False Start (The McKay-Tucker Men Series Book 1)

by Marianne Rice

  The first snowfall of the season. Late, but a doozy. He saved the small cape on Magnolia Lane for last. Pulling into the driveway, he dropped the plow and pushed the snow down the center of the driveway. The unfamiliar Taurus didn’t allow him much room to maneuver. Meg and Emma’s cars were safely nestled in the garage. A surge of jealousy erupted as he imaged the visitor looming in on his territory.

  Not that Meg belonged to him, but he didn’t like the idea of another man in her life. And he sure as hell hated the fact he actually felt territorial.

  Normally he hated having to climb out of the truck and make small talk with his tenants, it dragged his day even longer, but today he was eternally grateful for the inconvenience.

  It wasn’t until he got out of his truck that he noticed her in the walkway. Bundled in bulky gray snow gear and tossing snow over her shoulder faster than any snow blower could spit the stuff, she looked more like a linebacker making a beeline for the quarterback than a dainty woman who normally struts around in do-me shoes.

  “Damn, woman, you’ll throw your back out shoveling like that. Let me.” He reached around her and grabbed for the shovel but got knocked back by the force of her elbow to his chest and a swift kick to his knee. The pain shot through his leg and instantly crippled him, but not before her left knee came in full contact with his thigh. Grabbing her, he fell to the ground, bringing her on top of his chest.

  “Get your filthy hands—OhMyGod! McKay! I’m so sorry. Did I hurt you?” She pulled the buds to her iPod out of her ears and scowled.

  He lay on his back looking up into the dark silhouette of an angel. Or possibly devil, his eyes blurred from the sudden impact so he couldn’t quite tell, but she was beautiful. Pink cheeked, concerned and sitting right on top of his crotch.

  “I don’t know if I’m terrified or turned on,” he groaned.

  She scrambled off him and to his disappointment, felt relief. He could feel a bruise forming on his thigh and his knee. Thankfully she kicked his good knee; although, he wasn’t sure he could call it that anymore. Meg offered him a hand, and he accepted, struggling to his feet.

  “I didn’t realize it was you. I thought someone was trying to…”

  Concern took over the pain. “What? Attack you? Here in your front yard?” The seriousness in her face and her pretty quick moves told him this sort of situation had happened before, or she had been preparing herself for an assault. She quickly smiled, which told him the topic would have to be pursued at another time.

  “Just overreacting. Can take the girl out of the city, but can’t take the city out of the girl.”

  But he knew there was something more. Between her reaction when he kissed her in the car after the football banquet and nearly killing him tonight, he knew there was a situation in her past she wanted to keep secret. And the cause for her constant nerves.

  “Uh, huh. I came over to help you shovel and to grab the keys to the car in the driveway. Can’t plow with it there.”

  “Oh, yeah, hang on a second.” She turned and ran inside. Connor picked up the shovel and started clearing the pathway, his knee and thigh still stinging from the assault. Meg came out a moment later. “My grandparents are visiting. I’ll move the car for you.” Before he could respond she jogged to the car and backed it onto the street.

  Connor moved sluggishly to his truck and finished plowing in less than ten minutes then drove the Taurus back into the driveway. Slowly he walked up to Meg, this time she stood facing him, so she didn’t have to worry about a surprise attack, or rather he didn’t have to worry about a surprise attack.

  “Before you viciously mauled me, I was trying to tell you you’re going to have a sore back tomorrow if you keep that up.” He nodded toward her shovel.

  “I guess it’s only fair since you’re going to have a bum leg,” she teased.

  “Yeah, I guess I should be grateful you weren’t wearing any of those spiky heel things you like to wear. You’re on quite the shoveling mission. If you need some extra cash, you’re more than welcome to the job.”

  A tiny elderly lady stuck her head out the front door. “Meg, sweetie, why don’t you stop gabbing and ask your gentleman caller to come inside.”

  “Gran, he’s just finishing plowing the driveway. He’s leaving now.”

  “Not without a warm cup of cocoa. Come on in, young man.” She waved to Connor and scowled at her granddaughter. “Meg, mind your manners.”

