The Grand Opening

by Ava Miles

Mac looked down that elegant nose at his nephew.

  Dustin hitched his shoulder up. “Really I wouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”

  “Dustin, Deputy McBride is right. You could have killed someone or her.”

  His eyes locked with Peggy’s when he said it. A flame flared between them before he planted his hands on his nephew’s shoulders. “She has a boy in second grade she’s raising by herself. What would have happened if she’d been killed chasing you down?”

  The kid sucked in a breath. “Oh God, I didn’t mean it!” He swiveled around and those huge, green eyes fastened on hers. “I’m so sorry. You have to believe me!”

  Cincinnati stepped forward. “Mac—”

  “What would have happened if you’d gotten yourself killed? Did you ever think how your mother would feel? Or me?” Mac thrust his fist into the air like he was dotting the sentence. The emotion in his voice flashed like lightning and then disappeared just as quickly. He drew in a breath, his composure returning.

  Peggy knew love and fear were driving this train. The boy gripped the sides of his shirt like he wanted to run at his uncle full speed for a hug.

  “Deputy, this is our new home,” Mac said. “We want to set a good example here in Dare. Dustin was in the wrong. Please do what you think is best.”

  “This is bullshit! You’re throwing him to the wolves.” Cincinnati planted himself in front of his friend. “Abbie won’t like this one bit.”

  “I didn’t want to come here!” Dustin yelled. “I didn’t want to leave my friends.”

  “We discussed this. We’re a family. We stick together. Deputy, write up whatever you want. Dustin, I want your cell.”

  “What for?”

  “You’re grounded with no phone for a month, maybe more once I talk to your mom.”

  The boy’s eyes turned murderous. “Fine, now that we’re stuck in this stupid town, I can’t see my friends anyway. Might as well not be able to talk to them either. Why don’t you put me in solitary confinement?”

  Mac’s gaze heated with equal degree. “I’m sure Deputy McBride could arrange it.”

  Didn’t they realize they were cut from the same cloth? Their actions and body language were so eerily alike it made her wonder again about all that DNA stuff.

  Dustin slapped the phone in Mac’s hand.

  “I’m writing you up for the speeding ticket—the full penalty,” Peggy said, raising a finger, “and will recommend community service to the city attorney, who will bring it to the judge.”

  His mouth dropped open. “That’s it? You’re not taking me to jail?”

  The kid’s relief turned the burners of her mommy persona on. “Not if you’ve learned your lesson. Now, if there’s a next time—”

  “No, ma’am!”

  She thought of Keith and wondered if he’d pull something like this someday. Hell, she saw plenty of good parents like herself end up in tight binds with their kids. Joy–riding, shoplifting, even breaking and entering for something as dumb as another kid’s mountain bike. All she could ever do was her best. And pray like every other parent in the world that lessons stuck.

  She wrote him up. His hands shook so badly when he signed the ticket that she could barely make out his name.

  “Don’t make me come after you again.”

  All the life seemed to be sucked out of the kid. No car privileges and no phone. Man, to a sixteen–year–old, it probably felt like prison.

  “I’ll come up with some chores around here for you to do once I talk with your mother,” Mac said.

  “Yes. Sir.”

  The venom couldn’t be missed.

  Cincinnati shook his head, and patted the teen on the shoulder. “Come on, son.”

  “Don’t you have something to say to Deputy McBride?” Maven asked.

  Dustin turned back. “I’m sorry, ma’am. It won’t happen again.”

  She nodded. “See that it doesn’t.”

  With that, Cincinnati led him out of the office. As the door shut behind them, Dustin grabbed the older man in a bear hug.

  In the room, Maven asked Peggy, “I think I’m going to have that drink now. Do you want anything?

  “I need to get back.”

  He loosened his collar. “Sit down, Peggy. I’m not done with you yet.”

  Chapter 7

  Mac poured two fingers of his new single malt into an Italian crystal glass. He never drank at this time of day, but Dustin had scared a decade off him. Gray hairs were probably popping out of his head like some Chia Pet.

