A Wedding for Maggie

by ALLISON LEIGH,

  She drew in a steadying breath. J.D. wouldn’t be installed in this room, she reminded herself. Daniel would change his mind before Thanksgiving arrived.

  She turned from the room and slowly went downstairs. Already she could hear movement from the roof. Then the rhythmic slap of bundles of shingles landing. The heavy thump of footsteps as men walked across the roof over her head. She returned to the kitchen, slowly drawing out some of the catalogs from the box Daniel had left sitting on the floor. The house didn’t extend to furniture yet, and she carried several paint brochures back to the staircase and sat on the bottom step.

  Slowly she paged through the brochures. Overhead, she heard the thwack of hammers driving nails.

  “Find anything you like?”

  She started. “Must you do that?”

  “Do what?”

  “Walk around without making a sound.” She pushed to her feet and walked past Daniel back through to the kitchen where she dropped all but one of the brochures into the box.

  “Sorry,” he said. “I’ll try to remember to stomp my feet more in the future.”

  An unwilling smile crept toward her lips. She didn’t want him to make her smile. She didn’t want to like him. But she’d always liked Daniel. He’d made her edgy, true. But he’d also made her smile.

  How many times had he fixed something around the foreman’s cottage that had needed fixing? Her washing machine. The oven. Hanging that clothesline. He’d been the one to place the first shovel in the earth when she’d decided to plant a garden.

  He’d been the one to make her wish for a marriage that didn’t choke the life out of her. And he hadn’t had to say a word.

  All he’d had to do was exist. To be.

  And now, unless he called it off, she had promised to be his wife. To enter into a marriage with him because of the child they’d created together. Not because of love. Not even because of friendship.

  But because she was her mother’s daughter and had behaved shamelessly under an August moon.

  “Maggie?”

  She swallowed the knot in her throat and flipped open the brochure to the square of misty gray paint. “Here,” she said, pushing the brochure into his hands. “You said pick a color. That’s it.” She pushed the brochure into his hands and hurried out of the house. Out into the chilly sunshine, amid the sounds of the roofers.

  Where she wouldn’t have to admit to anyone but herself that the gray she’d chosen was the exact shade of Daniel’s quicksilver eyes.

  That night Maggie decided J.D. should sleep in the guest suite with her. Matthew and Jaimie had driven into Gillette for the evening, and Sarah was spending the night with Leandra at Jefferson and Emily’s. J.D. had been invited, too, but to Maggie’s surprise had said she wanted to stay with her mama.

  However, once it was bedtime, J.D. didn’t seem terribly inclined to settle in the bed. She toyed with the pillows, arranging and rearranging them to Duchess’s licking. “Is we gonna live here now, Mama?”

  Busy folding the small load of J.D.’s clothing that she’d washed late that afternoon after she and Daniel had returned, Maggie’s teeth sank into her lip. “We are...visiting,” she murmured, setting the shirts and jeans into a neat little pile. “It’s late, J.D. Get into bed and settle down.”

  J.D. climbed to the middle of the wide bed, giving an experimental bounce or two while eyeing her mother. Duchess tumbled to the floor.

  Maggie picked her up and handed the stuffed horse to J.D., shaking her head at the bouncing. “J.D.”

  Her daughter set the stuffed horse back on the pillows at the head of the bed. “Why is my daddy wif the angels?”

  Startled, Maggie’s hands stopped in the act of smoothing down the quilt that J.D. had rumpled. Of all times—’ “He was in a car accident,” she said carefully. “He was badly hurt.”

  “He had a bad owie.”

  “Yes.”

  “They didn’t gots any bandedaids?”

  J.D.’s curls were whisper soft when Maggie brushed them from her daughter’s forehead. “Bandages weren’t enough, sweetheart. So the angels took Daddy to heaven where he wouldn’t hurt anymore.”

  “I don’t like owies,” J.D. said. “Mama, are you gonna go wif the angels, too?”

  Her vision blurred and she sat on the bed, pulling J.D. into her lap. “No, J.D., I am not going anywhere. I’m going to stay right here with you.”

