Love Built to Last

by Lisa Ricard Claro

  Maddie’s eyes burned with unshed tears. Jack’s rejection hurt and she didn’t want to experience it again. Not now.

  And, she admitted, it pissed her off.

  On a whim, she called Brenna and blurted her tale of woe, not about The Kiss, because she wasn’t ready to share that yet, not while she felt so ambiguous about it.

  Okay, she allowed. Not ambiguous. Guilty. She yearned for and fantasized about a repeat performance, even as she danced with the fear that it was the reason for Jack’s sudden silence. And there was no way to undo it. And would she undo it if she could?

  That was the real question.

  “So let me get this straight,” Brenna said. “All of a sudden Jack’s communication is all utility bills? Are you past due on something?”

  “No. I spent half of yesterday going over everything. All my bills are up to date, nothing looks wrong. So what could possibly be hinky?”

  “Well, maybe you’re just not getting the message, you know? You’re taking it literally, like he’s really telling you about the utilities. Maybe it’s more about what they have in common. Like, they all flow.”

  “You just pulled that out of your butt.”

  Brenna laughed. “Ass, Maddie. The correct phraseology is ass. You’re such a kindergarten teacher.”

  “Fine, then. You just pulled it out of your—” Maddie huffed and rolled her eyes at herself. “Ass.”

  Brenna laughed again. “Maybe. But think about it. Water, electricity, gas. All that stuff flows, right? It flows into the house and makes you comfortable. I think Jack’s telling you to go with the flow.”

  “Go with what flow?”

  “Now you’re being obtuse. You want to meet for lunch? I’m not going into the L&G until two, so we can meet somewhere and try to decipher my brother’s ghostly communiqués.”

  “You’re making fun of me again.”

  “No, I’m absolutely not. It doesn’t matter whether or not I think Jack gives you advice, Mads. It only matters that you believe it. So what do you say? Why don’t we meet at Bubba Jo’s around noon? I have a hankering for rhubarb pie.”

  “Sure. I’m good with whatever.”

  “Ha. Look at you, already going with the flow.”

  Brenna’s cheerful tone eased the pressure in Maddie’s chest.

  “Going with the flow is as good an interpretation as any that I’ve come up with. Maybe you’re right.”

  ***

  The disappearance of the countertop stopped Maddie in her tracks. She pushed through the plastic sheeting Caleb had tacked in the doorway leading from the dining room to the kitchen, and stared. From the racket emanating from the kitchen all morning, banging and sawing and noises she couldn’t identify, she knew Cal was hard at work pulling things up and out. Maddie hid in Jack’s study and refrained from making another appearance. Staying out of Cal’s way, that’s what she told herself, but deep down she knew the real reason was less noble, something more akin to extreme cowardice.

  After her chat with Brenna, Maddie had gone upstairs and settled in bed with Agatha Christie and Pirate, who stretched out beside her and slept with his muzzle on her thigh—”Just this once,” she told him—and didn’t come up for air until Hercule Poirot solved the Death on the Nile.

  When Maddie dressed for lunch she, in the spirit of going with the flow, chose her favorite sundress, the one that boosted her boobs from flat to fabulous, and took the time to French braid her hair, treated herself to a few swipes of mascara and, okay, some eye shadow and a little lip gloss, because if she was going to have another awkward encounter with Caleb a bit of cosmetic armor wouldn’t hurt. True, it was four years since she’d bothered with that kind of thing, but she had promised to make changes in her life, hadn’t she?

  But now she stood in the kitchen with Caleb Walker nowhere in sight, gone poof just like her floor tile and now the countertop, and with it the sink. The cabinets would be next. It all looked so barren. Gutted.

  Sadness tugged. It wasn’t just the garish tiles and chipped counter that were ripped out. Memories fled with them. She’d have her new cabinets, but Jack would never open one, new counters that Jack would never rest his hands upon, new flooring where Jack would never walk.

  The arms of reality hugged her and stole her breath. Why had she done this? What, in god’s name, was she thinking, making these changes?

  Go with the flow, Mads. Go with the flow.

