Going Home (Nugget Romance 1)

by Stacy Finz

  He rolled onto his back so that she was on top. “Sit up, so I can see you.”

  She braced her hands on his shoulders to push herself upright. He reached up to fondle her breasts and tongue her nipples as she arched her back.

  “Mmm,” she moaned as he gripped her hips so she could sheathe him deeper.

  She rode him that way, controlling the pace and the movement. He lay back, watching the way she swayed, driving himself up and into her, his hands squeezing her bottom to the rhythm of their thrusts. Within minutes she felt ready to ride the crest. But he found her center with his thumb and worked it, sending her over the edge. Her climax was so intense she had to hold on to Rhys with both hands to keep from collapsing like a rag doll.

  He rolled her underneath him, bent her legs, and pumped hard and fast. She felt him begin to shudder, then he threw his head back, shouted, “Oh, Jesus,” and squeezed his eyes shut.

  He lay on top of her for a while, trying to even out his breathing, eventually flipping onto his side. “I think that was a record for me. I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

  “No.” She gave him her best dreamy, sated smile. “And it was definitely a record for me.”

  “Yeah?” He leaned over and kissed her. “Be right back.”

  He headed in the direction of the bathroom and Maddy took time to admire the view. The man had the most spectacular backside she’d ever seen. Buns of steel.

  He returned a few minutes later, crawled under the blanket, and pulled her against his chest. “Tell me what your expert found. I’m not really sure I want to know about what you did at the barber shop. You didn’t break in, did you?”

  “No. I got a haircut.” She sat up so she could fluff it in the closet’s mirrored doors. “You like?”

  He twirled a strand around his finger. “Yeah, I like. Whaddya do, Maddy?”

  “Oh, don’t go getting all Johnny Law on me. I just went over there to convince the Nugget Mafia that Sandy Addison sleeps with the fishes. Brought the report.”

  “And what’s the report say?”

  “That Nugget’s wastewater plant is only up to seventy-five-percent capacity—that Sandy’s the only one full of shit.”

  He pulled her back down. “Seventy-five percent! That’s great.”

  She ran her fingers through the mat of dark hair on his chest. “Yeah, except for the report also says the system’s in dire need of an upgrade. So I don’t think I made too many inroads at Owen’s.

  “So, what’ve you been up to?” Maddy asked and Rhys chuckled. “What?” She swatted him.

  “I’ve just missed you, that’s all.”

  “See,” she said. “You have been avoiding me.”

  “Not avoiding, just busy.”

  Maddy pulled away. “What’s been going on?”

  “Besides working on catching your tweaker and the Nugget Market’s robber? Well, let’s see. Shep broke his arm while taking a dump in the kitchen.”

  “Oh, no.” Maddy sat up. “Is he okay?”

  Rhys puffed out a breath. “The big concern was pneumonia, which he doesn’t have.”

  “How did it happen?”

  “He has trouble at night, particularly with the bathroom. The apartment’s not laid out well, especially for someone with dementia. So he got confused in the kitchen and toppled over a chair. An hour later, Lina got up to get a glass of water and found him.”

  “Rhys, if the city gives the go-ahead on the inn, I’m moving in. The caretaker’s quarters are about finished, and it’ll be good to have someone on the premises. You can remodel the duplex, put in a suite for Shep.”

  “I agree that it would be good to have someone living at the Lumber Baron. Just not you.”

  She tried to argue with him, but he wasn’t having it. “There’s no room for negotiation here, Maddy. Until I get this son of a bitch, you’re not moving into the Lumber Baron.”

  “Rhys, Lina and Sam can’t continue to live in your dad’s living room. Lina’s almost eighteen. She needs privacy. Shep needs a full-time caretaker—that requires space.”

  “Don’t I know it. But in April, I’m going back to Houston,” he said, propping himself up on one elbow. “I want to make lieutenant, Maddy. Those positions rarely come up. If I’m not there when one does, I’ll get passed over.”

  “But you’re chief here.”

  “Maddy,” he said, “it’s a Podunk town of six thousand people.”

