Made Maleen_A Modern Twist on a Fairy Tale

by Jeanne St. James

  “Mornings will do that to you.”

  “Not just mornings, but you too,” he corrected.

  “I’d kiss you but I think I licked the floor last night. At least, that’s what it feels like.”

  His muscles flexed and pulled as he stretched and yawned. “Mmm. A dirty mouth. Could be a turn-on.”

  “Wrong type of dirty, bucko,” she said, pushing herself to sit up. Her head pounded. “Got an extra toothbrush in that tiny bathroom of yours?”

  “I doubt it. You can use mine.”

  She blinked, then looked at him to see if he was serious. He was. She scrunched up her nose. “Uh, how about some mouthwash instead.”

  “That I do have.”

  “Aspirin?”

  “Yep. Or do you want a little Hair of the Dog?”

  “I’ll pass.” She moved to the edge of the bed, sliding her legs over. She hadn’t drunk in a while. Nevertheless, she didn’t expect the whiskey to affect her so badly. The overexertion probably didn’t help either. She looked over her shoulder at him. “How many times did I come last night?”

  Bray grinned. “I have no clue. I think I passed out halfway through the night and you just kept riding me like a bareback bronc rider.”

  “Uh. Speaking of bareback, we used protection every time, right?”

  “I think so. Do you want me to count them?”

  She looked where he waved his hand. Used condoms littered the floor on his side of the bed.

  “Oh gross, Bray! You couldn’t throw them out?”

  “The trash can was too far away and you’re a demanding woman.”

  She laughed and shook her head.

  “You go swish your hairy teeth and take a couple aspirin, or three, and I’ll clean up condom Armageddon.”

  “That sounds like a deal.” She snagged his flannel shirt which hung from a nearby floor lamp and pulled it over her shoulders.

  “I’ll make breakfast too. A little bacon grease in your stomach will help.”

  Bacon and eggs sounded good to her. Even with the hangover, she was starving. She fastened a couple buttons on his oversized shirt and went to the tiny bathroom. Mal found the aspirin in the medicine cabinet above the sink. She grabbed the bottle of mouthwash which sat on the back of the toilet and swigged a mouthful, swishing it around. Ah, minty fresh. She really needed a shower, but that would have to wait. After breakfast, she planned on heading home to check the dairy herd and the farm hands anyway.

  Mal tilted her head to listen. Bray was humming and singing in the kitchen. She opened the door but remained in the bathroom. His voice sounded rich and deep, and although he didn’t know all the words to Remember When by Alan Jackson, he knew enough. She braced herself against the door jamb, swiping at the rogue tears that escaped. They were such fitting lyrics for their situation that hearing Bray croon them made her heart break.

  His singing abruptly stopped and silence filled the loft. Mal stepped out of the doorway to see Bray bracing himself with two hands on the edge of the counter, his head hanging.

  Her heart wasn’t the only one breaking.

  As soon as he heard her, he quickly went back to flipping the bacon in the frying pan.

  She came up behind him, wrapped her arms around his waist, and laid her cheek against his back. “Your voice is beautiful.”

  He nodded but didn’t say anything.

  “What’s your day like?” she asked softly, still holding on tight.

  “Booked solid with appointments. But it only takes one emergency call to screw it all up. You?”

  “Start to unpack, get the house settled. Check the cows. I don’t know. Stuff like that. I need to call the funeral director to see when Pop’s ashes will be ready.”

  “What are you going to do with them?”

  She shrugged slightly. “Spread them on the farm.”

  He nodded and moved away from her embrace, turning to face her. “Makes sense.”

  “Will you be there?” she asked.

  “When you spread them? Sure, if it’s important to you.”

  “It is.”

  Bray’s mouth pressed into a grim line as he dug into the cabinet to the left of the stove and pulled out two mismatched plates. He divvied up the eggs, bacon, and toast, and carried the plates over to the table. She followed behind, pulling out one of the chairs from the old kitchen set.

  “Coffee?” he asked.

  “Of course.”

