by Mae Nunn
Mac raised his eyebrows. “You know, that’s true. I didn’t even think about that today. We have much to be thankful for. It is a difficult situation, but the doctor believes everything will be okay.”
“I’m sure it will. They can do amazing things now.”
“So tell me about you. How were things at the office?”
“We had sixteen tax bundles dropped off. All of them your regular customers. I’m going to try to have them processed for you but a few of them are complicated.”
“Who?”
“Clint Cavender, Buddy King, a couple of big farmers.”
Mac nodded. “Thank you for taking care of that. And don’t worry about getting it all processed. We’ll see where we are when I know everything’s all right with Joiner’s baby.”
“Peppermint again?” She reached for a mug and dropped a peppermint tea bag into it, and then poured steaming water from the carafe.
He took a bite of a cookie. “Mmm. These are delicious.”
“Thanks. They’re my favorite comfort food.”
“I can see why.” Mac set the remainder of his cookie down. “I’ve been eating all day.”
He told her about taking Joiner for dinner with his brothers and Alma’s hot sopaipillas.
“It’s so awesome how you all rallied around them,” she said. “That must mean so much to Joiner, and to Stella.”
Mac nodded. “It’s just what we do. But I thought about you today, and what you said about our roots and being there for each other, and you are right. It is a pretty beautiful thing.”
“You’re very lucky.”
Mac removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes.
“Does your head hurt?”
“It’s starting to. I think I’m just tired.”
He moved to replace his glasses, but she took them from his hand and folded them, then set them on the table. “Here. Lean back.” She got up, lifted his legs and propped his feet on the edge of the couch on a throw pillow. Then she grabbed another cushion, and after sliding back into her seat, placed his head on the cushion on her lap. She closed his eyes gently with her fingertips.
Mac fidgeted, folding and unfolding his hands across his chest.
“Relax.”
He opened one eye and she looked into it sternly. He clamped it shut. Then she began to massage his temples, moving to his forehead, cheekbones and jawline, and finally his neck and shoulders. Muscle by muscle she worked the tension out of him till he seemed totally relaxed. In fact, he went to sleep.
As Mac dozed with his head in her lap, Jacqueline studied his features. His face was even handsomer up close, and the firelight glimmered on his skin so that it seemed to glow from within. She brushed her fingertips across his high forehead, lifting his hair to see that he had a widow’s peak. Long, lush lashes framed his closed eyes, and she traced her fingers across his Roman nose and high cheekbones. The strong, square jaw she saw so often set in concentration was softened by the firelight and by his expression of peace. Jacqueline had a strong desire to kiss him.
As if reading her mind, Mac opened his eyes. He reached up and took off her glasses, setting them on the table, and raised himself slowly to a sitting position, pulling her into his lap. He smiled, then cupped her face with his hands—she could feel the calluses—and kissed her. He smelled like leather. Jacqueline drank him in, thirstier than she knew. His hands found their way into her damp hair and he tilted her head back, caressing her neck with kisses before finding his way back to her lips.
“Jacqueline.” His voice was husky.
Their noses were touching and she lifted her eyes to his, brushing eyelashes.
He smiled. “I think I’m going to have to fire you.”
She jerked back as if she’d been stung.
Mac laughed from deep in his belly, running his fingers through her hair. She raised her hand to stop him. “Why?”
“Because of this.” He tapped the end of her nose.
He was still smiling, but Jacqueline could feel her face going hot.
“Because we made out? Is that why?” She flung his hands away from her.
Finally perceiving that she was uncomfortable, Mac sat back with his hands in his lap.
“Jacqueline, I was joking.”
“Hmm.”
“But maybe we should talk about things. I mean, I don’t want to take advantage of you or put you in any weird kind of position.”
“I haven’t felt weird till now.”
“Till we kissed?”
“Till you said that about firing me.”
He took her hand. “I’m so sorry. I really was joking, but it was stupid. What I should have said was, would you still want to work for me if I told you I think I’m falling for you?”
A smile started in the corners of her mouth and spread quickly across her whole face.
“I think I could handle that.”
CHAPTER TEN
WHEN MAC’S ALARM went off at six thirty, he jumped into the shower and quickly dressed. Putting on a pair of jeans and a Polo sweatshirt—in Joiner’s honor—he slipped on his boots and was out the door by seven. He planned to pick up coffee for Joiner and himself on the way. Once on the road, he told Siri to call Joiner.
The call went directly to voice mail. Within seconds, however, there was a text he usually wouldn’t have read as he was driving, but these were desperate times.
Joiner: Dr. is here talking about C-section.
This puzzled Mac. Why would they be talking about a C-section? That was not the plan last night. Another text.
Joiner: Stella’s platelet count low. Blood pressure high. Baby not responding well to Pitocin.
Mac stepped on the gas.
Joiner: C-section it is.
Mac didn’t stop anywhere, but sped as fast as he could to the hospital. He parked and ran up to Labor and Delivery, and straight to Stella’s room. The nurses were there, prepping her for surgery, a fact Mac learned too late. After embarrassing himself, Mac waited outside the door till Joiner called him. Stella laughed when he approached her bed and took her hand.
