The Mischievous Mrs. Maxfield

by Ninya Tippett

  And this is how you repay him?

  I mentally shook my conscience away, telling myself that Martin orchestrated this whole thing himself and I was doing my best to cooperate and truly give him whatever it was that he wanted out of this.

  We continued to talk like old friends on our way up to Mattie's room.

  To my surprise, I didnt have another attack of guilt. The old man seemed genuinely happy about my impending marriage to his son. I wasn't sure how he would feel when Brandon announced our divorce in a year. He would be devastated but I refused to think about it now. It didn't have to come to that. I would figure out what he needed me to do for Brandon, do it, and then get out when the time came with none the wiser.

  Mattie was already seated on his stool by his baby grand. The massive room had high ceilings and customized walls panels to provide the ideal acoustic treatment. The boy's eyes were lit up with excitement and Martin and I grinned at each other as we sat on the sofa across from him.

  Even though I was far from a music expert, Mattie's talent was evident the moment he started his first piece—a rich, lyrical composition that captivated with its spritely bursts of accelerated tempo in a dramatic blend of the melody's rise and fall.

  He was on his third piece when I felt large, warm hands on my shoulders and I looked up and saw Brandon standing behind the sofa, watching his baby brother with a smile.

  He was the first to applaud when Mattie finished just as the two sisters were walking into the room.

  Flushed but grinning from ear to ear, Mattie slid off his stool and took a deep, almost theatrical bow.

  "Good job, son," Martin said with fierce pride on his face as he stood up to give the boy a solid pat on the back. Even though Mattie came as a late surprise for him and Evelyn, Martin loved him no less than his other children.

  "That was absolutely wonderful, Mattie," I said to the boy as he walked over to us. Unable to help myself, I pulled him in for a quick hug to which he responded with a giggle, pushing his glasses up his nose.

  "I wholeheartedly agree, bro," Brandon said as he took his father's place on the sofa, his tall, large frame imposing against the light blue-gray fabric. His hand settled on my knee as he leaned forward to ruffle his brother's floppy blond hair. "I can't wait to attend your next school concert."

  "Will you take Charlotte to attend too?" Mattie asked, biting his lip anxiously.

  Brandon grinned and glanced at me. "Of course. She won't miss it for the world, would you, baby?"

  From what Martin had told me before, Mattie's school held a musical concert around late fall, just before the holidays. I wanted to make sure that was still within the year of my marriage to Brandon because I'd hate to promise the boy and not be able to come.

  "I wouldn't dare," I reassured him. "I've never been to one of those before but I'm sure I'll like it if you're playing."

  "It'll be kids performing," Anna said curtly as she and Tessa stood behind the sofa, glaring down at me. "It won't be anything sophisticated but knowing you, you'd probably be able to relate to it better."

  My lips tightened together. "Sophisticated musicians usually start as promising young talents. And I don't really care so much about being well-versed in music myself—I usually just enjoy listening to it—but I would appreciate it if you would limit your insults to just me and not your exceptionally gifted little brother who deserves none of it."

  I mentally cringed for blurting that last part out because I didn't want Mattie to hear this conversation but my temper snapped. It was too late to take it back now.

  "I agree with my fiancee that you should leave Mattie out of this," Brandon started, his voice cold and dangerously low. "But I also want you to stop being so petty, Anna."

  Anna looked utterly furious, Tessa anxiously staying her with a hand on her arm.

  Martin sighed out loud and put a hand on Mattie's shoulder. "Let's go and get Cook to pack up some food for Brand and Charlotte, buddy. These two should probably head out soon if they want to spend the rest of Sunday together. Come on."

  We were silent as we watched father and son leave the room.

  "I can't believe you're taking her side, Brand!" Anna burst out, pointing an accusing finger at me. "She's got you and Dad and Mattie poisoned now. Don't you see that?"

  Brandon gave her a withering stare as he stood and offered a hand to help me up. "What I see is you acting like a brat, Anna."

  Her blue eyes widened angrily. "A brat? A brat—"

  "I understand your concern, Anna, and I admire the fact that you're protective of your family," I interjected softly although my gaze never wavered from her. "I'm not out to turn either Martin or Brandon or even Mattie against you. You don't have to like me. You don't have to get along with me. You don't even have to be nice to me. But don't antagonize your father or brothers because of me because you'll always lose when you jeopardize your relationship with your family trying to pick a fight with someone who has no interest in having one with you. All you'll manage to accomplish is wasting precious time and energy, sabotaging yourself and hurting people you care about along the way. I don't imagine my suffering is worth much more than all that."

  Her mouth opened in an automatic response to dish something back but she blinked rapidly as if she couldn't either find or form the words.

  "We're leaving," Brandon announced before either of his sisters could say anything else.

  He grabbed my hand and started pulling me toward the door.

  Once out in the hallway, I sighed out loud. "I'm sorry I'm causing trouble between you and your sisters but I felt that I needed to say that. I don't have illusions that they're going to just love me all of a sudden so it's probably better that we just all agreed to disagree peacefully and move on."

  "If that was how you stood up to Anna in high school, I can see why she would find you intimidating enough to prompt her into taking the offensive with you."

