by C. C. Koen
During Emma’s story, Maggie took a seat at the breakfast nook, and became immersed in the memory as though it were her own. Sophia also joined her, burping Grace and rocking side to side. When Emma didn’t relay any more, she couldn’t help but ask, “And what? Did you call him?”
Emma’s cheeks turned red, and she shook her head no.
“Why not?” Maggie and Sophia said over one another.
Shrugging, Emma sighed and joined them on the bench seat. “It wasn’t the right time. There was so much going on, and I didn’t need the distraction.”
“So how’d it happen?” Sophia prompted. “Don’t leave us in suspense.”
“All right, I’m starved. Let’s eat. The birthday girls are screamin’ for cake,” Matt announced, while a parade of adults and kids followed him inside, all of them going into the dining room where the burgers, dogs, pizza, and other goodies had been set up.
Figuring she’d better go hunt down her daughter, Maggie scooted across the bench, about to get up. A second later Cece appeared, attached to Mr. Stone’s legs, her fingers gripping the belt loops on his jeans. Unable to walk normally with the extra weight, he flung his leg forward with Cece on it like a pendulum, and rocked back and forth with each step. His arms latched around her back, in a protective embrace. A collective sigh from the peanut gallery next to Maggie echoed in the kitchen, and she refused to admit the sound came from her own parted lips, too. Cece’s beaming smile and glowing adoration for Mr. Stone almost had her jumping out of her seat and snatching her daughter away. That single expression stabbed her in the heart, and brought a reappearance of the devil on her shoulder. No. Not him.
Perfect timing as usual, Kat swept in, yanked Cece off of him and declared, “Time for grubs, monster.”
“No monster, sweet pea,” Cece corrected.
The fact her daughter preferred Mr. Stone’s nickname landed another strike, stabbing Maggie between the eyes. She face-planted in her awaiting hands, cushioning the blow—somewhat. Someone rubbed up and down her spine.
“You feelin’ okay?” Sophia’s concern had been appreciated but unnecessary.
“Uh, Maggie, could I talk to you? In private.” Mr. Stone’s voice sounded close by. Too close.
No, you can’t. Go away.
Call it woman’s intuition or whatever, she almost kissed Emma for her out of the blue save. “Let Maggie get something to eat. I heard her stomach grumbling. She must be starved.”
Maggie could feel the jostle of the table as Emma and Sophia must have gotten up. Since she still had her face buried she couldn’t tell, just guessed. Counting to ten, she dropped her hands, expecting to be alone. No such luck.
Across from her, Mr. Stone tapped his thumb on the wooden surface, inches from her fingers. “When you’re done, we need to talk. It’s important.”
Years of dealing with her sister’s antics and handling the constant challenges that came from being a single parent, she rose as steadily as possible, more than prepared to tackle the next stumbling block. She leaned in, knuckle to knuckle, a bead of sweat rolling down her spine as she whispered, “What could you say that you haven’t already?”
A faint caress tickled the hairs on her finger, dragging her away from his attentive eyes. His thumb lifted and fell on the table in a flicking, daring taunt. If she didn’t get away from him right this minute, she’d smack him for a different reason.
One person after another walked by them on their way outside, tossing curious glances. Time to get a grip. She patted his shoulder and added a squeeze, clenching it a little too tight on purpose. “Well, Mr. Stone, better dive in before all the food is gone.” Then she escaped, filling a paper plate and doing her best to avoid his heated gaze.
Throughout the party, Mr. Stone attempted to corner Maggie. Cake being her favorite part of birthday celebrations, she scooped up a slice of vanilla just as a strong grip caught her elbow, almost dropping the perfect piece with three pink roses on the floor. He pressed his warm lips against her ear. “Stop avoiding me. I’ll be in Matt’s office down the hall. Bring the cake and meet me.”
As nonchalantly as possible, she licked the frosting off her fingers, pretending he hadn’t said anything, and that his zipper wasn’t glued to her behind. A cursory glance showed a few Westlake employees and other guests she didn’t recognize gathered on couches and chairs around a flat screen TV. The open-space concept presented a clear view from the kitchen through the dining area into the living room. A NASCAR race had the attention of the males and females, chatting and snacking as they took in the action on the screen. No one paid her any mind.
