by Anthology
If he stayed he would beg her and he didn’t have anything but his pride left. Without another look back, he slipped through the door.
He’d done his duty. He’d given her what she’d come for and now it was time to move on.
And forget her.
***
Allyson walked into the restaurant well aware that she looked like hell. Her face was red and puffy. She didn’t cry pretty. There wasn’t anything she could do about it. She’d sat out there for thirty minutes after Macon had walked away from her. She’d cried and Deena had come out to hug her. She’d asked what had happened, but Ally had simply cried. After a while, she’d asked Deena if she could be alone. She’d been able to see how reluctant her friend was, but she’d done it.
She was going to miss Deena and Serena and all the friends she’d made at Top. She’d made more genuine friends here in the few months she’d been in Dallas than in the years before. It had been a good place to be.
She wondered if they all hated her now.
It would be easier to slink away, but she was done with easy. She owed Chef Taggart an explanation. He’d given her a job when he shouldn’t have. She would give him the courtesy of quitting to his face. Of course, he might make it easy on her. He might fire her the minute she walked back in the door.
The dinner was going on as planned, though she thought the dining room was a lot quieter than it usually was. She could smell ribs and roasted potatoes, but she couldn’t eat a thing. Macon’s Napoleons looked perfect. Not that she would be invited to join, but she would miss it.
The room went silent as she walked in. It occurred to her that she was interrupting a family dinner. That’s what these people had become. Chef Taggart sat at one end and his brother at the other. They were partners in Top. Big Tag was the silent partner who often said he’d only put money into the business for the free pies, but it was easy to see that the Taggart brothers depended on each other.
Her brother was dead and the only man she’d ever loved hated her now. She was back on the street again. Story of her life.
Every eye was looking her way. She noticed Serena and Jake weren’t among them. The Miles family had closed ranks.
“Ally.” Deena stood up. Tiffany and Jenni stood up with her. All of her server coworkers, it seemed, were ready to talk to her at least.
Ally shook her head and Deena nodded. They all sat back down.
Ian Taggart’s eyes narrowed as he looked at her. His wife had joined him, but it looked like the twins had been put down for a nap. “You broke the pie maker.”
Charlotte Taggart slapped at her husband’s muscular arm. “Ian. Tact, please.”
“Baby, I don’t have any of that,” he admitted. “She broke the dude who makes the pies. She’s gotta fix him.”
She didn’t even want to get into an argument with Ian Taggart. He kind of scared her. She didn’t think he would be impressed with her little hammer. She turned to the man she’d come to talk to. “Chef Taggart, I’m so sorry to interrupt. Could I please have a word with you?”
He stood up, dropping his napkin, but his wife reached for his hand. He leaned over and she whispered something in his ear. Grace Taggart handed over their toddler girl. She’d been sitting in her mother’s lap, but she seemed content to go with her father.
“I’ll handle this,” Grace said. She stood up, smoothing out her skirt and nodding Ally’s way. “Let’s talk in the office.”
She was surprised but followed behind the gorgeous redhead. Did she not want Ally alone with her husband? What exactly had Macon said when he left? She shouldn’t be surprised that he’d talked bad about her, but she was. Somehow, even though she knew she’d hurt him, she hadn’t expected him to lash out. She’d come to know such gentleness from the big bear of a man, but she supposed that was only for the women who were worthy.
Grace closed the door behind her and the world got eerily quiet.
It was best to get it over with so she could get her things and leave. She wasn’t going to take him up on his offer to stay in the guesthouse. No way. She would pick a road and drive all night, and sometime tomorrow she would be somewhere else. Hell, maybe she’d be someone else. “Mrs. Taggart, I’m afraid I need this to be my last day. I’m sorry I can’t give you two weeks’ notice.”