  “Thank you, ma’am. I’d love some cocoa.” He winked at Meg and limped up the front steps. Her grandmother, barely five feet, stood by the door in her little old lady housecoat and slippers.

  “You sit down here, young man, and take off those boots and coat. Earl has a fire roaring in the living room. I’ll be in with your cocoa and you can tell me all about your intentions.”

  “Gran!” Meg stood behind him, kicked the snow off her boots, and stripped out of her snow pants. “His only intention is to plow the driveway.”

  No, my only intention is to strip you out of all your clothes, he thought. The little old lady walked off indifferent to what Meg said.

  “Sorry, she’s hard of hearing and doesn’t see well. Sometimes she interprets things…that simply aren’t. You don’t have to stay.”

  “Are you kidding? She’s like a little Betty White. Can’t wait to find out what Earl is like. Who do you take after more?”

  Meg snorted and he limped into the living room.

  “Oh, wow. I really did hurt you, didn’t I?”

  “Please, don’t pride yourself,” he teased.

  “You’re limping. I’ll get some ice.” She walked into the kitchen as Betty White came out. “On second thought, I’d better stay here.”

  Connor smiled at Meg’s nervousness and turned to the gracious hostess. “Thank you,” he said before sipping the warm chocolate. He’d never been much of a chocolate person, but it reminded him of Meg. Her hair, her eyes, the way she licked it off a fork. The taste of it on her tongue.

  “Sit down and tell us your name.”

  He sat on the sofa and cradled his mug. “I’m Connor McKay.”

  “McKay. Sounds familiar,” a deep voice boomed from the doorway. He turned to discover a boney, six-foot giant Mr. Rogers wearing an outdated wool cardigan and checkered polyester pants. He imagined, in his day, Grandpa was one powerful man. It appeared to be where Meg got her height and coloring. Although Grandpa’s hair had turned gray, it had obviously been dark in his day, just like his eyes. “The football star?”

  “Oh yes,” said Betty White. “He’s the young man Meg is dating.”

  “I’m not dating him.”

  “Huh,” said the giant. “Didn’t you go to a banquet with him a while back?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Oh, and Emma said he took her to a fancy dinner a few weeks ago” chimed Betty.

  “Yeah, but—”

  “And here he is making sure her driveway is plowed. Oh, dear me. How rude, I haven’t introduced myself. I’m Sally. Sally Way. Meg’s grandmother.”

  “A pleasure to meet you Mrs. Way.”

  “Oh, call me Sally, please.” She blushed.

  Connor smiled. It was like stepping back to Little House on the Prairie days. He thought his mother had lived an old-fashioned life, but Meg’s grandparents were the lost in the fifties.

  He hid his disappointment when he took his last sip of hot chocolate. Meg noticed his empty cup and took it from him.

  “I went to the banquet because I am the principal and it was part of my job. We didn’t realize we were set up to have dinner together, and he owns this place, and it’s his job to plow.” Meg seemed satisfied with her response, but no one listened.

  “Meg, dear, why don’t you ask Mr. McKay to stay for dinner,” Sally whispered not so subtly.

  “He has plans.”

  “Actually, I’m done plowing for the night and don’t have any dinner plans.”

  “I’ll go set an extra plate. Meg, dear, why don’t you tell
Emma dinner is ready? And while you’re upstairs you might want to put on a nice dress or at least a ladylike skirt.” Sally winked and then disappeared into the kitchen. Meg ran upstairs, muttering under her breath, and Earl sat in the glider by the fire.

  “Too bad about your knee,” mumbled Earl.

  Connor rubbed his right knee but then realized Earl didn’t know about the attack his granddaughter gave him outside. “It gets stiff every now and then, but doesn’t interfere with my life too bad.”

  “Had yourself a nice few seasons. Shame.”

  “Yeah.” Connor didn’t like talking about his career ending injury. Thankfully, Earl didn’t ask anything more.