  J.D. wrapped her arms around Maggie’s neck and pressed her warm little cheek against Maggie’s. “I love you, Mama.”

  “I love you too, sweetheart.” She heard a sound and looked up to see Daniel standing in the doorway. She turned toward J.D., dashing a hand over her cheeks. “Come on, now. Under the covers,” she murmured.

  J.D. did so, and Maggie kissed her brow, straightening from the bed.

  Daniel leaned his shoulder against the doorjamb. “She okay?”

  Maggie nodded.

  J D. spotted Damel and called his name, holding her arms up, demanding a night-night kiss. Even though Maggie saw a muscle tighten in his jaw, his expression was gentle as he complied.

  But when he turned again to find Maggie hovering in the doorway, his face settled once again into his usual unreadable mask. “I ordered the paint you picked. You still haven’t told me what furniture you want for the bedrooms, though.”

  She felt the blood drain from her face at the thought of bedroom furnishings. Of beds. Of sharing one with him.

  She pulled the door shut and stood in the living area, squelching a nervous jump when Daniel moved past her to sprawl in his leather chair. One toe of his boot tapped a slow rhythm in the air.

  He watched her from hooded eyes. “You gonna hover there all night or sit down and relax?”

  Relax. There was a good one. But she sat. Then hopped up again at his next question.

  “What did you want to talk about this morning?”

  She rounded the couch, her fingers pressing into the upholstery. This morning. When she’d seen his eyes go dark and inward. Before she’d seen his beautiful house and wondered with one fanciful part of her mind what it would be like to actually live there. “It was about J.D., actually.”

  “What about her?”

  “Well, you...she is already fond of you,” Maggie managed. “If we get mar—”

  “When we get married—”

  Her lips tightened. “I don’t want J.D. hurt,” she said bluntly.

  His boot stilled. “Why would she be?”

  Maggie folded her arms and paced between the couch and the television. “Daniel, J.D. has already lost one father.”

  “She didn’t even know him.”

  She couldn’t deny that. “Nevertheless, I don’t want her to lose—”

  “You’re already planning on a divorce, then?”

  She pushed back her hair. “No, of course not.” She wasn’t plannmg on a wedding! “I’m making a mess of this.”

  “You won’t hear me disagreeing there.”

  Maggie stopped and propped her hands on her hips. “You’re not helping matters any.”

  Daniel leaned back in his chair, his expression calm. “What do you want me to do differently? I’ve already lied to my family about what you’re doing here. All because you insisted on waiting until Thanksgiving to announce our plans. I’m giving you an opportunity to give your input on the house we’ll be sharing for the rest of our days. Just what else, exactly, is it I’m supposed to be doing?”

  He made it sound so utterly reasonable, that she wanted to throw something at him. “Don’t make her love you and then walk away,” she gritted.

  His jaw cocked. “You’re comparing me again,” he said softly.

  She shook her head. “No, Daniel. I’m talking about you. J.D. thinks you hung the moon and she barely knows you. I just...I—” She broke off, frowning at him. “Don’t encourage her.”

  “I see,” he said softly. “You want me to ignore her the way Joe did.”

  That stung. “Of course not.”<
br />
  “You can’t have it both ways, Maggie. Actually, you’re not gonna have it any way. J.D. is part of our little family unit—” he clipped out the word “—as much as we are. As much as the baby. If you don’t like it, too bad.”

  Maggie’s voice lowered, and she leaned over the back of the couch toward him. “I saw the way you looked at her this morning. You were miles away. J.D. is an extremely bright child. How long do you think it’ll take before she realizes your interest in her is feigned?”

  Daniel’s eyes frosted. “Feigned.”

  “You explain it, then. If it wasn’t your lack of interest in J.D., then what was it?”

  He shoved to his feet, slowly rounding the couch, but she stood her ground. Even when he towered over her and the toes of his boots nudged her sneakers. “Nothing.”

  She shook back her hair, crossing her arms. “I don’t believe you.”