“I’m glad you could have a laugh at my expense,” Mac told her.
“Me, too, Mac. Thanks. We needed that, didn’t we, honey?”
Joiner was as white as the sheet on the bed.
“Take care of him, Mac,” Stella instructed.
Mac stepped back so they could have a moment, but he watched Joiner take her in his arms. Over Joiner’s shoulder Stella made eye contact with Mac, signaling that Joiner wasn’t doing well. Mac gave her a thumbs-up that he understood. Then he heard her say to Joiner, “You’re my dream!”
“You’re mine,” Joiner whispered. And the nurses wheeled her out.
As soon as the door closed behind Stella, Joiner collapsed in Mac’s arms, sobbing. “I’m so scared I’ll never see her again!”
“What? Why?” Mac looked him in the face, searching for what it all meant.
Joiner rubbed his temples. “Platelets. She hardly has any. That’s the P in HELLP, and why they wanted her to deliver normally. But they have to get the baby out now—no time to give her any. The doctor said she could bleed to death!”
Mac held his brother for a long moment while he cried.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Joiner finally said.
Mac gently took Joiner’s face in his hands. “Nothing’s wrong with you. It’s a strength that you can say what you feel—and a strength that you can cry.” His amber eyes bored into Joiner’s wet, puffy violet ones. “You cry all you want. I’m right here.”
Mac had learned long ago, starting with the death of his parents, how badly he hated things that were out of his control. If he focused on that right now, he’d go crazy and be no good for anybody. But
he had also learned something else from losing his parents. And that was, as the oldest brother, he could try to focus his energy and pour it into his brothers, strengthening and supporting them. In many ways, this had become his role in the family. It was one thing he had control over, one thing he could actually do when their worlds spun out of control. So that’s what he did now.
Mac held Joiner for a moment more and then his younger brother pulled away, resolved. He disappeared into the bathroom and washed his face and blew his nose. Mac washed his own hands for good measure. They walked out of the room and down to the doors outside the operating room, as far as they were allowed to go. They were pacing when Buster arrived, and then Hunt and Cullen with their wives.
Mac tried to explain the emergency nature of the situation to the rest of his family without alarming Buster, or peeving Joiner, which was no small feat. They were altogether like a pride of caged lions ready to spring when finally they saw a familiar face appear in the narrow glass of the metal doors that separated them from Stella.
“Joy!” Hunt exclaimed.
“Hunt Temple? Cullen? What are you guys doing here?”
Hunt took charge. “This is my brother Joiner. His wife is having an emergency C-section this morning.”
“Joy Huggins?” Joiner stuck out his hand.
“Yes. That’s me. I remember you from school.”
“Joy graduated with us,” Hunt explained to the others.
“I’m a respiratory therapist here now. What’s your wife’s name?”
“Stella. Stella Temple.”
“Let me go back here and see what I can find out.”
Joy turned, using her name badge to clear security, and walked through the doors. She returned quickly. “The baby’s here. She’s been here about four minutes. Your wife’s doing well. Would you like to go back with me and see her?”
Joiner practically ran through the doors when she reopened them. Mac and the rest of the family breathed sighs of relief and stopped pacing. They watched through the glass for any signs, and in about five minutes, Joiner appeared with baby Lilianna! His face glowed with pride and happiness.
Mac could not believe his eyes. First, they’d been told the baby might be blue, that they wouldn’t get to touch her, that she’d probably be hooked up to machines following the birth. And yet, here she was, a perfectly round peaches-and-cream-colored baby with gold downy hair and big, wide eyes. Joiner held her up behind the glass and they all clicked pictures with their phones and cameras. She was the prettiest baby Mac had ever seen. And the tiniest. In Joiner’s hands, she resembled a baby doll. Mac glanced around at his brothers, their beaming faces reflecting his own emotion. It was, without a doubt, one of the proudest moments of all of their lives.
The collective experience reminded Mac of Jacqueline, and he felt a pang of sympathy for her. This was something you couldn’t experience without roots. And for Mac, it was what life was all about.
* * *
WHILE JOINER TENDED to things with the baby, the group sat down in the waiting room. Hunt took care of Alma, Buster called Stella’s godmother in Arkansas, and Mac sent a picture of Joiner and the baby to Jacqueline. She immediately responded.
Jacqueline: Wow! Beautiful baby! How is Stella?
Mac: Very scary morning. But good now.
Jacqueline: Sorry scary. What happened?
Mac: Emergency C-section. Will tell you more later.
Jacqueline: Okay. Glad everything good now.
Mac: You?
Jacqueline: Fine. At office.
Mac: Glad to hear it.
Jacqueline: Need anything?
Mac: Maybe another cup of tea...
Jacqueline: Ha! Let me know when you’re coming. I’ll put the kettle on.
Mac: It’s a plan.
Mac: Might see you before, at office. Just have to see how things go around here today.
Jacqueline: Okay. Keep me posted.
Mac: Will do.
“Who are you texting, Mac?” Cullen asked.