  Pirate moved beside her, leaned his scrawny frame against her leg, and nuzzled her hand. She sucked in a breath and forced an exhale through trembling lips. She knelt and took Pirate’s wiry face in her hands, scratching behind his ears, and the knot in her belly eased some. The medicine Traci prescribed had worked wonders on his sore eye. He watched her with adoration, and something that looked like empathy in his amber gaze.

  This three-legged beast, her constant companion for days now, reminded her that change could be the harbinger of good things. And, like she told Brenna, she wasn’t just remodeling for herself, she was doing it for Jack, fulfilling the plans they made together.

  So the progress on the kitchen was a positive thing. Sometimes things had to get worse before they got better.

  She looked in her purse to be sure she had Pirate’s leash. She didn’t snap it on his collar, but opened the screen and walked with him onto the porch and down the steps into the yard. She sent Pirate to do his business and rubbernecked for a Caleb sighting. His vehicle sat parked beside hers, so he hadn’t left.

  Bam, bam, bam.

  She whipped her head toward the barn. Of course. That’s where he was. She should let him know she was leaving. It was the polite thing to do.

  The rain had deposited scattered puddles throughout the yard with pockets of mud in the grassless areas, and she tiptoed from patch to patch of scrubby green in the zig-zag manner of a child using stepping stones to cross a creek. Her decision to don strappy sandals with heels, and then wear them for the trek across her mud-pocked yard, had her questioning her powers of reasoning, but she was halfway to the barn so she kept going.

  The air steamed like a sauna. The rainclouds, having spent their fury, evaporated for the sun, and now a shroud of humidity hung thick. Patchy mountain breezes brought waves of respite.

  Maddie devoted her full attention to her feet and the placement of her steps. The last thing she needed was to sink into a mud hole wearing her favorite pair of shoes. She reached the open barn and stepped through the doorway. Just the act of moving into the shade cut the heat. No wonder Cal wanted to set up in here.

  It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the change from bright to dim, and when they did she gaped. Brenna’s teasing words rolled back to her: ‘I want to see him shirtless, wearing low-slung jeans and a tool belt.’

  “Sweet Lord in heaven.”

  The words scrambled up her throat and out her mouth before she could stop them. Cal glanced up from whatever task it was that held him rapt. Maddie didn’t know and didn’t care. She was too busy tracking the way his wide shoulders and muscular chest, solid as oak, tapered down to a slender V. And there was that tool belt, by god, dragging his Levi’s down just enough to play peek-a-boo with more of his narrow hips than she had a right to see.

  Heat flashed through her and her female parts responded with an answering squeeze.

  Cal tilted his head and watched her with a quizzical narrowing of his eyes.

  “You okay?”

  “I—uh—I’m leaving now. So. Bye.”

  “Bye.”

  His lips curved into a curious smile when Maddie stayed rooted. She gulped in air and pushed up her glasses which, thanks to the humidity, slid right back down the bridge of her nose.

  Sweet Lord, just look at him.

  “You sure you’re okay? I thought you were leaving.”

  “Huh? What? No. I mean, yes. I am. I’m just—” She gulped, the sound shotgun loud in her ears. “I’m going. Bye.”

  Maddie pivoted on her heels and squeezed her eyes s
hut against blooming embarrassment. She gave herself a mental head slap.

  What an idiot. Sweet Lord, you’d think she’d never seen a shirtless man before. Granted, it had been awhile, and he was yummier than most, but it was not like he was butt naked, and even supposing he had been—and, oh my, wouldn’t that be something?—she was no blushing virgin.

  And that was the point. She knew man candy when she saw it, and it took every ounce of willpower not to turn around for a second helping.

  She picked her way across the yard with less care than before. Screw the shoes.

  “Maddie.”

  His voice halted her forward motion like a tank. God help her. Sweet Lord. She sucked in a breath and steeled herself when she faced him.

  Be cool, Mads. Nonchalant. Savoir-faire. That’s what Jack would say. Go with the flow.

  Cal strode toward her. She noted with some disappointment that he’d donned his shirt, and that he showed no regard for the mud or puddles splashing onto his boots along the way to where she stood waiting.

