French Roast

by Ava Miles

  Keith’s rushed, anguished explanation made her own symptoms seem like nothing. “Shh,” she murmured. “It’s okay. We’ll take you to the hospital. Make it all better.”

  “I’m sorry,” he cried, hiccupping between sobs.

  “There’s nothing to be sorry for.” His good manners broke her heart. “It was an accident.”

  “We should get him to the emergency room,” Maven said quietly.

  Peggy reached for Keith. As he twisted toward her, he screamed, the sound rooting her straight into the ground.

  Maven snuggled him closer, mumbling nonsensical words. “Maybe you should drive. I can hold him. The hospital isn’t far, and there’s no need for him to feel any worse.” He rocked Keith in his arms like he knew what he was doing.

  Which seemed impossible, given everything Peggy knew about him. But her gut said she could trust him.

  “Mommy,” came her son’s agonized voice.

  Keith’s sobs made the decision for her. “Okay.”

  Maven stood carefully, and for the first time, she was aware of the full, devastating effect of that gorgeous face. The one that had made her body tingle from a mere picture. Flesh and blood were different. In person, he was stunning, a powerful presence that was impossible to ignore. He made her acutely aware of her red nose and unwashed hair.

  When Peggy stood, her tired, achy legs returned to their cooked spaghetti texture. Balance deserted her. Maven stepped forward to stop her from teetering over, all without releasing his grip on Keith.

  “Are you all right?” he asked in a gentle voice.

  Now that the adrenaline was leaving her system, iciness surged through her veins. “Fine,” she declared, pulling it together. She had to think of Keith.

  “Good. Can you drive a shift?” His mega-expensive shoes sunk into the snow as he started toward the car.

  She strode after him. “Is there enough room?”

  “It’s the FF model. Seats four. Don’t worry. He’ll be fine.” His arms cradled Keith carefully as he used his natural grace to descend into the low-slung car. His murmurs and rocking melted her mother’s heart.

  He was nothing like she’d expected.

  She turned the pumping music off and adjusted the seat so her feet could reach the pedals. Keith’s crying continued, so she tried to distract him. “What an incredible car, right, Keith? You’ll have to tell all your friends.” She clenched her hands on the leather steering wheel, putting it into first as softly as possible.

  She’d rather be gut shot than listen to her kid cry out in pain.

  “You can have your friends sign your cast too,” Maven added in that deep voice.

  “Hurts,” was Keith’s only reply between sobs.

  “Then Mommy will step on it,” Peggy responded, zooming down the street well past the speed limit—something she never did on her personal time—marveling that a poker player was comforting her son like that.

  Life certainly could throw a curve ball.

  ***

  Forty minutes later, Peggy eyed the swarm of people in the ER who were coughing with greenish faces. They had what she had. It was a veritable germ fest. But no one looked worse than her kid, still nestled against Maven’s chest.

  The damn paperwork had taken too long to fill out. She wondered what happened if you showed up bleeding like a gusher. Did you still have to fill out all that crap?

  “Let me see if I can’t speed things up,” Maven said from next to her.

  She turned her head. “How?”

  “I have my ways. You stay here. Anger and aggression are rolling off you—understandable—but let me try something different.” He stood without jostling Keith. “Be right back.”

  She watched him. The abrupt woman she’d thrust the registration papers at was all smiles now, nodding like an idiot. Keith continued to cry with those terrible, racking sobs.

  Maven returned. “They want us to go to X-ray. It’s on the third floor.”

  Peggy followed him, soothing Keith. “How did you—?”

  “I made her feel appreciated. Then I mentioned it might be a compound fracture.”

  She gasped, eyes zeroing in on her son’s leg.

  “It’s not, but sometimes you have to stretch the truth to get what you need.” In the fluorescent elevator light, he met her gaze. “Like you saying you were Dare Valley Police to protect your son. I admire your tenacity, especially since it’s a crime to impersonate a police officer.”

  Her spine straightened. “I’m the deputy sheriff of Eagle County.”

