Love's Silver Lining

by Julie Lessman

  “Noooo!” Maggie stomped her boot on the boulder. “The sun hasn’t set yet,” she said as she recast her line with a grim set of her jaw. “I can do this.”

  “Doubt it since the light is fading as fast as your chances. Just give it up, Maggie, and admit I won.” He pulled the stringer from the water and held it up. “I’d say this is a pretty fair start to a mighty fine fish fry, if I say so myself.” Retrieving his rod and net, he sauntered over to the wagon to stash the fish in a bucket of water, tossing a glance over his shoulder to check on the boys. “Ten more minutes, boys,” he called, turning back to Maggie with a smirk he just couldn’t resist. “Besides, this is your chance to teach the boys how to be a good loser.”

  “I am a good loser,” she said with a jut of her lower lip, her pout so darn cute, he had to smother a chuckle lest he rile her even further.

  He unloaded his tackle while Maggie followed suit, her mood dragging as much as the blanket she carried back to the wagon. “Well, that was fun, even if you did cheat,” she said with a sour smile.

  His jaw dropped. “Cheat? You’re the one who had the time advantage, young lady, while I was baiting your hook over and over.”

  “Yes, but you’re the one that used that fancy rod and reel with that stupid feather on the hook.” She crossed her arms in a stiff fold.

  “It’s a fly,” he corrected with a grin, thinking she may be a bad loser, but she sure was a cute one. “And it’s not a ‘stupid’ one either—it won me a bag of my favorite candy, which is more than I can say for your stupid worm.” He strolled over to the bank to wash up, lobbing a lazy smile over his shoulder meant to goad her all the more. “Hey, I forgot to grab the bar of soap from my tackle box, Mags, so you mind tossing it? I hate the stink of fish on my hands.”

  “Yeah, well I hate the stink of something too,” she muttered, rattling around in his tackle box before he heard her sliding down the embankment. “And I’d sure like to toss something right about now as well, cocky cowboy, but it sure isn’t soap. Here …”

  The soap came flying at his head, and Blaze caught it mid-air from his crouched position, flashing some teeth. “I’m sure you would, darlin’,” he said with a chuckle while he lathered up good, “but that wouldn’t be good sportsmanship, Mags, now would it? So, let me clean up, and we’ll shake hands over a close contest before we head home, all right? After all”—he scrubbed his hands in the creek before he shot a cocky grin over his shoulder—“with the night cooling down, that wet blanket could get mighty cold.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  “Saints alive, and you call me ‘a cocky winner’!” Her good humor sorely taxed, Maggie loomed over Blaze while he washed and chuckled his fool head off over his silly “wet blanket” remark. The clean scent of Angus’s homemade cedar soap drifted in the air while soap bubbles popped on the water faster than her hopes for a win. Heaven knows she didn’t want to be such a poor loser, but merciful Providence, games and competitions were the only things she could win after Mama had married The Judge. The man ruled with an iron gavel inside of the courtroom and out, robbing her of so much more than just freedom.

  “Education is wasted on women,” The Judge would rant whenever Mama broached the subject of Maggie going to college. “It’s men who have the keen minds and wills to win, the strength to succeed, and the reason to do so. A woman’s role in life is to please her husband and raise his offspring.”

  The memory of his words flattened Maggie’s mouth as she locked arms over her chest, a shadow of a smile gracing her lips. Because despite all of The Judge’s objections, she had won in the end when Mama disguised Maggie’s nursing education as a “finishing school” to prepare her for her station in life as a wife and a mother.

  “Not a lie, exactly,” Mama had whispered later when they giggled together in Maggie’s room, “since nursing school will put the ‘finishing touches’ on a life of your own choosing.”

  And chosen she had—to leave The Judge, his money, and a roving fiancé behind, accepting Aunt Libby’s offer to flee to a place of freedom neither man would ever find. Her chest expanded with pride over the fact that she had finally won over two close-minded males who had only wanted to lord over her. Her lips kinked.

  No, make that three …

  She studied Blaze’s broad back straining beneath his shirt as he scooped water to his face, momentarily halting the cocky whistling he’d resorted to after mocking her without mercy. “‘Wet blanket,’ indeed,” she mumbled under her breath, shifting her stance with a huff while Blaze lapped up water like he’d been the one to haul the wagon instead of Snowflake. She fought off a roll of her eyes.

