She responded with a shake of her head as she tickled his lips apart for another kiss. Tilting back her head, she took all of him as his tongue collided with hers. He’d been with plenty of women through the years, but no one set him on fire the way Maggie did. It was more about emotion than sex. She was his soul mate, his destiny—sappy words or not, it was the truth. He’d just been too stubborn to admit it.
He finished the kiss with a quick peck to her nose, pulling back to smile at the flush in her cheeks. There was so much he wanted to say at this minute, but for now, he just gazed into her sultry eyes, swimming with desire. He was taking her home—that was all there was to it.
“Let’s go home,” he whispered.
“I can’t.”
“What do you mean? What was this?”
She gave him a half-smile as she grazed her finger from his temple down his cheek. His heart thumped in his chest. She was getting ready to drop the hammer down, like she’d done so many times before. “This was a special moment.”
“Maggie.”
“One I’ll always cherish.”
She peeled herself out of his arms, keeping him in her sights as she backed away. She pulled her car keys out of her back pocket and turned toward the parking lot. Not saying another word, she drove away.
* * *
The next day, Travis maneuvered himself down the metal staircase, tired and grumpy, determined to do some work at the garage, anything to get his mind off the night before. He’d tossed and turned, struggling to understand what had happened between him and Maggie in the park. She’d kissed him with enough electricity to light up a city block. But when he asked her to come home with him, she gave him some bullshit about cherishing that moment.
As long as he lived, he’d never understand that woman.
Reaching the bottom of the steps, he fit his crutches under his arms and crossed the asphalt toward the mailbox. A few cars beeped, and drivers waved at him as they rode by. He yanked down the squeaky door and reached inside, pulling out a stack of envelopes. Before heading back to the garage, he flipped through the pile, fnding mostly bills, until he landed on a shiny, square white envelope. Dread streaked down his back. Tucking the rest of the mail under his arm, he ripped open the envelope. He pulled the card from inside, drawing in a breath as the other envelopes tumbled to the ground.
You’re cordially invited to the marriage of Margaret Timbrook and Frederick Garrett.
Chapter 21
Travis didn’t care what he had promised himself. He wouldn’t allow Maggie to marry Buddy, not after their steamy kiss in the park. It had been raw and needy, a mega-watt kiss that had left him breathless—and confused. Her body had screamed she wanted him, but her words left another message. What was this me first and living in the moment bullshit? Was she trying to say that kiss was on a whim, that it was nothing? That was a load of crap, and he would call her out on it as soon as he found her. He had called her cell phone six times, even texted Carly, who was on her way to Myrtle Beach. She had no idea where her mother had gone. He’d find Maggie and convince her to call off the wedding. Hell, if he had to, he’d kidnap that crazy woman to keep her from marrying Buddy.
Gravel flew as he skidded to a stop outside the Brass Rail. He threw his truck into park and took another glance at the wedding invitation. It was the original, but the location was scratched out. Instead of the church, it said the courthouse. The date had been changed to this coming Saturday. That gave him five days to convince Maggie she was making a mistake.
He climbed out of the truck, leaning on his crutches, happy that his cast would be removed next week. Thank the Lord he’d broken his left leg because he would’ve gone nuts by now if he couldn’t drive. He pulled the heavy oak door open and loped inside, blinking to adjust to the darkened space. Penny was handing a beer to a customer sitting near the taps.
“Is Maggie here?” he called out as he maneuvered toward the bar.
“Hey, Travis,” Penny said, “what brings you out in the middle of the day?”
“I’m looking for your sister. Is she here?”
“Nope. Want a beer?”
“Where is she?” He leaned his crutches against the bar and hitched himself onto a tall stool.
“I’ve got the new Misty Mountain Seasonal IPA. Want to give it a try?”
Penny had that same ultra-happy smile and perk in her step that Maggie had displayed at the party. The Timbrook sisters were the worst actresses he’d ever encountered. What secret were they sharing?
