“I’m glad I could help.”
“Would you be willing to help us again?” he asked, glancing briefly at her.
“How?”
“I offered Duke a twenty percent increase in his wages if he’d stay on. I’d be willing to make the same deal with you if you’d come back and work for Midnight Sons.”
Mariah gasped. The request itself didn’t shock her, but she took offense at the inducement he’d used. “Is that what the kiss was all about?” she asked, struggling to hold in her anger.
“No.” He looked directly into her eyes. “I swear the kiss had nothing to do with this.” His face fell. “I’m sorry, Mariah,” he said, vaulting to his feet. “I really bungled that. You must think I’m a complete jerk. Forget I asked.” He started to walk away and she stopped him.
“Christian.”
He whirled around, and his expression was so hopeful she had to restrain herself from laughing.
“I haven’t made any long-term plans yet. The fire…well, it raised a number of questions regarding my future.” She took a deep breath. “I’ll come back to Midnight Sons on two conditions.”
“Name them.”
“One, Ben has to give his permission, because technically I still work for him.”
“No problem. Ben’s a good friend, and he knows Sawyer and I are going crazy without you.”
She smiled, agreeing that Ben would willingly let her go. Although he appreciated her help, it was all too apparent that she wasn’t cut out for waitressing.
“Second,” she said, “I’ll only agree to work for you—”
“Great!”
“Wait, I haven’t finished.”
The look on his face was almost comically expectant.
“I’ll work for you,” she said, “but only until you can find a permanent replacement.”
Chapter
8
WHEN CHRISTIAN ENTERED the Midnight Sons office Tuesday morning, he was met by the welcoming scent of a freshly brewed pot of coffee.
“Good morning, Christian,” Mariah said cheerfully.
It was all he could do not to close his eyes and exhale a deep, fervent breath of relief. His life was about to return to normal. Mariah was back. The temptation to kiss her—to show her how grateful he was—nearly overwhelmed him.
“Would you care for some coffee?” she asked, automatically pouring him a cup.
“Please.” Christian saw that her hands had been freed from the bulky bandages. Gauze was lightly wrapped around her palms, giving her the use of her fingers.
He sat down at his desk and resisted the urge to lace his hands behind his head and prop his feet up. He figured Mariah might perceive that as overconfidence, and the last thing he wanted to do was annoy her.
“Here you go,” she murmured, setting the mug down in front of him.
Christian beamed her a smile of heartfelt appreciation. At his first sip, however, he grimaced. She’d added cream and sugar. Still, his disappointment was minimal; she could’ve added horseradish and he wouldn’t have complained. In time, maybe ten or twenty years, she’d learn he liked his coffee black.
Mariah was back, and right now that was all that mattered.
The morning sped past with such ease it was well after noon before Christian noticed the time.
“I’m going over to Ben’s for lunch,” he told his brother.
“Okay,” Sawyer answered distractedly. “Don’t forget this is my afternoon off. I’m flying Abbey in for an ultrasound later.”
“I didn’t forget.” Christian smiled to himself. His brother made a great father.
Ben was busy flipping hamburgers on the griddle when Christian walked into the café. “You can put on an extra burger for me,” he called, and hopped onto a stool.
“You want fries with that?” Ben called back.
Christian shook his head. “Do you have any potato salad?”
“Not today,” Ben told him. “How about macaroni?”
“Sure.” He was easy to please, especially today.
The bell over the door chimed, and Charles walked in. He sat on the stool next to Christian. “You alone?” he asked.
Christian looked pointedly at the empty stool on his other side. “So it seems. What makes you ask?”
Charles shrugged and pulled the menu from behind the sugar canister. “I thought you might be taking Mariah to lunch,” he said absently as he scanned the selections he’d seen perhaps a thousand times before.
“Why would I do that?” Christian asked, finding the question odd.
“Why not? You’re the one who was kissing her in the middle of the school gymnasium. I assumed you two were an item now.”
Ben walked past them to a middle-aged couple sitting at a table in the back of the café. “Be right with you, Charles.”
“No problem.”
“Mariah and I are not an item,” Christian said evenly. The kiss meant nothing. He had half a mind to explain that he was just playing along with that little fantasy of hers, but decided against it. His explanation would only give his brother extra ammunition.
Charles arched one brow. “If you say so.”
“I do,” Christian said. It annoyed him that his own brother, someone whose judgment he trusted, hadn’t been able to tell the difference between fantasy and reality, between a “dream” kiss and waking love.
Fortunately Ben delivered his hamburger at that moment. He took Charles’s order, then promptly disappeared into the kitchen.
“I talked to Mom this morning,” Charles announced.
They didn’t often hear from their mother. Christian made an effort to call Ellen once or twice a month—had, in fact, visited her a few weeks earlier—but she’d remarried and lived a full life in British Columbia now. She loved to travel and took frequent trips with her new husband. Books remained an important part of her life, especially since Robert owned several bookstores. She was independent of her sons now and very much her own woman.