  “You ever worry about Keith pulling that crap when he gets older?”

  It was the second time today that one of his comments had rocked her back on her heels.

  She shrugged. “Sure. All parents do, I think.”

  “His mother is going to take this hard. She’s been trying to stop history from repeating itself—hell, we both have. Maven men. We run wild young.” If he included his father in that mix, he’d have to remove the age limit. Maven men ran wild. Period. Until him.

  She stayed silent, as if she didn’t know what to say or how to handle this side of him. Hell, he wasn’t sure how to handle it either. He mentally shook himself.

  “Please, sit. That must have been quite an adrenaline rush. I’m sorry he put your life at risk.” He gestured to the chair in front of his desk, trying to banish the image of her lying in a tangled, burning metal mass at the bottom of the canyon.

  “Do you want a Coke? You wouldn’t do the diet stuff, I expect.”

  She toed her shoe into his carpet like she was deciding whether to stay or go. “Ah, sure.”

  Mac watched her sit while he poured her drink.

  “I’ll take the can.”

  “Indulge me.”

  She took a healthy sip when he handed it over.

  “Dry mouth?”

  “A bit. Adrenaline fall–off.”

  “Yeah, funny how this stuff affects you. I haven’t had my palms sweat like this since my first major Vegas tourney.”

  Her mouth pinched, so he switched the topic. Right, no poker. It put her back up. Stiff as a poker, haha. He wouldn’t have much luck quitting his day job for the comedy club.

  He spun around a picture of Dustin at age six, riding the Ferris wheel at a state fair.

  Peggy took it from him. “The resemblance is unmistakable.”

  “Yeah. The more he looks like me, the more he reminds me of myself. Scares me shitless, thinking about all the dumbass things he might do. Today, he proved it.”

  “Let’s hope he learned his lesson.”

  “You did well, going hard on him like that. Thank you for not hauling him off to jail.”

  She eyed him over the rim of her glass. “You thought I would drag him out in handcuffs?”

  With Peggy, he wasn’t sure of anything, so he decided to be honest. That, at least, she appreciated. “I wasn’t sure.”

  “Well, if he hadn’t been so remorseful, I might have.”

  He stroked his chin. So she could see more than black and white after all. It was a revelation.

  She gulped down the rest of her drink. “Water, please, if you have it.”

  He handed her a bottle from the small fridge behind his desk. “I should have sold the Ferraris when he got his license, but dammit, I love those cars.”

  Her mouth twitched. “He probably wouldn’t have stolen a mini–van.”

  “Or Abbie’s Subaru.”

  “Don’t blame yourself. I tell parents that all the time. No one forced him to get into that car.”

  The tough cop was still there, all crisp and polished in her tan slacks and forest–green button–down shirt with the Sheriff patch emblazoned on the shoulder. The police belt holding her radio, gun, mace, and handcuffs seemed too heavy for her frame. Her gold metal badge caught the sun, blinding him with its glory. She’d shoot him if he told her she looked like a stripper in his wildest fantasies.

  When the golden halo around her faded, the shared understanding in her eye
s made him want to reach for her hand. She had a son. It could have been Keith. She didn’t preach to him about his duty as…well, he was the only father Dustin would ever have.

  “Do you ever worry about Keith growing up without a father?”

  Her eyes veiled immediately.

  “I only meant… Well, it struck me that my relationship to Dustin is rather like Tanner’s to Keith. I’m the uncle who’s always around, trying to fill in.”

  “When that terrible idea burrows into me on parents’ days at school, I think of how much more screwed up Keith would be if his father were around.”

  The chuckle bubbled out before he could stop it. “I’m not laughing at you. I guess I never thought of it that way. I admire your practicality.”

  She turned her radio down when it sparked to life again. “Let me check in for a minute.”

  He watched as she turned her back to him and recounted the incident in crisp tones, noting that she’d give more details later. She put her radio away.

  “I don’t see any reason for beating myself up over what–ifs.”

