Love Built to Last

by Lisa Ricard Claro

Luminous. It was the only word that came to his mind to describe her.

  He knew the moment his heart opened. The rush cascaded into him, over him, and snatched his breath.

  He took her face in his hands before the moment passed, before he talked himself out of it with all the stupid excuses he’d labeled as reasons and repeated like a mantra for the last week. Dante’s words floated back to him: With the right woman, a second’s long enough.

  And beneath the callused pads of his thumbs, the skin of her cheeks warmed and grew pink with his touch. The pulse at the base of her throat whirred like a hummingbird’s wings. He paused, gave her the chance to pull away, half expected her to. Instead, like a miracle, she leaned toward him, the barest fraction of an inch. His gaze dropped to her mouth, spellbound, when her lips parted.

  “Madelyn Rose,” he whispered, loving the feel of her name on his lips, and leaned in to taste, his mouth brushing Maddie’s with a butterfly touch. Her hands encircled his wrists, loose at first, tightening as he deepened the kiss. She held him there with her hands, her lips, her need, and sent him to the edge of reason when something akin to a satisfied purr vibrated from her throat.

  “Daddy? Miss Maddie?” TJ’s sleepy voice preceded him through the screen door.

  Breathless, Cal rested his forehead against Maddie’s for the barest of moments, touched his thumb to the fullness of her bottom lip, and dropped his hands. His words were for TJ, but his eyes remained on Maddie. She leaned away and her expression became veiled.

  “Hey, buddy, out here.”

  The screen door squeaked open then tapped shut. Cal held his arms out to his sweet boy and TJ shuffled into them, still half asleep. Barefoot and wearing a T-shirt of Maddie’s that reached his knees, he curled up in Cal’s lap with the strawberry scent of Maddie’s shampoo and soap wafting from the warmth of his skin.

  “Where’s Pirate?”

  “He’s out in the yard. Wait, here he comes. He must have heard your voice.”

  The homely dog trotted across the yard and up the stairs, greeting TJ with licks and a wagging tail. TJ buried his face in Pirate’s fur and rubbed the dog with sleepy strokes.

  “I better get him home,” Cal said, his voice low.

  “I’ll get his things.” Maddie retreated into the house while Cal carried TJ to the truck.

  He had to move the child safety seat from Maddie’s car back into the truck, so he laid TJ across the front seat of the Ford, expecting the boy to complain, but he curled up and settled in. Maddie’s Camry was unlocked, so Cal made the switch with ease, and by the time he buckled TJ into his seat, Maddie was on her way into the yard with TJ’s sports bag. Cal met her half way.

  He smiled and relieved her of the bag. “Thanks.”

  He itched to touch her again, but Maddie tucked her hands into her back pockets and took an immediate step back. The movement struck Cal as both literal and metaphorical. Her retreat swamped him like a wave, left him drenched in disappointment as it receded. He wanted more of the Maddie he had glimpsed, the one who melted him, and melted for him.

  He sighed, resigned for the moment. He wanted to touch her, a slide of his hand on her arm or the softness of her hair against his fingers. His body throbbed for another kiss. But he took his cues from her and rooted himself where he stood, resisting the urge to reach for her.

  “Expect me Monday at my usual time. If anything happens and I can’t make it, I’ll call.”

  “Sure, no problem.” She backed up farther. And farther. “Let me know if you need me to watch TJ again, okay? And I’m glad your dad is doing okay. Night.” She bit her lip, offered a quick wave, turned, and jogged up the stairs and into the house. She surprised him by holding the screen door open for Pirate and closing it after the bushy tail cleared the doorway leading into the kitchen.

  Kiss on the porch, dog in the house.

  Progress noted.

  The kitchen door closed and the light went out.

  Two steps forward and two steps back.

  Cal stayed where he was to process Maddie’s awkward goodbye. He imagined she had gone straight into Jack’s study to consult the Great Oracle.

  “Give her good advice, Jack. And if you love her, for god’s sake, help her let you go.”

  Amused at himself for standing in the dark talking to a dead man, he shook his head and snapped the keys dangling from his fingers into his fist. He glanced back at the truck, the interior illuminating the slumbering TJ. And that, right there, he thought, was the reason he hadn’t allowed himself to get involved with anyone. Why he shouldn’t get involved with Maddie now.

