Hold Me Fast (McCullough Mountain Book 7)

by Lydia Michaels

  “This is all my dad’s stuff. Turns out he had a bit of a gambling problem. I’m trying to straighten a few things out, locate a couple deeds and such.”

  She sensed his tension and wondered if his father’s bad habits affected the lumber business. Frank had been running things for a while, but everything was in his father’s name. Strange that he’d choose today of all days to go through such paperwork, but maybe he was desperate for a distraction. “Can I help?”

  “No.”

  Her shoulders drooped with his fast rejection. She’d honestly wanted to do whatever she could to make this easier on him, but he didn’t seem to want her assistance at all. “I’m sorry about your dad, Frank.”

  He nodded once and remained silent.

  He didn’t want her there. “I’ll get the last box and then I’ll go.”

  “It’s heavy. I’ll get it.”

  “You’re sure?”

  He shot her a look and left her alone in the dusty dining room. Maybe she could clean it up for him. She’d be lying if she denied being a little freaked out by the dusty clutter. His father shot himself right in the backyard. But so long as she didn’t look back there, she saw no harm in being there.

  Without invitation, she opened the fridge. A pizza box and a six-pack of beer were all that filled the shelves. This would never do.

  She removed the box, gagging when she saw the gray cheese and carried it out front. Frank frowned at her as she tossed it on the porch. “You’re pizza’s growing fur,” she called, turning back to the kitchen before he could stop her.

  When he placed the last box on the counter she was done wiping out the fridge. The icebox really should be thawed and cleaned properly, but they needed to get those casseroles into the chilled air.

  Once she had the food put away, she used the boxes for trash and found a dishrag and soap and got to wiping down the counters. There were some charming patterns hidden under the dust and it made her miss a woman she’d never met. She bet Frank’s mum was a sweet lady and they would have gotten along nicely.

  He never stopped her, just watched from the corner of the room as he sipped his beer. She didn’t mind so long as he stayed out of her way. She preheated the oven and pulled out a dish of cabbage and corned beef. Scrubbing the windows, she struggled to get the jammed ones open and let some fresh air in the house.

  “Let me,” he said as she pounded the heel of her palm on the stubborn frame. He grunted, gave it a knock, and the glass lifted.

  “My hero.”

  He watched her, his eyes no longer scowling, but dark with something else.

  “Where’s your sweeper?”

  He disappeared and returned a moment later, vacuum in hand.

  “I’ll be needin’ some lemon polish too if you have it.”

  She got to vacuuming, spending a great deal of time on the furniture. In the hutch she found placemats and dishes, so she set the table. When the oven beeped the house was much tidier than she’d found it. “Wash up. Supper’s ready.”

  He dutifully scrubbed his hands and sat at the kitchen table, his head bowed over his plate.

  “Do you not like cabbage?”

  His finger traced the eyelet pattern of the yellow placemat. “These were my mother’s. I haven’t seen them in a while.”

  “I’m sorry. I saw them and figured…” She stood, ready to carry away the plates and remove the placemats. “I wasn’t thinking.”

  His face lifted and she stilled, finally seeing the pain he’d been hiding. “Thank you for doing this for me, Maureen. You have no idea what it means to me.”

  His gratitude filled her heart with warmth. Taken off guard, she was somewhat speechless. Her bottom dropped to her seat. “Well… let’s eat before it gets cold.”

  They ate in silence. Frank had three helpings. She wasn’t sure when he’d last fed himself, but she was glad to satisfy his hunger. It was the least she could do.

  After supper, she washed the dishes and returned them to the hutch. She found Frank standing in the dark front yard when she was finished.

  “I should be going.”

  His stare seemed fixated on the highest point of the mountain in the distance. Nothing but wide-open space. She wondered how much of the land actually belonged to his family. It would be lovely to have a house up there someday.

  He turned but didn’t step toward her. “Thank you again for the food and for cleaning. You didn’t have to do that.”