After he left, she stacked another huge slice of yummy goodness on the other piece and went outside to the swing set. Stuffing her mouth full of icing, she shoveled one forkful after another between her lips and watched the kids. They glided down the slide, swayed back and forth on the seats next to her, and jumped for the o-rings, rocking back and forth like monkeys. The distraction served its purpose. She had no intention of meeting him anywhere.
Filled with her daily dose of sugar and relaxed from a soothing swing, she wandered to the pool for a dip. With her feet dangling, she closed her eyes and aimed her face toward the sun. Kids’ shouts of glee made her smile and delight in their simple pleasure. Matt and Sophia knew how to throw a party. A variety of activities kept the thirty-some kids busy. The picnic tables had finger paints and art supplies. Brand new motorized Barbie jeeps drew boys and girls. Some of them were entertained by jumping on mini-trampolines, while others stood in a long line, including Cece, waiting for a pony ride. He who shall not be named had arranged the attraction as the twins’ gift.
No sooner did she have the thought, she felt someone sit next to her, along with a kerplunk and a gush of water splashing her thighs. “If you stay put and act casual, no one will know you’re pissed at me,” Mr. Stone uttered in a monotone.
She lifted the leg closest to him and kicked. The intent, splash and drown him out. Her sucky plan drenched her T-shirt and shorts. His wind-sucking howl indicated she must have missed him by a mile. Since she refused to open her eyes, she didn’t know for sure.
“Well, that was smart.”
Her annoyed quip came just as quickly. “What would be smart is if you stayed away.”
“Now, if I did that, I couldn’t give you my secret message, Maggie.” His cutesy tone aggravated her even more. Why couldn’t he take a hint?
“You see, the good thing about secrets is that they’re supposed to stay that way. So take it and shove it up—”
A huge hand covered her mouth, halting her whispered tirade. It didn’t stop him though. “I’ll tell you what. If you won’t let me say it, then I’ll have no choice but to write it down and send it to you.”
On automatic impulse her body stiffened. Other not so pleasant letters came to mind. The most recent arrived yesterday. It had been two weeks since she received the last threat. Jake’s brother, Donnie, helped him communicate from behind bars. Often Jake followed each correspondence with a call too, repeating the same message and blaming her for his conviction, even though she hadn’t been the deciding factor. Fingerprints and eyewitness testimony weighed in the decision, proving he robbed over twenty convenience stores. Yet, he swore she’d pay, an eye for an eye.
“Shh, relax.” Mr. Stone dropped his hand on her thigh; a sudden burning sensation, either from the sun or him, seared her skin. Seventy-degree temps gave her a chance to wear jean shorts. Now, with him touching her, she regretted having worn them. “It’s okay. Just give me a couple minutes. I don’t want to say what I have to around all these people.”
A sudden cry had every parent jerking around left and right trying to find out who was hurt. Next to a trampoline, a little boy lying in the grass had bloody teeth showing as he screamed in pain. Several adults rushed over to him, checking his arms and legs and helping him get up.
She stood and searched for her daughter. Both Kat and Cece were in the middle of a bunch of kids wait
ing in line. “Get over here, Mags. Your turn. I need a potty break.”
“Yeah, Mama, come here. Ride the horsey.” Jumping up and down, Cece held Kat’s hand and with the other waved her over.
Grateful for the opportunity to escape, she jogged over to them. Kat walked around Maggie, ducked down, and spoke low enough that Cece didn’t hear. “You know that little voice in your head, Mags, and all those rules you have. Listen to them.” Then off Kat went, darting past clusters of guests.
From fifty feet away, Maggie watched as her sister careened over to Mr. Stone and stood inches apart from him. Kat’s globe-sized sunglasses prohibited Maggie from getting a read on her sister’s facial expressions but it didn’t matter. She could just imagine Kat’s words of wisdom, none of which could be repeated around impressionable children.
