by Ciara Knight
Her words were like the keys to his cell hanging just out of reach.
“Don’t answer that.” Nana pulled her cards free and stacked them with the others. “Shuffle and deal. I’m ready to beat you again.”
Felicia’s truck crunched gravel nearing the house.
“Later. I want to go help Felicia first. Stay right here. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” He catapulted out of his chair to the front door until he realized he’d showed too much eagerness under Nana’s watchful eye. He turned to see her give an all-knowing nod, and for a minute he believed the woman did know everything. Things he didn’t even know about himself.
He rushed to Felicia, excited to see her as if they’d been apart days instead of hours. She held out bags with logos to a place he’d never seen before. Certainly not a place from Sugar Maple. She looked dejected, the way she held out the food to him with little effort and her gaze traveled everywhere but at him. “What’s wrong?”
She lifted her chin. “Nothing. I just thought it would be good to bring something different home to Nana. How was your morning with her?”
He decided to let it go. Whatever was bothering her wasn’t his business unless she wanted to share. “Good. She taught me how to play Canasta.”
“Oh no.” She lifted his free hand and studied his arms and then his face. “I don’t see any bruises or cuts. You must’ve let her win.”
“Let her? She’s ruthless. I think she’d put any player to shame.” The aroma of fries made his stomach growl. “Guess it’s time for brunch.”
“Guess so.” She followed him inside, where Nana was making a not-so-fast escape. Cards were scattered on the floor and the chair was tipped over, but to his relief she was standing.
“Where you going in such a rush?” Felicia asked, tossing her purse onto the armchair and grabbing hold of Nana’s bad side.
She swatted Felicia with her good hand. “Stop your fussing. I’m tired and going to my room. I’ll eat later. Besides, I’m not crashing any dates.”
“This isn’t a date,” Felicia said too quickly for Declan’s taste. Despite all his protests about getting too close, somehow he’d already connected with her in a dangerous way. Dangerous to his heart and pride.
Nana shuffled toward the back hall with her cane, leaving an uncomfortable silence in the living room. He retrieved some plates but felt like something had to be said. “Date? Ha. If I were to take you out on a date, it wouldn’t be fast food thrown on plates at your kitchen table.”
She sauntered into the kitchen with a sway to her walk. “Really? Tell me, Mr. Declan Mills. What would you do if you took me on a date?”
“If it were a real date, I wouldn’t take you to a five-star restaurant in town.”
“That’s good because we don’t really have any. Well, we have a nice steak place outside of town.” She shrugged and hopped up onto the kitchen counter, watching him retrieve four plates out of the cabinet as if he lived there. “Then where would you take me?”
“If this were a date, I’d spend all day creating the perfect homemade picnic lunch, and then I’d surprise you in the center field to watch the sunset.” He placed two plates on the table, opened the bag, and set the breakfast sandwiches and potatoes on them. The smell of bacon and eggs filled the room, but it was only lukewarm since she’d obviously driven a good distance to get them. “I’d spread out a blanket, place candles in the center, and offer you my hand to sit.” He tossed the bag into the trash and walked over to her at the counter, where he held out his hand.
“If this were a date.” She winked and slid her fingers into his palm. “And then what?”
“And then I’d move in close so I could enjoy the aroma of your shampoo and the brush of your skin to mine.”
Her lips parted and her eyes hooded. “And if it were a date. I wouldn’t move away.”
His skin heated at the sight of her full lips, long lashes that accentuated her bright eyes, and the faintest freckles on her cheeks. “If this were a date.”
Thirteen
The next morning, Felicia awoke to the smell of fresh bacon and eggs. She rolled over and saw it was six thirty. When had she managed to fall asleep? All night her mind had swirled with the knowledge that Declan had opened his heart to her, if only for a few seconds. If only enough to provide a fleeting glimpse of his romantic side. A side she wanted to see more of in the future.
