
Maggie’s eyes sparkled and her mouth puckered. Cole was fairly sure she was trying not to laugh when she said, “Cole. Really.”
Paula squeaked something, turning from them and racing off.
Cole watched her scurry away, drinking his champagne. He grimaced at the sweetness and muttered, “Christ. I need a beer.”
Simon took a step closer to Maggie. “I’m sure I can find one for you, old boy. Margaret will bring it to you.”
Maggie and Cole said at the same time, “No.”
She turned Cole away forcibly and said over her shoulder, “Go ask someone about those rumors, Simon. Before you do something stupid.”
She walked Cole away and said, “Simon and Paula Blackwood. Paula found herself a man with money and brought him back to Dallas about five years ago. As you can see, he’s flourished.”
“I’ve never heard of them.”
“He plays golf. And drinks. And chases skirts. It’s no surprise you haven’t met him. Paula is the daughter of Red Griffith.”