“Unacceptable.” Grace sat down in her husband’s chair. The very one she’d so recently made love to Macon in. “You did a good job cleaning this place. It smells like citrus. You’ll have to tell me what you use. I can never get the sex smell out of Ian’s office. Sean thinks it’s funny to play on Ian’s desk when Ian’s out of town. I’ve told Charlotte I’ll give her the keys to the castle, but the twins don’t like to sleep much so she hasn’t had a chance for revenge yet.”
Grace gestured to one of the two seats in front of the desk, but Ally stayed on her feet. “I’m sorry about using the office. We really did clean it and well, it certainly won’t ever happen again.”
“It won’t with that attitude.” Grace frowned. “Please have a seat, Allyson. Or do you prefer Sarah? I was sorry to hear about your mother and your brother. This must be a very difficult time for you.”
She thought she’d gotten over the shock of having people know her secret. “Macon told you everything.”
“No, Macon didn’t say a word. He walked out without speaking to anyone. I’ve known that your name was Sarah Allyson Jones of Ashwick, Georgia, since Ian did a background check on you a few weeks into your employment. We made the connection between you and Macon a long time ago.”
Now she took the seat, her knees too weak to stand. “Why didn’t you tell him?”
Grace considered her for a moment. “I argued that we should. Sean and Ian wanted to watch you. They wanted to see what you would do. That’s why they didn’t tell Adam. He would have blown your cover. He did, in the end, of course. Sean thought that if we’d told Macon in the beginning, he simply would have left. It’s not hard to figure out that man was hiding some kind of secret. I thought you were investigating him.”
“I was,” she admitted.
“You did a horrible job, hon.” Grace pointed to the bookshelf. It was filled with cookbooks. “There’s a nice security camera hidden up there. Don’t worry, it’s only turned on after hours. It’s aimed at the safe where he keeps the cash. It was definitely turned off this afternoon. Sean did have it on one night a few months back. He wanted to know why you were really here.”
She searched her memory. “I don’t remember anything that would have been interesting on camera.”
“That’s my point. Sean’s trap didn’t work on you,” Grace explained. “It was turned on a night when Sean asked you to stay late. He then took a very long phone call out in the alley. He left his door wide open and the personal files of every employee were sitting right on his desk. He had to ask you to grab him a notepad off his desk to get you to go inside.”
Now she remembered. “He said he was arguing with a vendor. He was outside for a long time. I saw the files.”
“And you looked down at them and pulled Macon’s file. And then you replaced it and walked away without ever glancing inside. Why?”
“Because it didn’t matter by then. I knew what I needed to know about him. I knew he was a good man.” Those damn tears were back and she wondered how long it would be before she stopped crying over him. “I came here because I wanted to ask him about my brother’s death, but then I got to know him and I couldn’t.”
Grace stood up and moved around the desk, sitting in the chair beside her. “Why didn’t you tell him?”
“I was scared. I didn’t want to lose him.” But she had and she already felt the loss like a hole had opened in her lungs and she couldn’t breathe anymore.
“You had to know someone would find out.”
“Why? There weren’t any legal ties to my mom or brother. Why couldn’t I call myself Ally and start over?” It had been a good plan that had gone so very wrong.
“How many times h
ave you started over?”
She shrugged. “A couple.”
“I think you’ve made a habit out of running away,” Grace said softly. “But sometimes you have to stand your ground to start over. Sometimes running away isn’t the answer. Do you love him?”
Ally nodded, unable to speak.
“Then leaving is the worst thing you can do.”
“It’s my fault.”
A look of determination set in Grace’s hazel eyes. “Then be woman enough to stand up and admit it. Take responsibility and then atone. You don’t have to leave, but you need to figure something out. You need to decide if you’re good for him. You can’t be good for him if you’re hundreds of miles away. I’ve seen that man come alive since he started dating you. He was happy and he can be happy again. He needs time and patience from you. But the last thing he needs is distance and your self-doubt. Do you believe in your heart that you’re good for him?”