Felicia had never been the type to pursue a man, and if she thought for a second Declan wasn’t interested, she’d shut her emotions down and move forward with her life. But the way he looked at her on their “non-date” made every part of her wake up from a yearlong slumber. The guy she’d been dating before Nana had her stroke had spent five minutes at the hospital and then taken off. He wasn’t strong enough to handle a long-term obstacle in their relationship. She’d dodged that speeding train at the crossroads of Happily Ever After and Destined to be Abandoned.
Declan was different. He’d jumped right in to helping with her grandmother without even a pause. What kind of man did that? One who wanted to pull his weight, as he’d reminded her often. She shook her head, deciding that there was a glimmer of hope for her to learn more about him, but it would be a long road with many potholes.
The aroma drew her from bed, but she made a stop to freshen up and check herself in the mirror. She wasn’t one for primping all the time, but she decided to dab on a little mascara and lipstick. Nothing too obvious but enough to make her look like she hadn’t just rolled out of bed. Instead of pulling her hair back immediately, she decided to leave it down. Once a girl told her she had the most beautiful, unique midnight colored hair, and she’d spent too much time thinking it was her best feature over the years. Still, she left the bathroom feeling like she was a little more ready to face Declan.
He stood over the coffeepot, staring at it as if he were about to operate or murder the machine. It appeared as if he’d made his own effort to look nice this morning. Was that for her benefit?
“What’s wrong?” She startled him, causing him to flinch.
“Oh, nothing. I can’t figure out how to work the machine, or I didn’t do something right.”
“It’s temperamental. Sometimes you have to give it a smack on the side. I know I need to replace it, but I haven’t had the chance. Since I was the only one who drank coffee until you arrived, I didn’t prioritize it.”
“You never prioritize yourself, do you?” Declan didn’t say it in an accusatory way, more with a hint of admiration. He tapped the side, as if the coffeemaker were made of glass.
She laughed. “You won’t hurt it. Give it a good whack like this.” With her hand splayed, she hit the side of the contraption. It gurgled and spit tar-colored goo. “Ugh. Guess I need to work on it.”
She turned to face him and enjoyed the close proximity of him leaning over her to see the coffeemaker. His gaze traveled down to her, and he took in a deep breath, filling his broad chest. Was it every woman or just her that enjoyed being close to a man with a strong frame? She was an independent woman yet liked to feel taken care of all at the same time. A walking contradiction, but a woman wanted what she wanted.
The dogs barked wildly outside, and lights warned of an approaching car. A few moments later, footsteps sounded from the front walkway.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
She had to keep from snarling at the intrusion. Who would choose this ungodly hour to show up at the house? Okay, that wasn’t what made her miffed. Who interrupted a stolen private moment in her kitchen with Declan so close and relaxed?
He stiffened and looked to the door. “Wait here. I’ll see who it is.”
The man was like a watchdog protecting their home and property at all times.
“Relax. We live in Sugar Maple. Nothing exciting ever really happens around here.”
He quirked a brow. “Like two ex-cons driving into town and one of them threatening Stella?”
“Point taken.” She stayed back, allowing him room to see the
re wasn’t evil at every bend in the road. Perhaps someday he’d relax and enjoy life. With her.
He opened the door to Stella and Carissa. It didn’t even take twenty seconds for Stella to barge in with her sassiness. “Aren’t you over here a little early for an employee, Mr. Mills?”
Felicia bolted into the living room with her own protective nature rearing into action. “He’s welcome here anytime.”
Stella passed a coffee to Felicia and one to Declan. “Sorry. Trying here.” She took one of the two cups Carissa had and plopped down on the sofa. Apparently they were staying awhile.
Carissa sniffed the air. “Who’s cooking? That smells amazing.”
“Not Felicia, then,” Stella teased.
“I am. I better get back to it. Thanks for the coffee.” Declan retreated from the room like a large, handsome guppy fleeing from tiger sharks.