  He stopped when he reached her, leaving nothing but scant inches and shimmering heat between them. Surprise held her immobile. Another second and she might have stepped away from him out of sheer instinct, but another second never materialized because he slid his arms around her waist and pulled her up against the hard length of his body. Maddie gasped, mind scrambling, stomach lurching, blood humming.

  The sensual stew, delicious in its delivery, dissolved her bones. Cal allowed her no time to process. Those amazing eyes darkened to a sensual forest green and his mouth took hers, without warning or preamble, and this time there was no testing, no butterfly touch.

  Maddie’s purse slipped from her hand to the ground unnoticed. She lifted to her tiptoes and he splayed his hand across the small of her back, pulling her closer still. Her brain registered heat from his skin permeating the cotton of his shirt, still damp from the rain—which was probably why he’d taken it off in the first place—and pressed together this way, body to body, soft to hard, heart to heart, her sundress would be wet, too, when this kiss was over.

  Sweet Lord, don’t let it be over.

  Her fingers slid into his hair. She’d imagined what those burnished waves would feel like to touch and now she knew—soft, silky, and still damp from the earlier downpour. He smelled clean, of summer rain and baby shampoo, clothes dried in the sun, and a hint of sawdust.

  Cal eased back, cruised Maddie’s face with his lips. The early beginnings of his five o’clock shadow scraped the tenderness of her face, jaw, throat, and sent shivers scrambling over her skin.

  “You comfortable with this?” His sweet-whiskey voice murmured against her ear, husky, echoing his earlier promise that all she had to say was no.

  Was he crazy? Of course she wasn’t comfortable, standing here enveloped in moist heat and burning up in places she’d forgotten existed.

  Maddie found his mouth again with her own, hot and eager, leaving no doubt as to her comfort level.

  Pirate’s frenzied barking broke them apart. A vehicle shooting up the drive revealed itself as the source of the dog’s warning. Brenna’s silver Audi pulled into view.

  Cal glanced at the car just appearing through the trees and then back at Maddie. He ran his hands up and down her arms with a light touch before releasing her and stepping back.

  “I’ll call you tonight.”

  “Don’t call. Come by with TJ. He can play with Pirate and we’ll watch the firefly show.”

  “I’d like that.” His mouth curved in a lazy smile and her knees wobbled.

  Sweet Lord, did the man have any idea what he did to her?

  “Wait. Please stay,” she said when he turned to go. “I want you to meet Brenna.”

  Brenna climbed from her car and bent to tell Pirate what a good dog he was, then strolled over to Maddie and Cal, her fine-spun skirt swirling around her calves.

  “Hey, I thought I was meeting you at Bubba Jo’s,” Maddie said.

  “Change of plans. I tried your cell but you didn’t pick up.” Brenna smirked at Maddie’s abandoned purse and slid her gaze over to Cal. “I guess you were too busy to answer it.”

  Maddie’s cheeks heated. “It’s buried in there somewhere. Sorry about that. Uh, Brenna, this is Caleb Walker. Caleb, this is Brenna Kinkaid.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Cal and Brenna shook hands. “I understand you own the Lump & Grind. I stop by almost every morning.”

  “Greta usually opens. She’s been the kitchen manager forever, long before I took it over, back when it was still the Coffee Mug. She came with the place, like a fixture, and she’s so good at what she does that I bend over backward to keep her happy. She’s an early riser and likes to be the one who opens in the morning. God help me when she retires.”

  “It’s a great place. The coffee rocks.”

  “What do you think of Dirk?”

  “Dirk?”

  “Dirk is the name Brenna gave the new espresso machine,” Maddie said.

  “I’d have to say Dirk is an excellent barista. Listen, it was nice to meet you, but I better get back to work. You ladies enjoy your lunch.” His voice softened, and the parts of Maddie that weren’t already melted dissolved when his lips curved in a smile. “I’ll see you tonight.”

  Maddie picked up her purse and nudged Brenna with her elbow. “I want to eat out on Bubba Jo’s patio so Pirate can come. Let’s go.”

  Brenna shot Maddie a broad smile. “Not till I’m through watching your carpenter walk away. Hot damn.” She fanned herself.