  She couldn’t remember a man ever making her breakfast before, except for her pop. When her mom died, he became the sole provider for his one and only child. She hardly remembered her mom. All those years and her pop never remarried, and if he dated, he sure kept it hidden well. She had no doubt her mom had been his everything.

  Bray placed two big mugs of steaming coffee on the table. She wrapped her hands around the ceramic mug, a freebie from a local bank, and inhaled the caffeine into her throbbing brain. He brought over a container of Half-and-Half and a small ceramic sugar bowl that had a chip on the edge. She spooned two big piles of sugar and poured in the cream until the coffee went from black to tan.

  Bray took one look at her mug and said, “That’s not coffee anymore, Princess.”

  She shrugged and bit off the end of a piece of bacon. The salty, greasy strip of pork tasted like heaven and it made her feel better when it landed in her stomach. “I have no desire to drink it black.”

  He dipped his toast into the yolk of the over-easy eggs he made. “I’m not sure if you’re avoiding this conversation, but your father did tell me you married. And the other day at the funeral home, Melvin called you Mrs. Marshall.”

  “So, Pop made sure you knew.”

  “Oh yeah. He was itchin’ to tell me. I’m surprised he didn’t put an ad in the local penny shopper newspaper. Actually, it was the only thing he did tell me about you.”

  Funny, but not. Mal wished her pop hadn’t thrown it in Bray’s face. Did she want to talk about her marriage? Not really. But Bray had spilled his guts last night. Wouldn’t it only be fair to do the same? Mal grimaced.

  She gathered the words in her head and when she went to start, Bray’s cell phone vibrated across the tiny table. He caught it before it fell to the floor, then read the message.

  “Shit. I have to go. I need to head out to the Reservation to help with one of the mares having twins. And they’re breach.” He rubbed his forehead. “Fuck.”

  Mal didn’t envy him and she quickly sucked down her coffee as he pushed away from the table to get dressed and gather his things to leave.

  He rushed over, pressed a kiss to her forehead, and said, “Is it okay if I call you later?”

  Mal nodded. “Sure.”

  “Take your time. Finish your breakfast. Just lock the door at the bottom of the steps when you leave.”

  “Good luck with the foals,” she yelled at him when he rushed down the stairs. A second later she heard the door slam.

  * * *

  Mal glanced at her watch. Almost nine. Bray said he’d be at the bar an hour ago. She ran a finger down her sweating glass of ginger ale. No booze tonight since the hangover remained still too fresh in her mind. The Wily Coyote attracted all the locals, some she recognized, some she didn’t. She had been under-aged when her pop shipped her off, so this was her first time ever in the bar.

  Not that she missed anything. Despite being dark and rundown, the bar was the only watering hole in town. The crowd was mixed and it smelled like a barn. Country music, none of it current, blared from an old jukebox in the corner. A few people went ‘round and ‘round on the dance floor in cowboy boots and hats. Big buckles, Wrangler jeans, and yoked western shirts were the popular style of the patrons.

  A few people approached her to mention how sorry they were about her pop’s death and when the small talk died off, they’d tip their hat and wander away. Most meant well, but one buzzard circled, asking if she was willing to sell the farm. She quickly shut him down.

  She sat at a table in the far co
rner, facing the door. Every time it opened her heart beat a little faster until she realized it wasn’t her Cow-Boy.

  It opened again and her breath caught.

  Then her stomach plummeted.

  The Dairy Princess.

  She could’ve dealt with anyone tonight, just not Kaitlyn. Her hair was coifed like she had teased it and used a whole can of Aquanet. A couple guys whistled at her super short skirt and her exposed cleavage. Kait smiled and patted her stiff hair with long, painted fingernails.

  Mal hated her. She wanted to rip off those fake nails and eyelashes and scrub the clown makeup from her face with a dingy towel from behind the bar.

  What the hell did Braydon ever see in her? Temporary insanity was his only acceptable excuse. And now he was tied to her for the rest of his life due to her scheming.

  Kait’s eyes locked on her, widened for a second, then rapidly narrowed as she stalked across the room, a woman on a mission.

  Oh shit. This was not going to end well. Mal straightened in her chair and braced herself for the Wicked Witch of the Midwest whirlwind.

