Nothing But Trouble (A Saratoga Falls Love Story Book 2)

by Lindsey Pogue

  Hurrying back into Casey’s room, I crouch down beside the bed, disappointed I have to wake Mac. “Hey,” I say gently, but she doesn’t stir. I squeeze her arm. “Mac.”

  Her head lolls to the left, then to the right, facing me, before her lips part. “I smell mint,” she murmurs, and finally, her long eyelashes flutter open. She stares blankly at me, processing, her nose only a couple inches from mine.

  “Good morning.” I try not to be amused at how charming and rumpled she looks.

  She blinks at me a few times, and if it weren’t for her green eyes, enlivening with a brief flare of alarm, I would never know she’s momentarily panicked. A few months ago I would’ve assumed it was because she’s not wearing any makeup or that this isn’t her best angle, but I know her better than that now. “Don’t worry,” I whisper. “You’re not late for work … yet.”

  Slowly, she sits up in bed. Her hair is flat in the back, smooshed against her head from lying in the same position all night. I take her hand, helping to augment her weight as she carefully extricates herself and crawls out from under Casey. There’s a drool spot on her red shirt from Casey, and I can’t help but smile.

  I reach for Mac’s bicep with my other hand, firmly holding on as she gains her bearings. “It’s a quarter after seven,” I explain. “I didn’t want you to be late.”

  She’s nodding before I even finish. “Yes, thank you,” she whispers and looks back at Casey. She’s still asleep.

  Mac follows me out the bedroom door, pulling it partially shut behind her. We step out of the hallway and into the living room. “Do you want some coffee or something?” The kitchen is a mess—cupboards open, drawers pulled out, all leftover pandemonium from last night.

  She rubs her face. “Uh, no, thanks. I should go. I can grab coffee at work.” She starts heading for the door and I notice one of her black spandex pant legs is pulled up around her calf. “I’ll let my dad know you’re taking today off, he’ll understand.” She pauses and turns around. I guess I’m standing too close because she clamps her mouth shut and backs up. I try to show zero amusement that the perfectly shorn and manicured Machaela Carmichael is worried about morning breath. She clears her throat. “I mean, I assume you’re taking the day off, right?”

  For lack of anything better to do, I scratch the back of my neck. “Yeah, uh, Kylie’s gone until Saturday, at a conference, so I’m all the munchkin’s got until she gets back. Plus, her doctor’s appointment is at nine in Benton.”

  Mac’s eyes shift to my neck, lingering on it a moment before she looks at me again.

  “I’m bringing her back home after that,” I add without thinking. “In case you wanted to drop by after work to say hi to her or something.” I shouldn’t have said that, I know it the instant it comes out. It’s not a good idea, we both know it.

  Her brow crinkles for a split second and she glances around the living room. “Um, yeah. We’ll see.”

  I hate that I put that awkward uncertainty in her voice, but I can’t take it back now. She’s too observant, and reads my conflicted emotions too easily. With a long stride, I step past her and reach for the deadbolt. Opening the door, I step aside, allowing her to walk by. Without thought, I reach for her hand, willing her to wait a minute longer so she knows how grateful I am for her help. So I can have one more moment with her before there’s distance between us again.

  She looks at me over her shoulder.

  “Thank you, Mac. I seriously don’t know what I would’ve done without your help last night.”

  With a thin smile, she lifts her shoulder. “That’s what neighbors are for. Tell Casey I hope she feels better.”

  I nod and watch her trot down the landing toward her door. She smiles back at me, waves, and disappears inside. I’m not sure how long I stand there, staring at her closed door, before I decide it’s time for a long, hot shower.

  Thirty-One

  Mac

  Wednesday, day two of Colton being home with Casey, I decide to make a pit stop by his apartment after work to check on her. I’m curious how she’s feeling and what the doctor said, and, of course, probably too curious for my own good to see how Colton’s holding up.

  I knock on his door and wait for a few moments. The frigid breeze picks up and I snuggle deeper into my scarf and coat.

  There’s no answer.