  Funny, talking with her was smoothing the knots in his gut better than the single malt. “Yet you sketched out the horrible what–ifs to my nephew and had him about ready to boot his breakfast.”

  “I’m a trained professional.” She capped the water bottle. “I didn’t think you’d let me go that far. Your friend sure didn’t like it.”

  “Cince and I play good cop/bad cop with Dustin all the time. His mom usually plays good cop, so we have to pick up the slack when he gets into trouble.”

  “Does Dustin know that?”

  “With two grifters like us, no way.”

  Her dark eyes fired up again. He hated seeing her turn into a prickly pear cactus when he talked about his card skills.

  “If he’s not onto you now, he will be soon.”

  “We’ll deal with it.”

  And they would. He and Abbie and the rest of the family they’d formed together. Dustin would have a better start than they’d had. That promise was forged in steel.

  Peggy bit her lip. “So, I guess I owe you an apology.”

  He cupped his ear. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

  “I said, ‘I owe you an apology.’ Are you deaf?”

  So, her internal compass won out every time. He had to admire it. “Not to my knowledge. I can hear the irritation in your tone just fine.” He tugged on his ear to make her squirm. “You said you ‘guess.’ There’s a big difference between guessing and knowing.”

  She slapped the water bottle down on the desk, showering his papers with condensation from the outside. “You can’t make this easy, can you?” She rose and headed to the door. Her masculine tan slacks with the wicked green stripe chasing from hip to ankle only accentuated her small, firm butt.

  He followed, the urge to stalk her growing with each step. She challenged him on every single point, and damned if it wasn’t refreshing.

  “Apologies don’t come easy for the two of us, but time doesn’t stop when we utter the words. Hell doesn’t freeze over either.”

  “I’m sorry,” she ground out like she was sharpening her tongue on a whetstone.

  “I’m sorry, Mac,” he urged, waiting to see how she’d respond.

  She crossed her arms, making her uniform stretch tight over her breasts. Her chest could have graced Vegas. He’d bet the size pissed her off. She probably bound them. He couldn’t stop himself from imagining how they’d feel in his hands.

  “Look, I said I was sorry. What more do you want?”

  He pressed his palms against the door, caging her in. Even though her eyes narrowed, he didn’t stop, didn’t step back. He wanted to touch her, smell the clean scent she wore on her hair and skin. He was taller than she was, something she probably hated. He brushed her shoulder with a finger and made sure it lingered long enough for her to know it wasn’t accidental.

  “I want you to use my name.” She never did, and it bothered him way more than it should.

  “Maven works for me.”

  “I like Mac better.” His light tone was a contrast to the war inside him. His heart beat in strong pulses.

  She lifted her hand—almost like she was going to flick away a fly—and then let it settle on her waist. “Good for you. Mac’s something you’d call a friend. We’re not friends.”

  “Perhaps not, but your resistance makes me think you’re not as immune to me as I thought. I wish things were different between us, Peg.”

  “Don’t call me Peg, and don’t make this personal.”

  He dipped his head so he could meet her gaze. She had a caramel–colored ring around those chocolate eyes. The tense line at the corners told him she wouldn’t put up with too much more, but in for a penny, in for a pound, as Cince always said.

  “I wish I could stop, but it is personal, Peg. As personal as it gets. You have no idea how hard it’s been to ignore you.”

  “Ignore me?” she asked as if she hadn’t done the same thing.

  His mouth curved. He thought about curving it over her unpainted lips. “It was either that or have it out with you in the street. Or show up at your house when I thought Keith was asleep and kiss you senseless. Since I knew you’d likely pull your gun on me in either situation, I chose the path of least resistance.” He reached out and traced her chin before she could jerk her head away. “Until the moose madness. You snuck back into my head again. I’m tired of trying to shut you out. Even on my best days, I can’t do it.”

  Something liquid rolled in those dark eyes before a flicker of fear came and went. “This is inappropriate talk. I’m here on official business.”

