by Debbie Mason
“I’m sorry, princess. I had no idea they were all going to be here.”
“I know you didn’t. I should have realized Madison wouldn’t be able to resist the free publicity.”
The woman in question overheard Grace and grinned. She walked toward them with her friend in tow. “Don’t be mad. I did it for you.” Madison gave Grace a one-armed hug, ignoring Jack, “Well, you and the bottom line. You remember my friend Skylar Davis, don’t you, Grace?”
“Of course I do.” She smiled and went to shake the woman’s hand but was pulled in for a hug instead.
When they finished, Jack introduced himself. Obviously Madison had been bad-mouthing him to Ms. Davis, because the woman greeted him with a cool nod.
Whatever.
Three reporters came forward and introduced themselves. John Ryan, the guy Jack had agreed to do the interview with, would take the lead. They sat at one of the tables. When his son started to squirm in Grace’s lap, Jack took out the small book he’d stuffed in his pocket and handed it to him. Grace rewarded him with a dimpled smile.
“Just a sec,” Madison said as a photographer went to take their picture. She came over and pinched Grace’s cheeks. “That’s better. You looked a little pale.”
Jack sighed, then whispered in his wife’s ear, “Don’t listen to her. You’re beautiful.”
The smile she gave him faltered as the bell tinkled over the door. Whatever color Madison had forced into Grace’s cheeks drained away. He followed her gaze. Several more people entered the bakery, his sister and Maria bringing up the rear.
* * *
Jack shot Grace a worried look. She tried to force her lips to curve. But they felt frozen, just like the rest of her face. Madison cleared her throat. Grace glanced her way, and Madison touched her neck. Oh. Grace released the stranglehold she had on her pearls and tried to focus on the reporter instead of Maria DeMarco. It was hard not to look at the gorgeous brunette wearing the white, body-hugging halter dress that skimmed the tops of her well-toned bronzed legs. Grace self-consciously smoothed her dress, trying not to compare herself to the other woman. It was too depressing. Especially given the intimate relationship she’d had with Jack.
Instead, Grace tried to focus on the reporter’s questions and her husband’s responses. Jack was good at this. He was intelligent and charming, deflecting Mr. Ryan easily when the reporter asked a couple of pointed questions about how they’d escaped their captors.
Maria hadn’t taken her eyes off Jack, not for a minute. Grace wished she could say the same for Jill. Her sister-in-law’s censorious stare was beginning to wear on Grace’s nerves. Her son would choose today of all days to be well behaved, she thought. It wasn’t like she could use him as an excuse to escape.
Jack laid his hand over hers. She glanced to where she’d unconsciously lined up the packets of sugar in the bowl. He laced his fingers through hers, then drew her hand to his thigh, giving it a comforting squeeze. When one of the other reporters asked Jack how it felt to be home with his family, the cameras zoomed in on Grace and her son. It was then that Grace realized she and little Jack were only along for the photo op. That was fine by her. Normally she didn’t mind dealing with reporters. She’d handled the press for her father on many occasions. But with Jill and Maria looking on, she was just as happy to be ignored.
Grace glanced up at the sound of a derisive snort. Jill’s blue eyes flashed with temper as she stared Grace down. Maria patted her arm and whispered something in her ear.
“Grace, John asked you a question,” Jack said.
She drew her attention from the two women’s silent exchange. “I’m sorry.”
“No problem, Mrs. Flaherty. I asked how it felt to have your husband back.”
“It’s hard to describe how incredible it feels to have him home. It’s a miracle, really. Our prayers were answered.” She looked into Jack’s eyes and smiled. “I guess you could say it feels like Christmas.”
Jack squeezed her hand, then he tensed.
“Hello, Mr. Ryan.” Maria sauntered toward the table. “I’m Maria DeMarco, a reporter with the Washington Daily News. Would you mind if I asked the happy couple here a few questions?”
“We’ve had enough questions for today,” Jack said and pushed his chair back.
“Your wife has only answered one, Jack. Surely she can handle a couple more, can’t you, Mrs. Flaherty?”
Grace lifted her chin. “Certainly. Ask away.”