Carissa opened her arms, holding her coffee to the side. “Good morning. Sorry to intrude so early, but we wanted to apologize.” Her arms wrapped tight around Felicia to let her know she missed her as much as Felicia had missed her friends. “We have no right to pass judgment. If you think Declan is a good man, then we should trust you.”
“Yeah, what she said.” Stella hid behind her coffee, and Felicia knew she had a lot to say but Carissa had convinced her to keep her mouth shut. That was asking too much, though. “Does he let himself in whenever he wants now?”
“No, I’m guessing Nana is up and let him in and then went back to bed. She only sleeps three or four hours at a time. He refuses to enter the house without permission and never alone.” Felicia couldn’t hide her disappointment at his distance, and she knew her friends saw her frustration without her admitting it aloud.
The sound of an egg cracking and sizzling in a frying pan told Felicia that Declan was working on preparing food for all of them, so she gestured for Carissa to sit in Nana’s chair and Felicia took her place on the other side of the coffee table in the rocker. “You came out here at this hour to say you’re going to try to accept Declan? It could’ve waited, or you could’ve called.”
“Told you she’d see through us.” Stella sat forward, resting her cup on the tabletop. “We trust you and all, but we also know you’re a little blind when it comes to him. I get it. Knox turns me around and convinces me to do things like star in his internet show and stuff. No one but him could get me to do that. Some men have power over us, and no matter what we do we don’t see their flaws until it’s too late. Of course, Knox’s flaws are ones I can live with. Can you live with Declan’s? Do you even see them yet?”
“Yes, I’m not blind. We all have faults.” Felicia glanced over her shoulder to make sure Declan was still cooking, and she lowered her voice. “The man has a mega wall up between us, so you don’t have to worry. He’s not letting me near him. Beyond that, he’s the best man I’ve ever met. He’s kind, considerate, compassionate. He’s helped with my nana. Look, he’s cooking breakfast for you now, even though you were rude when you arrived.” She tried to tone down her irritation, but her rushed speech and low tone got away from her.
“An act,” Stella grumbled. “I mean, it could be. You see that, right?”
“Of course, but I don’t think so. I’m not sixteen, and I’m not easily manipulated. Yes, I wanted to give him a chance and that’s why he’s here, but now I’ve gotten to know him better and it’s not about that anymore.” Felicia inhaled a deep breath to calm her emotions. Since when did she get so riled up when talking to Stella? “I know you haven’t forgiven him for bringing your father to Sugar Maple. What would it take for you to feel more comfortable with him here?”
“Ah, there’s our negotiator.” Carissa smiled.
They both looked to Stella. She shrugged. “Knox asked me the same question yesterday. He told me if I face what was bothering me, I’d feel better and avoid strain on an important relationship in my life.”
“Smart man,” Carissa said.
Stella smiled in a way she’d adopted since Knox arrived into her life. A real smile with true happiness behind it. “I guess knowing why he did it would help.”
“Then I’ll try to explain.”
They all startled at Declan’s deep voice entering the room. He handed a plate to Felicia with an apprehensive look on his face. She wanted to save him from the Stella inquisition, but she couldn’t. When Stella wanted an answer to something, she wouldn’t stop until she found it.
Once Declan handed Carissa her plate, she balanced it on her lap, and he put Stella’s on the coffee table in front of her. No one touched their food, though. Instead, they all looked up at Declan, who shifted between feet with his hands clutched in front of him.
After he closed his eyes and reopened them, he said, “Your father begged me to bring him to Sugar Maple one day. He told me of how his daughter was mixed up with some YouTuber sensation that was going to ruin her reputation and life. It took some convincing, but I agreed to bring him here.”
“My father is more of a bully than a politician. I don’t buy it.” Stella’s words were harsh. Too harsh.
“You asked for an explanation, and he gave you one.” Felicia fought to control her voice to keep it steady the way she did when she was trying to make peace between people in an argument, but she couldn’t remain neutral. For once, she’d chosen a side against one of her friends.
