by Mya Barrett
Panic sliced through her, making her hand give a slight jerk. She didn’t understand it, but it was there, its slick fingers sending ice along her spine. “What has it changed, Hale?”
“You, me, us.” He tightened his hold and stared at her with eyes gone hot and bright. “When I came out here it was with the intention of forcing you to admit we’re attracted to each other. More than attracted.”
She swallowed and tried to pull away but he wouldn’t let her. Oh, God, she wasn’t ready for this. “Please, no, don’t.”
“Don’t what, Maggie? Don’t admit that I want you? That’d be as big a lie as the one my father kept telling.”
“No, Hale. You can’t…” Her heart stumbled as her eyes pricked with tears.
“Can’t what? Can’t want you? Because I do.”
Can’t break my heart like this, she thought, and bit her lip to keep the words from slipping out. “Cordelia won’t believe my mother was innocent, even with the proof I have. Having an affair with you would just dredge up old feelings, old hurts and vendettas. Your mother won’t let it go, you know that.”
“I love my mother, Maggie, don’t get me wrong. But she’s a grown woman and sooner or later she’s going to have to face up to the cold, hard fact that her husband ruined lives because of his massive ego. And we stood by and let him.” His face became set and his warm fingers tightened like steel bands around her knuckles. “Don’t you want the world to know the truth about your mother?”
“Yes…no…it’s…” Why was this so hard? Surely she should be happy that he knew, that he wanted to let it all come out. “It’s not that simple.”
“Yes, it is. It is that simple.” He let go of her hand only long enough to walk around the counter and turn her to face him. “I’m going to be honest with you. I want you, Maggie, you know that. I’ve admitted it wasn’t something I expected or particularly wanted, but it’s something so strong that I can’t walk away from it. I had every intention of seducing you tonight, of making you admit that we should be together. Then I was going to convince you that we could have an arrangement, one that involved a quiet affair, one that would spare your reputation and my mother’s feelings. It makes me sick to think my father did the exact opposite; it hurts even more to know that you’ve suffered because of him.”
Shock reverberated through her bones like frigid waves. “You wanted me to…to be your secret mistress? You’d hide me away until you wanted to get laid?”
His features were hard but his eyes showed a wild desperation. “No, not exactly.”
“You thought I’d fall right into line with your plan because, what, I’m an attention starved widow?” Confused anger was suddenly mingling with her shock.
“I told you, it wasn’t…” When she would have turned away, he anchored her. “I thought you’d understand because of how you react every time I touch you. Maybe I should have felt guilty about proposing a plan like that, but I didn’t. We need time to let this, whatever it is, grow to whatever it’s going to be. The only way to let that happen is to be involved, and until a couple of hours ago it seemed like the only way to be involved and not hurt you, me, or my family was to do it quietly.” He pulled her a scant inch closer and stared hard into her eyes. “I want you. Hell, I even admire you. Here you are, a woman who’s been married and widowed, who’s made a good life for herself out of almost nothing.”
She swallowed back a stab of pain. “You were going to ask me to sneak around after I’ve already made it clear how I feel about it?”
“Yes, I was, mostly because I didn’t want the town talking about us the way they talked about my father and your mother; I wanted to spare everyone involved the pain of dealing with that. Then later, if what we have becomes something…more, then it’ll be easier.” He ran his hands up her arms and rested them on her shoulders, his gaze deep with the need for her to understand. “If I could have walked away from what I’m feeling I would have, but it’s been impossible.”
“There’s the door.” Her voice was shaky but sure. “I’m not some hard up widow who’s desperate for a bedmate.”
“I know that.”
“And I’m not the kind of woman who needs to be taken care of. I can promise you I’m not the sort who doesn’t mind being slept with then forgotten about just so my lover’s life can go on without any untoward gossip.” Fury had overtaken her hurt and she was close to shaking with it. “I’ve had enough people think I’m a whore for the taking just because of your father’s lies. I’ll be damned if I’ll let you make me one.”
"Maggie!” He growled and propped his fists on his hips, dropped his head for a moment, then brought his gaze back up to meet hers. “Maggie—I think we’ve already covered this. I know you aren’t like that. I’d never ask you to be. I’m only asking you to give this a chance; I promise you if this becomes something more than physical I won’t walk away.”
“Yes, you will. You just admitted you want to stick me in a convenient cubby until you need a quick hop in the bed. How are we supposed to actually have a relationship on the other side of the sheets if we’re sneaking around? Don’t pretend; trying to dress it all up by saying it might grow to be more than physical is just a way to get what you want.”