  “It was my pleasure. If there’s anything else you need…” She decided in that moment that if he asked her to stay she would.

  “You should go.”

  Again her heart tightened, but she told herself he was only creating distance in order to act honorably. “Goodnight, Frank.”

  “Goodnight.”

  Accepting he wouldn’t change his mind, she walked to her car and stilled. Shit. “Can you tell me how to get to town?” Maybe now he’d ask her to stay, since giving directions could be tedious.

  “Take this road about two miles until you see a water tower to your left. Turn right and follow that road. You’ll go around a large lake until you pass a wide-open field and a small rancher. Turn left at the rancher and that will lead you to town.”

  “Or I could stay,” she blurted, realizing she wanted to stay.

  “I’m drunk, Maureen.”

  Disappointed, assuming if he’d been sober he would have accepted her offer, she lowered her head. “Okay. Call me if you change your mind.”

  “Drive safe.”

  She knew he wouldn’t call and the next time she saw him would be at his father’s funeral.

  Chapter Five

  War was a nasty thing. Maureen tried to avoid much of the post-war articles in the paper now that things were ending. She’d been born during a war and wasn’t sure what happened when a country stopped fighting. How long until the repercussions truly ended? Perhaps never.

  A soldier shouted a sharp order and his men shot into the air. It was expected, but Maureen couldn’t help the flinch that came with the crack of each blast. Three bangs echoed through the mountains and Frank didn’t blink an eye. He stood at the head of his father’s casket, stone-faced, as the trumpets slowly whined the tune of Taps.

  The solemn melody silenced and the soldiers carefully gathered the flag, making a production of folding it intricately. Birds flew overhead, cars drove in the distance, as life went on, this one laid to rest.

  When the flag fit in a tight triangle, the soldier turned and handed it to Frank. He looked so lost in that moment, an orphan on his own, amongst people that loved him—yet he refused to let anyone in.

  Her chest tightened as her vision blurred. The priest made a final blessing and everyone stood.

  A yellow rose was passed to her and she placed it on the coffin. Frank didn’t move. He simply stared at the gathering flowers holding his father’s flag, his expression vacant of any emotion.

  “Is there anything afterwards?” her mother whispered. “McCullough is Irish. There should be a wake, no?”

  “I don’t think so, Mum.” It would be tacky to tell her mother that the funeral likely cost Frank more than he could afford.

  “Do you want me to wait for you, dearie?”

  “No, I’ll find a way home.”

  Her mum nodded and patted her arm.

  People whispered condolences and quietly returned to their cars. She glanced at Colleen and Rosemarie. Liam came to her side and whispered, “I asked him to come back to O’Malley’s with us, but he won’t. Maybe you could talk some sense into him, Maureen.”

  “Thank you, Liam. I’ll see what I can do. Maybe we’ll meet you down there.”

  He nodded and kissed her cheek. “Good luck.”

  Her sisters gave sad smiles and turned with the men toward the cars. The priest left with the funeral director and in the distance men waited to bury the casket. She slowly approached him.

  “What the priest said was nice.”

  “Aye. It would’ve
been nicer if he knew my father.”

  She glanced at the men by the backhoe. “Do you want to go somewhere? We can go to O’Malley’s, or to a diner, or to your house, wherever you want.”

  He glanced at the cars snaking their way out of the cemetery. “Everyone left?”

  “They didn’t want to bother you, but they’re only a phone call away if you want them to come back.”

  “No.” He glanced at her, his eyes pained with denied grief. “You stayed.”

  “Of course I stayed. I’m your…”

  His eyes met hers as his brow creased. “Neither of my parents got to meet you.”

  Her vision blurred as a lump formed in her throat. “I’m sorry, Frank. I’m so sorry you have to feel this grief and suffer such a loss. I wish there was a way I could take some of the pain from you, but I don’t know how. I feel so unprepared for this.”

  “You stayed. That means something.” He moved the flag under his arm and took her hand. “Will you come home with me?”