  He waited for her to exit the elevator. “Still thinking I’m a threat?”

  She followed the signs to X-ray. “You don’t believe me,” she said with utter befuddlement. Then she realized how she must look. She had on a red fleece cap she hadn’t taken off because of the chills, a black North Face coat she’d gotten on sale, and a hand-knit red scarf and gloves from her mother. Add in fleece yoga pants and tennis shoes, and she had to be about as intimidating as a pissed-off parent at a PTA meeting.

  “Using the stick as a gun was inspired, but I’ve had a gun to my head before, so I know what that feels like.” His comment threw her off balance. Maven scanned her again. “We haven’t been introduced. I know this is Keith. And you are?”

  She reached for the red hat and stuffed it into her pocket, desperately wishing she had her badge to flash. “Hear me. Deputy Sheriff Peggy McBride.”

  “Oh.” He made a muffled sound and then smiled. “Tanner McBride’s sister.”

  “You know Tanner?”

  “Only by his articles. He’s a good journalist.”

  “We’re here for an X-ray,” Maven told the nurse when they arrived at the desk. “Keith McBride. We appreciate you for helping him so quickly, Miriam. He’s in a lot of pain, poor guy.”

  Peggy watched Maven take over with ease. All the women working behind the desk had their eyes locked on him in minutes, including Miriam, whose nametag made it easy for him to butter her up. He was a natural charmer, weaving a spell on everyone with ovaries. But she didn’t care if he was the devil incarnate if he helped her son. Women didn’t respond well to her. She knew that. She let him work the room for Keith.

  Miriam assured them it would be only a few minutes more, and Maven rocked Keith into silence once again. As her son quieted, Maven’s nearness punctured her awareness. How warm his body was. She looked at the curve of the arms that held her son, the broad shoulders and chest that filled out his suit. The wet spots from Keith’s tears.

  As Keith slumped into Maven’s arms, Peggy powered down too. The cold grabbed hold of her, making her want to lay her head against this stranger’s arm and absorb his warmth.

  But she didn’t.

  Miriam suggested a gurney, but Maven didn’t want to put Keith down and hurt the leg, so they walked right into X-ray that way.

  Keith clutched Maven’s jacket. “Don’t wanna…”

  “It’s okay. I’m here.” Peggy grabbed her son’s hand, his body so small and human against the machines all around him.

  “You’ll have to step outside for a minute,” the tech announced. “Keith and I are going to be just fine.”

  Peggy wanted to sock her for such a blatant bunch of bullshit. God, she didn’t want to leave him alone in this cold room, but she forced a smile. “It’s going to be okay, baby. I promise. I’ll be right outside. It’ll only take a sec.”

  Maven put his hand under her elbow, and she somehow found the strength to walk out of the room with him. When the door hissed shut, she wanted to cry. Her little boy.

  “So there’s something I’m curious about, Deputy Sheriff.” Maven said. “If you’d really had your gun, would you have blown my brains out?”

  His thoughtful gaze met hers when she lifted her head. “In a heartbeat. No one threatens my son.”

  “But it’s interesting you assumed the worst and ignored me when I told you he’d fallen off his bike and hurt his leg,” he continued. “Do you always assume the wors
t about people?”

  His question awakened something in her. Surprise? Defensiveness? Or fear of the truth? She didn’t know, but she didn’t like it. “What would you have thought if you’d come upon the same scene? Strange man, flashy suit and car, won’t step away when you yell. Meanwhile, your kid’s crying and not fighting back.”

  He made a sweeping gesture. “Flashy suit? I thought this was small-town conservative when I chose it.” He leaned closer. “It was the rap music, right? The stereotypical preference of criminals.”

  “You’re making fun of me,” she observed in a flat tone. “Stop.”

  “I’m not. I would have reacted the same way because we have one thing in common.” His hand streaked up and down her spine as if to chase away her chills. “I’m also programmed to assume the worst. You’re sick, aren’t you?”

