Heart and Sole

by Miranda Liasson

  The space was too confined, the heavy curtain of rain making the space too intimate and private. Fantasies circled her mind of peeling off more layers of clothing and going at it with reckless abandonment. Here in moonshine country, who would even find them? “This is all my fault,” she said.

  He made a tsking sound, gave her a contemplative look. “You haven’t changed at all.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Taking on everyone’s burdens. Blaming yourself for things not in your control. Don’t you ever ease up on yourself?”

  She shrugged. “Old habits, I guess.” Old habits of screwing up that she just couldn’t shake no matter how hard she tried. Her inability to pick a decent job, for one. She’d finally done it, landed a job she loved, and now she had to give it all up to captain a sinking ship, an effort that would surely end in disaster. And she’d never get that job back.

  “I appreciate that you didn’t blame me.”

  Their eyes caught and held, like a slow motion pause. Awareness danced and crackled in the air between them. She remembered an easier time when they would’ve stayed and steamed up the windows.

  She tore her gaze away, focused on the wet world outside. “We need to get out and walk, don’t we?” she asked.

  “Yes, ma’am.” He grinned widely, his perfectly straight teeth gleaming white in the fast-approaching dark. “‘Cause no one on this back-ass country road is ever gonna find us if we don’t.”

  Chapter Six

  “There hasn’t been a car on the road for a half hour,” Maddie said a while later, her tennis shoes making squishing sounds as she walked. “My pants are soaked through and I have a wedgie.”

  “Looks like that’s not all that’s soaked through.” Nick cracked a smile as Maddie glanced down and quickly crossed her arms.

  “At least I have a shirt on,” she said.

  “I would too if you hadn’t locked the keys in the car.” She looked upset, so he changed his tone. “Let’s just keep walking. It’s getting dark.”

  Suddenly, in the distance, headlights shone. Maddie ran out onto the road, waving her arms and shouting.

  Nick ran out behind her and tried to subdue her enthusiasm by batting down her hands. “Be careful,” he said. “What if it’s someone we don’t want to stop?”

  “Nick, we’re going to die from walking all night in the soaking rain. Sometimes you’ve got to plunge in and take a chance.”

  “You’re too trusting.”

  “And you’re too suspicious.” She pointed to the side of the car, which read Monmouth Crossing Police. “See? We’re saved!”

  She linked her arm through Nick’s elbow and did a happy dance as he grumbled and cast her a wary look. The car pulled up, revealing a massive man behind the wheel, with a long black beard and mustache and a hoop earring in one ear. He looked like Hagrid in a cop uniform. Or the leader of a Harley gang.

  “Can you help us, Officer?” Maddie approached the window. “Our tires blew out, and we don’t have cell service.”

  The cop put on his flashers and got out. He was at least six feet four. His right arm was tattooed with the word Rosalie and a large rose. “Let me see your IDs.” His eyes roamed up and down Maddie’s drenched body, and Nick didn’t like that one bit.

  Nick stepped forward, putting himself in front of her like a shield. “We locked our wallets in the car by accident.”

  “That right?” the officer said with a drawl.

  “We just need a ride to a hotel for the night,” Nick said.

  “I’m happy to give y’all a ride into town. But the nearest Red Roof is sixty miles up the road.”

  Nick raked a hand through his hair. “Are there other options for lodging?”

  With one phone call, he could summon his private pilot. In a couple of hours, they could be in a five-star hotel with a view of the Caribbean Sea sharing a fluffy white bed with five hundred thread count sheets and a dozen pillows of different density levels. He’d tug down her warm, plush robe to ply his hands through all her tense, aching muscles…

  “Maybe at the pastor’s. You married? Or just shackin’ up?” Officer Hagrid flicked his gaze up and down, assessing their moral fiber.

  “Oh, no, we’re not—” Maddie began to answer.

  “We’re married. Just married, in fact.” Nick grabbed Maddie by the waist and pulled her close, shooting her what he hoped was a smitten smile. For one delicious moment, her taut, cold nipples rubbed up against his chest, sending a cascade of heat rocketing through him. “On the way home to North Carolina.”

  “Where in North Carolina?”