  “Oh, here’s the little homewrecker. I heard you stayed the night in Bray’s hovel.”

  A homewrecker? She needed to come up with something better than that. “Did you conveniently forget you’re divorced?”

  Kait huffed, slapping a hand on her hip. “I’m still the mother of his child.”

  “Yeah, a son you alienate from his father. Bully on you.” Mal regretted the words immediately after she said them. Their family business was none of hers. She needed to keep out of it. She tried to slow her breathing. In through the nose, out through the nose. She pulled from her yoga experience in an attempt to find her Zen. Oooooohm.

  That went quickly out the window when Kait pointed a finger at Mal’s chest. “I keep my son from him because I don’t want him to end up like Braydon. I want my son to be successful, not a loser like his father.”

  Movement behind Kait caught Mal’s eyes. Bray stood behind his ex, his face a ghost.

  Mal didn’t need to defend him, Bray was man enough to do it himself. But after hearing Bray’s story last night and knowing what a miserable bitch Kait was, the last thing she wanted to hear was Kait insulting Bray and treating him like shit.

  “You may not think much of him, though he was good enough to get knocked up by, but Bray is a hard-worker. He’s worked for everything he has. There’s nothing wrong with a good work ethic. It’s more valuable than being a spoiled brat.”

  Bray stepped around Kait. Whether he protected Kait or her, Mal didn’t know or care.

  But Bray’s ex-wife wasn’t through yet. She pushed forward, getting into Mal’s face. “Fuck you. Mind your own damn business. You know nothing about my son or me. You left because nothing was good enough here. You moved onto greener pastures. So, you have no room to talk.”

  Mal stood, scraping her chair back, her body shaking. “You’re right; I left. But I’m back. And whether you like it or not, Nate is Bray’s son too. He has every right to see him and be involved as a parent.”

  “Fuck you and the little convertible you drove in on.”

  Mal shifted forward and Bray stepped between them. He said something, but Mal, too focused on the woman behind him, couldn’t hear it. Plus, Kait’s voice had risen several octaves. Mal was sure they entertained the whole bar at this point.

  “You know, he’s always loved you, Maleen,” Kait shrieked. “Only you. And you were nothing. I don’t get it. You were nothing more than a dairy farmer’s daughter. Nothing more than a Dairy Maid. Maid Maleen! Maid Maleen! Maid Maleen!” she yelled, her cheeks two splotches of red, her mouth an angry slash.

  Bray turned and took Kait’s upper arms in his hands, not-so-gently encouraging her to step back. She shrieked at him too. Something about him never seeing her son again. Bray’s back stiffened, his fingers squeezed tighter around her arms, and then he let her go and stepped back, shaking his head.

  He turned to face Mal, his expression closed and unreadable. “Let’s go.”

  Mal knew this affected him. Hurt him, pissed him off. But she understood why he didn’t want Kait to see him react. It would be more ammo against him. Leaving was the only logical choice. He offered her a hand and she linked trembling fingers with his. He led her away from the corner, but Kait had to get in a parting shot.

  “Well, at least you got him to do something I could never get him to do.”

  Bray tugged on her hand. “Ignore her.”

  But Mal paused. She wanted to hear how low Kait could go. “What’s that?”

  “Shave that mess off his face. But then again, he’s never gotten over you. That became very clear during our marriage.”

  Mal looked at Bray in surprise. With all the drama, she hadn’t even noticed his freshly shaven face.

  “I’ll be talking to my lawyer, Kait. Guaranteed,” Bray said before leading Mal away.

  They pushed their way out of the bar into the night air. Mal took a healthy gulp, trying to calm the adrenaline running through her body.

  She’d never been so close to laying someone out flat. No matter what Kait said, Mal had no control over their failed marriage. It wasn’t her fault the two of them slept together, got pregnant, and decided to get married. She had been thousands of miles away taking part in her own disastrous marriage.

  He didn’t say a word as he walked her out to her Audi. When they stopped in front of her car, he said, “Let me take you home.”