  His expression suddenly shifted. If she hadn’t been watching closely, she wouldn’t have even noticed. It was his eyes. One moment as cold as ice chips. The next, gleaming silver. And the nervousness that she didn’t feel in the face of his temper burgeoned to life in the face of this latest expression.

  When he lifted his hand and oh, so slowly tucked her hair behind her ear, and his fingers lingered there, she couldn’t help it. She hastily stepped back, feeling her cheeks fire at the amusement in his eyes. “Don’t do that,” she ordered. But it lacked teeth considering the way it came out all shaky.

  She rounded the couch, putting the big sectional between them once more.

  The corner of his molded lips deepened, as if he was hiding a smile. “There’s no need to look at me as if I’m the big bad villain planning to have my wicked way with your pristine, virginal self.”

  “Then stop smiling at me like the wolf before he huffed and puffed.”

  “Which one would you be? Straw, sticks or bricks?”

  She very much feared that if Daniel chose to blow hard on her, she’d crumble just like that fabled straw and twig. “Bricks,” she lied.

  Daniel considered her, feeling a shaft of admiration for the way she didn’t back down even though he could see the way her fingers trembled and twisted together. He’d only wanted to get her to back off the topic of his reaction that morning.

  If there was one thing he knew unsettled Maggie, it was the drugging physical connection they felt for each other. Unfortunately he’d underestimated. Because want—hot and urgent—charged through his blood.

  Just then he wanted nothing more than to sweep her off her feet and make her his. And since he wasn’t entirely sure he could keep from doing just that, he made himself shrug. “I talked with Rebecca Morehouse,” he said. “She’s expecting your call.”

  Maggie took the bait quicker than a starving kitten. And he disliked himself even more than usual because of it. “Is that so?” Her voice, for all its smoothness, couldn’t hide her ire, “I suppose you told her why?”

  “No. I’ll leave that up to you when I drive you to town.”

  Her gently rounded jaw tightened, and her eyes glinted more green than blue. And he realized he could only go so far. “I’m going out,” he said abruptly, seeing her blink, wind deflating from her annoyed sails.

  Feeling lower than a snake’s belly, he scooped up his keys and slid his hat onto his head. “I’ll be late. If you need anything, call Curly.”

  By the time words finally formed on Maggie’s lips, Daniel had already gone up the steps that led directly outside. She heard the hollow echo of the door and moved to the high windows that were barely above ground level and stood on her toes, trying to peer out. But all she saw was the reflection of the room behind her.

  She could hear, however. Could hear the low growl of his truck as he drove away from the big house. She blew out a breath and leaned against his beaten leather chair.

  Once again she’d driven him from his home.

  It was well after midnight when Daniel finally threw his truck into park, alongside the darkened house. He sat in the cab of his truck, listening to the engine tick as it cooled. He didn’t think of anything particular. Not of the call he’d finally made to Coleman Black. Not the latest string of futile inquiries he’d made about Angeline.

  Not even of Maggie. Or the fact that he was going to be a father. Or the fact that he’d just spent two hours sitting on a bar stool in Colbys staring into a whisky from which he never drank so much as a sip.

  He just sat there in his truck for a long while, listening to nothing.

  Finally, his engine terminally silent, the night thick and nipped with autumn chill, he climbed out of the truck and went inside.

  He didn’t need to turn on a light He knew the big house as well as he knew the back of his hand. Still, he hesitated midway down the darkened staircase.

  A pool of golden light spilled from the small, decorative lamp sitting on a corner table. Not enough light to fully illuminate the room. But certainly enough to make the huddled form in his old chair visible. He finished descending the stairs, then waited. He realized he could bear the soft cadence of her breathing. She was asleep.

  He had to wrap his hand hard around the banister for a moment. Maggie was sleeping in his chair.

  He’d manipulated her into coming here with his veiled threats about the baby. He’d fully expected to have her in his bed. Counted on it, in fact, because then maybe he’d get a decent night’s sleep again.

  But the reality of it hit him with the force of a wrecking ball.