  “A place called Buckleberry Bend.”

  The officer’s bushy brows rose up in interest. “They got that big berry festival every year.”

  “It’s this weekend,” Maddie said. “They’ve got berry pie, berry wine, berry jams and jellies…”

  “Mulberry jam. A friend of mine brought me some jars a couple years back. Best I ever tasted.”

  “I’ll make sure I send you some, Officer…” She glanced at his badge. “Jenkins.”

  The officer plucked out a cell phone from his breast pocket, under his shiny silver badge that read Filbert Jenkins, Monmouth P.D.

  “Y’all hop in the back while I make this call.”

  Maddie slid with Nick into the back of the cruiser, which held the odor of stale beer and sweat. “Why did you tell him we were married?” she hissed.

  “I didn’t like the way he was eyeballing you.”

  “I can’t help it if I look like a coed in a wet T-shirt contest.”

  His eyes hovered over her chest, taking in perky breasts, each a perfectly sized handful. He forced his gaze back to her face, knowing he had to stop registering pure-lusty-guy look. “If I had my shirt…” He waved his hand over his chest. “I’d give it to you.”

  Maddie’s eyes lingered over his bare torso. He saw her swallow nervously and was strangely pleased at his effect on her. “I’m sure Officer Jenkins will do his duty and take care of us despite the fact that we look a little sketch,” she said.

  “How is it that you can trust a complete stranger within five minutes, yet you’ve known me forever and don’t trust me at all?”

  “He’s a police officer, Nick. And don’t even talk to me about trusting you.”

  She was right. He’d walked out on her after their last night together, hadn’t returned her calls, and had heavy investments in her family’s company. She’d have to be seriously crazy to trust him. And yet, he wished he could tell her he would always have her back, would never abandon her to the elements. Would protect her with his life if Officer What’s-His-Name decided to get fresh.

  Maybe she noticed something in his expression. Or the fact that he’d gone quiet. Her big blue eyes softened for an instant, then she looked away. “I’m talking about how you’re a guy and maybe you’d take advantage of the situation.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Trust me, darlin’, that’s the last thing on my mind.”

  “It wasn’t a year ago.”

  He stabbed a finger in the air at her. “That was mutual.”

  “It’s also never happening again, just to set the record straight.”

  “Not even thinking about it.”

  Visions of that white, bright imaginary hotel room came to mind. A spa tub big enough for two. Bubbles…in the water and in their champagne glasses. He’d slowly massage her back until all the tension was wrung out of her, and she went soft against him. Then he’d brush kisses down her neck and shoulder, gently gather up the orbs of her breasts and carefully kiss each one. As the steam crept up from the lilac-scented water, he’d work his magic until she arched her back and cried out his name on a moan.

  “Nick. Nick!” Maddie was shaking him. “Officer Jenkins says his mother’s got room for us.”

  Officer Jenkins placed his large, menacing face against the bars, sending what was left of Nick’s fantasy fleeing. “I’ll send for a tow truck to bring your car in
to town and the garage can work on fixing your tires tomorrow.”

  “Oh, thank you.” Maddie clasped her hands together in a gesture of relief.

  “Mama lives in a double-wide just out of town. My aunt’s visiting with her Airstream, but tonight she’s at my grandma’s so you can stay there. It’s small, just one bed, but it should be adequate.”

  Maddie frowned. “An Airstream?”

  “One of those shiny aluminum trailer-campers,” Nick said. The phrase one bed lingered in his mind. Fine for his fantasies, but in reality, something to be avoided at all costs.

  “Silver bullet, canned ham, toaster-on-wheels,” Officer Jenkins said.

  “Oh,” Maddie said. “Well, we’re grateful, and we appreciate the hospitality.”

  “Can I talk to you, honey?” Nick asked, tugging her by the elbow. “Excuse us for a minute, Officer.”

  “Please tell me you are not thinking about refusing this offer,” Maddie whispered.

  “I think if I can get to where there’s cell service, I can get us better accommodations.” Maybe not the Caribbean island, but at least two rooms.

  “No.”

  “Maddie, he wants us to stay in his aunt’s camper.” In a single bed. That was not happening.