  His mental character assessment pushed her buttons. Then she realized he was reaching for a nearby Kleenex and handing it to her. She wanted to pull away from his hand, but the way it warmed her back was too intoxicating. “Just a cold. I’ll be okay.”

  “I don’t doubt it. Maybe you should threaten to pull a gun on your germs. They might flee from that ferocious scowl.”

  Was he flirting? She shivered from something other than her internal temperature. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” Best to get him moving along.

  His brows shot up.

  “I don’t mean to be rude, but we’ve taken up a lot of your time. You don’t even know us.”

  He didn’t stop that long sweep up and down her spine. “I would never dump a hurt kid.”

  There was something about the way he said that. She split her focus between him and the door. What was taking so long?

  “You’re good with kids. How does that happen with a poker player?”

  When his lips twitched, making him look more playful than charming, she wanted to lean against him. He was solid. And nothing like she’d imagined.

  “I have a nephew who delighted in scaring me and my sister to death with his antics.” Maven looked at the door too. “Still does, come to think of it. They’ll be out soon. Don’t worry.”

  Seconds stopped ticking. Time ran like honey down the side of a bowl, unhurried and uncaring.

  “Thank you,” Peggy finally said. “For helping.” Then her cop brain surged. “Why were you driving down our street? It’s off the beaten track.”

  He rubbed her shoulders. “What a suspicious mind you have. I was going to see my new colleague.”

  Peggy pulled her gaze away from the door. “Jill Hale, right? She’s a friend of mine.”

  His eyes flashed for a millisecond. He had a good poker face. No surprise. But she’d learned how to read people across the interrogation table. He didn’t like her knowing his business.

  “Yes, she’s going to be helping me for a few weeks. I need to call her about this delay.”

  “I know you want to create a poker hotel here. I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

  His hand dropped away. “I’m sorry you feel that way. Why are you so against it?”

  She stepped away, not wanting to be swayed by his nearness. “Hotels like yours bring crime. College girls hooking to pay for school. Drunken brawls. Racketeering. I’m raising my kid here. I don’t want Dare to change.”

  When he pulled on his suit jacket and swiped at the wet spot from Keith’s tears with a silk handkerchief, she felt dismissed—and a little guilty—which only pissed her off. Why should she feel bad? He was the one trying to bring gambling to town.

  “I’ll have my office send you the crime assessments done at my other hotels by a former police officer. I run a clean operation, Deputy McBride.”

  Gone was the man who’d held her son with gentleness and care. This man meant business.

  “That’s what they all say,” she replied sarcastically.

  He folded the handkerchief with deft hands and placed it back in his pocket, the white silk the perfect complement to his navy suit. “Ah, that suspicious nature. I don’t know why I feel so compelled to convince you. But, Peggy? I mean what I say. I won’t be adding any extra crime to Dare.”

  Her body was too tired to fight.

  “Your son’s finished,” the tech announced when the door opened.

  “Mommy,” Keith called from the table. She rushed to his side.

  Maven strode into the room and put a gentle hand on Keith’s shoulder, leaning over him. “I need to go see a friend of your mom’s. Jill Hale.”

  Keith’s face was ashen. His little body shook with cold despite the gray hospital blanket. “Jillie? She’s my friend, too.”

  “I’ll tell her to come and see you as soon as we finish our business. How’s that?”

  “She could sign my cast.”

  Maven ruffled his hair. “I’m sure she’d love to. I’ll drop by and see how you’re doing. Maybe I can sign your cast too.”

  “Sure.”

  Maven bowed his head ever so slightly to her. “I’ll see you later, Keith.” He walked to the door. Without her son in his arms, his movements were all grace and litheness. He turned, a mocking smile on his face. “I’ll see you again too, Peggy. It’s been…enlightening.”

  The door closed behind him. The surge of aloneness caught her by surprise. She was used to handling Keith as a single mom.

  It was the cold, she told herself. Her resistance was down. It couldn’t be anything else.

  She wouldn’t let it be.