  He had been right, after all, to keep Maddie Kinkaid at a distance. She was too caught up in her past, too emotionally unavailable. Hell, one kiss and she backpedaled like a politician talking taxes.

  He got into the truck and started the engine, turned the vehicle around to begin the drive back to the main road. The open windows drew in the cloying night air that had seduced him earlier. It threatened to drown him now. Too heavy, too sweet.

  He rolled up the windows and blasted the A/C.

  Damn it. He knew better than to get involved with a client. What had he done? Stepped right in it.

  It didn’t have to be a big deal. It was just a kiss. People kissed all the time. He could pretend it didn’t happen if that’s what she wanted. If he didn’t make it a thing, it wouldn’t be a thing.

  He hit the steering wheel with his hand.

  Damn it. It was a thing.

  And it wasn’t just a kiss. It was a kiss that turned him upside down and dropped him on his head.

  In the backseat, TJ shifted and soft snores filled the cab of the truck.

  Cal looked in the rearview mirror at his boy, head back, mouth open like a trout. Not a care in the world. And Cal reminded himself again why he didn’t get involved with women at this point in TJ’s life. Why he wouldn’t get involved with Maddie.

  She was just a client. And she needed to stay that way.

  ***

  Maddie pushed the kitchen door closed and twisted the lock. She pressed her spine against the door, leaned her head back, and closed her eyes. Light filtered into the kitchen from the dining room, but she remained there in the semidarkness listening for the sound of Cal’s truck driving away. She half feared, half hoped, for the fall of his feet on the porch steps, the tap of his knuckles on the door, and for him to kiss her mindless again.

  The truck growled to life. Her ears strained to hear the tires crunching gravel. She listened until there was nothing but the deafening trill of cicadas and crickets, and she knew if she went outside she would be alone.

  She shut her eyes. Hot tears seeped through her lashes and she slid to the floor, drew her knees up to her chest. Pirate sat next to her and nudged at her arm with his snout. The tip of his tail tapped encouragement.

  Maddie looped her arms around his neck and rested her cheek on top of his soft head. Pirate remained still, but he tired after a few minutes and eased his scrawny body down and onto his back. Maddie obliged him with a belly rub, smiling through her tears when his tail swooshed back and forth across the floor.

  “You’re a sweet boy. I’m glad TJ found you. And look at me, letting you into the house. Your eye looks better.”

  Pirate’s tongue lolled and his three legs stuck up in the air, paws curled. The longer Maddie scratched his belly the faster his tail wagged.

  Maddie sniffed and wiped her eyes. She didn’t want to cry, was tired of crying. And why was she crying anyway? She blinked back the last of the tears. It was foolish to cry when she had no reason. Was she crying because she was disappointed Cal hadn’t come after her, or because he had kissed her in the first place? Was she crying because she felt guilty, or because she was afraid it would never happen again?

  Yes, yes, yes, and yes.

  She closed her eyes and relived the day, beginning with her offer to watch TJ on up through the moment Cal’s lips touched hers. It had been a fantastic day, a near perfect day. Her
only regret was that it came at the expense of William Walker’s heart.

  Her hand stroked Pirate and she smiled, glad to have rescued him, sad because such a well-behaved fur-baby most certainly had a family somewhere mourning his loss, a family she would do her level best to locate. But that was for tomorrow.

  Today he was hers and she’d fulfill her promise to bring him back to health.

  She rewound her mind to TJ’s ballgame and the new friendship she’d struck up with Chloe; then the call from Edie insisting she bring TJ to dinner, which allowed Maddie to share her joy of the day with those she loved most. Then back home again, where TJ made her plain porcelain tub come alive with bubbles, splashing, and silly songs that made her laugh.