  Relieved he was letting her in, she rasped, “Yes.”

  They walked to the car and drove to his house in silence. He was likely hungry. She hoped he’d left a casserole out to thaw otherwise dinner would be tricky. When they reached his house there were more papers on the dining room table and a sink full of dishes. He’d been eating her food and that made her happy.

  He took off his suit jacket and draped it over a kitchen chair. She checked the fridge, but it was empty. Removing a casserole from the icebox, she started on the sink full of dishes.

  “Don’t bother with that.”

  “You have to eat. Once the sink’s empty I’ll fill it with warm water to speed up the thawing process. I can probably have you fed in a few hours,” she explained, busily scrubbing what was filling the basin.

  He stood behind her, his hands resting on her busy arms. “Is this what being married to you would be like?”

  She smiled, warmth comforting her heart at such a fantasy. “Perhaps.”

  His lips pressed to her cheek. “It’s nice.”

  The resounding truth that no one was home and this was now Frank’s house, continued to play on her nerves. “Why don’t you go relax while I get dinner started?”

  He chuckled. “Already barking out orders like a good wife.”

  Normally she’d scold him for such a comment, but he was only teasing. He kissed her cheek again and a few seconds later the sound of the television kicked on. Was this what it would be like? It seemed so natural.

  Once the glass dish of the casserole was soaking in warm water, she abandoned the kitchen to find Frank. He was sleeping on a chair in the den. Carol Burnett’s voice echoed from the set. Maureen lowered the volume so he could rest.

  She wandered through the house and stopped at the wedding picture in the hall. Frank’s mother was tiny. How had she managed such an enormous son? Again, patience seemed wise where children were concerned.

  Standing at the threshold of a bedroom, she noted the large bed and dated furniture. Deciding this was his father’s room, she carefully shut the door.

  The next bedroom was definitely Franks. The walls were orange and the carpet a hideous blend of browns. The bed was large and unmade. The furniture was nothing fancy, the largest piece dominated by a record player and speakers that were ridiculously huge.

  Seeing his personal space made him seem more attainable. It showed shades of boyhood. She couldn’t help but fix his bed. As she adjusted his pillows something caught her eye. Stuffed between the mattress and the wall was a magazine. She carefully pulled the book free so not to rip the pages.

  When she saw the cover she gasped. A woman wearing only a string of pearls and covering her breasts with her hands bent over a bale of hay. “Well, that’s no way to clean a barn.” She tsked. “Entertainment for Men,” the cover read. Opening the magazine she gasped again as her bottom dropped to the bed.

  Woman after woman posed topless. Some were even completely nude. She grumbled and snapped her tongue against her teeth. “Honestly, who plays guitar in the jungle without their knickers? Fastest way to get a tick bite.” Shaking her head, she turned the page. They were all sexy in a way she was not.

  “Catching up on your summer reading?”

  She jumped and chucked the magazine on the other side of the bed. “You scared me. I thought you were sleeping.”

  “I was.”

  “Oh. Well…I made your bed.”

  “That issue’s about five years old. I can’t tell you the last time I looked at it.”

  Her cheeks heated. “Why do you still have it?”

  He shrugged and picked it up off the floor, tucking it back under the pillows.

  “Do you like looking at those women, Frank?”

  “I’d rather look at you.”

  Good answer. “Well, none of them look like me so maybe you should toss that magazine in with the rubbish.”

  He picked it back up and dropped it into a wastepaper basket beside the bed. “Done.”

  “Well, good. I’m glad that’s taken care of.”

  “Anything else?”

  He was standing right in front of her, so close she found it difficult to concentrate. “N—no. I think that about handles it.”

  “How long until dinner?”

  “The casserole has to thaw and cook still. We have at least an hour before I can put it in the oven.”

  “Give me your hand.”

  Slowly, she placed her fingers in his and he tugged her to her feet and turned her so she faced the bed. It was a big bed. Her heart raced as the heat of his body pressed into her back.