  Chapter 23

  Jill spotted Mac’s sleek red Ferrari through her window. He was late, but it couldn’t have been for a better cause. The way he’d helped Peggy and Keith made Jill certain she was making the right decision by working for him. He was not only a good businessman, but a good man.

  When she sank into the supple leather seat of the car, her butt would have sighed if it could. Totally stoked about being in her first Ferrari, she took a deep breath to savor the moment.

  His gloves curled around the leather-studded steering wheel. “Ready?”

  She ran her hands down her skirt, smoothing away the wrinkles. “Ah…can I be totally honest?”

  His hand poised on the gear shift. “Yes, I thought we’d covered that.”

  Her hands gestured in space. “The Ferrari was a mistake. The locals will think you’re another transplant trying to horn in on their small town.” She picked a string off her green jacket. “There’s nothing we can do since people have seen you, but you might want to drive something a little…less conspicuous next time.”

  “That would explain the oohs and ahs I got as I left the hospital parking lot. You’re right. I didn’t think about it. It was such a nice day, I couldn’t help myself. The roads are as clear as I could hope for in winter.”

  Jill eyed the shiny dashboard frame and flashy metal gadgets. “Yeah, this baby would be toast in snow.”

  “She fishtails like crazy but fulfills my love for speed. I won’t make the mistake again.”

  The grim lines around his mouth made her realize he was a kindred spirit. He was mad at himself for the miscalculation. She tried to distract him with some levity.

  “I thought a poker player would be more patient. I don’t know. Take things slower.”

  “The table is different. I’m tempted to show you how fast this car can go, but that would fall under your ‘flashy’ category. And I’ve heard that word often enough today.”

  The bold green odometer drew her attention. “Another time perhaps. We should go. We’ll be closing down city hall.”

  He put the car into gear. She didn’t know if she was imagining it, but she’d swear the purring engine was giving her a butt massage.

  “Any pointers before we head inside? I have files on the local staff, so I know the players.”

  “The city council won’t be there, but the rank and file will be. You’ll want to make friends.”

  The car eased around the corner. “It’s what I do best.”

  “I believe it.”

&n
bsp; Hours later, Jill was thinking the same thing as she walked into The Chop House with Mac, waving to a few of the staff and regulars. When he’d asked her to join him for a combo celebration and strategy dinner after their successful trip to City Hall, she’d suggested the best place in town. Being seen in public together would help kick off their partnership. Dare’s gossip mill twirled as brightly as a Fourth of July sparkler. She had the uncomfortable feeling of being watched as she ate her steak salad, wondering if Brian had grilled the meat. Her gaze continued to track to the back for a glimpse of him.

  After their dinner, she introduced Mac to a few key customers at the restaurant and set up follow-up appointments for him. Everyone was calling him a Good Samaritan for helping Keith. He’d become a town hero. By the time they rose to leave, they’d been at the restaurant for three hours. Mac had sampled the menu with grace, complimenting the staff and asking to talk to the chef personally. Tom came out. Brian didn’t.

  She stopped short when Brian uncurled from the bench by the coat-check station on their way out. “Why aren’t you doing your chef thing?” she asked. He was decked out in normal clothes—jeans and a black fleece—and he seemed to be suffering from a bad case of nerves.

  “I didn’t see your car outside, so I asked to leave early. I thought I could take you home. You must be Mac Maven. I’m Brian McConnell.” He extended a hand to Mac, his mouth tight.

  Mac didn’t miss a beat even though there was a definite edge to Brian’s voice. “Good to meet you. I enjoyed the meal. My compliments.”

  “Glad it worked for you.” Brian crossed his arms over his chest, staring at Mac.

  Jill could feel the is mine bigger than yours energy pass between them. Oh, for heaven’s sake.

  “Well, we submitted the plans,” she said, hoping to keep things civil.

  “Yes, I heard. Congrats. So, can I take you home?”

  Clearly he wanted some time to talk to her. “Mac, why don’t you go on? I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  His hand touched her elbow. “Are you sure?”

  Brian’s eyes looked like they were ready to burst into flame. “I’m sure.”