“She said something curious,” Charles murmured thoughtfully; he seemed a bit awed, even shaken. “She was telling me how much she enjoyed having Scott and Susan with her. Then, out of the blue, she said that the three of us were her…connection to life.”
Christian frowned. “Her connection to life?”
“Yes. Now that both Sawyer and I are married and Abbey’s pregnant, she said she’s begun to feel freer to keep in touch with us. To reach out more often. Apparently she was afraid of intruding in our lives.”
“There’s no need for her to feel that way.”
“That’s what I told her, but she dismissed it. She told me she’s had to stop herself for years from playing too large a role in our lives. Frankly I don’t understand it. I thought she preferred to keep her distance. I don’t know about you, but I had the feeling the three of us were reminders of all those unhappy years she lived in Hard Luck.”
“They weren’t all unhappy.”
“Perhaps not, but it seemed that way,” Charles said. “I assumed that because she has a new life now, she’s comfortable with the separation.”
“Yes and no.” Christian, as the son closest to his mother, spoke with a certain authority.
“I told her that,” Charles said, smiling, “and you should’ve heard the lecture I got. It was pointed out to me that, as her children, we represent her past, share her present and form her future. That’s the connection-to-life stuff she was talking about.”
“Sounds as though you two cleared the air.”
“Yes,” Charles agreed, “only I wasn’t aware we’d been at odds.”
“You weren’t,” Christian assured him. “All you both needed was a bit of…clarification.”
Charles said nothing more for a moment. Then, finally, “She loved him, you know.”
“Dad?”
Charles nodded. “For a time I wondered about that, but I realize now how deeply she cared for him. It wasn’t a perfect marriage, but they loved each other in their own ways.”
<
br /> “No marriage is perfect,” Christian muttered, and bit into his hamburger. He’d leave all that happy-ever-after stuff to Charles and Sawyer. He was thirty-one and had no intention of settling down. Not for a good long while, anyway.
“I don’t know about no marriage being perfect,” Charles said, grinning broadly. “But I’m happy with the current state of mine.”
“Sure—you and Lanni are newlyweds.”
Charles shook his head in a kind of wonder. “It seems like we’ve always been together. I’m happy, Chris, happier than I can remember being in many years.”
Christian was pleased for his brother, but he reminded himself again that married life wasn’t for him.
“Here you are,” Ben said, bringing Charles his turkey sandwich. “Now I can take a load off my feet.” He pulled up a stool and sat on the opposite side of the counter. “I’ve been busier than a one-handed piano player,” he said with a heavy sigh.
“Do you miss Mariah?” Christian asked, feeling slightly guilty.
“What do you think?” Ben responded. “Of course I miss her. She might have confused orders and broken a few dishes, but she lent a willing hand. And the customers loved her—not to mention her pies. Fact is, I’m going to hire someone else as soon as I can get around to it.”
“Good,” Charles murmured between bites. “It’s about time you did.”
“That’s what I’ve been saying.” Ben wiped his brow with his forearm.
Christian finished his burger and slid the empty plate away. Ben reached for the dish and added it to a stack behind the counter. “People have been talking about you and Mariah all morning,” he said casually. “You sure have set tongues wagging.” Ben chuckled. “What’s this I hear about you kissing her in front of half the town?”
Christian ignored the question. “Talking? Who’s talking, and what are they saying?”
“Most folks around here seem to think you two’re as good as married.”
Charles burst out laughing. “That’s what you get, little brother. If you don’t want people to talk, then you shouldn’t dance with Mariah again. Especially if you’re going to take part in her fantasies.”
“It’s not like that,” Christian told Ben, pretending he hadn’t heard Charles. “Mariah and I are…friends. Good friends. Nothing more.”
“Sawyer and I are brothers and friends,” Charles said lightly, “but you don’t see me kissing him.”
“Very funny,” Christian muttered sarcastically.
He wasn’t about to get involved in a verbal battle with Charles and Ben. He’d let them have their fun. They could think what they wanted, but he knew the truth—and for that matter, so did Mariah.
Christian slipped off the stool, looked at his tab and slapped the money down on the counter. In his eagerness to make a clean getaway, he nearly collided with Bill Landgrin.
They eyed each other warily. Bill hadn’t been at the Labor Day dance, and for that Christian was grateful.
“Hello, Bill,” he said. Even if he didn’t think much of the other man, there was no need to be rude.
Bill acknowledged the greeting with an inclination of his head. “I hear you’ve decided to marry Mariah, after all.”
“What?” Christian exclaimed. He was getting frustrated with having to defend himself against this crazy talk. “Who told you that?” he demanded, and sent an accusing glare at Charles and Ben.
“Not those two, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Bill told him.
“Then who?” Rumors like this had to be stopped before they did damage.
“Practically everyone I’ve talked to this morning. They all saw you kiss Mariah.”
“Just because I kissed her doesn’t mean I’m going to marry her! That’s insane!”
“Everyone knows how she feels about you.”
“No way!” Christian said, unwilling to listen. After all, she’d accepted Duke’s invitation to the dance, which disproved that theory.