“Hey,” one of the other reporters said, “aren’t you the woman who was held captive with Chief Flaherty?”
She kept her challenging gaze locked on Grace when she spoke. “Yes, I am. Jack and I’ve been through a lot together.”
“If you’re willing, Ms. DeMarco, we’d like to ask you a few questions. Maybe get a couple of pictures of you and Chief Flaherty?”
“By all means. But I have to tell you, I’m saving most of the juicy details for my book.”
Grace pressed a hand to her stomach. Little Jack, as though sensing her distress, started to cry. Jack stood. “Come on. We’re done here.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Grace saw her sister-in-law reach for Maria. “No, Maria, don’t—” Jill began, but the woman ignored her, holding up a chocolate sugar plum.
“Mrs. Flaherty, I’ve heard all about your cakes since I’ve come to Christmas and how the wishes in a sugar plum like this one come true. I was told you made one for your husband’s birthday with your own wish in it, and moments later it was announced he’d been found. It’s almost like they’re magic.”
The saliva in Grace’s throat dried up. She couldn’t speak. Madison gave her a concerned look before saying, “That’s exactly how it happened. Grace’s cakes are magical. And very soon we’ll be introducing everyone to the reason for the magic… the Sugar Plum Cake Fairy.”
Maria arched a sardonic brow. “Really, how… interesting.” Returning her attention to Grace, she said, “Perhaps you can tell me, Mrs. Flaherty, if you wished for your husband to come home, why his wedding ring was in the chocolate sugar plum along with this note saying good-bye to him and a wish for you and your son’s future. One you planned to have without him.” Cameras flashed as she went to Jack and handed him the contents of the sugar plum. “I’m sorry, Jack. But your wife lied to you. She wasn’t waiting for you to come home. She’d given up on you a long time ago.”
Chapter Fifteen
The reporters vied for Jack’s attention at the same time as Grace, Jill, and Maria did. He couldn’t tell which one of the women said what. He felt like he was in a wind tunnel with the air and sound sucked from the room. All he could do was stare at the evidence lying in the palm of his hand—the pieces of paper and his wedding band. Everything Grace had told him had been a lie.
She hadn’t kicked him out of the apartment because of Maria. She’d already moved on with her life the night she’d asked him for a divorce. And he had a pretty damn good idea who she’d moved on with. He should’ve killed Anderson when he had the chance. Some of his sister’s earlier innuendos began to make sense. She’d known all along that Grace had given up on him.
He raised his gaze to his wife. “Jack, it’s not what you think. Let me explain,” she pleaded in a hoarse whisper, tears welling in her eyes. He couldn’t feel sorry for her. His sympathy was frozen inside him.
“I think this about covers it,” he said, displaying the items in his open palm.
She shook her head, patting little Jack’s back, gently bouncing him in her arms. “No, it doesn’t. You have to… Shh, baby, it’s okay,” she murmured when their son cried harder.
Madison and her friend ushered the reporters from the bakery. Several customers also left. Shaking their heads as they passed Grace on their way out the door, they offered Jack sympathetic smiles.
He took his son from her. “You’re upsetting him.” Jostling little Jack in his arms, he patted his back. His son’s crying subsided, and he released a shuddered sob, lifting tear-filled eyes
to Jack. “Mama’s sad,” he whimpered.
Makes two of us, Jack thought.
Maria moved closer. “I didn’t mean to upset your son.” Her dark gaze softened as she rubbed little Jack’s arm.
Grace stepped between them, pushing Maria’s hand aside. “Do. Not. Touch my son.” She pointed to the door. “Get the hell out of my bakery now.”
Everyone froze. Jack’s jaw dropped, as shocked as his sister and the remaining customers appeared to be. He’d never heard Grace swear or raise her voice in public.
“Jack, I—” Maria started to say, sidestepping Grace.
“If you are not out of my bakery in two seconds, I’m calling the sheriff,” Grace threatened in a steel-edged voice.
Jack was too stunned to intervene. His sister wasn’t.
“Grace, calm—”
His wife whipped her head around. She stalked to Jill and stabbed a finger in her chest.
