by Sadie King
As we pull up outside my brother’s place, I see his pick-up truck in the drive.
Brayden’s hand slides off my thigh immediately.
“I didn’t expect him back so soon,” he says.
He parks up on the road but doesn’t turn the engine off. “I’m just gonna drop you off.”
“You’re not coming in?” I try not to show my disappointment.
“I’ve got something I need to do.”
He definitely sounds cagey, and my heart starts to race. “Can’t it wait?”
He looks at me, and it’s hard to read his expression. “I’m afraid it can’t.”
He reaches out to touch my face, but I pull away. “Are you really that scared of what my brother will think?”
“No. But this is important.”
He opens his mouth to say something, but I cut him off. “You know what? Forget about it. I don’t need to know.”
I get out the car and slam the door behind me. I start up the drive then turn around and point my finger in the window.
“And don’t worry. I won’t tell him if that’s what you’re worried about.”
I turn and walk purposefully up to the house. He calls after me, but I don’t turn around.
It’s later that night, and I’m lying in bed sweating. I can’t get comfortable no matter which way I turn. The bedsheets seem to trap me. I can’t stop thinking about Brayden, our time by the lake, and how mean I was to him in the car. He was only trying to drop me off, and I overreacted. But I felt scared that he’d gotten what he wanted and now he was done. Now I feel stupid for thinking that. I’m sure he’s not that type of guy. And I’m sure he must feel this instant deep connection we have.
I sit up in bed. There’s only one thing for it.
I dress quietly, shimmy open the window, and jump down to the flower bed below.
Half an hour later I’m banging on Brayden’s door. It takes a few minutes to wake him, but finally I see a light come on and the door opens. He’s wearing nothing but his briefs, and in the moonlight his body looks amazing.
I didn’t truly appreciate his tight abs and hard pecs when we were at the lake. Now, they take my breath away. Ink snakes around his chest in a series of tattoos that I’m desperate to ask about.
“What are you doing here?” He takes my hand and leads me inside. “Come out of the cold.”
I realize I’m shivering, and he wraps his arms around me. “I wanted to apologize.”
“There’s no need.” He rubs my arms to get them warm. “Let me get you a sweater.” He goes into his room and comes back with an over-sized sweatshirt.
“Thanks.” I pull it on gratefully, loving the way it smells of him.
“Did you walk over here by yourself?”
I nod, and he runs his hands through his hair in exasperation. “Meghan, you shouldn’t be walking around at night by yourself.”
I roll my eyes. “It’s fine, nothing happened.”
“You can’t keep jumping out windows and behaving like a naughty teenager.”
He looks stern, and he’s pacing and angry with me, and this isn’t how I imagined this would go. “I wanted to see you,” I say meekly.
“That’s no reason to wander around on your own in the middle of the night.”
I hang my head. He’s right.
“I’m taking you home,” he says, grabbing his keys.
My head snaps up. “I was hoping I could stay here.”
“Do you know how worried Marty would be if he wakes up and you’re not in the house?”
My eyes flash angrily. “Is that all you care about? What Marty thinks?”
“No, of course not. But your actions have consequences for the people who care about you.”
“And how about you? Do you care about me?”
The question hangs in the air as he looks at me. He looks tired, frustrated.
“Do you trust me?” he says gently.
The question takes me by surprise. “I guess.”
“Then I’m going to take you home, and tomorrow I’ll explain everything.”
“What?”
“Come on,” he says softly. “I’ll drive you home.”
We don’t speak as he drives me through the quiet streets. I’m furious with myself for behaving like I did, sneaking out of the window and turning up at his place. He must think I’m an immature idiot.
I manage to hold in my tears until he drops me off. I get out of the car without saying goodbye, and as soon as I’m in the house I let the emotion burst out of me, and tears run down my cheeks.
My stupid, thoughtless, wild ways have cost me the only man I’ve ever felt like myself around. Finally, I drop off to sleep, my pillow stained with tears.
7
Meghan
I wake up late and drag myself into the shower. As the hot water runs over me, I think about the last couple of days.
I’ve felt the happiest I have since I lost Mom and Dad. Not just happy; I’ve felt for the first time like I can be myself around a man. Like I don’t have to show off and pretend to be something else.
I think about what I’ve done and how I must look to Brayden. He must think I’m a party girl who drinks too much and isn’t serious.
Well, I’ll show him that I’m not. I’m done with drinking; I’m done with climbing out windows. If I have a chance with him, I need to show him I can behave like a reasonable adult.
And the first thing I need is to make sure I sort myself out for good. I finish in the shower and dress quickly. I open my laptop and search for a local therapist. A few pop up, and I scan their websites. One stands out as specializing in trauma, and I fire her an email.
I’m just looking up another one when I hear a knock on the front door.
I stop what I’m doing and listen as Marty answers the door. There’s the low rumble of male voices. I can’t hear them properly, but I know it’s him. I quickly fix my hair and smooth down my shirt.
They’re still chatting, and I push the door open a crack to hear what they’re saying. Then I remember my pledge to be a responsible adult, which surely means no more eavesdropping. So I shut the door again, but not quite all the way.
I can just make out what they’re saying.
“...new evidence, we’ve been recessed.”
“How long for?”