  “You look very pretty today, Maureen. Is this a new dress?” His finger traced the boat neck collar.

  “It’s Rosemarie’s.”

  “Mind if I take it off?”

  Her chest lifted as she silently panted. “The—the zippers on the side.” His hand dragged beneath her sleeve slowly raising her arm.

  The sluggish pull of teeth echoed in the silent room as the zipper came loose and cool air caressed her hip. Her body trembled as his finger lifted the hem of the dress, pulling it over her shoulders and off her arms. “And this?” he asked, giving her bra strap a little tug.

  She stiffly nodded and his fingers unclasped the covering. The brazier slid from her arms and her breasts hung heavily over her ribs. What if he found her lopsided or pudgy? Self-consciously, she covered her breasts.

  “Do you want me to stop?”

  “I don’t know. I’m just a little nervous.”

  “There’s no need to be nervous with me, love.” He gently turned her shoulders and her feet shifted over the carpet, her T-strap Mary Janes awkward on the shag. “Let me see you.” His fingers closed over her wrists as he gradually guided her arms away.

  She couldn’t look at his face so she stared at the buttons of his dress shirt.

  “You’re lovely.” Bending close, his mouth closed over her shoulder and her nipples pulled tight as she swayed into him.

  The heat of his hand cupped her, his calloused fingers slowly chafing the sensitive tip. Breath shuddered into her lungs as his grasp turned firm, possessive. His face pressed into the curve of her shoulder. “Maureen…I want you so fiercely I can’t breathe.”

  Her trembling fingers tugged at his shirt, loosening it from his slacks. She unfastened the lowest button and then the one above as his mouth greedily kissed and sucked at her neck.

  “What are your doing to me, woman?”

  She fought with a stubborn button. “I’m tryin’ to undress you, but your shirt’s being a bastard.”

  He stepped back and her hands dropped to her sides. She watched as he slowly unbuttoned the rest, never taking his eyes from hers. As he parted his shirt her breath caught. “You’ve got so many muscles.”

  “I climb trees all day.”

  She nodded. “Aye. I think that’s a fine job for a man.”

  He chuckled. “Do you want to take these off?” he asked, giving her garters a s
light tug.

  She nodded and moved to the chair in the corner of his room. Curving her leg, she unbuckled her shoe and placed it to the side, sitting its partner with it. “I’ve never undressed for a man before.”

  “And you never will again. Only me, Maureen. No one else sees you this way, understand?”

  She nodded, finding that rule agreeable.

  Once she had each strap undone, she slid the garter belt over her hips and down her legs. When she stood, she was in only her panties and stockings. “All of it?”

  He nodded. “If you don’t object.”

  Thinking of the women in his magazine, she placed her foot on the seat of the chair and slowly rolled the stocking down her leg. It was sort of like being in a bathing suit, but not really. Unsure if she could go any farther on her own, she faced him, her eyes pleading. “Frank?”

  He stood, understanding this was a lot for her, and waved her back toward the bed. Without words, he comforted her. His hands caressed her throat as his eyes looked into her soul. Bending to her height, he kissed her passionately and lifted her off the ground. Her legs wrapped around his hips as the room spun and he sat on the bed, holding her.

  “You undo me, Maureen. Every knot inside of me tightens when you’re not around and as soon as you’re near all the tension unravels and goes away. How do you make that happen?”

  Her arms wreathed around his broad shoulders as she kissed his rough jaw. “I don’t know, but you do the same for me.”

  He lifted her again, this time pressing her back into the bedding. His mouth caressed hers, desperation hidden deep in the kiss. “I never felt as alone as I did this week, Maureen, and then you showed up. You take care of me even when I don’t deserve it.”

  “Of course you deserve it, Frank.” He rolled her to the bed.

  “No.” His head shook. “I was being a coward. I wasn’t going to see you anymore, because I was scared. You make me feel so damn much I don’t know what to make of all these emotions. I don’t want to love another person if they’re only going to leave me.”