“I want to know where Maggie is. I’ve called her a half-dozen times, and Carly doesn’t know where she is. I assume she’s not here. I didn’t see her car.”
She shrugged and picked up a damp towel, keeping her gaze cast down as she rubbed a circle in the shiny wood countertop. “She’s probably running errands.”
“On a Sunday?”
“Maybe she went to church.”
“I went past there and didn’t see her car.”
“Well, I don’t know what to tell you.” She stopped cleaning the same spot on the counter and walked away, wringing the cloth in her hands. Penny knew exactly where Maggie was, and he aimed to find out.
Leaving his crutches against the bar, he limped a few seats down and braced his hands against the rail. She hovered over the sink with her hands in the sudsy water.
“You’re not fooling me any.”
“I’m really busy right now, Travis.”
“Yeah, that beer glass is going to take you all day to wash.” He glared at her until she was forced to look at him. “You know where Maggie is and you’re going to tell me right now.”
“Look . . .” She slammed the wet cloth on the counter beside the sink. “I promised Maggie not to say anything.”
“So you do know where she is.”
“She’s out of town.”
“With Buddy?”
“Stop asking me.” She tossed the wet cloth back in the sink, charged to the end of the bar, and slammed a vodka bottle on the back counter. By the time Travis hobbled behind the bar and now stood beside her, she had pulled all the liquor off the shelves and was frantically running a duster over each surface.
“Penny.” He wrenched the wand out of her hand. “Okay, so Maggie told you not to say anything about where she is. I get it. You’re staying out of her way. But surely you’ll stop her from marrying Buddy.”
“That’s for Maggie to decide.” She snatched the duster out of his hand and turned away from him.
“Did she tell you he’s a fraud and a thief? I had Chief Kirk run a background check. The guy has been married twice and has kids. He didn’t tell her that.”
“So, he lied. What man doesn’t?”
“I don’t.” He grabbed her shoulders, forcing her around to face him. “I’ve never lied to Maggie in my life.”
Penny burst out a feigned laugh, crossing her arms around her middle.
“Why are you laughing?”
“You’ve lied to her for years.”
“About what?”
“About the fact that you’re still in love with her.”
“I wouldn’t call that—”
“Okay, let’s call it lying by omission. How many times over the years have you had the chance to tell her how you feel?”
“Not many. She’s either been about-to-be-married, married, or getting over a divorce.”
“Too bad she’s about to get married again.”
“Exactly. We have to stop her. Buddy is a snake. He’ll steal all her money and break her heart.”
“She’s married worse.”
He hopped on one foot until his back hit the countertop, rubbing his hand down the length of his face. Maggie had married an abuser and a philanderer, and now she was about to marry a fraud. He hadn’t been here when she married husband number two, so he couldn’t have warned her. When she married the third guy, he kept his mouth shut because she seemed genuinely happy. But now, knowing what he did about Buddy, and the way she kissed
him last night, he was determined to stop this wedding.
“Listen, Travis, my recommendation is to just step back and give her space. Her mind is made up.” Penny wrapped her hands around his upper arms and looked him square in the eye. “She’s going to go through with her plans. There’s nothing you can do or say to stop her.”
“But I—”
“Let her do it her way. She knows what she’s doing. It will all work out in the end.”
* * *
That trip to the Brass Rail had been nothing but a pain-in-the-ass waste of time. Travis had spent ten minutes pleading with Penny to tell him how to reach Maggie. He’d begged her to step in and convince her sister not to marry the bum. She was hiding Maggie’s whereabouts and had the balls to tell him to stay out of her sister’s way. She knows what she’s doing. Like hell she did!
She’d nearly gotten killed in one marriage and had been humiliated in the other. Now she was about to hitch herself to a lowdown, lying weasel who would drag her into bankruptcy. Travis had been too busy apologizing for digging up dirt on Buddy when he should’ve been investigating deeper. He’d lay money there was more illegal crap in Buddy’s history.