Jack groaned. No one messed with Jill and walked away unscathed. Unless it was him. And while he was so mad at his wife he could spit, he wasn’t about to let his sister hurt her. “Grace, let’s—”
Without looking at him, she raised her hand, palm out, then, in a cutting voice, said to his sister, “If you think I’m letting you get away with this, you better think again. You’ve been a hurtful, vindictive bitch, and I’m not going to take it anymore. I’m done with you, Jillian Flaherty.”
For the first time in a long time, his sister looked truly shaken. But it didn’t take her long to recover. Here we go, Jack thought, and started toward them. Maria touched his arm. “Jack?”
He shook her hand off. “I think you better do as my wife asked and leave.”
Madison came inside, took one look at what was going on, and said, “Give me little Jack. I’ll take him to the kitchen.” Her gaze went to Jill, who poked Grace in the chest. “Do you think I should call Gage?”
“No,” he said, passing her his son, “I’ve got this.”
The handful of customers who’d stuck around avidly watched his sister and Grace. Jack was about to send them on their way when Grace shoved Jill’s hand away with such force, his sister took three startled steps back. Jack reached out to steady her. “Grace, that’s enough.”
“You don’t want to mess with me, Jill,” she said, ignoring Jack, her tone eerily similar to her father’s. Jack flashed back to the image of her holding the gun on him. His wife was more her father’s daughter than he’d realized. And that did not bode well for his sister.
Jill shot him a grateful glance. Then, as if Jack’s presence bolstered her confidence, she turned on Grace. “You’ve got some nerve putting this on me, Grace Garrison.” She didn’t flinch when his sister turned the knife. Jack did. “The last time he was home you asked him for a divorce, and this time you kicked him out of his home.”
He heard the low, censorious remarks the onlookers directed at Grace, but it was Maria’s reaction that set his internal warning system on high alert. Her lips curved in a triumphant smile. He was going to strangle his sister. If his wife didn’t beat him to it.
Grace arched a brow and lifted her chin. Jack and everyone else in the room held their breath. Giving his sister an intimidating look, she pivoted on her heel. “Take your friend and get out of my bakery. Neither of you are welcome here.” Holding the door open, she glanced at the clock on the wall. “You have one minute to do as I ask.”
Jill’s lip curled. “Or what?”
Grace gave her a smile that set off the warning tingle in the back of Jack’s neck. Taking his sister by the arm, he grabbed Maria’s on the way by, ushering both women onto the sidewalk.
“Jack,” Grace called after him.
“Not now.” Once he got himself under control, they’d talk. He thought about taking a run, but heat already shimmered off the asphalt. In the distance, the mountains with their snowcapped peaks beckoned.
His sister reached for him as he went to walk by. “Don’t be mad at me. I was just trying to protect you.”
“Bullshit. What you pulled in there—”
“Your sister isn’t the one you should be angry with. It’s your wife who lied to you,” Maria interrupted him, moving out of the way to let a furious Stu Thomas pass.
“You didn’t deserve what she did to you,” the kid said, jerking a thumb in Grace’s direction. “You’re a hero, and she asks for a divorce, kicks you out of your own goddamn home?” He shook his head. “I don’t care how bad I need the money. I’m not going to work for her. They’re all the same. Can’t trust the bitches…”
“Okay, that’s—” Jack tried to cut him off, but Stu was too caught up in his rant to hear him.
“You’re better off without her. But take it from me, get yourself a good goddamn lawyer if you don’t want to lose your kid.” He threw a glare at Maria and Jill, then started down the sidewalk.
Jack stared after him. “You better keep an eye on that guy,” he told Jill.
“Yeah, yeah, but, Jack, you don’t think Grace would keep us from little Jack, do you?”
“No. Jesus, of course she wouldn’t. I can’t believe you’d even… What?” he said when Maria arched a brow.
She shrugged. “You’ve been gone a long time. And after what you found out today, she obviously isn’t the same woman you married. Maybe you should consider—”
“Don’t. Not another word. You’ve caused enough trouble as it is.”
“Jack, wait, where are you going?” his sister asked as he headed off.