  Mal shook her head and dug into the front pocket of her jeans to remove the key fob. “No, Bray. I’m fine.”

  “I know you’re fine and I’m sorry about what happened in there. But I’m used to it. You’re not. You shouldn’t be the focus of her anger, her issues.”

  “She still wants you.”

  He shook his head and stared down at a spot on the pavement. “No. She doesn’t want me. She just doesn’t want anyone else to have me.”

  The softness of his voice made her heart ache. “You don’t deserve this treatment.”

  “I’m tired, Mal. I work hard. I do. But I feel as if I’m on a treadmill going nowhere. I miss my son. He’s always been a good kid. But at thirteen he hates me. His mother spoils him and I don’t. She’s doing him no favors and she can’t—or won’t—see that. I don’t know what to do about it. He’s a pawn in her game and it’s not fair to him.”

  “I guess you’ll have to follow through on your threat to get your lawyer involved.”

  “Unfortunately, it was an empty threat. I don’t have a lawyer.”

  Mal shrugged. “So get one.”

  Bray’s lips flattened out.

  “Fuck, Bray, you have to do something. If you need help…”

  “No. No, I’ll do what I need to do. Nate might not think so, but he’s the most important person in my life. Sorry to have to say that to you. However, it’s true.”

  “As it should be. I wouldn’t expect anything different from a good man. Hell, a good father.”

  “I’m sorry I was late. I’m sorry that this happened. Let me take you home and make it up to you.”

  Mal shook her head. “I’m tired. I’m going to go home and get some sleep.”

  He nodded but appeared disappointed. “When can I see you?”

  “I talked to Melvin today. My father’s ashes will be ready tomorrow. Do you want to stop by?”

  “Yes, I want to be with you when you spread them.”

  She studied his face in the low light of the parking lot. She reached up to run her fingers down his smooth cheeks. “Did you do this for me?”

  “Only you.”

  “You didn’t have to…”

  “I wanted to. I want to feel your smooth skin against mine when my face is in between your thighs.”

  The pleasurable memory from last night jolted through her. She dug her fingers into his hair and pulled his head down. “Kiss me, Cow-Boy, then say goodnight.”

  Warm lips brushed across hers and she opened her mouth to wel
come him. His tongue explored her mouth, making her groan at the back of her throat. His thumb stroked her neck, his other hand was spread wide on her lower back. As he pulled her tight, his erection felt unmistakable.

  He made it difficult for her to go home alone. But that’s what she needed tonight.

  She needed time to reflect on everything that happened in the past few days. Get the desire and the sex off her brain and think clearly. Since she came home, everything had moved too fast. Her move, her father’s death and funeral, Bray walking back into her life and wanting to pick up where it left off like nothing happened in between, the shock of Bray marrying Kait. And him having a son. A son that should have been hers, not Kait’s.

  The thought of her failed marriage and also his, made her push away. She laid a hand over her womb. She needed to tell him. He might not want children now but in the future… She needed to be upfront with him.

  “Let me know when you have free time to stop by tomorrow and I’ll gather the farm hands. We’ll spread Pop over the farm he loved so much.”

  “Okay.” He leaned over and kissed her forehead. “Goodnight.”

  She pushed the button on the key fob and climbed into the driver’s seat. The Audi started with a purr. She rolled her window down. “See you tomorrow. Don’t go back inside, Bray. Go home.”

  He was still nodding when she looked in her rearview mirror.

  Chapter 7

  Mal fingered the cheap, gold-plated necklace that hung around her neck. The charm spelled out Princess. She didn’t expect to find it in her bedroom. She had forgotten about it but came across it as she gathered old clothes and goodies that would be donated to the local charity shop in town.

  Seeing it brought her back to the morning when her pop chased Bray away for good. He had given it to her right before asking her father for her hand in marriage. So old fashioned, but after being caught with his pants down, he had been trying to make good.

  Bray still considered her his princess.

  She decided not to wear black to spread Pop’s ashes. And she told the three farm hands not to dress up either. The spreading of his ashes was just a formality, and she wasn’t going to make a big deal out of it since they already had a service, but all of the hands wanted to be included.