She believed that she loved him. She knew she’d do anything it took to help him achieve his dreams. She was his natural partner, a lover who fit his needs. She’d spent a lifetime thinking she wasn’t good enough. It would be simple to fall into that familiar pattern again, but it wasn’t what Macon needed. She’d seen the way his shoulders had slumped, how his hand had unconsciously gone to his damaged leg as if he could hide it. He didn’t think she’d ever loved him. When he’d thought she loved him, he’d stood taller, walked with more pride. She’d given that to him.
She had to find a way to give it to him again. “I am good for him.”
“If you love him, you fight for him.”
There was only one problem. “I don’t think he wants me anymore.”
Grace sighed and for a moment it looked like she was lost in some memory. “He doesn’t know what he wants right now, honey. He’s hurt and angry and willing to burn everything down because of it. I should know. I’ve been there. Do you know why I married Sean?”
“Because you love him.”
“Yes, obviously. But Sean hurt me in the beginning. I’m with him today because he was patient and he apologized and he never stopped telling me he loved me. He kept saying it until I believed it. I think Macon needs to hear that. He needs to know that you won’t leave. Even when it gets ugly. He needs to know that your love isn’t a currency. You’re not trying to buy something from him.”
That was all Macon had known. “His wife wanted money and a place in their society.”
“And what do you want?”
She searched her heart. There was an easy answer, but it wasn’t the truest one. She wanted Macon, but there was something she wanted even more. When she really went deep she discovered what she wanted beyond everything else. “I want Macon to be happy. I want him to have a good life.”
Grace put her hand over Ally’s. “Oh, honey. That means you’re really in love and that is worth fighting for. You made a mistake. A big one. That’s not going to go away easy, but it’s time to stop running. It’s time to stand. It’s time to say this is my home and I won’t leave.”
“And if he still hates me?”
“Then at least you found a home.” Grace stood. “Now let’s go and eat and we’ll talk this out. That’s what families do.”
She was crying again, but it was all right. It was better than all right.
It was time to fight.
Late in the night she locked the door behind her. She looked around the guesthouse and knew she was alone. There was no Macon in the kitchen puttering around with some new experiment. He wasn’t in the shower or out jogging. He was gone and she knew it before she checked his closet.
She moved through the house, reliving every moment with him.
How could she prove that she loved him? How could she make him believe?
When she got to the kitchen she nearly broke down again. This was where he’d first really kissed her, where they’d decided to move forward. Where she’d lied to him. Where she’d learned to love him.
She noticed a book sitting by the stove. Macon’s mother’s recipe book. He’d left it. She would have to make sure it got back to him because she knew how precious it was, but first she opened it. Maybe it would give her some kind of look into the woman who had given birth to the man she loved. Macon had only told her that his real mother had died young and he’d been left with a cold father and a stepmother who hadn’t wanted children.
She flipped through the pages. The recipes weren’t elaborate. This was the cookbook of a housewife, a simple memory book of easy meals and treats likely passed on from her mother and her grandmother. They were written in a neat feminine hand and her eyes teared as she noticed each recipe had one ingredient in common. The last ingredient listed for each dish was the same. Love.
Somehow, in that moment, she could practically feel this woman reach through time and offer her kindness, asking her to be patient with her boy, to give him what he truly needed. Love. Somehow, someway this book was meant for her. She was the next in line. Macon might be an artist, but she would be the one to cook for their children.
She wiped her eyes and selected a recipe. Snickerdoodles. They would be a good start. She found the ingredients and got to work.
Chapter Nine
Macon stared at the pie on the counter. It was the sixth offering this week. It sat there with its slightly crooked lattice crust. She was impatient with it. That type of crust required a very precise hand. The presentation was less than perfect and he couldn’t help but want a taste.
But then he also wanted a taste of the woman who had made it.
Why the hell wouldn’t she leave him alone?
