He poked through everything and decided to go for it. The paint can had a soft clean linen-colored white on the smudged outside. He picked up the can and tried to pry off the top, but it didn’t budge. He again tried to brute force the top off but still nothing happened. This can was now his nemesis. He bent over and looked around the tarp to find something to pry the top loose with.
“Ah-ha.”
Bending down he grabbed a thin piece of stiff wood and finally released the top from the can. He shook his head—that seemed way more difficult than it should have been. The white effortlessly coated the dingy yellow on the wall. It felt cleaner, more vibrant, and a lot more like Maggie then the ugly yellow.
He quickly painted the back corner and decided to keep going. Pride built in his chest as he completed each section. He stopped when he ran out of paint. There was another bucket but he didn’t want to open it yet, given his now standing record with paint cans. Paint can: 3; Arthur: 1.
He made sure to clean his hands before he started to move books and wipe dust off shelving. He relaxed more and more as he worked, cleaning, moving things, and organizing. There was contentment doing this sort of thing. He was happy not to be responsible for anyone but himself. His thoughts started to stray toward Maggie in bed, upstairs, and so close. He thought about the way she always moved so deliberately and the way she smiled. He loved to see the slight pink tint creep up her neck when he spoke to her. Most of all he loved that she fought him, hard, on every turn she didn’t agree with. He loved seeing a women take control of something. It was refreshing after living with Gwen for so long. Being with Lance was the only true decision she ever actually made. Too bad it was a dud as far as decisions went.
Thinking about them all still on Avalon made a sting of guilt drift into his chest. He hated that they were all stuck there because of him. They weren’t asked, they just showed up. Technically, he wasn’t asked either but he dealt with it. The others were different. It was painful watching them all, day-after-day, especially Gwen and Lance. Lance thought he didn’t know what was happening, that Gwen was shutting him out, but he knew. He saw the pain on his face as she left his room each day. He saw the determination in which he threw himself into training with the men.
The men—he felt even worse about them. They were stuck there in the middle of the triangle and he treated them just as poorly as he treated Gwen and Lance.
Chapter Ten
Maggie awoke to the sound of water, and as her brain cleared she realized it was the sound of her shower. Why was her shower on?
She jolted awake; someone was in her home. She slipped her hand behind her headboard and pulled out a wicked looking boot knife from the sheath she kept there. There were other weapons but she didn’t really like guns anymore. She gripped the knife hard, the cord she had wrapped around it for better grip set into the grooves of her palm. She smoothly climbed from the bed, trying to keep noise to a minimum, and crept to the bathroom door.
She heard a voice inside; it was humming something that sounded vaguely like a folk song. She shook her head. What the hell? She gripped the door handle and turned it an inch to see if it was locked, it wasn’t.
Maggie took a deep breath, pushed the door inward fast and quick, then screamed like a little girl. She heard a manlier version of her scream from behind the shower curtain. She jerked the shower curtain open and then stepped back. She remembered Arthur now, working in the store, playing monopoly, eating, and her passing out in the kitchen. She was staring at him in her shower, completely naked and dripping wet. She just stood there. She knew she was staring but couldn’t, for all the Knights of the Round Table, look away.
“Um...are you going to attack me while I am naked? Because that puts me at a slight disadvantage,” he said, putting his hands on his hips.
Maggie shook herself and a blush flooded her face. She had stood there staring at him for at least a minute. How creepy was that?
“Sorry. Sorry.” Maggie ran out of the bathroom and closed the door behind her. The form of his body was now imprinted on her mind; the curve of his hip, the flat planes of his stomach, the width of his shoulders.
She needed coffee. She went to the kitchen and started the pot. She gave herself another mental shake. She had forgotten all about him until she saw him naked—again. He emerged in a vanilla-scented cloud a moment later. A primal part of her loved smelling her scent on his skin. She just turned toward her coffee. Where was this coming from?
“So, after you fell asleep last night I just put you in bed and did some more work below. I hope you do not mind. I don’t sleep very well.”
He put her to bed unmolested and then worked in her shop. What kind of man was he? It was odd to think of decent ones existing after some of the men she had dealt with.
She added a ton of sugar and milk to her coffee and then turned back to him. He was shifting back and forth slightly. Maggie caught on a moment later. He was hiding something.
“What is it?” she asked, point-blank. “I know you are not telling me something.”
She crossed her arm under her elbow and sipped her coffee. The heat and caffeine swirled through her body in an almost sensual fashion. She relaxed as the heat sank into her bones; she closed her eyes and enjoyed the sensations for a moment. When she opened them he was watching her.
“Is that hot chocolate?” he asked. She gave him a look.
“No, it’s coffee. Do you want some?” She gestured to the pot behind her. He moved over and filled a cup. She watched him take a sip of the strong bitter liquid and wince.
“Add some milk and see if you like it like that.” She pushed the milk jug towards him. He added it and took another tentative sip.
“Sugar?” He added almost as much as she had to her own cup and stirred. He lifted the cup and she could tell by the look on his face he had found the perfect mix.