  “He’s being kind. We can’t be rude.”

  “I’m allergic to cats. If they have cats—”

  “You’re—wait—you’re afraid.”

  He stiffened. “I am not afraid.”

  “Nervous then.”

  “Definitely not nervous.”

  “I hope you’re not upset because this isn’t a five-star offer. Surely you—”

  “No. It’s not that. I—”

  “You what?”

  Oh, shit.

  She left him struggling with words and walked over to the cop car. “We just wanted to say thank you, Officer.”

  “Yes, thanks,” Nick said from behind her because he had no choice. “We’re grateful.”

  Grateful they’d be warm and dry, yes. Grateful he’d be trapped for an entire night in a tiny camper next to a sexy woman he still wanted more than food or a warm shower…not so much.

  …

  Doris Jenkins barreled toward them in a bright hibiscus-print moo-moo, arms open wide. “Poor things,” she crooned. “Y’all must be exhausted. I started a little fire, and I’ve got weenies roasting.”

  Nick’s brows rose a little—maybe he was a food snob too—but Maddie was starving and thankful to be saved from sleeping in soggy underwear on the side of an abandoned road.

  The fire flickered, casting them in a ring of light, beyond which Maddie could make out faint outlines of other trailer homes. A picket fence edged a tidy flower garden scattered with lawn ornaments. She made out a few spinning propeller flowers, a painted wooden cutout of a woman bending over with petticoats in view, and a solar-powered gazing ball that cast a green glow. All colorful and interesting, like their hostess.

  The meal was rounded out by pork ‘n’ beans, and when she found out dessert was s’mores, she nearly kissed Doris’s flashy pink Crocs. Nick, looking relaxed for once, stretched out in an aluminum lawn chair and stuck his bare feet close to the fire. How unfair that a man could look so sexy roasting hot dogs.

  “Are you married, Doris?” Maddie noticed a gold band on her left hand.

  “Filbert Senior passed on two years ago.” She waved her hands dismissively. “Now, don’t go feeling sorry. Everyone should be so lucky. We had forty wonderful years.”

  Maddie instantly thought about her parents, who’d been married around thirty. Her father’s stroke had certainly thrown a wrench in the gears of life. But her mom still brought him fresh coffee every morning, and a homemade dessert every night, which they shared as they sat together in the rehab hospital. Although for the first few weeks, her father could barely chew, and for another few, her mother had to feed him every bite.

  That was love.

  Maddie feared she would never find it herself. She always chose the wrong guy, someone she thought she could trust but who broke her heart anyway. Maybe it was her nature. Believing men were essentially good, like her dad, when they were immature, self-centered scoundrels who only wanted one thing.

  She looked over at Nick. Heartbreaker Number One in all his handsome, robust glory.

  “I do love me a good love story,” Doris said. The fire was finally warming Maddie’s damp feet. Doris had lent her a sweatshirt that said Monmouth Bears Baseball 1999 and listed the players on the back. They had intimidating names like Fireball Jenkins and Gargantua Jones. “That’s my favorite pastime. Reading romance novels from the library. Filbert Junior used to make fun of me, ’til he fell in love himself. Now he doesn’t laugh.” She sandwiched a roasted marshmallow between two graham crackers and handed it to Maddie. “I love to hear couple stories. Tell me yours.”

  Guilt stopped her from sinking into the chocolaty gooeyness of the s’more. Maddie couldn’t concoct a lie for someone who had been only kind to them.

  Doris looked from her to Nick, waiting expectantly. To Maddie’s surprise, Nick sat forward, clasped his hands together, and chimed right in.

  “Maddie and I met the first day of kindergarten. I fell in love with her at first sight, her little freckly face and that curly hair done up in pigtails with red ribbons. Went home that day and told my grandpa I had a girlfriend.”

  The s’more stuck in Maddie’s throat, and she almost choked. Red ribbons. To match the red and white checked dress she’d picked out with her mom for her very first day of school. It had been her favorite. How on earth had he remembered?

  The fire cast flickering light that caught a touch of gold in Nick’s otherwise nearly black hair. It carved out and accentuated the strong planes and shadows of his face. He was as smoking hot as the fire.