  “But it has really good crime.”

  He closed his eyes and let out a breath. “You’ve always known that I’m leaving, Maddy. That hasn’t changed.”

  “I know. I just don’t want you to leave.” Because despite every instinct telling her that this was the absolute worst time for it, she was falling in love with the man. Foolish. But unfortunately emotions didn’t have the good sense to follow a neat schedule. Sometimes true love happens even in the middle of a divorce.

  “Honey, look at me.” Rhys tilted his head so he was eye level with her. “Maybe what we’re doing here isn’t such a good—”

  “Stop.” She covered his mouth. “You’ve always been honest about your situation here. We’re on the same page. I just want to enjoy what little time we have together. That’s all.” Yeah, they’d always have Nugget.

  “Okay,” he said. “So we’re cool?”

  “We’re cool.” But a voice in her head screamed, “Liar, liar, liar.”

  Chapter 21

  As soon as Maddy turned off the faucet in the shower, the phone began to ring. Cursing, she quickly grabbed a towel, wrapped it around her toga-style, and waded into the kitchen barefoot. Even with the heat cranked up, her legs sprouted goose bumps.

  She dove for the cordless before whoever was on the other end gave up. “Hello?”

  “Mad?”

  The connection crackled, sounding long-distance. “Dave, is that you?” Crap, she should’ve let it go to voice mail?

  “Who else would it be? I’ve left you about a dozen messages.” Dave tried, without much success, to disguise his hostility. Ever since he’d gotten the earrings back, he’d morphed into a temperamental child. Maybe he’d always been like that when he didn’t get his way and Maddy hadn’t noticed it until now. Or, more likely, he’d always gotten his way. “Why are you out of breath?”

  “You caught me just as I was getting out of the tub.” So, gotta go.

  “I wanted to see if you could pick me up at the airport?”

  The guy was seriously off his rocker. “You flying into San Francisco? ’Cause, in case you forgot, I live in Nugget, more than two hundred miles away. And then there’s that little detail of us getting a divorce.”

  “Mad,” he said, and whatever anger she’d heard before, now sounded like sorrow. “I would just like an opportunity for us to talk—for me to make my case. We could go to that Italian restaurant you like on Russian Hill . . . discuss this.”

  She tried for patience. “Dave, please don’t make this any more difficult than it has to be.”

  “You’re really going through with this, aren’t you?” His voice sounded hoarse. And tired.

  Maddy pulled the towel tighter, not saying anything, hoping that her silence spoke for itself. This going around in circles had become incredibly tedious.

  “My lawyer says you want half the proceeds from the house,” Dave said with a hint of bring it on, which put Maddy on alert. He was going to fight her for every damn cent.

  “Assets we acquired together are not covered by the prenup,” she asserted, just like her lawyer had told her. “It’s only fair, Dave. I gave up a career for that house.”

  “I paid for it.”

  “Fine. We’ll just go to court, then.” The San Francisco real estate market was red-hot. The house was worth a small fortune. She needed that money, especially if they lost their lodging permit for the Lumber Baron.

  “Maddy, don’t be naïve. I’ve got enough money to bury you. Even if you eventually win, all the proceeds will wind up going toward your legal fee
s. But I’ll tell you what, give me one dinner to try to convince you to call off this farce. If at the end of the meal you’re still hell-bent on going through with it, I’ll give you the whole fucking house and sign your stupid papers.”

  “Why are you manipulating me like this?”

  “I want you back, Maddy.”

  “I’m not coming back. And no dinner in the world is going to convince me otherwise. But I do need the money from the house that I spent four years of my life trying to make a home. So if you’ll put this ridiculous proposal of yours in writing I’ll do it.”

  “Yep. My lawyer’ll send it right over.” He rattled off a date, time, and meeting place.

  “Just dinner, Dave.”

  “Let’s see what happens.”

  Chapter 22

  When Rhys got to the Lumber Baron a group of workers sat on the porch, basking in what little sun had peeked through the clouds, eating sandwiches and Bun Boy burgers.