“No, she’s right. That was the validation for my actions but not the reason for my decision.” Declan lowered his head and studied his hands. A great shame etched in the lines around his eyes.
They all sat quietly for a moment, waiting for him to continue. Carissa with soft eyes and Stella with a jackhammer gaze, as if she were ready to beat the truth out of him.
“When I was released from jail, I discovered your father was manipulating my mother.” Declan’s voice dipped into pure pain. “My mother suffers from dementia. At the time, it was early stages, but she was easily manipulated out of her life savings.”
Stella’s expression changed from hatred to the familial that’s-my-father wilting of her brow. “You couldn’t tell your mother what was going on and kick my father out of her life?”
“Not when your mother has a restraining order against you.”
Carissa gasped. Felicia stiffened in the chair, but as with everything about Declan, she knew there was more behind that story. “Why did she file a restraining order? How did she file it if she has dementia?” she asked intently.
Declan ran a hand through his hair, disheveling it from its perfectly gelled appearance.
“It does sound like there’s more to this story.” Carissa looked to Felicia to let her know she’d listen before passing judgement. “Please, Stella and I promise not to share it beyond this room. We’re not part of the Sugar Maple gossip line.”
He rubbed his forehead, as if to dislodge a memory he didn’t want to see. “She didn’t actually file it. Your father did. Well, he had her sign the paperwork, but my mother has hated me for several years now. It wouldn’t have been too hard for him to convince her.”
Felicia rose from the chair, blocking his view from the others, and took his cheeks between her hands. “I don’t believe your mother hated you. This is another case of you pushing people away. Tell me the truth. Why do you think your mother hated you?”
His gaze locked with hers, his body stiff and distant. “My dad died because I was sent to jail for embezzling money from his company.” As if his shield snapped back into place, his gaze darkened. “As I told you before, I’m an ex-con and I work here. That should be all this is, and I won’t be a problem that drives conflict between you and your friends.” He took a step back, as if to break their connection, and looked to Stella. “If you’re not satisfied by my explanation and if you want me to leave, I will respect that. Let me know what you decide. I’d never want to bring pain or drama into Felicia’s life.” And with that announcement, he strode out the front door.
Fourteen
Declan threw two bags of organic
mulch over his shoulder and marched to the outer field and then repeated the act four more times. By the fifth trip, he was drenched in sweat, so he took a quick glance at the house. With no sign of the girls, he went to the hose, pulled his shirt off, and doused himself with water. It drenched him from head to toe, but he didn’t care. Refreshing, cooling, and energizing was what he needed at the moment. Then back to work he went.
There was something about manual labor that made him feel worthy. He’d never felt so fulfilled when he was working at the large firm on the Upper East Side before he moved home to help his father. Women coveted him. His boss relied on him. He was important yet felt empty all those years. Now, at almost thirty, he could hold his head higher than he did when he was an important person to many people. That was the problem during that time in his life… He had many people who wanted to be around him—heck, many people who wanted to be him—but that left a person lonely. Even his relationships were fleeting. With each step he climbed to the next rung of the proverbial corporate ladder, he’d leave a girl behind. Now, he wanted nothing more than to stay put on solid ground. But could he? His future rested in the hands of the people of Sugar Maple, specifically the Fabulous Five.
He mopped his brow with his shirt and then opened the mulch and spread it around the newly planted shrubs. The compost of animal manure and coarse material made for a perfect nutrient-rich compound with less salt. He’d read about this in the book he’d borrowed from the office. With care, he spread the material around each of the plants, careful not to touch the trunk, not to layer so high that it would choke the roots but enough to protect the roots from heat and rot.
The sound of car doors closing told him that the girls were leaving. It had taken an hour or two for them to deliberate. Was that good or bad for a friends-decides-a-man’s-fate kind of trial? He decided to keep his mind on his work since there was nothing he could do to change anyone’s mind. He’d learned a long time ago to state the facts and walk away because arguing just makes you look guilty.