“Why else do you think the single men in town haven’t beaten a path to her door?” Bill asked. “We knew it wouldn’t do any good, because she set her sights on you from the first moment she arrived. Oh, she was nice enough to the rest of us, but we all knew we didn’t stand a chance.”
“If you believe she’s interested in me, then why’d you ask her to the dance?”
“Because she wasn’t working for you anymore. I figured she’d given up beating her head against a brick wall, pining for you, but I was wrong. She’s as stuck on you as ever. Poor woman.”
Christian chose to ignore the last part. “There’s nothing between Mariah and me.” He was getting tired of having to explain it.
“That’s not what I hear.”
“And I’m saying whatever you heard isn’t true.” Christian had to struggle to keep his voice level.
“Then you don’t mind if the rest of us pursue her,” Bill asked, meeting his gaze evenly.
Christian opened his mouth to object, to tell them he felt responsible for Mariah’s welfare, but then he closed it. If he did protest, Bill would discount everything he’d just said.
“Sure,” he muttered, “but you don’t need my permission.” He’d talk to Mariah himself and offer her some advice regarding the so-called eligible men in Hard Luck.
As soon as he could extricate himself from the conversation, Christian made his way back to the office.
Duke had returned from the mail run into Fairbanks and was finishing up his paperwork when Christian stepped into the trailer. Mariah was nowhere in sight, and the pilot sat on a corner of her desk, one foot squarely planted on the floor, the other dangling. “So, how does it feel to have Mariah back?”
Christian laughed. “Like a reprieve from the warden.”
Duke set the clipboard aside. “Are you and Mariah going to make a formal announcement soon?”
“A what?” Christian’s patience was shot. “Listen, Duke, I wish you and everyone else would get this straight. Mariah and I are not romantically involved. We never have been and we never will be.”
The pilot didn’t bother to conceal his surprise. “You’re not?”
“Absolutely not!” To Christian’s relief, Mariah came out from the back room just then. “Ask her yourself,” he said heatedly, gesturing in her direction.
“Ask me what?” She looked from one man to the other.
“There appears to be a rumor about us floating around town.” Christian folded his arms over his chest.
“Well, if you two aren’t involved, what were you doing kissing in front of the entire town?” Duke asked.
If Christian had to explain this one more time, he’d scream. “It wasn’t what it looked like!”
Duke rubbed a hand across his beard with a reflective expression. “It looked obvious enough to me.”
“Tell him, Mariah,” Christian said.
She stared at him blankly.
“Mariah,” he said through gritted teeth, “this isn’t funny anymore. Tell him.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“The truth! That you and I are not involved. That we’re nothing more than friends.”
She turned to Duke, and it seemed to take her a long time to speak. “Christian and I are not involved. We’re…nothing more than friends.”
Christian threw his hands in the air. “I rest my case.”
IT WAS EXTREMELY unfortunate, Mariah felt, that she’d lacked the nerve to empty the coffeepot over Christian’s head. The man was an insensitive lout.
They were trapped together in the office all afternoon, and her anger simmered just below the surface, threatening to explode. The first time she slammed a file drawer closed, he leaped up from his chair. He looked at her and, coward that she was, all she did in response was smile. This was her problem in a nutshell. Christian O’Halloran had abused her good nature from the outset.
And she’d let him.
“I don’t blame you for being angry,” Christian said.
She sat back a
nd studied him carefully. “You don’t?”
“Of course not. It makes me angry, too. The whole town is talking about us, and it’s grossly unfair—to you and me.”
Mariah clamped her teeth tightly shut as her frustration mounted.
“There must be some way we can dispel these rumors.”
“You seem to be doing a fine job of that,” she murmured. If he noticed the sarcasm in her voice, he ignored it.
“I’ve been thinking,” Christian said, leaning back in his worn vinyl chair.
“A painful process, no doubt.”
Once again he chose to overlook her derisive comment. “I’m sure you’re just as embarrassed by all this gossip as I am.” He paused, laughing with what sounded like rather forced heartiness. “Bill Landgrin went so far as to claim you’ve been in love with me for months. Can you believe that? What a crock.”
“Exactly!” She needed her head examined, and the sooner the better.
“He asked did I mind if he asked you out.” He eyed her speculatively. “I couldn’t very well tell him I did.”
“Do you?”
“Well, yes…”
“You don’t like Bill?”
“I don’t trust him.” Christian’s eyes grew dark. “I don’t think you should, either.”
She knew exactly the type of man Bill Landgrin was. Never once had she seriously considered dating him, but she wasn’t about to tell Christian that.
“Duke’s worth ten Bill Landgrins.”
Mariah didn’t comment.
“Ralph’s a decent sort, too,” Christian said, chewing thoughtfully on the end of his pencil.
“Are you suggesting I go out with Duke or Ralph?” The man had a certain effrontery, she’d say that for him.
“Sure,” he answered cheerfully. “Why not?”
“I don’t happen to be attracted to either one of them.”
Christian threw down the pencil. “You’re right, that could present a problem. I’ll tell you what,” he said, brightening, “I’ll take care of it myself.”
Midnight Sons Volume 3 Page 12