Now she regretted telling Kat what Mr. Stone said about her parenting skills. In return, Kat told her to “ignore the ass” and avoid him. Easier said than done since events like this made it impossible. As much as she tried to play keep away, he sought her out. It didn’t help that Cece wouldn’t stop hounding him either. Maggie wasn’t sure how to handle him. She might not want or need a man in her own life, but that didn’t mean Cece couldn’t gain a lot from good men like her boss. As for Mr. Stone, she’d go with the flow and figure out how to limit Cece’s access.
“My turn. Pick me up, Mama.” Cece yanked her forward. The pony stomped its hoof and the guide held his hand out, prepared to catch the bouncing little girl eager to get on.
Hoisted onto the saddle, Cece grabbed the reins and watched as the elderly man showed the proper way to loop a thumb and forefinger through them. As the pony and guide moved, so did Maggie, following the designated path. Thank goodness for the restricted area, since large clumps of poop made it difficult to navigate, causing her to dart around at least ten piles. Yuck, what a mess. If she were Matt, she’d force Mr. Stone to clean up before he left. A kick in her knee pulled her gaze away from her flip-flops to Cece’s enormous grin. She forgot about everything else and took pleasure in her daughter’s happiness.
That much she could provide.
There weren’t many children in their neighborhood Cece’s age, so when she asked to stay longer to play, Maggie had a hard time saying no. By eight o’clock though and most partygoers long gone, she went upstairs to check on the kids. Lizbeth, Harley, and Cece were asleep in beanbag chairs, Frozen playing on the TV. She turned it off and picked up Cece. A heavy sleeper, the jostling hadn’t even woken her. She’d let Matt know about the girls when she got downstairs, since Sophia had the baby in the bath.
Headed through the hallway, she turned toward the stairs and ran right into Mr. Stone as he stepped onto the landing. With her foot midair, she lost her balance, bouncing off him. His strong arms wrapped around her waist, yanking her and Cece into his chest and backing her into the wall. Face to face, breath to breath, lips a mere centimeter apart, shivers flowed in slow motion from her toes to tingling mouth. His broadened stance and rock-hard thighs braced hers. With Cece cushioned high on her waist in between them, they were pelvis to pelvis. That thought sent pins and needles through her, causing her core to clench and eliciting another tremble.
Mr. Stone breathed, “Maggie.” His lower lip slid along hers as he tugged her tighter.
Ignoring better judgment, she nipped his moist flesh and sucked him into her mouth. He groaned, and their tongues twirled and entwined, battling for control. His firm grasp cupped her behind and lifted her toward him, rubbing and stroking his hardness into the throb between her legs. Over the thumping heartbeat in her ears and a shift of weight in her arms, common sense got slapped into her when she heard a sleepy, “Max . . . Mama.”
She wasn’t sure which of them leapt away first. When it happened, they wore similar expressions: flushed cheeks, glossy lips, and wide alert eyes. The impromptu tryst took her by surprise too. Their heavy panting batted back and forth, off of each other. Her throat tightened and flashbacks assaulted her—Jake, his explosive desire for her in the beginning, and then Cece came along, and he couldn’t stomach the sight of her or his daughter. Lust, attraction, pheromones—whatever this might be wouldn’t last. Men wanted one thing—sex, a challenge. Once they had it, they moved on. Just as Jake had, cheating on her time and time again. This man wasn’t any different. His one-night stand disclosed as much at the restaurant, and his reaction proved it.
Finished with the encounter and him, she concentrated on Cece instead. Her daughter’s eyes were shuttered and there hadn’t been another peep out of her. She grabbed the railing and dashed around him, catapulting down the stairs. No one trailed her, and she marched through the vacant first floor in search for Matt, finding him sprawled on a hammock in the backyard chatting with Kat. After letting him know the girls had to be tucked into bed, she ordered her sister out of the hot tub and hurried toward the gate for a quick escape.
Her sister’s head-banger tunes did nothing to obscure her manic thoughts or drown out her brain’s furious and distraught lecture during the drive home.
That was beyond stupid.
Forget he exists.