  Ridicule obviously works up a thirst.

  Her body suddenly stilled, mouth tipping up in a smile.

  Well, then, let’s slake it, shall we?

  Almost giddy at the thought of retaliation, Maggie retreated a number of yards away, glancing the boys’ way before turning and barreling toward Blaze with a war cry. The whites of his eyes expanded when he glanced over his shoulder.

  Oomph! She plowed into him with the full force of her palms, launching his body face down into the mossy water.

  Ker-splash!

  “Oh, look,” she said with a satisfied giggle when he slowly pushed up on his knees, “I guess my blanket’s not the only thing that’s all wet.”

  Blaze calmly rose and turned, his open-mouthed smile and arched brow conveying his shock. “I can’t believe you did that,” he said in full gaping mode, swiping a hand over his wet face. He shot a quick look in the boys’ direction as if to make sure they hadn’t seen his demise, then recovered his hat and slapped it hard against jeans that clung as tightly as moss to rocks.

  Giggles bubbled up inside of Maggie like one of Mort’s fountain sodas as she slowly backed away, inch by inch. “Well, you looked so thirsty,” she said with an innocent lift of her shoulders, “I just thought I’d help.”

  “Did you now?” Snatching up his bar of soap, he casually sloshed to the bank, dripping like a sieve while his gaze bonded to hers.

  Her pulse sputtered at the challenge in his eyes while he made his approach, his chambray shirt clinging to sculpted muscles like a second skin. She chewed on the edge of her smile, body poised for flight while a nervous chuckle tripped from her lips. “I figured this way we’re both a little wet, right?” She extended a bright smile like an olive branch, shooting an anxious glance back at the wagon to decide if she could outrun a man in bare feet.

  “Oh, not yet,” he said with a tight smile, leisurely plunking his Stetson down on an unruly mop of wet curls.

  Uh-oh. Run!

  Whirling around, Maggie tore up the hill like the devil was on her heels, and she wasn’t all that sure he wasn’t, given the gleam of trouble in Blaze Donovan’s eyes. “Blaze, I’m sorry,” she shouted, heart hammering against her ribs as she took cover on the other side of the wagon. Hands latched to the bed, she gulped large swallows of air in between giggles, figuring if she couldn’t win, then getting the best of Blaze was the next best thing. “And you have my word I will never do that again.”

  “No doubt about that, darlin’,” he said with a lazy smile, his leisurely ascent up the hill far too ripe with resolve for her liking. “Especially after both of us are, in fact, ‘a little wet.’”

  Her smile dimmed as she grated her lip, gaze flicking to the darkening sky, where fading shades of rose gave way to a purple dusk. “It’s late, and we need to get home.” Her gaze darted to where the boys were still fishing. “Boys, it’s time go,” she shouted, hoping to deter Blaze with their presence before she turned to give him a repentant smile. “Come on, Blaze—can’t you just accept my apology and we’ll go on home?”

  “Of course I accept your apology, Maggie, and yes, we’ll head on home,” he said, plucking a rag from the wagon bed to dry his hair. “But first, don’t you think you owe me a congratulatory handshake? After all, we both know I won fair and square.”

  His gaze drilled into her
s as he slowly rounded the rig, arm extended in truce. Scrambling up onto the seat for safety, she did the same, fingers quivering as she made the reach. Lightning struck with a thousand sparks when his large, work-roughened hand closed around hers, damp warmth seeping all the way in. She swallowed hard and nodded. “Yes, you won fair and square, Blaze, so congratulations. And I’m sorry I was such a poor loser.”

  “Why, thank you, Maggie,” he said with a heft of a bristled jaw, a gleam of white teeth in a bronzed face still slick with water. “Apology accepted.” Climbing up into the wagon, he stopped halfway, thick golden brows slashing low. “Wait—we forgot the blanket.”

  “No, it’s right here,” Maggie said, pointing to the coverlet she’d carefully folded and placed in the back bed.

  “No, not that one,” he said with a cheeky grin before latching onto her hand, completely catching her off-guard when he swept her across the seat. “The ‘wet’ one, darlin’,” he said with a dangerous smile that bore no good will.