  He wanted to slap his hand against the door in pure frustration. “I don’t give a shit about inappropriate, and I don’t care what kind of business you’re here on.” He toyed with the ends of her short, page–boy hair. “God, I’ve missed that wary look. I’ve wondered how I could ever peel back enough layers to make you open yourself to me. I stopped thinking it was possible when you went after me personally at the city council meeting.” Even now, that wound burned, all hot and achy.

  She anchored both hands on her police–issue belt. “I was doing my job!”

  He shook his head slowly, falling into the rhythm of their energy, the push and pull between them. “No, you were protecting yourself. You didn’t want me in town. Face it, you never miss key details in a case, and yet you completely forgot to find out why the charges against me had been dropped.”

  She didn’t flinch from his stare. “I didn’t forget.”

  Understanding dawned, and with it, the wound burned anew. “You wanted me to take it personally.” He took a jagged breath. “Well, you’re goddamn right I did. You maligned my character in front of the whole town. I respected your efforts to stop the project. But you hit below the belt that day. You went after me and my family.”

  This time she used her palms to nudge him aside. “Step away. I don’t like you crowding me.”

  He pressed closer. Her back hit the door. She shoved at him, but he caught her wrists, careful to contain her without hurting her. Her boot caught him in the instep. He winced.

  “You can’t trust a man who’s interested in you. I realize that now.” He leaned his body against hers. That long, tense line shuddered against his raging flesh. Desire thundered through him like a flood, and his blood beat in his ears. “But you can trust me, Peg.”

  “Step back, or I won’t be responsible for what happens,” she warned, catching him again with her boot.

  He leaned closer. Before there might have been a few inches separating them, but now, there wasn’t a hairsbreadth. Their every curve fit together like tongue–and–groove construction. Her breath turned shaky. She shoved, but couldn’t dislodge him. Nothing would move him now.

  “You opened to me when we were in that car together. Then you stepped back again. Perhaps it’s time to try something different.”

  His mouth descended. He maintained eye contact.<
br />
  She had to choose him. She had to choose this.

  She turned her head, shaking. He forced himself to go completely still, his mouth inches from the delicate line where neck met shoulder. He ran his nose along her starched uniform collar, inhaling the clean scent. She bucked against him. He wasn’t sure if she wanted to move him or if she was simply reacting to his touch.

  “I want you, Peg,” he ground out, his voice vibrating with the desire he couldn’t contain. “God, I want you like I’ve never wanted anyone.”

  She tipped her face up to him. Those dark eyes were nearly black now. Her right temple beat insistently. Her lips parted, oh so slightly.

  Then she rose up on her tiptoes and pressed her mouth to his.

  He succumbed. Their first kiss was deep and forceful. After all these long months of longing, denial, and rejection, the shackles he’d forced himself to wear snapped free. When she opened her mouth under his, pressing against his body, her hands clamping his waist, he devoured her. They took from each other, scraping teeth, changing the angle of the kiss, unable to find enough to satiate their furious desire.

  When his hands cupped her curves through that coarse fabric, her head twisted against the door, a breathy moan shivering out between them. He pressed his knee between her thighs, wanting to hear another lusty cry from the strong woman he held. She gave it to him, and then another—this one long and tortured—when he rubbed circles around the hard points of her round breasts. His mouth bent to her neck, sucking the delicate skin there. Her hands curved around his butt, grinding her hips against his hardness. When he groaned, he saw a slight smile flash across her lips before he covered them again with his mouth.

  He grabbed her hands and pushed them back against the door, dipping his hips into hers, making her moan with the rhythm. God, he hadn’t thought about taking her against his office door for the first time, but he wasn’t sure he could stop—or wanted to. She was finally letting him see the woman she kept hidden behind her role as a single mom and a cop.

  She fought against his hands, so he let them go. She dived to her shirt’s buttons and opened them, tugging the material back from her simple white sports bra. He reached for her with trembling hands, eager to touch her soft flesh. He found her mouth. She moaned again as his tongue circled hers in quick passes, his hips following suit.