“Oh, what do we have today?” Jake was straightening his tie as he entered the kitchen. His eyes had immediately gone to the counter.
“Apple,” Serena said as she offered Jake a mug of coffee. “It was still warm when Macon brought it in so I think she’s having trouble sleeping.”
Was she sitting up all night baking?
Jake took the mug from her and his free hand wound around her waist, pulling her close. “I don’t know about that. All I know is while Ally makes a mean pie, it’s not yours, baby. You’ve got the best pie in the entire world and I can never get enough of it.”
He took his wife’s mouth in a hungry kiss.
And Macon rolled his eyes because Serena didn’t bake. The last week had been a horrible trial. Living with his brother, Jake, and Serena meant continually watching either Jake or Adam trying to get into their wife’s pants. They were like horny teenage boys. And Tristan pooped a lot. The kid was cute, but damn he could stink up a room, and half the time Macon was left holding a grinning baby with a diaper full of poo because the three of them were getting it on now that they had a babysitter. They’d treated him like glass that first night, but after two days of tiptoeing around him, his family seemed to figure out that double penetration was way easier when someone was watching the baby and Uncle Macon was put to work.
He’d spent most of his time sitting with Tristan and talking about Ally. That kid knew more about his relationship with Ally than anyone should. Luckily, he just drooled a lot and tried to eat his own fist.
This was what he was reduced to. His only confidant was a baby and the woman of his dreams was a yard away making dessert after dessert and leaving it on his doorstep. He’d woken up the morning after he’d discovered her lie and there had been a plate of cookies waiting for him. She’d wrapped it in foil with a note. For Macon.
Nothing else. He hadn’t touched them. He’d brought them in and put them on the counter and walked away. When he’d gotten to work and found her there, he’d ignored her completely. He’d kept his head down and done his job and she’d done hers. She hadn’t sought him out, hadn’t come by his station. The one time they’d locked eyes accidently, she’d given him the saddest smile like she’d known he wasn’t playing her games anymore.
He’d gotten a ride with Eric and thought it was all over.
He’d been greeted the next day with a
vanilla cake with simple chocolate frosting. For Macon.
How much did she think he ate?
“Hey, you two. How about I get in on that action?” Adam was carrying Tristan as he entered the kitchen. He looked down at the counter. “Nice. I’ll take that up to the office. Ian is starting to think this argument between you and Ally is the best thing to happen to him.”
McKay-Taggart was benefitting from the end of what had to be the shortest engagement in history. Adam or Jake simply picked up whatever he left on the counter and took it to work and put the pie or cake or cookies in the break room where it was devoured by hungry agents.
Jake stepped back and took Tristan from Adam, hauling the baby up and giving him kisses that had him giggling at his dad. “Ian wants to put in a request for more lemon.”
“Ian can bite me,” Macon said, his surliness showing. He wasn’t going to march across the lawn and encourage Ally.
“I would watch out,” Serena replied. “Ian likes to bite. I’ll go out and ask Ally if she can put something lemony in her rotation.”
This whole conversation irritated him. “When did Ally become your damn personal baker? Excuse me. Sarah. Let’s use her real name.”
“She prefers Ally. It’s her middle name,” Serena explained. “She really wants to make a break from her past.”
He narrowed his eyes, staring at his sister-in-law. “And how would you know that?”
If Serena was intimidated, he couldn’t tell. “I went over to see if she was all right. You know, only a couple of times. A day.” She shook her head and planted her foot on the hardwood floor, pointing a judgmental finger his way. “She’s my friend. Just because she made one phenomenally stupid mistake doesn’t change that. If I cut people out of my life because they did stupid things, I would have no friends. And yes, I’m looking at you, Jacob Dean.”
Now Jake was staring at Macon with what Macon liked to think of as his satanic, soul-claiming face. He was fairly certain Jake used that face right before he killed people. “Thanks for reminding her, brother. My day’s blown. Let’s get to the office, buddy.”