“My assistant.”
“Ella?”
“No, although I should probably let her know about the baby.” Mac texted Ella the pic.
Hunt, Cullen and their wives all stared at him. “Your new assistant?” Hunt asked.
“That’s the one,” Mac answered, as nonchalantly as possible.
“Hmm.” Cullen grinned.
“Is there a reason I shouldn’t text my assistant and let her know what’s going on, since she’s taking care of my office in my absence?”
Gillian suppressed a laugh.
“No, no, not at all,” Sarah said, unconvincingly. “Perfectly understandable.”
“You usually don’t have that goofy grin on your face when you’re texting,” Hunt explained, mimicking what surely could not have been Mac’s facial expression.
Mac rolled his eyes.
“Give the poor guy a break,” Buster interjected.
“Thanks, Buster.” Mac slapped the older man on the knee. “I’m glad someone understands.”
“No problem,” Buster declared. “Everybody acts a little goofy when they’re in love.”
Mac’s jaw dropped and his cheeks turned fifty shades of red. Meanwhile, his twin brothers and Buster, the traitor, exploded with laughter.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
JACQUELINE WAS JUST finishing up her last report when Mac walked through the door of the office. Her palms turned sweaty at the sight of him. She rubbed them quickly on her Aztec-print tights. Her skin felt prickly under the soft red piko shirt she wore with a black cardigan. Even though she said she could handle their romantic relationship at work, she still wasn’t sure how to do it. It was much easier to focus on taxes when he was away.
“Hey there.” His long, lean frame sagged a little. He wearily took off his coat and hat, hanging them up.
As though on autopilot, Jacqueline rose from her desk. “Hey, yourself.” Tall black leather boots clacking, she rounded the counter and hugged him. He sank into her arms as though this was their normal routine. “You must be so tired.”
He nodded, burying his face in her hair.
She held him tightly, wrapping her arms around his narrow waist. His chest was hard against hers as she laid her head on his shoulder. He kissed her on the forehead and smoothed her hair. His lips were cool.
“You’re cold,” she said.
“It’s chilly out there.”
“Want some coffee? I’ll make a fresh pot.”
“Sounds great.”
He headed for his office while she brewed the coffee. When it was ready, she took him a cup and sat down in the chair across from his desk, just as when he had interviewed her. She crossed her legs.
“Thank you.” He took a sip. “This is perfect. How are you?”
“I’m fine. Got lots of work done today.” She gave him a rundown of things at the office.
He sighed. “It’s been great not to have to worry about things here.”
“I’m glad I could be of service.”
“Really, I haven’t thought much about work at all, and that’s not like me.”
“You had much more important things going on.” She grinned. “How are Stella and the baby?”
“They’re as good as possible right now. Stella is on lots of pain meds, out of it, and she needs to be.” Mac scribbled on the paper he’d been perusing. “The baby is okay, we think, but it’s scary. She had to go on a ventilator.”
“But I thought she was breathing fine when she was born.”
“She was. But she started having trouble—I texted you that.”
“Yes, you seemed to think they could take care of it with oxygen and some kind of shot.”
“Well, none of that work
ed.” Mac took off his glasses and rubbed one of his temples. “Or at least it wasn’t working well enough. The neonatal doctor came in and talked to Joiner, and Stella, sort of, although she was in and out. Anyway, they gave consent to put Lilianna on a vent. I stayed till that was done. She’s stable, but we hate the vent.”
“Sounds scary. And like an unpredictable situation.”
“The doctors act like everything’s okay, and will be okay, but this is new territory for us.”
Jacqueline nodded. “How’s Joiner?”
“He’s good.” Mac’s face beamed with pride. “He’s so tired, but he’s kind of amazing at this family-man stuff. Everything is so touch and go, though, that we brothers decided to stay close by these first few days. We want her off that vent.”
“Who’s there now?”
“Hunt is there with Joiner till bedtime so I could check in here. I’m planning on working tomorrow till noon and then going back.”
Mac’s eyes drifted to his desk and the stack of papers she’d piled up for him. His eyebrows furrowed.
“Mac?”
He looked back up at her.
“I’ll leave you alone now so you can work. But I can fix dinner if you’d still like to come over.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“It’s no trouble.” She looked at her watch. It was five o’clock. “About seven?”
“Sounds great.”
* * *
A FEW MINUTES after seven o’clock, Jacqueline received a text.
Mac: I’m sorry. Lost track of time. Leaving office now.
She replied that it was no problem. As Nemesis curled in between her ankles, Jacqueline took the bread out of the oven. It was a French loaf she’d bought at the bakery on her way home. She had halved it and spread it with butter, garlic and parmesan cheese before baking. Now that the cheese was melted and everything all toasty, Jacqueline turned it over, cheese-side down, and smashed it and put it back in. She also removed the foil from the top of the lasagna and sprinkled the noodles with more cheese before putting it back in to brown a little. She hummed as she set the table with dinner plates, salad plates, silverware and wineglasses. A bottle of white wine chilled in her fridge, as did a Caesar salad.