“Tasty?”
“Tasty,” he agreed.
“Tell me what you haven’t told me,” she said, sipping from her cup and watching him from over the edge.
He shifted slightly and mumbled something.
“I need something else to wear.”
She rolled her eyes; he had her thinking it was something serious.
“Let me shower and get dressed and then we can go get you some clothes.” She briefly thought about getting him a razor too but he had a sexy scruffy look going on and she didn’t want him to mess it up. Their faces were close; if Maggie leaned forward even a small amount she could kiss him. His lips looked soft and warm and he probably tasted like coffee. She stared at his lips and licked her own.
She looked up into his eyes and was startled, because he was staring at her with the same look. Somehow he had known exactly what she was thinking. Maggie ran her hand up her face before edging around Arthur. He looked down at her and she looked down at the floor as she ran into the bathroom. She shut the door and told herself repeatedly she was not running away from him. She was not running away from his smile, his amazing ass, or those soft lips, especially not in her own house. She went to turn on the shower when she realized she was still clutching her coffee cup.
Chapter Eleven
Maggie came out of the bathroom in a cloud of steam. She was wearing a purple sundress and a black sweater today. She looked so feminine and touchable, not to mention how nice the curve of her waist was enhanced by the cut of the dress. He was a moment away from kissing her this morning but he didn’t know how she would respond and he didn’t feel right truly being intimate with her if she didn’t know the truth about him. He needed to be pleasant enough to keep around until he figured out his task, but he didn’t want her to get tired of him.
On the other hand, he wanted to stay with her. She was magnetic, as stupid as that sounded. He loved watching her move, breathe, and just be. He was so over his head with this, he had not felt this way about a woman since he first laid eyes on Gwen. He shook off that train of thought as she grabbed his hands and dragged him down the stairs and ou
t the door.
Arthur followed along as she led him to a small—car? She unlocked the doors and climbed in the driver’s seat while he opened the other door and gently folded himself in.
“Seatbelt,” she said, turning switches and knobs. He watched in fascination but there was no way he was going to get his seatbelt on. Then an annoying buzzing noise sounded through the vehicle and he looked around, startled. She just stared at him.
“Seatbelt.”
“My knees are in my chest, I can’t get that thing on,” he grumbled. Was she blind?
She calmly reached across his lap, grabbed the seatbelt, and fastened it before taking off. Arthur grabbed the conveniently placed handle by the window and stared around in wonder. So much time had passed since he had seen the outside world. He knew what it looked like in his head from all of his books, but books couldn’t compare to what he was seeing now. There were buildings that touched the sky and so many people walking the streets. Women in clothes he would not even have imagined. Wow, times had changed. The vehicle was a nice warm temperature compared to the brisk fall chill outside. He wasn’t bouncing or sitting uncomfortably, minus his knees being crushed against his chest. He could smell Maggie so close to him he almost inhaled just to smell her—almost.
“We are going to get you some clothes and then come back and get to work,” she said, almost as though she was talking to herself. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye; she was clutching the wheel with both hands, more like gripping it. She didn’t look comfortable.
“Are you alright?” he asked carefully.
“I’m fine. I just hate driving in D.C. traffic.” She shifted her hands on the wheel but gripped it just as tight.
Arthur looked around. This was in Washington D.C. Hearing the men talk about it in the war, he felt like he knew it, too. Each new story produced a longing to visit. He resisted the urge to press his face against the glass window and merely capture everything he saw. While working last night, he decided to take every second of this time outside for himself. Every second he could savor something, do anything, and be anyone he would.
All too soon they pulled up to a big blue store and Arthur was dragged inside by the hand. At this point he stopped her, grabbed her wrist and interlocked his fingers with hers. She just stared at their joined hands for a moment, looked up into his eyes, and turned and set out again. He smiled and followed, liking the heat of her fingers against his own. He had never gotten to hold hands with anyone before and he was enjoying it.
He was grinning like an idiot while she picked up clothes and when she shoved them at him, he reluctantly let go of her hand so he could hold them. Eventually she was done, steered him toward the dressing rooms, and told him to change. He put on the jeans and found they fit quite perfectly, but he wanted a second opinion. He had the jeans on and nothing else when he opened the door to the dressing room. She looked up and sputtered when he emerged.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Fine, just have something in my throat.” She coughed into her hand and gestured for him to turn around. He grinned and did as she asked, waiting for her approval.
“It looks good,” she said. His heart thudded. He wanted a better response than good. He moved closer to her but she stood her ground and looked up at him.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
She glanced down at his bare chest and lower, then back up into his face and nodded with a slight murmur of shyness. He smiled; that was better. He returned to the dressing room and continued to try on the clothes.
“Way better than fine to me,” he heard the dressing room attendant say, but he was unable to hear Maggie’s response. He emerged five minutes later with his clothes and clasped Maggie’s hand for her to lead the way again. He thought he caught a slight ghost of a grin but couldn’t be sure. She dragged him to the front of the store and paid for his clothes with a small piece of plastic. This time was so strange. She pushed the bags against his chest and grabbed his hand again, interlocking her fingers with his, and led him to McDonalds. She sat him in a booth and then went to the front of the store. She came back soon with a tray of food that smelled amazing.