  A far cry from the little boy with the gelled-down cowlick who held her hand during song time and sent her a cut-out valentine attached to a snack-size piece of Hershey bar melted from his sweaty little fist.

  Maddie remembered something else. “When his family and mine found out we wanted to be friends, they made it clear it was not to be. And the next year they redistricted the school system and Nick got sent to another school.” Nick’s grandfather took over as manager of a competing shoe store one town over but never left the tiny home he owned across the tracks.

  “Oh my stars, a Romeo-and-Juliet story. My favorite!” Doris popped another couple of marshmallows on a stick. “So why weren’t you allowed to be friends? That seems cruel.”

  Nick gave a soft snort, his gaze distant in the fire. Even from where she sat, Maddie could see the fire glitter in his dark, daredevil eyes. He was a beautiful man, but she was not going to let this story get to her. No way.

  “Longstanding feud between the Kingstons and the Holters.”

  “Over money?” Doris asked. “It always comes down to money, doesn’t it? Or a failed love. Or both.”

  Nick turned his gaze onto Maddie. It seemed to echo everything she was feeling—regret over the past and time lost to them forever. Words said, choices made, that could never be undone.

  Anger seeped into her like the chill she felt from being damp for hours. Why had they allowed that damn feud so much power over their own lives? It wasn’t their fight or their problem. They were just the innocent victims.

  Maddie broke the silence. “Nick’s great-grandfather and mine were apprentices under famous shoemakers in England who began a business together after World War II. They moved it to North Carolina back in the ’50s and our grandfathers took it over in the ’60s. I really don’t know what drove them apart.” She nodded toward Nick. “Do you?”

  Nick shrugged.

  “You must finish the story.” Doris poked another couple of marshmallows onto a stick. “Tell me how you got your families back together.”

  Maddie fisted her hands, both fearing and anticipating what on earth he would say next.

  Nick leaned forward. “Well, one day Maddie and I reconne
cted on a business trip. Met by accident, at a hotel in Atlanta. That same connection was there, wasn’t it, sweetheart?”

  His eyes drilled into hers, and Maddie felt a flush creep up her neck and clear into her face. Oh, they had connected, all right, in an electrifying, fireworks explosion way that was all starbursts, bells, and brilliant detonating explosives. Maddie was suddenly hot and cold, trembling and turned on, and he wasn’t even touching her. If they were alone, she wouldn’t have hesitated a single second more to jump his bones.

  Oh, no. She struggled to tether her runaway emotions. He was making up a story, and she was buying into his bullshit. That was a recipe for disaster. How the hell was she going to spend the night in that little camper-thingie with him?

  “So what on earth happened?” Doris literally sat on the edge of her canvas outdoor chair.

  Maddie cleared her throat. She sucked in a big, deep breath. But no words formed.

  Nick cleared his throat. “Yes, well, our families saw our happiness and decided to end their feud.”

  Nick stood and placed his arms on his hips, assuming the tone and inflection of an actor. He was good. Really good. “I took Maddie back home and I said, ‘Gramps, Maddie’s the love of my life. Now, I know you haven’t been talking to your old friend, and our families completely ignore one another when they pass on the street, but time’s up and that baloney’s got to end.’ Then I took her in my arms like this—” Nick pulled Maddie up, grabbed her around the waist and dipped her low—“and I said, ‘Sweetheart, it’s up to you and me to bring our families back together. Full circle. ’Cause that’s what love does.’”

  He eased her up slowly, the taut cords of his arm muscles pulling, pulling. His warm brown eyes stared into hers, and she went limp under his touch. He smelled of campfire and fresh air. His lips hovered so close she could feel his breath on her cheek. Just when she thought he would kiss her, she landed upright, and he sat back down in his chair, snagging another s’more from the platter.

  Dear God. Maddie stood with knees wobbling, breaths shaky and shallow. As she hitched down the sweatshirt and righted herself, Maddie wondered what kind of power Nicholas Holter possessed that his one touch could send her swirling into a melted puddle? She was so doomed. Worse, she was incapable of hating him, even though he was a vulture capitalist scoundrel who would take her whole family down if she couldn’t buck up and face him.