  Glancing over the railing, I see that his Tundra is here. I finally decide that maybe Casey’s taking a nap or something, and just as I’m about to head back over to Nick’s, the door flies open. Casey’s standing there in a pink thermal princess onesie that’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. She flashes me a giant, toothy smile that fills her cherubic face. “Mac!”

  “Hey, Casey. How are you feeling?” Her excitement alone is enough to gauge she’s definitely feeling better, glassy eyes, ruddy cheeks, and all.

  “The doctor says I can eat ice cream all day for my throat!”

  “I’m sure …”

  “Case …” Colton’s voice rumbles out from the back of the apartment. She turns to face her dad, who steps into the mouth of the hallway. I try not to blush or gape or have any reaction at all to seeing him fresh out of the shower, hair wet and hanging in his face. He’s wearing a T-shirt and sweats, but given my body’s reaction, you’d think he was naked. I swallow thickly.

  He buffs his hair a few times then finally looks up. “Hey.” He tosses his towel into the bathroom.

  I give him a little wave and shove my hands into my coat pockets. “I just thought I’d check in and see how she’s doing.”

  “Case, do you want to invite our company inside the house?”

  “Come in!” she chirps and steps back a few paces.

  Nodding, I step inside out of the cold and shiver as the warmth surrounds me. “Just for a few minutes. I didn’t mean to just show up like this. I just wanted—”

  “It’s fine, really. Take your jacket off, have a seat—do you want some coffee or something?”

  “No, thank you. I’m fine. I’m not much of a coffee drinker after noon.”

  “Yeah, I used to say that,” he mutters and steps into the kitchen.

  Casey goes back to her nest of blankets on the couch and picks up the remote to un-pause her movie. I pass by the hallway and smell the spicy and fresh scent of men’s body wash.

  “I’m watching The Little Mermaid,” she says, eyes already glued to the screen.

  I stand beside her, coat still on so that I don’t overstay my welcome. “I can see that. That was one of my favorite movies when I was a little girl, too.”

  “Daddy doesn’t like it,” she grumbles.

  Colton makes a derisive noise, and I glance into the kitchen. He’s shaking his head. “I liked it the first four hundred times I saw it,” he mumbles, and I watch as he pours vanilla creamer into his mug. I smile. Spicy vanilla.

  “It’s okay. My daddy’s the same way,” I tell her. “My brothers, too. None of them liked anything that I liked, so I would sneak into my dad’s bedroom and watch TV where they couldn’t find me.”

  Casey smiles but her eyes still don’t leave the screen. She starts quietly singing along with Sebastian and his underwater friends and I step into the kitchen with Colton.

  “Are you hungry?” he asks. “I was going to make—”

  “Spaghetti and hot dogs?” I ask, unable to refrain. “It’s the best meal this side of the town, so I’m told.”

  His mouth quirks in amusement. “No, I was thinking more like grilled cheese and some chicken noodle soup for the sickie over there.”

  I shake my head. “Grilled cheese is my favorite, but no, I’m alright. Thank you, though. I had a late lunch.”

  He pauses and stares at me, incredulous.

  “What?”

  “You didn’t eat at all, did you?”

  “Wh—” My eyes narrow, and I’m a little confused. “How do you know that?”

  Colton chuckles, genuine and unguarded. “You rarely eat at work, I’ve worked there long en
ough to know that.”

  Leaning against the counter, I shake my head. “So, you’ve been paying attention, have you?”

  “Yeah, more than I should,” he says, then sobers. The air shifts from open and easy to heavy and expectant.

  “Well, you’re right,” I say, desperate to keep the easiness going between us. “I’m going to head over to Nick’s and gorge myself without any witnesses or innocent bystanders.”

  His eyes flick to mine. “Okay, but I make a mean grilled cheese sandwich. Even better than my hot dogs and spaghetti, believe it or not.”

  “Maybe next time.” I cross my arms over my chest, eyeing the over-the-counter meds shoved in the corner between the bread box and spatulas. “So, what did the doctor say yesterday?”

  “Mono, something she got from school. We just have to let it run its course. Now that her throat is feeling a little better she’s loving all the attention and being out of school.”