  And after, snuggling on the couch, sorting through the library in her brain to dredge up a suitable children’s tale to fulfill the boy’s request for a bedtime story—how it warmed her knowing that Cal made reading to his son a nighttime ritual, the surefire way into any kindergarten teacher’s heart. In the end, she stole from children’s author Margaret Wise Brown, and she and TJ said goodnight to everything in and out of sight—goodnight moon, goodnight trees, goodnight kitty cats in the yard, goodnight kitty cats in the barn, goodnight Miss Maddie’s car, goodnight TV, goodnight Pirate, goodnight nose, and goodnight toes. And if during the recitation Maddie imagined what it might be like if this beautiful child were her own, well, such dreaming was only natural.

  And then The Kiss. Just the thought of it began her heart pumping a rapid beat. Every part of her tightened and throbbed.

  Maddie imagined herself there again, on the porch steps, fireflies beaming, and sitting so close to Caleb she recognized the scent of the baby shampoo he must share with TJ. Her breath quickened reliving the moment, the very second when she first knew he meant to kiss her, how her stomach twisted in anticipation, and his eyes deepened to a dusky forest green.

  She wasn’t surprised when he took her face in his hands. She had willed it. With every tingling centimeter of her she had wanted him to touch her in just that way. And she marveled that hands so callused, so hard, could be soft and tender against her skin. And then, sweet Lord, when he said her name it sounded like a prayer.

  Heart pounding, she had craved the brush of his lips on hers, welcomed the swell of sweet yearning when tongue met tongue with gentle pressure, testing, tasting, giving way to warm desire that swept through her like the flow of molten gold. She’d held his wrists, first to steady her reeling world and to know the swift beat of his pulse beneath her fingertips—and, oh, yes, his pulse pounded in time with hers, a rapid thrill—and then, finally, she held onto him because she thought she’d die if they broke contact, die if his mouth left hers.

  And then the kiss ended, as all kisses do. And she didn’t die after all.

  Maddie opened her eyes and blinked into the semidarkness, heart pounding, body flushed with warmth. She didn’t feel guilty for kissing Caleb Walker in the moment. Her guilt arose from her desperate desire to do it again.

  She forced herself to stand and walk to Jack’s study. Pirate shadowed her steps. The dog dropped to a heap in the middle of the room, emitted a sigh like air forced through a bellows, then settled his head on his paws and shut his eyes.

  Maddie sat in Jack’s chair and steadied herself with a few deep breaths. She laid her hands on the mountain of paperwork.

  “What do you want me to do, Jack?”

  She waited a minute, then another. Her heart thumped against her ribs and the voices of the house magnified the longer she sat. In the kitchen, fresh-minted ice cubes tumbled from the icemaker into the plastic freezer bin and the coils hissed. The air conditioner rattled and shut down with a whine. Underneath the usual, she sensed the unusual, a rhythmic tick, spaced apart by minutes. Then it disappeared altogether. Unable to define the sound, she categorized it as belonging to the old air conditioner. And over all of it, vibrated the new auditory intrusion into her world, the sleeping Pirate, whose snores rivaled any sound the old house might make.

  “Okay, Jack. What do I do about everything?”

  The papers slid and shifted when her hands burrowed in. She fingered papers, postcards, a business card, Post-its whose sticky time had seen better days and were now adrift in the detritus, and—This one, she thought, and tugged a random document free from the pile.

  Anticipation tickled along her spine. She opened her eyes and huffed out a breath, deflated. A five-year-old water bill.

  “Really, Jack?” She shoved the paper back into the mound and shuffled the mass of papers, snagging any that fell to the floor and mixing them back into the whole.

  “One more time, and please make it count this time.”

  She repeated the process, mindful of her breathing, focusing her energy and working to calm her jumbled nerves. Here we go, Jack.

  She settled her hands over the papers and waited for the notion to strike that she’d found the right one. There, in the top right hand corner, and not underneath everything, but right on top. She picked up the paper—heavy stock—sat back, and opened her eyes.

  Like cobwebs sliding over her skin, the sensation of eeriness raised goose bumps on her arms and legs. An involuntary shiver passed through her. It couldn’t be. What were the odds?

  She stared, again, at the water bill.

  “Okay, Jack.” She swallowed hard and peered around the room. If Jack appeared in a poof of smoke, her own personal genie from a bottle, she wouldn’t have been surprised. “I guess you think this is important.”