Within minutes, Travis was outside Chief Kirk’s two-story colonial, knocking on the door. He hated to bother the chief on a Sunday, but this couldn’t wait. He had less than a week to get some real intel on Buddy.
The chief’s wife opened the door. “Hey, Travis. How nice of you to stop by.”
Jenny looked good. Although she leaned on a cane, her back slightly crooked from the MS, her complexion was bright. She frequently suffered from acute pain, and he’d helped out over the years by providing some much-needed relief in the form of marijuana. The prescription drug she was now taking must be doing the trick.
“How are you, Jenny?” He pecked a kiss to her cheek as he came through the door. “The chief around?”
“He’s out back, puttering in the vegetable garden.”
“Think he’d mind me interrupting?”
“He’d love it. You know that. But be careful, he might ask you to pull a few weeds.”
He chuckled as he held out a crutch. “I’m afraid I won’t be much help today.”
Jenny led him through the kitchen and out the backdoor, where he found the chief down on all fours in a row of runner beans.
“Help has arrived,” the chief called as he climbed to his feet.
“I told Jenny I wouldn’t be much help today. But you can count on me next season.”
“I’ll hold you to it.” The chief pulled the garden gloves from his hands, dirt flying as he smacked the pair against his thigh. “What’s up?”
Travis nodded his head toward some lawn chairs set up under a spreading oak tree. The chief followed him and took a seat beside him.
“Look, Dale, I don’t want to get you in any hot water, but I need more information on Buddy Garrett.”
“There wasn’t enough for you in the background check?”
“No, I think there’s more to this guy than just a couple of wives and kids and some unpaid bills. My gut is telling me he’s living a double life, maybe even a criminal one.”
“Well, Travis, I’d be happy to help, but without something to go on, my hands are tied.”
“I get it. No worries.” Travis patted his friend on the back, letting his hand rest on his shoulder. “I was thinking about a private detective. You know any?”
“I can get you a couple of names, but do you really want to go down that road?”
“I thought it might help to look into Buddy’s employment history. Get the story on why he was fired. Follow him around. See what he does when he’s out of town.”
“I can make a few calls and get back to you next week.”
Next week would be too late. He had to present the findings to Maggie before she walked down the aisle.
“Any way you can give me the names now? I’ll be happy to call them myself.”
“What’s the rush?”
“I’ve got a small window of time before I lose out again.”
Maggie had a lot of loose ends to tie up before Saturday. The first item on her list had been taken care of this morning.
Before Buddy left on his sales trip, Maggie had gone over to his place. She had found him coming out of his ground floor apartment with his suitcase in his hand. His car was in the complex parking lot, and the trunk was standing open.
“Well, mercy me. What brings you out so early, darlin’?”
“I wanted to see you off.”
“I thought we said our good-byes last night.”
“We did.” She met up with him by his car, and he quickly slammed the open trunk. She kissed him on the cheek, and her stomach roiled. His eyes darted between her and the trunk, and she wondered what he’d been hiding. She gave herself an internal shake, not to let her suspicions deter her from her plans.
“I did a lot of thinking last night after we hung up.”
“Oh, yeah?” His car keys jiggled in his hand.
“I think we should get married next week. Saturday. Let’s not wait.”
“That’s soon.”
“I thought you were anxious to get married. We’ll go to the courthouse. Keep it simple.”
“I am, I am. Sure.” Buddy leaned against his car, pulling her into his arms. “Let’s do it.”
“Can you reschedule the honeymoon cruise? I’m sure there’s an open cabin on one of the ships.”
“I’ll do it tomorrow.”
“Just put it on your credit card, and we’ll pay it off when we get back.”
“Okay. It’s decided. We’re finally getting hitched.”