“Hungry?” he asked.
“HAHA. I remember how much you ate last night.”
He shrugged and dug into the food. Just as he finished the coffee Maggie looked down at her watch.
“Time to get back,” she said, getting to her feet and stretching, the fabric of the sweater bunching up under her breasts. He had to look away before his thoughts got away from him. He rose and grasped her hand with his empty one and they made their way back out to the car.
Chapter Twelve
They rushed through the back door and Maggie was shocked at how much work Arthur had done the night before. She hadn’t really looked when they left this morning but now she could see everything in the light of day. She turned to him.
“Thank you,” she said, simply. He bowed his head to her.
They made their way up the stairs and put his clothes away. Maggie sat at the dining room table while Arthur tried out his new clothes. Seeing how much work Arthur had done touched her heart in a way nothing had in a long time. She was so ready to make this place her own, to have something that could not be taken from her, that she just lost her head. She would have been killed a long time ago if she were that careless on a regular basis.
She made some more coffee while she waited and when he emerged she was not disappointed. Those jeans hugged his ass perfectly and the plain white t-shirt he wore outlined his chest and made his tan stand out, making his eyes pop. She just stared for a moment and then turned back to the coffee.
“Better than the sweats,” she said, clearing her throat and grabbing the additions to the coffee.
She felt him move up behind her. She wanted to turn and confront him but she needed to learn to be around normal people, people who wouldn’t attack her from behind, friendly people. She slowly stirred her coffee, forcing herself under control. His heat was close to her; the hairs stirred on the back of her neck as he took a breath. She finished stirring her coffee and turned around, still wearing her mask of control. He was standing a foot away from her and staring at her in a way that gave her goose bumps.
“What?” Her heartbeat was still racing in her ears. He took a step forward.
“Thank you,” he said, and then closed the distance between them. She could have stopped it if she wanted to, she could tell by how slowly he moved. He reached up and cupped her cheek. She stared into those deep ocean eyes and waited. He bent his head and pressed his lips softly against hers. Even that brief taste of him had her wanting more. She pressed into his lips and he made a slight noise, one she couldn’t make out, but heard. It sent her heart rate through the roof, and she instantly wanted to know what other noises she could get this man to make.
She brought her free hand up to his face, mirroring his hand and tilted her head slightly. She gently bit his bottom lip and pulled away. They stared at each other, eyes cloudy with lust, both breathing like they had just run a race. They dropped their hands at the same time and he gave her one of his earth-shattering smiles and stepped back. He moved to go downstairs but stopped at the door and turned back to her. She just watched him.
“You taste like coffee,” he said, then stepped out the door.
Maggie thought her knees were going to give out. She had never had a reaction this strong to a man before, let alone one she barely knew. She heard the tinkling of the bell above the door through the haze. It jolted her system to where it needed to be and she clutched her coffee cup and hurried down the stairs. Merlyn waited just inside the door.
Chapter Thirteen
“Did you find out anything?” Maggie asked as she finally reached the bottom of the stairs.
Merlyn wore baggy jeans, an oversize t-shirt, and headphones around his neck. He looked the spitting image of a punk teenager she might see on the street corner down the road.
“No, nothing yet.” His
voice held centuries of knowledge and Maggie had to marvel at how different her life was today than it was yesterday. She was hosting an ancient war hero and speaking to an eons old wizard about magical prophecy. Coffee in an IV drip was going to be a necessity.
She took a breath and moved behind the counter to her computer; while she sat down she kept Arthur in her sights as he moved around the shop. He made her hot, hotter than any guy had ever even begun to. She was keenly aware of his body, what he was doing, how he was doing it. Maybe she should have taken Sonya’s advice and gotten laid as soon as she got back from the war.
Merlyn approached the counter slowly and leaned on the glass looking at her. She glanced up under her lashes.
“Can I help you?”
“Are you always this brash?” he asked, tilting his head slightly, regarding her.
“It’s brash or weak. Women in the military are either in charge or they aren’t. I was.”
“You aren’t in the military anymore. I did some research on you last night. Twenty-seven, parents deceased, Purple Heart, and a medal for valor. They sent you home after an unknown injury.”
Her expression darkened as he continued. He was not putting her in a good mood.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“It’s all I could find about you. I could have hacked the network but it seemed like too much work when I could just ask you. How were you injured?”
Maggie slammed the cover of her computer down and braced her hands on the glass.
“Did your dick shrink as you grew younger?” she asked. His jaw dropped and he just stared at her.
“You asked me an incredibly personal question out of curiosity. I thought it only fair.”
Merlyn started laughing and didn’t stop for at least a minute. He straightened up, wiping tears from his eyes, clutching his belly.
“If anyone unknowingly brought Arthur back, it would be the one woman who could handle him.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
Legend's Fall Page 4