  The air conditioner rattled and coughed to life. The frigid air gusting from the ceiling vent raised more goose bumps along her skin and she rubbed her arms to warm herself.

  Maddie forced herself to stay in the chair. Jack’s chair. Jack had never frightened her before. And he wasn’t frightening her now. She had created this ridiculous scenario all by herself.

  But, for the first time since his passing, her nerves jumbled. What was different? What had changed? Was it the kiss? Was Jack unhappy, jealous maybe, because she kissed Caleb?

  Hadn’t just kissed him, she admitted with a few threads of shame, kissed him with desperation and need, kissed him with desire pounding through her blood, kissed him and enjoyed it. Kissed him and lost herself in the kiss, in him—his taste, touch, scent, in a way she never dreamed would happen for her again. Not without Jack.

  Trembling, she lifted the water bill and reviewed it top to bottom. There was nothing that jumped out at her, nothing that shouted to her or meshed with her question the way Jack’s communications usually did. It was just a water bill with nothing to distinguish it.

  With light fingers she touched the ink where Jack had marked the bill paid. She noted the indentation in the paper from the nub of the pen, created by the pressure of Jack’s hand. She turned the document over, read all the fine print on the back.

  And then read it again for good measure.

  Her skin prickled and the accompanying shiver began at her spine and trickled out to her extremities.

  She shoved the paper back inside the pile and stood up so fast that the chair banged against the credenza. Pirate sat up and let fly a confused bark, ears twitching. Though Maddie had lived alone for more than four years, she was happy to have the dog’s company tonight.

  Unsure of Pirate’s household manners, her initial intent had been to house him in the laundry room overnight. She strode there now, but instead of locking him up, gathered the items she had deposited there earlier—the dog bed, water dish, chew toy—and carried them with her upstairs to the master bedroom. Pirate trotted through the door as if he’d always belonged.

  “Come here, fella.”

  Maddie crouched and pointed to the dog bed. Essentially an oversized pillow, she had balked at the price. But seeing the way the dog settled into it now, she decided it was worth the extra money she had paid.

  She took a few minutes to pet Pirate and to admire his feathery ears and clean coat. The infected eye still oozed, but not as
much as earlier in the day, and the swelling no longer closed the eye shut. She cooed at him, complimented his soulful expression, and stroked his soft fur. He relaxed and reclined on his side, head against the cushion, eyes drooping.

  “Thanks for keeping me company tonight. I think I’m just weirded out over that kiss.” Pirate lifted his head and his one good eye blinked at her. “Okay, so it was a really stellar kiss. The man knows what he’s doing. There. I said it.”

  Pirate thumped his tail once, twice, lowered his head back to the cushion and closed his eyes.

  “You’re keeping me honest. Listen, we’ve both had a busy day. Get some sleep and I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Maddie turned out the light and settled into bed. Sleep escaped her, so she scooted from her usual side of the bed over to Jack’s. She had read somewhere that after losing a spouse, taking their side of the bed made sleeping easier, because psychologically the space was no longer empty. Mental trickery, but it worked for her on occasion and she hoped this would be one of those times.

  Curled up in Jack’s space with the side of her face pressed into his pillow, her uneasiness subsided. Her muscles relaxed and she snuggled in. Whatever he had tried to tell her earlier with the water bill remained a mystery, but there were two things of which she was certain: Jack loved her, and he wasn’t responsible for spooking her.

  She had done that to herself. In fact, she could blame herself for all the emotional zig-zagging. She needed to get a grip.

  “Night, Jack,” she whispered, but when she closed her eyes it was Caleb Walker and his heart-stopping kiss that journeyed with her into sleep.

  ***

  Cal spent the first half of Sunday in his father’s office going through job folders. Big Will, stubborn about technology, owned neither a desktop nor laptop computer, so coming up to speed on all the projects was slow going. Cal planned to spend part of his Monday with Rebecca, who managed the construction office, and with Howard, Walker and Son’s trusted general overseer, to bring himself up to speed on all active work.

  With a sigh, he scrubbed his hands through his hair and leaned back in his father’s worn desk chair. He took a hit from the coffee he’d picked up in town at the Lump & Grind and regretted his decision to forego a cinnamon bun.