  “Maddy inside?” he asked, climbing the steps.

  “Yeah. She’s on the second floor, picking colors with the painters,” someone from the crew said.

  The workers made room for him to get by, and once inside, he spent a few minutes in the foyer just taking in the sheer opulence of the stained glass and the woodwork. The transformation still blew him away. The staircase, he noticed, was no longer that putrid pink. The paint had been stripped to bring the finish on the banister and treads back to its original mahogany, and it looked pretty damn outstanding. The place was shaping up, Rhys thought as he ran his palm over the silky-smooth handrail. If the city kept it from opening, it would be a travesty.

  He found Maddy standing in the middle of one of the guest rooms, studying four different shades of green painted in big squares on the wall.

  “Hi.” She smiled up at him and went back to examining the color swatches, tilting her head first to the left and then to the right.

  He started to sit on the perfectly made bed heaped with tasseled pillows, but thought better of it. “You can lie here with the fire going and watch the game.” Rhys pointed at the flat-screen TV that hung above a crisp white mantel.

  “That’s the idea,” Maddy said, gracing him with yet another one of her kick-ass smiles. “Ordinarily, I wouldn’t have furnished and accessorized a room this early in the construction. But if we actually open by summer, I need to start making brochures, build a website. I need pictures.”

  She continued to talk a mile a minute and Rhys just stood there, struck by her sheer beauty. Not just her physical appearance, which completely did it for him, but the woman had so much vigor that he felt completely dazzled by it. Moonstruck.

  “Is everything okay, Rhys? You look a little funny.”

  “Yeah,” he said, and blinked a few times to clear his head. “Can you go for a ride? I want to show you something.”

  He drove her to a deserted old summer camp and they sat on the deck of an imposing lodge, watching the sun hang over the Sierra until dusk, then wandered the grounds with only the crunch of dead leaves and an occasional birdcall to fill the silence. The spicy smell of pine needles and wet dirt filled the air and Rhys had never felt so peaceful. He’d happened upon the place while doing a welfare check in the backwoods. On a lark, he’d called the agent listed on the “for sale” sign. It turned out he’d gone to high school with her. She’d told him all about the camp, a white elephant that had been on the market for years.

  “I thought if the inn didn’t work out, maybe you could take this place over,” Rhys said. “It’s on its own septic system. And it’s already zoned commercial.”

  “You saw the op-ed piece in the paper, didn’t you?” Maddy asked.

  “Yep.”

  “No doubt about it, the property has potential. It’s a really great place, Rhys. But after the inn, we’re tapped out financially. Nate doesn’t even think we’ll be able to sell the Lumber Baron for enough to break even. And this place needs a lot of work.”

  “It was a shot in the dark,” he said, feeling disappointed. “I just thought . . .”

  “You’re a good man.” She lifted up on her toes and kissed him.

  He searched her face. “I want it to work out for you, Maddy.”

  “I know.” She gazed up as the remaining light filtered through the trees, casting shadows on the forest floor. “The Addisons are supposedly planning a demonstration against the inn. I’m going to San Francisco in a few days, but if you hear anything, a heads-up would be greatly appreciated.

  “But,” she quickly added, “don’t do anything unethical.”

  The corners of Rhys’s mouth lifted slightly. “I’ll try not to. What’re you going to San Francisco for?”

  “I have to meet Dave about selling our house.” When she couldn’t meet his eyes, Rhys knew he wasn’t getting the full story.

  He leaned against a big oak, his hands fisted at his sides. “You two getting back together?”

  “No. Of course not,” she said. “We have stuff to discuss—about the divorce.”

  “Isn’t that what the lawyers are for?” He pushed off the tree and walked away.

  “He said if I’d give him a chance to apologize, he’d give me the house,” she blurted out.

  Rhys whipped around. “Let me guess. He needs to make the apology in person.”

  She looked down at her shoes. “Over dinner.”

  “I bet. You gotta do what you gotta do.” He walked briskly to his truck, but what he wanted to do was hit something.

  “What? You think I’m a chump for going?” she called to his back. No, he was the chump.