  “C’mon, before he sees you,” Maddie hissed, but her tone lost its bite when she rolled her eyes and laughed. “I’ll tell you everything, every juicy detail, but stop staring.”

  “He’s even better looking than Mama said. And that voice.” Brenna batted her eyelashes and threw her arm over her forehead in a feigned swoon. “Dark chocolate, Bailey’s, whipped cream and a cherry on top. No!” She snapped her fingers. “Hot fudge sundae with warm caramel and an espresso brownie.”

  “You’re either starving to death or suffering from hypoglycemia and need a sugar fix. Let’s go.”

  “Don’t tell me you haven’t compared that voice of his to something wicked and delicious.”

  Maddie couldn’t repress a guilty smile. “Oh, fine. Whiskey and honey. And maybe dark chocolate and caramel.”

  “Mm, and red velvet cake.”

  Now Maddie laughed in earnest and hooked her arm through Brenna’s. “You’re a mess. Let’s go, already. We need to take my car so Pirate doesn’t get his muddy paws all over your seats. And what happened to our plans to meet at Bubba Jo’s?

  “Oh, sorry. I got sidetracked.” She fanned herself again and grinned. “Mama’s meeting us for coffee after. She wanted to talk about plans for the Fourth.”

  “That’s two weeks away, and we always watch the fireworks from her porch roof. What changed?”

  Brenna opened her mouth, bit back a comment, then hid her eyes behind her Ray Bans and shrugged.

  ***

  Cal smiled all the way back to the barn. So much for clients being clients and not messing with clients and blah, blah, blah. He’d broken his own rule again and didn’t much care. How could he when the taste of Maddie flowed through him and his body still burned?

  Maddie Kinkaid. The woman sent more mixed signals than a cross-wired radio, one minute running away and the next kissing him senseless into tomorrow. Of the two, he preferred the latter.

  Contradictory. That was the word for her. It troubled him less for himself than for TJ. Bringing Maddie into their lives might be the best thing to happen to both he and TJ, or it might prove to be the worst. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that if Maddie allowed herself to move on with her life, things would be different, better, for all of them. What he saw in her was a woman stronger than she believed herself to be, someone loyal. She’d be a rock, someone to count on, to trust. No matter what happened with them in the long run, Maddie Kinkaid was a person worth
knowing. He’d value her as a friend, but he’d rather know her as a lover.

  He guessed that fear of moving on ruled her. She clung to Jack like a blind woman dangling from the side of a mountain, clutching to a fraying tether for dear life. How could he show her that solid ground lay right beneath her feet, if only she’d just let go?

  ***

  TJ’s tee-ball practice ran late. Maddie sat on the porch steps sipping an icy glass of sweet tea and scanned the yard for the first firefly to begin the twilight dance. Pirate trotted hither and yon, tail up and ears twitching, sniffing and investigating critters and noises both in and out of the woods.

  He had made peace with the cats who, after their initial hissing and batting of claws, decided he wasn’t a serious threat.

  Their apparent détente included ignoring one another’s existence. The strategy made for successful cohabitation, Maddie noted, as three of her five felines lay like sphinxes in front of the barn while Pirate gave them a wide berth.

  Pirate alerted Maddie to the nearing of Cal’s truck with a couple of barks, acknowledging the arrival of a known entity. Maddie heard the truck before she saw the headlights, and her stomach twirled in anticipation. She’d been telling herself all day to go with the flow, go with the flow, Just go with the flow, Maddie.

  “It’s your new mantra, courtesy of Jack,” Brenna had informed her at lunch, pointing her grilled-chicken-laden fork at Maddie for emphasis.

  “Didn’t I admit to you that I kissed the man? Isn’t that ‘going with the flow’ enough for you?”

  “Not enough for me,” Brenna had said with a snort, “especially after that description of him standing half naked in your barn. If I were you, I’d demand to see the rest of him.”

  “He wasn’t half naked,” Maddie insisted. “He got caught in the rain and he was soaked. He had his shirt off, that’s all. It was so humid today the darn thing probably never did dry.”

  “Yeah, right. Shirt off, tool belt, low-slung jeans. My fantasy turned out to be a fine turn of events for you. So, you’re welcome.”

  “You’re impossible.”