  “Hey, Coach,” Emma hollered from the bottom of the stairs. “I hear you’re joining us for dinner.” She looked much happier with his role as dinner guest than her mother did. Meg entered the living room, and he noticed she didn’t “freshen up” while upstairs. Most likely to spite him, not her grandmother. “I’ll go help Great Gran. Come on, Pops.” Emma tugged on Earl’s hand and led him into the other room.

  “I’m sorry—ˮ Meg said

  “Look, you don’t—ˮ Connor said at the same time. “You first.”

  “I’m sorry about Gran.” She tucked her hair behind her ear and played with the cuff of her too-large Brandeis sweatshirt. It was the first time he’d seen her in an outfit that wasn’t meticulously put together. He liked the rumpled look.

  “You already apologized. Unnecessarily,” he sighed. “Okay, if I really make you that uncomfortable, I’ll leave.” He started for the door.

  “No, McKay. I don’t mind. Really. It’s the least I can do after tackling you.”

  “Gee, when you put it like that…” he laughed and kissed her forehead. The gesture surprised them both. “You’re very cute when you’re nervous.”

  “I’m not nervous!”

  Connor laughed as he walked into the dining room.

  The pot roast and potatoes tasted delicious. Emma’s constant chatter of conversation jumping from her riding lessons to Christmas to her physical therapy patients kept dinner lively and entertaining. Meg and Earl ate quietly while Sally chimed in with random tidbits of information that never fit in with the conversation.

  “Did you know Meggy won the science fair every year she entered?”

  He could picture her as an adorable science geek. She helped out with science and math, the two areas where the kids needed the most guidance. “Meggy graduated high school when she was sixteen. Her parents would have been so proud.”

  “Emma tells me you raised Meg?” He found it interesting that Meg never volunteered any information about herself during their drive to Manchester or their dinner a few weeks ago. He learned more personal information from Emma and dear old Sally.

  “Yes, such a tragedy. Our Emmaline and Michael were victims of a terrible plane crash when Meggy was just five years old. Michael was on a business trip in one of those cushy private jets and asked us to watch Meg so Emmaline could go along. They were trying to have another baby and…” The table grew quiet while Sally dabbed her eyes.

  “So what else do you want to do during Christmas vacation?” Meg asked Emma, a clear tactic to change the subject. But Sally didn’t get the hint.

  “Our Meg had Emma right after she graduated.”

  “From college?” he asked.

  “Gran!” Meg blushed.

  “Oh, heavens, no.”

  “Gran! This really isn’t great dinner conversation,” Meg interrupted as she refilled her plate with more potatoes, even though she still had a pile on her plate. Emma fidgeted in her seat as she fought a smile.

  “She had me two months after graduating high school, and she was only sixteen. No one even knew she was pregnant. Not even Pops and Great Gran.” That earned Emma a dirty scowl from her mother. Connor did a quick calculation. So, Meg was actually younger than him, thirty-eight if he guessed right. Putting the pieces of information together with her reaction when she woke up and found him kissing her in his car, and then tonight’s accosting, well, it explained a lot of her anxiety around him. He couldn’t picture Meg as a fifteen-year-old promiscuous science geek.

  Earl and Sally were still nibbling on their dinner, but Meg got up and cleared the table anyway then brought him his coat.

  “Are you taking our Meggy out tonight?” Sally asked as he shrugged into his ski jacket. The phone rang and Meg rushed to answer it in the other room, which earned her a strong reprimand from her grandparents. The question caught him off guard, but he never missed a chance to seize an opportunity like this one.

  “Actually, I am. Thank you for a wonderful dinner. I’ll be back around eight to pick her up for our date. Tell her to dress casual. Lovely to meet you, Earl and Sally.” He shook their hands and smiled as he limped through the cold air to his truck.

  * * * *

  Two hours later, the doorbell rang. Meg opened the door and smiled sweetly at him.

  “Right on time for our date. I’ve been anticipating this all week. Just counting down the minutes,” she snarled.

  He laughed at her sarcasm. “Hey, you owe me for bruising my thigh and breaking my kneecap. And by the way, if you ever tell anyone you took me out, I’ll flat out deny it.”

  “Do you really have a bruise?”

  “Wanna see?”