She bounced against his belly when he pulled her tight, smothering her mouth with a wet kiss. Her mind went straight to Travis and the kiss they’d shared in the park. No one kissed like him. No one awakened her body the way Travis did. How had she gone so long in denying this fact? She tolerated Buddy’s sloppy kiss a few seconds longer and then pulled back. For the first time in her life, she had the clarity she needed. It was as if blinders had been covering her eyes.
She watched Buddy pull away. A wry grin lifted her cheek as she waved good-bye. He would be gone most of the week but would return in time for the wedding. This time there wouldn’t be a church full of people—just a few witnesses.
* * *
Now, traveling west on I-70, she flipped on her blinker when she spotted the exit. She had left shortly after bidding Buddy good-bye for the three-hour drive to Columbus, where she planned to follow-up on some of the information revealed about him in the background check. She had gone through the information Travis had uncovered, and done a little digging on her own. Hopefully this trip wouldn’t be a waste of time but would reveal even more about her fiancé.
She had entered her last two marriages without really knowing either man. They had both been charming and handsome and seemed to truly love her. At the time, that was all she needed. She was older and wiser now and had to be clear-headed about the man she planned to meet inside the courthouse on Saturday. No more blind trust.
The entrance to the mobile home park came on her quickly, its gate wide open at the hairpin curve in the road. Maggie slammed on the brakes and made a sharp right onto the dusty, gravel lane. Single wide trailers were packed in like pickles in a jar on either side of the road, one beside the other with a patch of grass between. The last known residence of Buddy Garrett was somewhere tucked among these homes, some with rusted out roofs and crumbling porches. She slowed at the first intersection, checking the address she’d written on the back of an envelope, and flipped her turn signal. Buddy had lived on Lantern Lane in trailer number ten. She rolled to a stop in front of a mobile home with gray and white aluminum siding and cut the engine. A barefoot toddler with shaggy blond hair stood on the wooden deck wearing only a diaper.
“There’s no turning back now,” Maggie mumbled as she climbed out of the car and walked up the cracked, crumbling sidewalk.
The t
railer door opened, and a skinny woman stepped out, snatching the child into her arms. Her hair lay past her shoulders and was colored a vibrant, unnatural shade of red.
“You looking for somebody?” The redhead asked, eyes narrowing with suspicion.
“Yes, hello. I was wondering if Buddy Garrett still lives here.”
“Who’s asking?”
“My name is Maggie Timbrook. Are you—”
“I’m his ex-wife, but he ain’t here.”
Maggie’s stomach roiled, bile burned her throat. The redhead had confirmed that Buddy had lied to her. He had been married—one of two marriages he had failed to reveal. What else had he lied about? She glanced at the child and noticed the resemblance. He or she had the same gray eyes, the same chubby cheeks.
“When, um . . .” Maggie cleared the lump from her throat. “When was the last time you saw him?”
“Let me see your badge.”
“My what?”
“You’re a cop, ain’t ya?”
What kind of trouble was Buddy in that this woman—his ex-wife—expected Maggie to be a police officer?
“No, I’m not a cop, but I would like to talk to you. Could we sit down?” Maggie waved at the plastic chairs on the deck. Her knees were about to give out.
“I guess.” Buddy’s ex-wife sat on one of the chairs and settled her child on her lap.
“You didn’t tell me your name.”
“Tiffany.”
“Tiffany Garrett. How long were you and Buddy married?”
“Six years.” Tiffany set the child on the deck, handing him or her a garden hose to play with. “I don’t like answering questions without knowing what you want.”
“Of course, I understand. I wanted to meet you because . . .” Maggie twisted the engagement ring on her finger, glancing at Buddy’s pale, waif-like ex. “. . . I, um, am engaged to Buddy.”
“Huh?”
“We’re supposed to get married on Saturday.”
Unmoving, her face devoid of expression, Tiffany stared at Maggie for what felt like minutes, never blinking or breathing. It was like she had turned to stone. Finally, she shook her head, shrugged her shoulders, and burst out laughing.
Whatever Love Means Page 19