  I glanced up at to see if he was upset but he was smiling in amusement at me.

  "I wasn't going out of my way to provoke people like your sister," I said sulkily, irritated that he seemed to be enjoying my predicament.

  "You probably didn't but when they provoked you, you made no bones about exactly what you thought of their actions and called them out for it," he said with a shrug as if he perfectly understood my reasons. "If there's one thing people hate, it's having begrudging respect for their enemies."

  I groaned and ran a hand down my face. "If I'm going to wing this whole marriage thing with you for a year, I can't afford enemies. The less people I have interested in me and our unusually quick engagement, the better I'm able to pull this off."

  His hand, the one I didn't realize was still holding mine until he tightened his grip, seized me in place, halting our walk and causing me to look up at him.

  "I agree but I would never want you to stand back down when you can do what's right," he said in a firm voice.

  I think someone has some begrudging respect for his unwanted wife-to-be.

  I smiled mischievously at him, my brows arching. "You do know that in a roundabout way, you just told me to persist on my opinion when you're in the wrong, don't you?"

  He barked out a laugh and I grinned.

  Our morals were skewed, our inconvenient attraction was complicating matters and our lives were about to become one big combined chaos but at that moment, standing in the sunny hallway, holding hands and laughing, I decided that Brandon and I were going to be alright.

  Chapter Seven: Dresses, Ducks and Dinner

  I was wide awake by five on Wednesday morning and it was my day off. These days, sleeping in wasn't an option.

  There just wasn't enough time in the world to do everything I needed to do—get my job and errands done, and also do everything that being Brandon's fiancee required.

  Getting up before I could fall back asleep, I walked barefoot to the kitchen and made myself a big cup of coffee. Sitting with my laptop on the dining table, I checked my day's cal
endar which Felicity kept up to date with amazing efficiency.

  6:00 AM -Morning run

  7:00 AM -Breakfast meeting with Felicity

  -Profile review of engagement party guests

  8:00 AM -Dance lessons

  10:00 AM -Fitting at Marcellina’s for engagement party dress

  -10-minute media interview

  11:00 AM -Food-tasting for wedding

  12:30-3:00 PM -Charlotte’s Me-Time

  3:00 PM -Meeting with Shelly (Re: wedding music and entertainment)

  4:00 PM -Spa appointment at The Retreat

  6:00 PM -Dinner with Brandon at Chianti

  I smiled.

  Brandon went to Vancouver for a few days on business. He was supposed to return later today. Felicity and I had been dealing with all of the wedding-planning but he had things to approve. We also had a pre-nup to sign despite Martin's grumblings about it.

  I'd hate to admit it but I looked forward to seeing him. He made me miss him, dammit.

  Well, maybe I just missed having someone to complain to about the fanfare of the wedding and the new life I hadn't even wanted in the first place. No one but the two of us knew about our arrangement and that secret bound us together no matter how much we clashed.

  Not that your clashes have been what's preoccupying you lately.

  That Sunday, after we left brunch, Brandon took me to a small, nearby park for a nice stroll with my arm secured around his. When I asked why we were there, he insisted that the media needed to take a good look at me as the future Mrs. Maxfield. With so many eyes trained on us at the moment, a walk around the park would bolster the romantic strengths of our engagement.

  Of course, I rolled my eyes at that but decided to play along. I had the urge to fluster him out of his typical control but I didn't. My own restraint evaded me that day and I needed his for the both of us.

  The stroll had been perfect—until my feet started to hurt. I kicked off my shoes and carried them with me. Brandon didn't approve and made us sit so I could rest a little and put my shoes back on before resuming our walk.

  While sitting on a bench across from a fountain, a feisty furball of a dog came bounding from nowhere and snatched up one of my shoes. Before I could think better of it, I tossed my wristlet aside, leapt up and ran after the dog, barefoot, leaving behind a bellowing Brandon as I pursued the sly, little thief who jumped into one of shallow tiered fountains.

  I had already hopped on the ledge, ready to wrench my poor shoe out of the dog's mouth, when I realized that the dog had dunked itself into the water. I teetered over and fell unceremoniously into the fountain. I was soaked from the hip down, my hair a mess, my dress ruined, and my face sticky with puppy spit after the misbehaving schnauzer licked my face in earnest, finally dropping the gnawed-on shoe into my wet lap.

  I had been laughing and nuzzling its neck when a shadow fell over us and I looked up and found a scowling Brandon. He plucked me out of the fountain with one hand and shrugged off his jacket to wrap around my wet and slightly shivering form.

  He barely kept his voice from rising to the heavens above when he sputtered out, "That was one of the most idiotic things I've seen a person ever do. What if the dog tore a limb off you? What if you fell and broke something? What if it had rabies? Did you think about that?"

  Suffice to say, he hadn't been happy with my little dip. His mood didn't improve when the owner of the dog hurried over to us, apologizing between gasps of breath as he panted like he'd run a marathon. Brandon had been ready to tell him off and I barely just managed to grab his arm and drag him away. He scowled for ten minutes as we walked before he finally sighed and said, "You reek. It will take half a dozen showers to get the eau de fontaine off of you."