I pull away from the door. They’re talking about the boring court case. He’s come here to see Marty and not me at all.
Indignation flares up in me, and I push open the door. I stride down the hall and barge into the living room.
Brayden stands up quickly from his chair. “Meghan.”
Marty turns to me and breaks into a smile. “I’ll leave you two alone, shall I?”
I stop, my anger turning to confusion. Marty goes into the kitchen leaving me alone with Brayden.
I face him with my hands on my hips. “What’s going on?” I ask.
“Meghan, I’ve only known you a short time. But it’s clear to me we were meant to be together. You need someone to look after you, and I’m that man.”
He drops to one knee and pulls a small box out of his pocket. I gasp in surprise, my heart hammering in my chest.
He opens the box and holds it up to me. There’s a ring glittering inside. “Will you marry me?”
For a moment, I can’t speak. He’s looking up at me with so much love and hope, and suddenly there are tears in my eyes.
“Yes.” I nod. “Yes, I will.”
He slides the ring onto my finger and stands up, wrapping his strong arms around me. I lean into him, feeling whole and safe and like finally my life makes sense.
“I thought you were having second thoughts.”
He kisses the top of my head. “I told you to trust me, didn’t I?”
“I’m sorry I doubted you.”
“I had to buy a ring. And I wanted to speak to Marty, as your proxy dad, the other man in your life who cares about you.”
“He was okay with it?”
/> He leans away from me, so I’m forced to look him in the eye. “You know what? Not only was he okay, he set us up.”
“What?”
“He asked me to look after you because he thought we’d hit it off.”
“My brother’s a matchmaker?”
“Looks like it.”
I laugh, and he joins me.
“You want to celebrate with a drink?”
“No,” I say. “I’ve given up.”
He raises his eyebrows. “Good for you. How about we celebrate in another way then?”
“What did you have in mind?”
In answer he kisses me hard on the lips, and already I can feel his erection pressing into me.
“You want to go to my place?”
“Oh yeah.”
“Go grab your stuff. You’re moving in with me.”
It doesn’t take me long to pack my bags. We share a celebratory soda with Marty and then head off.
As we drive to Brayden’s with his hand on my leg, my heart feels full and still knowing I have found my rock.
Epilogue
Five years later…
Meghan
I stop to catch my breath and adjust the sling. The tiny, downy head rests against my chest.
“She still asleep?”
Brayden’s arm slides around my waist from behind me and he rests his head on my shoulder, looking at our sleeping daughter, Ayla.
“Oh yeah. She’s down for the count.”
We both watch her for a moment. Her little mouth is pressed open, her soft breaths going in and out.
For a moment, all is calm and still in the world and in my heart. Then I hear the rhythmic kicking of a little foot against nylon, and a little voice pipes up.
“We going, Daddy?”
Our three-year-old son, Noah, is riding on the shoulder pack that Brayden’s carrying, and he’s impatient to get to the lake. His little leg is kicking the side of the pack.
“Okay, buddy. We’re moving.”
We’ve been taking Noah to the lake since he was a baby, first in the sling and then in the backpack. He likes to walk some of the way, and every time we go, he gets a bit further before he tires, and we put him in the pack.
“I’m hungry, Momma.”
“We’ve got a picnic to eat when we get to the lake,” I say.
“Is it cheese sandwiches?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Is the lake where you and Daddy met?”
“Something like that,” Brayden says, squeezing my hand.
We walk side by side for a while, the conversation driven by our chatty three-year-old.
In the five years since we’ve been together, I’ve not touched a drop of alcohol. I was true to my word and gave up my party lifestyle.
It was easy to do. Instead I spend time with Brayden hiking and hanging out. We eat out a lot less often now that we have kids. These days it’s more likely to be takeout in front of the TV. It’s a quieter life, and I love it.
I saw the therapist for about twelve months. She really helped me work through my grief, and I’m a much calmer person now.
I’ll never fully get over the loss of my parents, but at least I can function as a responsible adult. I have Brayden to thank for putting me on that path.
I got a job at the local library where I run the children’s section. I book local author readings and events and host rhyme time every week.
I went part-time after having the children, which they were happy to accommodate. I get the best of both worlds: a job I love three days a week and time with my kids.
Brayden still works with Marty, but they’re both detective inspectors now. He works some long and irregular hours, but I’ve learned to be flexible.
We see Marty often. Every Sunday he comes around for family dinner. He’s the best uncle to the kids and spoils them rotten.
We reach the lake, and Brayden eases off the toddler carrier pack. Noah races off, happy to be free.
“Stay away from the water’s edge,” I call after him.
Ayla is starting to stir, so I pull the blanket out of the bag and lie her down on it. I sit with her while Brayden helps Noah collect stones.
It’s a family scene that I never thought would belong to me. Yet here I am in the warm sun, by a beautiful lake, with all the people I love most in the world. Life sure is good.
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Fox in the Garden is a bonus book in the Filthy Rich Love series, exclusive to email subscribers.
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When I escape for some air before the most important business call of my life, I don’t expect to find a woman dancing barefoot in my Zen Garden.
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Dad’s drinking is getting worse, and it’s starting to lose him clients. So I step in and take over the gardening business. But who knew our most profitable client was such a silver fox?
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