  She squealed when his free arm encircled her from behind, unceremoniously dragging her from the rig and tossing her over his shoulder with a grunt. “Blaze, no, please!” she begged, kicking and thrashing for all she was worth, but the man was a steel trap as he strode back to the stream with her slung over his shoulder like a baby possum on its mother’s back. Desperation grew—along with the whites of her eyes—the closer he got to the water, and with a wild jerk of her body, she tried to break free, pummeling his back for all she was worth. “Two bags of peppermint candies, I promise, and I’ll never be a bad sport again.”

  “Sorry, Mags, but you said it yourself that I was a good teacher, and this is one lesson I need to drive home.” His wicked chuckle said he was having way too much fun as he gave her waist a light pinch. “All wet, if need be.” At the water’s edge, he locked her legs with one hand while he gripped the small of her back with the other, as if ready to heave her into the water.

  “No, Blaze, please! Boys!” She launched for his neck, clinging harder than the stupid breeching straps wrapped around the shaft of the wagon, screaming for the boys as if they could stop a six-foot-two mountain of a man from tossing her into the drink. “I’ll do anything, Blaze, only don’t throw me in the creek, please!”

  He paused at the edge of the brook, face angled her way. “Anything?” A tease tiptoed around his voice.

  “Anything—within reason.” She stopped breathing while he apparently gave it some thought.

  “All right, Nurse Mullaney.” He relaxed his hold, and she waited for him to put her down. “Two bags of peppermint candy, then.”

  Her breath silently seeped out. “You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Donovan, but mercy comes at a high price, I suppose.” She wriggled to get free, and he finally let her, his hands slowly guiding her down.

  Too slowly.

  Her heart drummed a traitorous beat as she slid to the ground, their bodies bonded all the way down. The dampness of his clothes bled warm into hers despite the cool of the night, kindling renegade thoughts as shallow and fast as her air. “We need to get back,” she rasped, voice breathless as she tried to step away, wondering where in the devil the boys were.

  “Maggie …” The husky sound of her name on his tongue weakened the tendons at the back of her knees, and she tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let go. “The peppermint candy be dashed,” he whispered, his voice suddenly as ragged as hers. He leaned so close, she could smell mint on his breath, warm against her lips as his mouth hovered over hers. “One kiss is all the payment I need.”

  “No!” She pushed him back, palms hard against his chest while she squeezed her eyes shut for fear those blue eyes would disarm her, dismantle the boundaries she’d worked so hard to maintain. “We need to go, Blaze, now—”

  Her next breath snagged in her throat when he gently lifted her chin. “What are you afraid of?” he said softly.

  “This!” she rasped, eyes blazing open with raw honesty. “Of ruining this friendship we have, which happens to mean a lot to me, Blaze Donovan.”

  A crooked smile tipped the edge of his mouth as his thumb caressed the curve of her jaw. “It means a lot to me, too, Maggie, but it might not ruin it, you know. Might just make it better.”

  She answered him with a grunt, straining his hold when she leaned away with a taut fold of arms.

  “Besides, you said ‘anything,’” he continued in that lazy drawl he always used for a tease. His gaze flicked to her lips and back, pooling heat at the base of her belly. “And I thought you were a woman of your word.”

  “I am, you insufferable rogue, but apparently you aren’t a man of yours.”

  “Pardon?” He gave her a squint. “How you figure that?”

  She arched a brow. “Rachel?” Chin high, she placed a hand over her heart as she mimicked his words in a gruff voice. “You might say Rachel is my special girl. The only lady I commit to”—she paused to flutter her lashes—“romantically, that is.”

  Hands dropping from her waist, he huffed out a groan while he mauled his face with his palms. “For criminy’s sake, Maggie—Rachel is just a friend.”

  “Yeah, well I’m your friend, too, but I sure don’t want to be that kind, mister, so you can just save your stolen kisses for her.”

  His palms dropped enough to see the deadly twinkle in his eyes. “What about being my girl—that hold any appeal?”