“I’m taking my bike out.”
* * *
Jack hooked his helmet on the handlebars of his black Harley. Years ago, all he’d need was an hour on his bike, taking the mountain roads at breakneck speed, feeling the wind in his face, to alleviate the suffocating tightness in his chest. Didn’t work today. There’d been no adrenaline rush when he’d taken the hairpin curves at full throttle. Just the knowledge he was getting too old to take stupid risks. He had a wife and son who depended on him.
Right.
His wife sure as hell didn’t seem to need or want him to take care of her these days, he thought, kicking the stand into place. He pulled out his phone. Three messages from Grace, two from Gage, and one from the dickhead who leaned against the doorjamb of the run-down pink Victorian on Sugar Plum Lane with his arms crossed.
Sawyer nudged up the bill of his ball cap with his finger. “About time, flyboy. You were supposed to be here two hours ago.”
Jack pushed open the gate attached to the peeling white picket fence. It came off in his hand. With a muttered curse, he tossed the gate on the ground and stalked up a stone path overrun with weeds. Pounding up the steps to the front porch, he got in Sawyer’s face, and stabbed his finger into the other man’s sweat-stained Colorado Flurries T-shirt. “Stay away from my wife. She may have given up on me, but I haven’t given up on her.” He yelled the last as a chainsaw started up inside.
“Get out of my face, Flaherty.” Sawyer tried to push him back.
Jack didn’t budge. He shoved the aviators on top of his head and drilled Anderson with a hard look. “No.”
Sawyer frowned, his gaze searching. “What’s this about?” he shouted when a couple of hammers joined in with the saw.
“As if you don’t know.” Jack waved his hand in front of his face. “You reek.” He moved toward the swing on the end of the porch and went to sit down.
“Don’t…”
The chain gave way, and Jack ended up on his ass.
“… sit on the swing.” Sawyer fought back a grin.
Jack blew out an aggravated breath and shifted his position to lean against the house. Sawyer joined him, and Jack pulled a face.
“Get over it. I’m sure you’ve smelled worse.”
Thinking back to his months in captivity, Jack agreed, “Yeah, I have.”
Sawyer gave him a long look. “What is it I’m supposed to know?”
“Huh, I thought it’d be all over town by now.”
“Been a
little busy here, Jack. Not a lot of time for idle chitchat. You said something about Grace giving up on you. Where the hell did you get an idea like that?”
“From the ring and good-bye letter she left in the sugar plum the night you found out I was alive. You knew, didn’t you? You knew that she gave up on me?” The muscles in his neck tensed as he steeled himself for Sawyer’s answer.
“Yeah, I did.”
Jack’s hands balled into fists. “Are you in love with my wife?”
Sawyer cleared his throat. “Yeah.” Ducking, he closed his hand over Jack’s fist and pushed him back. “Nothing happened. She’s in love with you, not me.” He tipped his head, resting it against the house. “I didn’t know you were coming back. Be honest, if any of your guys had been MIA for as long as you, how much hope would you have held out for their return?”
None, but that wasn’t the point. “I sure as hell wouldn’t have moved in on his wife.”
“I didn’t.”
Jack narrowed his eyes at him.
“I wanted to, but she wasn’t ready.” Sawyer shoved him. “Stop snarling at me, I’m being honest here. If it makes you feel better, I feel bad about it. I never meant to fall in love with her.” He shrugged, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “But you have to admit, she’s pretty easy to fall in love with.”
“Nice, dickhead, real nice,” Jack muttered, then slanted him a look. “So if she didn’t give up on me for you, why did she?”
“Because it was killing her. The guilt, the worry, it was eating her up inside. She blamed herself.”
“So you knew she’d asked me for a divorce the night I left?”
“Yeah, and you know as well as I do that she asked out of desperation. I was there when she got the call from her father that you were MIA. I’ve never seen a woman in that much pain, and I don’t ever want to see it again. But she pulled it together, did everything she could to lobby the military to take action. After months of coming up against a brick wall, she turned her focus to making everything perfect for when you came home. She used her savings to renovate the bakery and the apartment.”