  To that, I simply gave him a cheeky grin and walked on.

  He drove me home and walked me to my door because despite his somber moods, Brandon was a gentleman. I stood there, still clutching his jacket and waiting as he gazed at me for an eternity. With his signature seriousness, he pushed away a damp lock of hair from my forehead before pressing a soft kiss on it. He then gruffly told me he'd see me on Wednesday when he returned from Canada. I didn't say anything as I watched him go, wondering if he realized he'd kissed me when I was literally a mess or if he just didn't care.

  The world had a different view of us though because a picture of me dripping wet, barefoot, and handing the dog to its owner graced the tabloids the next day. Captured along with it was the resignation on Brandon's face.

  He's probably dreading dinner with you tonight. He's afraid to take you out in public now.

  As fun as it was to drive Brandon a little crazy sometimes when I didn't exactly do what he wanted, I wanted to prove to him that despite my impoverished upbringing, I wasn't a moron who couldn't act like a civilized person.

  Well, I intended to be civilized, not become an epitome of propriety—huge difference.

  Even with Felicity doing her damn best to get me on the straight and narrow, the last couple of days hadn't exactly been strictly according to the plan.

  I had to work day shifts at Marlow's—a compromise with Brandon who reluctantly agreed to them because at least there would be fewer slightly inebriated and gropey men present.

  Anna was particularly enraged that I wanted to continue working as a waitress for a little bit, insisting that it sullied their family name, but Martin had no qualms about it, still coming in on Tuesday morning to sit at his usual table and have me take his order. We chatted a little bit about the wedding and for a man who devised all this grand wedding scheme, he insisted on nothing but for us to skip asparagus in the menu because he was allergic. He didn't really act like anything was that different which was more than what I could say about the others at the diner.

  People were eager to congratulate and tease me. There were new people coming into Marlow's in the guise of dining and kept requesting to have me assigned as their server. Most of them only looked and attempted a small chat; only a few were bold enough to ask me pointblank what it was like to be engaged to Brandon Maxfield. I told them with a straight face that it felt like being a prized cake on a pedestal, with a bunch of flies swarming around it. I grinned at their stupefied expressions and told them I was just kidding.

  Paps and reporters tried coming in, masquerading as customers that I had to get Gilles to peel himself off my side and man the door. Marlow's had a handful of bouncers but since no one really got that sauced during lunch hour, Bobby only got them to work on evenings and weekends.

  Bobby didn't mind the sudden expansion of his customer base to a larger female demographic but he didn't like people just loitering about and taking up seats when there were people actually coming in for something on the menu and not the gossip papers. Bobby liked me enough though to say out loud that he'd rather I stuck around where my friends could look after me instead of being chased down the street by the media mob.

  When Felicity and I went for fittings and countless meetings with all sorts of coordinators for the wedding, the frenzy followed, so much that I couldn't get into the grocery store once without them cramming at the door.

  I managed to ignore the paps since they started hounding after me but when Elena, the dear old lady who worked as the greeter at the grocery, looked like she was going to have a heart attack trying to shoo off half a dozen men, I stomped up to them with a glare and said, "Let's make a deal. I chat with you guys for ten minutes once a day and you leave me alone for the rest of it. My schedule is all over the place so why don't I get Felicity to post something for me online and you can all show up there and get your ten minutes of talk-time with me?"

  That seemed to have startled them but they all grunted in dubious affirmation. Felicity didn't like the idea of me committing time to the paps but I reassured her that their interest was going to wane very quickly and we'd reassess it then. Today would be our first try.

  I was going through my new emails when I found one from Brandon that simply said:

  Wh
at would you like from Canada? -B

  I grinned and typed up a quick response.

  Maple syrup? Too obvious? How about a loonie? And no, you don't count as one =P -C. C. C.

  Two minutes later, my phone rang.

  "Good morning, it's 5:25 AM Eastern Daylight Time in this side of the continent," I greeted in my best radio-announcer voice. "The sun has just risen. Skies are clear. It's looking to be a great summer day. What about you, west coast?"

  I heard Brandon chuckling softly on the other line. "You are such a dork. It's almost two-thirty in the morning and from what I can see from my hotel room, the west coast is still under a blanket of stars, glittering against the dark blue ocean. It's beautiful."

  I paused, caught off guard by the sleepy quality of his voice and the muffled silence that followed his last statement. I instantly imagined a large, comfortable bed, a tumble of sheets and pillows, and a large window that looked out to the serene Pacific Ocean.

  "W-what?" I stammered before I cleared my throat and shook myself back to reality. "If it's freaking two-thirty in the morning, what are you doing on the phone with me?"

  "My phone beeped with your email," he answered and I could hear the rustling of sheets. Heat shot through me as my imagination ran wild. "I wanted to know what C.C.C. means."

  "Crazy Cookie Charlotte," I answered sheepishly. "I used to sign the cakes and craft cookies I made that way."

  A pause before I heard his snicker. "Sounds about right."

  "Brandon!" I attempted to reprimand despite my grin. "Don't sound so smug. You're B.B.B."

  "And what does that mean?"

  "Bratty Brandon Boor," I said with a snort.