  “I’m sure,” I say with a laugh and glance over at her. Her hair is pulled back in a lopsided ponytail, away from her face. “How old is she?”

  “Five, going on thirteen,” he says wryly.

  “Aren’t we all?” I bat my eyelashes. “Well, she sure is a cutie.” Fleetingly, I wonder which parts of her resemble Kylie.

  Colton chuckles. “Thanks. I’m pretty happy with her.” He opens the fridge, pulling out a cube of cheese. “How are things at the shop?”

  I groan, I can’t help it. “Your absence has been quite the upset.”

  “Really? Why’s that?”

  “Take a wild guess. You’ll only need one.”

  Colton’s brow furrows and his eyes narrow as he thinks. There are a number of trouble or “needy” customers that I’m sure come to mind, but this one takes the cake as far as Colton’s comeback customers are concerned. He looks at me from the corner of his eye. “Mrs. Ortiz?”

  “Bingo. She doesn’t want anyone working on her Lexus until you get back. She called yesterday—and today—to see if you were in.”

  He rubs his face and glances out at Casey before reaching for a pot and frying pan. “Sorry. I know she’s not your favorite person.”

  I shrug because it’s fine. “Casey’s more important. The Ortiz family just likes to irk me every now and again; it wouldn’t be a normal month in the shop if one of them didn’t call in or have some sort of issue. Although I’ve seen Mrs. O. a lot more since you starting working for us.” I lean closer. “I think she has a crush on you.”

  “Ha. Lucky me.” He opens the package of cheese.

  “Daddy,” Casey calls from the sofa.

  “Yes, Casey baby?”

  “Can Mac watch me tomorrow instead of you?”

  Colton glances between me and her, his expression more closed off than before. “Why don’t you want me to watch you, Case?”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” she says. She stands up and leans against the back cushion of the couch, barely able to tear her eyes from the movie. “But I like Mac.”

  I snort a laugh. “You don’t like your dad anymore?” I can’t help but ask, teasing Colton.

  “Yeah, but he’s a boy.”

  “Yes, this is true,” he says flatly.

  “Plus, you like The Little Mermaid.” She looks at me, eyes pleading.

  “Case, Mac has to work, sweetheart.”

  She frowns. “But …” She glances from me back to him. “You took off work to stay with me.”

  “I could, you know,” I say quietly so she can’t hear me. I know Colton has his cousin in Benton, but other than Ben, I’m not sure who he has to help him even if he needed it. “If you need a break.” I nod to his half-full coffeepot and the coffee grounds that litter the counter around it. It’s obvious he’s been burning both ends of the candle. “It’s completely up to you, but I have so much PTO that I will never use … it would be like a mini vacation for me, actually.” And Casey is too darn cute to resist.

  Colton contemplates it for so long I assume he’ll say no. “Never mind. I just—”

  “Sure,” he says, shocking the hell out of me.

  I look at Casey. “Girl day tomorrow?”

  Thirty-Two

  Mac

  “We’re going to have so much fun today,” I say, still trying to get Colton out the front door Thursday morning. “Don’t worry, I know where to find you if we need anything.”

  Colton eyes us both, hesitating until, finally, he steps outside. “You two better behave,” he says, skeptical. With one final glance between us, he pulls the door shut behind him.

  The moment he does, I turn to Casey. “So, what should we do today?”

  “We could go to the park,” Casey says, eyes wide as she bounces up and down in her nightgown. She’s feeling better, obviously.

  “I don’t know about that, it’s pretty cold today.” I pick up my camera and switch it on. When the red light flashes, I snap a test shot of Casey.

  “Is that a camera?”

  I snap another couple shots of her grinning face. “It sure is. I finally pulled it out of its dusty case.”

  “It looks like it cost a lot.”

  “Ha. It did.” I smile as I scan through the photos, admiring Casey’s little heart-shaped face and large brown eyes. “And look at that adorable face. You’ve got eyelashes to die for and I love your freckles.” I crouch down so she can see the images of her.

  Her smile broadens. “That’s a good one.”

  “It helps when you have a cute subject to shoot.” I snap a couple more. “Do you know who a really great photo subject is?” I ask and search through my camera memory for pictures of Nick. I angle to show her a silly one of him making faces, then of him sleeping with his mouth gaping open on the living room couch.