  Then the small bundle in his chair shifted. The knit afghan she’d pulled over her folded legs slipped to the floor. He imagined that he could smell the wildflower scent of her. He set his hat and keys soundlessly on the counter and walked around to sit on the couch. Calling himself a fool, he settled the afghan across her again, then relaxed into the couch.

  And watched her sleep.

  Chapter Nine

  Daniel knew his time was up when a full week had passed since Maggie and J.D. returned to the Double-C, and J.D. was determined to ride a horse, for real this time.

  It was late afternoon and Daniel had come across J.D., playing with her stuffed horse in the bunkhouse while Curly was busy cooking supper for the hands.

  He knew he really was a coward when her little face lit up like a Christmas tree and her eyes zeroed in on him with the force of a laser. He wanted to turn tail and run.

  “Dannl, I ride a horse today?”

  Curly shrugged his wizened shoulders and kept on shucking corn when Daniel looked to the old man for assistance. Daniel thumbed back his hat and looked down at J.D. She was sitting on top of the long picnic-style table. “Where is Sarah?”

  J.D. sighed, her shoulders curving downward dramatically. “Seeping.”

  Considering that Sarah was past diaper age, Daniel figured that was J.D.’s version of sleeping. “Your mom?”

  Another huge sigh. “Sawing.”

  Daniel’s lips tightened a little at that. He’d specifically warned Maggie not to work too many hours a day at her wood art projects. As usual, she hadn’t listened. He knew for a fact that she’d been at it since earlier that morning. It had been her excuse for not accompanying him to the building site that morning.

  “Dannl?”

  He focused on J.D.’s face, sincere pleading in those green eyes despite her melodramatic presentation. Ah, hell. He was supposed to be a big, tough man. What harm could a horse ride do?

  He managed a grin. “Sure thing, snooks.”

  Her face broke into a huge smile and Daniel felt the kick right down to his gut at her strong resemblance to her mother. She pushed to her feet, Duchess for once forgotten, as she jumped into Daniel’s arms, supremely confident that he’d catch her. “Right now!”

  Daniel couldn’t help but chuckle at her exuberance. He looked at J.D. and saw only her. Not J.D.’s parents. Not even Angeline.

  Only J.D. And she was a charmer. “Right now,” he agreed.

  Maggie sat back on her chair and arche
d her back, sliding off her safety glasses and tossmg them on her workbench. She’d gotten a great deal accomplished today toward her Christmas orders, and there was a neat stack waiting to be packaged and mailed. Nothing like having more space to spread herself out in. Even sharing space with two tractors, a torn-apart engine and various other pieces of equipment, she had more room than she’d had in her apartment in Chicago.

  She picked up the oval welcome sign she was carving and blew gently, scattering the fine sawdust clinging to it. She’d started the hanging before she could talk herself out of it. She’d give it to Daniel for his home. She had yet to finish carving the words “welcome to my home.”

  He’d been such a bear when he’d cleared this work space for her and set up her equipment. He’d lectured her for a ridiculously long time about overworking herself, lifting too much and generally overtaxing herself. He’d sounded so much like Squire sometimes did that Maggie had been reluctantly charmed. After all. If he’d been so adamant about her doing too much, he could have refused to set up her equipment in the first place.

  Maggie would have pitched a fit, true. She had catalog orders she was committed to filling and one last small model she’d promised to send Ryker Interiors. But Daniel had made the offer of the machine shed.

  She slowly ran her fingertips over the hanging, feeling instinctively for flaws, when she heard J.D.’s distinctive squeal.

  Maggie rose and went outside. She’d felt a little strange at first, knowing that J.D. was being watched by so many other people while she attended to her wood art. Jaimie. Squire. Even Curly had pitched in.

  But that was just the way it was here. She needed to remember that. Everyone watched out for everyone. It was one of the charms of the Double-C.

  J.D. squealed again and Maggie followed the sound around the machine shed to one of the smaller corrals behind the horse barn. And her feet rooted in place at what she saw.

  Daniel held J.D. securely in front of him as he rode the same horse he’d been riding the day of her arrival—Spike, she’d finally learned—around the ring.