  “Where I come from, we have another name for it.” He stopped and slowly turned. She blanched and Rhys instantly wished he could take it back.

  “Ah, hell, Maddy.” He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “I didn’t mean that. I just don’t want to see you get played, is all.”

  “Give me a little credit, Rhys. We’re ending a five-year marriage. Possessions need to be split up, real estate decisions need to be made, bank accounts need to be closed. That’s what happens when people get divorced.”

  He knew plenty of people who’d gotten divorced. They hadn’t hashed out who got what over dinner. More like over joint restraining orders. The woman was tying him up in knots. One day everything was “Don’t go to Houston, Rhys,” and the next was dinner with Dave.

  “Maddy,” he said, knowing that for his own sanity he had to end this, “maybe this would be a good time for us to cool things off. You’ve got your deal with Dave. Everything’s up in the air with the inn. I’m on my way out. Just seems like it would make more sense for us to go back to being platonic, focus on the stuff we need to.”

  She jerked back, like she’d just been sucker punched. Her bottom lip started to tremble and Rhys prepared himself for the inevitable waterworks. But her face suddenly flushed red and he could tell she was angry.

  “You’re right,” she said. “Lots going on. I’m getting out of a bad marriage, you’re going to Texas. Got to keep our eyes on the ball.”

  He watched her turn and walk that very fine ass of hers to his truck.

  Yeah, Rhys thought, it would be easier this way.

  Forty-eight hours later, Rhys sat at Connie’s desk, watching Jake eat fries, feeling a little sick to his stomach. Ever since he’d decided to turn down the heat with Maddy, his lungs hadn’t been working too good. Not enough air coming in and out. Ultimately, though, he knew he’d done the right thing. Better now than in three months. Or worse—when Dave talked Maddy into getting back with him.

  Despite her tough talk, women didn’t walk away from rich guys like him. A man who could buy her the world. A man who had a hell of a lot more history with Maddy than a couple of months of making love to Rhys in a trailer.

  He hadn’t even had the decency to take Maddy on a real date.

  “Hey, Jake,” Rhys called. “When you were going through your divorces did you ever try to reconcile with any of your wives?”

&n
bsp; “Depends what you mean by reconcile. Candy—wife number one—and I still tumble into bed every now and again. We never could keep our hands off each other. With Laurie, yeah, a few times I thought we’d wind up getting back together. Then she met Bob. Leanne—no way in hell. Why do you ask?”

  “No reason.”

  Jake eyeballed him for a second or two, started to say something, and seemed to think better of it. Then, seemingly unable to control himself, he said, “Once, I was interested in a woman who refused to get serious with me until my divorce from Candy was a year old. Said she’d be setting herself up for heartbreak. It turned out to be a good move—for her, anyway.”

  The bell over the door rang and Connie came in holding a box of grocery store donuts. “Hey, Chief, you get that message from Carol Spartan I left on your desk?”

  “Yeah. Thanks.” He’d asked the real estate agent about Clay’s Victorian just for fun when he’d contacted her about the old camp for Maddy. She’d told him some interesting historical facts about the house—things that would’ve made Maddy flip. But now he couldn’t take her there. “Got some paperwork to do.”

  “Buck up, son,” Jake said. “Plenty more fish in the sea.”

  He heard Connie ask Jake what they were talking about and Jake responded, “Fishing.”

  Ten minutes later, Connie stood outside his door. “Telephone for you, Chief. It’s Houston.”

  When she continued to loiter, Rhys told her to shut his door, then answered the phone. “This is Chief Shepard.”

  “Chief. That sounds damn good on you, Rhys.”

  “Hey, Lieutenant,” Rhys said, a little surprised that his old boss was calling. He hadn’t heard from him since he’d taken leave from the department. “How are things at HPD?”

  “Not bad, and really good for you.”

  Rhys took his feet off the desk and sat up straight. “How’s that?”

  “Little birdy says they want you to replace Jones when he retires next month.” Hell yeah! He was getting promoted to lieutenant.