  Her grunt could have belonged to one of the ranch hands. She held up forefinger and thumb in the shape of an “O” a mere inch from his nose while her mouth tipped in a slant. “Absolutely zeeee-ro,” she enunciated clearly, “because I’m one of those ‘respectable girls,’ remember? The kind who will just harp on you about God and church the rest of your days’?”

  He grinned. “Oh, yeah, forgot about that. Sorry, lost my head for a second.”

  “Well, you’re going to lose a whole lot more than your head,” she called over her shoulder as she marched toward the wagon, “if you ever get that gleam in your eye with me again.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Giving a sharp salute, he followed her up the hill, chuckling all the way. He paused to whistle for the boys with two fingers to his teeth, appearing satisfied when they started running back. He gave Maggie a wink. “But at least I got two bags of peppermint out of it.”

  “One.” She mounted the wagon and sat, brow arched while she arranged her dress with great care. “Cocky cowboys with gleams in their eyes don’t deserve more than that.”

  Hopping up on his side of the seat, he stared at her, jaw swagging low. “Yeah, well, respectable girls don’t push men in the creek either,” he said with a quick snatch of the reins.

  “No,” Maggie agreed, back straight as she folded her hands in her lap with a smug smile. “But the smart ones do.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  “Where’s Libby?” Pulling out his chair in the dining room, Finn sat down, scanning the table for the one face that had been missing all week. “I thought she was feeling better.”

  Maggie glanced up, brows pinched in concern. “She was, Finn, but I think she may have overdone it going out with me today, so she headed straight up when we got home.”

  Aiden grunted, which pretty much said it all for Finn too.

  Unfolding her napkin, Maeve delivered a passive smile. “She told me she was hoping to visit Mrs. Poppy, but apparently the dear woman was out, so Libby spent the day shopping.” Her mouth quirked. “Then took ill the moment she stepped in the house.”

  Aiden grunted again, stirring sugar into his hot tea.

  “I feel just awful,” Maggie said, eyes soft with regret, “for even pushing her to go out.”

  Finn shook his own napkin out and placed it on his lap, bowing his head to say grace while everyone did the same. When he finished, he reached for the rolls and plopped two on his plate before passing the basket to the left. “How did she seem today, Maggie?”

  Maggie nodded her thanks to Sheridan for the fried potatoes and proceeded to scoop some on her
plate, pausing briefly to give Finn’s question some thought. “Wonderful, actually,” she said with a smile, “chattering nonstop all the way to Mrs. Poppy’s house, so she seemed good.”

  Finn’s spoonful of peas halted over the bowl, eyelids tapering a hair. “All day?”

  “Yes, although she wasn’t as chatty on the way to town, but I think that was just because she was disappointed not to see Mrs. Poppy.”

  Another growl rumbled from Aiden’s lips, and Maeve huffed out a sigh. “Really, Aiden, a grunt is not a conversation, so just speak your mind.”

  Aiden took some roast beef from the platter and handed it off to Blaze. “All right, I will,” he said, aiming his fork in Finn’s direction. “I know this is your house, Finn, and we’re mighty beholden to you for your hospitality, but the main reason we’re here is to shake some sense into my mule-headed daughter, so when are you going to do it, dad-gum-it?”

  “For heaven’s sake, Aiden, coarse language has no place at the table, nor does your temper.” The ruffles on Maeve’s shirtwaist rose and fell as she huffed out a sigh. She placed a hand on her husband’s arm while she lanced Finn with a look far more threatening than Aiden’s temper. “What Aiden is trying to say, Finn, is that he and I have exhausted both our words and our patience with that stubborn daughter of ours. She refuses to listen to either of us, so our hands are tied.” She cocked her head, lips pursed all the more. “But yours are not.”

  Finn glanced up from the roast beef he was cutting. “And what’s that supposed to mean, ma’am?” he asked, shoving a piece of beef in his mouth.

  “It means, Mr. McShane, that you have to steep your tea while the water’s hot.”

  “But Uncle Finn doesn’t drink tea, Mrs. O’Shea,” Shaylee said with a pucker in her brow. “He says it’s for women and weak-minded boys and that real men only drink coffee.”

  Aiden drilled Finn with a heated gaze as hot as the cup of tea steaming in his hands. “If that’s the case, then I suggest you have Angus brew you a strong pot, McShane, because you’re going to need it.”