You have enough to deal with.
You need to focus on your daughter.
No matter what Emma said, he’s not a family man.
He’ll break your heart and your daughter’s.
Whatever it takes do not let him in.
No way.
No how.
Never.
Ever.
HOW DID HE FUCK THAT up—again? All he wanted to do was apologize for mouthing off and embarrassing her in front of his employees. He hadn’t been sorry for what he said, just how it came out. She really needed to be more careful where the little bugger kept running off to. Twenty-five floors high, their building provided a lot of nooks and crannies for Cece to hide in, let alone the worst possibility, someone could take her. He might not want kids of his own, but he never wanted harm to come to anyone else’s children.
Given multiple chances to set things straight, he’d blown it. Not only with that, he screwed up big time by kissing her. Damn, that had been stupid. His tongue was still on fire, and the second he had Maggie in his arms, he got an instant hard-on. If they had been alone, he would have ripped off her tiny shorts and rammed into her from behind. And that thought pissed him off all over again.
Slamming his fist against the wall, he sucked in an overwhelmed breath and blew out his frustration. All he could smell were vanilla cupcakes, sprinkled with a dozen candy-coated flavors. Maggie’s passion fruit center and her addictive spices clung to his taste buds and permeated every cell in his body. In an attempt to scrub her scent off, he rubbed a hand over his mouth and clasped them on top of his head, beating a path up and down the hall, cursing to high heaven and himself.
A clearing throat halted him mid-step at the twins’ bedroom. When he glanced over his shoulder, he cringed at another head-on collision waiting to happen. Matt leaned against the railing, his arms crossed. “What’d you do?”
“Fuck off.” He dropped his arms and bolted to the stairs. “I was gonna give the girls a kiss good night, but you can do that for me. I’m outta here.” Before he made it to the second step, Matt grabbed his shoulder, stopping him.
“Why you fightin’ it so hard? Just give in. Maggie would be perfect for you.”
He clamped onto Matt’s wrist and backed up a step, squaring off and putting them on even footing. “You must have one hell of a boring life if you can’t stay out of mine. Maybe you’re not gettin’ enough. Is that it? Tryin’ to live through me, Matt?”
An instant shot came at Rick’s jaw and got blocked by his forearm before he shoved Matt off. Never one to miss out on a good fight, Matt dove in again, taking a potshot at his cheek when Sophia jumped in between them, slapping their chests.
“Knock it off.”
Had Rick not been pissed, he would’ve gotten a good laugh out of Sophia trying to manhandle two hundred plus pounds, and the six foot
two males, dwarfing her.
“You hotheads, cool it. Whatever the problem is, it isn’t worth ruining your friendship.” Sophia grabbed her husband’s cheeks, insisting he look at her. “We all had such a good time, let’s not finish it this way.” Pussy whipped, Matt forgot all about him as he yanked Sophia by the hips and crashed his mouth onto hers. Then Matt lifted his gaze and shot him the middle finger.
Aiming one right back, he darted down the stairs, slamming the door on his way out.
After another jam-packed schedule, one off-site meeting after another, Rick entered the lobby at four thirty hoping Mrs. Collins didn’t have a pile of messages waiting for him.
“Hi ya, Mr. Stone, how’s it goin’ today?” Sam, the security guard, called out.
As often as possible, Rick would stop and shoot the breeze. Grateful for the diversion, he set his briefcase on the counter, relaxing for a change. “Did you catch the fights last night?”
“Don’t miss 'em.” Sam swung his fist toward his own chin, mimicking an upper cut. “Mendoza KO’d Faust in the first round. How about that? You owe me a Jackson. Your loss is my gain, Mr. Stone. You keep on addin’ to my retirement fund.” Sam rubbed his hands together and extended his palm out.
Rick pulled the wallet from his back pocket, thumbed through the cash, and tossed a twenty on the counter. “I thought I’d beat you this time. Faust was the favorite.”
“Ah, you got to look at more than the odds. Mendoza may be up 'n’ coming, but he didn’t get the bout with the middleweight champ for no reason. That boy has fists of steel.”
