They’d fallen asleep like that about a half hour into the ride, the slow soft silence of the winter snow and the easy snail pace of the drive lulling them both into dreams.
“We’re home,” he said softly. Zuzu didn’t budge. Neither did Charlotte. She looked dead to the world, her head bent toward Zuzu, her hair a wild mass of dark waves around her face.
He touched her shoulder, his hand moving along her nape and tangling in her hair.
“Charlotte?” he called quietly.
“Is this the part where a kiss wakes the sleeping maiden?” she murmured sleepily, a smile hovering at the corner of her lips.
“Yes,” he whispered, kissing her deeply, with every bit of the longing he felt.
“Wow!” She sighed. “That was . . . wow!”
“It seems to have woken you up, so I guess we’re good.” He offered a hand, tugging her out of the car.
Snow fell on her dark hair and dusted her fair skin, wet flakes sticking to her lashes and her cheeks.
He brushed them away, his palm resting against cool silky flesh. “God, you’re beautiful.”
“What I am”—she laughed lightly—“is freezing.”
“We’d better get inside, then. You want to open the door, and I’ll get Zuzu?” He handed her the keys, watching for a moment as she walked away.
“I thought you were getting Zuzu,” she called over her shoulder.
“I’m good at multitasking,” he replied as he unbuckled Zuzu and lifted her from the car seat. She snuggled into his arms, her head under his chin, her right hand on his cheek. He could feel the little sling that the nurse had fitted her with.
He’d been scared out his mind when he’d gotten the call from Emma, but Zuzu didn’t seem any worse for wear. According to Daisy, the kid had only tumbled down the last four or five steps. Max wasn’t sure how accurate that information was, since Emma had been sitting on Daisy’s back holding her for the police when Zuzu went down.
Still, if it were true, that explained why Zuzu hadn’t been hurt worse. It also explained why Zuzu was bouncing off the walls about three minutes after she’d been unhooked from the IV, acting and playing just like she always did. She’d even spent the first twenty minutes of their ride home begging for cookies and asking if they could build a snowman in the morning. Max had said they could. He’d promised hot chocolate and snow angels and all sorts of things that he wanted to give her.
Everything was fine. Except that Morgan was on her way back to town to get her daughter, and Max wasn’t quite sure how he was going to say good-bye.
He got Zuzu a drink of water and gave her some children’s Tylenol, then tucked her into bed. He stood watching her while she drifted off to sleep, thinking about how empty the room was going to be soon, how quiet the apartment.
Being a father was hard work, but he finally understood why men did it and why the good ones never resented the time spent and the sacrifices made.
“Is she asleep?” Charlotte whispered from the doorway.
“Yes.”
“Come on, then. I made coffee, and you have all the ingredients for French toast. You look like you could use both.”
“That bad, huh?” He slung his arm over her shoulder as they walked down the hall, and she settled in at his side like she’d always been there and always would be.
That cupcake had done the trick.
Or her perfume . . . that luscious mix of sugar and vanilla that clung to Charlotte’s skin and hair and lips.
Or . . . just Charlotte.
Even without the cupcake and perfume, she was addictive.
“You couldn’t look bad if you tried,” she responded, tugging him into the kitchen and pulling out a chair. “Sit.”
She set a cup of coffee in front of him, and he grabbed her hand. “I’m the one who owes you dinner, remember?”
“I think we can forget about that now. Morgan will be back tomorrow, and Zuzu will go home, and our lives will go back to what they were before she came.”
And saying those words was just so sad Charlotte had to turn away, busy herself at the fridge pulling out eggs and cream and a half loaf of bread.
Max’s phone rang, and he answered.
He didn’t say much. Just yes and no and whatever helps you sleep better at night, but there was a curtness to his voice, an edge to it that she’d never heard before.
She turned, met his eyes.
“Morgan,” he mouthed.
His ex must have said something he didn’t like, because he frowned. “Look, Morgan. Even if she’s mine, she’s yours, too. She might not be in the hospital, but she’s asking for you. Right. I’m sure she will. See you then.”
He slammed the phone into the receiver, raked a hand over his hair.
“What’s going on?”
“No flights here because of the snow. Morgan is using that as an excuse to stay in Vegas. I guess once she got my message that Zuzu was being released from the hospital, she decided it wasn’t an emergency and she wasn’t needed. She says she’ll lose her job if she misses the next two days of work. She has three days off at Christmas. She’ll be here then to pick Zuzu up.”
“Are you going to let Zuzu go with her?”
“Assuming she comes, you mean?”
“You don’t think she will?”
“I think that Morgan thinks she will. I think she even loves Zuzu, but I don’t think Zuzu has ever been her priority. Her husband probably did all the childcare work, and that’s probably the way she liked it.” He shrugged. “If Zuzu is mine, I’m going to petition for custody. I don’t think Morgan will fight me. If Zuzu isn’t mine . . .”
“What?”
“I’m going to treat her like she is. I’ll still petition for custody. I’ll still do everything I can to make sure she has the life she deserves. If I lose, at least Zuzu will know I gave it my best shot.”
“You’re a good guy, Max.”
“Not really, but I’m going to do everything I can to be a good father.” He touched her cheek, smiled into her eyes. “There’s something else I’ve been thinking about being ever since I ate that cupcake of yours, Charlotte.”
“What’s that?” she asked, her mouth dry, her heart pounding wildly.
“Yours,” he murmured, his lips brushing hers once. Twice. The third time, she slid her hands through his hair, pulled him in for a deeper kiss, one that shook the world and made firecrackers explode behind her eyes. One that could have gone on forever and still not have lasted long enough.
Her body melted against his, her hands sliding to his shoulders, his back, his spine.
He groaned, pulling away and resting his forehead against hers.
“Keep kissing me like that, and I’ll never get you home,” he muttered.
“I’m not sure I want you to,” she responded.
“Ida’s standing by her phone, waiting for me to call and ask her to watch Zuzu while I deliver you to your place safe and sound, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”
“Okay.”
She wasn’t disappointed. Much.
“Of course, if we took a detour on our way there, who’d know but us and Ida? As long as we stick close to the apartment just in case Zuzu wakes up looking for us, there’s no reason why we can’t take a little side trip.”
“What kind of trip are you talking about?” Not that it mattered. She was pretty sure she’d be willing to go anywhere with him.
“The kind that involves a picnic basket and fur blankets and a little wine.”
“It’s snowing,” she protested.
“And Ida’s yard is lined with evergreens. We’ll spread a fur under one, and sip a glass of wine, and watch the snow fall. Just for a little while, Charlotte. Just long enough to start figuring out what it means.”
“The snow?”
“No.” He smiled gently, his hands skimming down her arm, his fingers lacing with hers. “Belonging to each other. What do you say?” he whispered. “Are you up for it?”
There was nothing she could say but yes.
Nothing she could do but blush when Ida arrived and warned them about frostbite and staying warm during their mini-picnic.
Nothing that would ever compare to the fragrant scent of pine, the cold crisp air, the snow that fell all around, and the hope that filled her heart as she and Max walked across the yard, found an old, thick-boughed pine, and spread the fur beneath it.
ZEBRA BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2014 by Shirlee McCoy
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the Publisher and neither the Author nor the Publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”
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ISBN: 978-1-4201-3237-3
First Electronic Edition: August 2014
eISBN-13: 978-1-4201-3238-0
eISBN-10: 1-4201-3238-5
The Cottage on the Corner Page 27