  She blushed and closed the door behind her. “You could have asked me if I had plans tonight. You didn’t have to go behind my back and have my Gran relay the message.”

  He helped her into the truck and waited for her to put on her seat belt. “And you would have said…?” He winked at her and closed the truck door.

  When he turned down the familiar road toward the Tucker farm, she asked, “Where exactly are we going?”

  “My mom’s”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, her neighborhood, well, the local farms, have a Christmas party every year. This year it’s her turn to host. I figured we’d crash it.”

  “Crash it? You mean we’re not invited?”

  “It’s my mom. I’m always invited to her house.”

  “Well, I can’t go. Not after…well…I talked with her the morning after she set us up, and I told her I wasn’t too pleased with her deceit and I made it clear that you and I are merely friends. That’s it.”

  He pulled into the driveway, turned off the engine, got out of the truck, and hurried over to her side. Connor opened her door and helped her down, leaving his hands on her waist. “Are you sure about that?” he whispered. His lips were inches away from hers, but he didn’t make contact. Meg’s dark eyes closed, anticipating, and yet again fearing, the kiss that never came.

  Years of self-defense training, kickboxing classes, and yoga should have built up the muscles in her legs to hold up her body, but with Connor’s scent taunting her libido, her limbs went lax instead of tight. She nearly fell into his solid body waiting for his kiss, mortified when she opened her eyes and saw his twinkling baby blues darken.

  Pushing him away, she strolled past him up the walkway to the Tucker farmhouse, glancing into the large bay window that overlooked the front yard. Furious that he had such power over her, she ignored him and took a calming breath.

  Dancing lights from the Christmas tree in the front window reflected off the window and brought the snow outside the window alive. The laughter erupting from the house reminded Meg of another party she attended years ago but wasn’t exactly invited to.

  That night ended as the worst nightmare of her life. Never again would she be the same person. Over twenty years later, and she still feared rejection. She turned around and started to flee but bumped into Connor’s hard chest.

  “Forget something?” He held on to her elbows and caught her before she fell.

  “I, uh…” She looked back at the house and bit her lip. “I really don’t feel well, McKay. Please take me home,” she whispered, tears filling her eyes.

  Instead of complying with her wish, he held her close. Too close.
She looked past his face at the row of cars and trucks lining the street.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She hesitated, not wanting to make a fool of herself, still not completely trusting the man in front of her. They’d come so far from their earlier days of bickering and not understanding each other. They’d become friends, and she didn’t want to blow their friendship by having verbal diarrhea come out of her mouth, or by revealing her fears. Long ago, she misinterpreted a boy’s intentions and she never wanted to do that again.

  “There are a lot of people here.”

  “Yup, it’s called a party.” His eyes flickered to the window and then back to her before he let go of her arms and hunched his shoulders in defeat. “I get it,” he huffed as he drew his fingers through his short, cropped hair. “You don’t want to be connected with me.”

  He looked so hurt, and in her heart she knew it wasn’t an act. Every muscle in her body told her to wrap her arms around him and tell him the truth. But she didn’t. “I don’t want the gossip.” Not exactly the truth, but a safe alternative. “We really shouldn’t be…”

  “Fine. Go ahead in.”

  Meg stood in the driveway and furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. She hurt his feelings.

  “Go on. My mom will be thrilled to see you. I’ll pop in a little bit later. Trust me, no one will know we came together.” He turned on his heel and stormed past his truck into the barn.

  Straightening her coat and running her hands through her hair, she took two cleansing breaths, walked up to the front porch and stared at the front door. What the heck am I doing here? Without Connor, she had no reason to be at Betsy’s party. She couldn’t just waltz in and act as if she belonged. Right when she started to turn around and go back to the truck, the front door swung open.

  “Why gracious me! What a splendid surprise! I thought I saw headlights out here a while ago. Come in, dear.” Betsy smiled her welcoming smile. Dressed in a bright red silk blouse and black slacks, her short gray hair styled with a touch of hairspray, she looked so much the hostess and not a bit the farmer.

  Betsy wrapped her short, strong arms around Meg and pulled her in the house. “Let me take your coat, dear.”