  “He’s funny,” she says, laughing.

  “I know, he’s so silly. That’s why I love him.” I smile most fondly when I scroll to a photo of him sitting at the kitchen table, running his hands through his hair as he stares sleepily down at his first morning cup of coffee. It’s a rare occasion when I get to see him before he’s his energized, happy-go-lucky self.

  “Are you going to marry him?”

  “Ha!” I shake my head. “Not that kind of love, Casey. He’s my best friend. It’s like I’m Ariel and he’s Flounder.” Her eyes brighten with understanding. “It’s not a romantic love, like Prince Eric, but some girl will be very lucky to marry him one day.”

  “Is my daddy Prince Eric?”

  I choke, literally, and I have to turn my face away and cover my mouth until I can catch my breath. “No,” I start and scramble for words. The last thing I want is her telling Colton I said any such thing. “I don’t have a Prince Eric, Casey.” My eyes narrow. “Do you?”

  Casey giggles. “Nooo!” She tugs at her loose hair.

  With a sideways glance, I head into the kitchen. “Just checking.” I peer around at the clean countertops and the empty sink. Colton managed to find time to clean. “How about we make something for breakfast?”

  She grins. “Can we have waffles?”

  “Of course we can.” I feel confident with this promise, knowing I can make batter from scratch if they don’t have any. I step into the kitchen and wash my hands. “What’s your favorite meal of the day?” I ask. “Breakfast, lunch, dinner … or dessert?”

  “Dessert!” she cries.

  “Me too.” I rub my hands together and lick my lips like I’m ravenous. “My favorite is ice cream.”

  Casey pushes a dining chair up to the counter and uses it to crawl up and sit on the edge, out of the way, and clearly a place she’s sat many a time. “Chocolate ice cream?” she asks.

  “Ah! Yes! Chocolate, Rocky Road, Mint Chocolate Chip … I don’t discriminate.”

  Her face contorts and she blinks at me. “What’s that?”

  “It means I love all ice cream.”

  “Me too!”

  I reach for the refrigerator door and pause when I see that Friday, December 12, is circled on the princess
calendar that hangs on the front of it. Daddy’s Bday is scribbled across three boxes in Casey’s hand.

  “Umm, Casey? Is your daddy’s birthday tomorrow?” I can’t stop the ideas from forming.

  Casey’s mouth widens into a huge grin. “Yes. We should make him a present!”

  I’m nodding, pulling out milk and butter and eggs. “Yes, we should. How about a big pink birthday cake, too?”

  “Really? You can make one?”

  I nod. “Darling, I’m the queen of baking. We can even cover it in frosting.” I pull a mixing bowl from one of the cupboards.

  Casey watches my hands. “Those are pretty,” she says, pointing to my nails.

  “Why, thank you. Do you like purple?”

  Casey tries to peel a banana from the fruit bowl beside her. “Yeah, but I like pink and green and brown, too.”

  “Brown, huh? Cool.” I crack an egg into the bowl, watching her out of the corner of my eye as she formulates her next question.

  “Can you make mine pretty?” She looks down, analyzing her own tiny fingernails.

  Uncertain if there’s a little-girl age limit for getting fingernails painted, I stall. “Well, I don’t know. We should ask your dad first, I think.”

  “Okay,” she says sadly, then she brightens. “Are we going to take his cake to him?”

  I love this kid. “Why, Casey, I think that’s a fantastic idea. We’ll take his big pink cake to the shop so he can blow out his candles. He’ll be so embarrassed,” I confess, giggling the last part.

  Breaking another egg into a bowl, I realize something. “Hey, Case, do you guys have Christmastime at your house?”

  She nods and peels her banana further down and takes a small bite. “We have a tree at Mommy’s house.”

  I glance at her. “Why don’t you have a tree here at Daddy’s?” I exchange the banana in her hand for a wrapped stick of butter. “You’re in charge of that. Unwrap it and put it on this butter dish, please.” Setting her peeled banana on the counter, I search for a whisk.