“That’s not what I’m saying, Maggie. Don’t put thoughts in my head that aren’t there.” He was getting infuriated now; she could see it on his face and hear it in his words. Well, good for him. Couldn't he see what he was doing to her?
“The next time I have a man in my life it won’t be some dirty little secret, Hale. I deserve to have someone who won’t be ashamed or afraid to be seen with me. And you would have been, would still be, if it weren’t for those letters. You want to change the rules now because it’s safe for your ego, safe for your pride. But will you go to your mother, tell her the truth, hope it doesn’t destroy her or that she won’t try to destroy me? And what about the rest of the town? Do you really think they’ll believe you, the poor man who’s been seduced by the Cooper girl? Are you willing to risk the fallout? Have you thought of asking me if I would be willing to risk it?”
He could only stare at her, mute.
“I didn’t think so. You’ll still have to see me on the sly, don’t you understand that? You want me, but you need me to be patient, to wait to be acknowledged? Well, that’s just too bad. I’m tired, so damned tired, of being treated like a second class citizen. I’d had that for years before things started settling down, before….” She couldn’t say his name, couldn’t bring it up in this conversation.
“Before Chris.” The words hung in the air like crystallized explosives, waiting to be heated enough to erupt.
She stared unwavering into Hale’s deep eyes. “That’s right, before Chris. By the time I met him I knew what I wanted. I told him on our first date about my situation. He didn’t back down. He didn’t walk away. He didn’t try to hide our relationship.” And that’s the reason she’d loved him. She hadn’t fallen in love with Chris, but with the way he’d treated her. It was a jagged pill to swallow.
Hale glared at her, his eyes filled with anger and something else, something she hadn’t seen before. “I’m sorry you lost your husband, Maggie. I’m sorry I’m not the perfect man. I believe in being honest and I thought you were the sort who’d appreciate that, could understand that.”
“I do understand it, I do appreciate it.” She couldn’t explain how she felt, how his words had cut like knives because she knew, in the end, she’d be nothing more than a convenient female. “But I’m not the type of woman who has hushed up affairs.”
“And I can’t compete with a ghost.” He dropped his hands and took a small step away, creating a gap that couldn’t be bridged. “I don’t know if anyone can.”
She didn’t speak as he turned and walked back into the living room, his movements slow and somehow defeated. He ran his fingertips over the open letters and spoke without looking at her.
“What are you going to do with these?”
She
blinked in surprise. “Put them away, I suppose.”
His head snapped up and she found herself caught in a cold stare. “My father destroyed your family. He practically put the noose around your father’s neck. He made it next to impossible for your mother to survive. He tried to do the same to you.”
She licked her dry lips and nodded. “He didn’t care who he hurt.”
“Why are you going to sit on these? Damn it, you should be making photo copies and handing them out. Instead you’re tucking them away. Why, Maggie?”
She couldn’t answer him. He would see her vulnerability and would take advantage of it. He would push his agenda. Tipping her hand would be dangerous for her heart.
If he was waiting for an answer all he got was silence. Finally, he heaved a deep breath and turned toward the door, his actions tired and drawn out. He had the door open, the crisp air swirling into the cabin, before he spoke again.
“I always seem to find myself walking away like this, leaving you here while we both want each other. I’ve told you before the wanting wasn’t going away. It isn’t. It won’t. But it feels like something’s shifted, whether we want it to or not. I…like you. Before I read those letters it was true. I don’t have affairs with women I don’t like.” One foot crossed the threshold before he stopped. “I don’t like the idea that people might be hurting you because of me…because of my father’s lies." He paused, seeming to consider his next words. "If I thought you’d let me I’d offer to take care of it…of you. It’s the least I could do, considering….”
He never finished his sentence. She watched as he slowly shook his head, then moved into the night, closing the door behind him with a firm snick. She wasn’t sure how long she stood there, tears balancing precariously in her eyes. When the oven buzzer sounded she was too numb for shock.
In not wanting to hurt Hale Warrick she had the stomach clenching feeling that somehow she had done so anyway.
And in a way he could never forgive.
Chapter Eleven
He wanted to be blind, stinking drunk. So drunk that her face would stop floating by every two seconds. Every five would be fine, he supposed, and tossed back another shot. Jackson’s Boon wasn’t particularly crowded, but the people who were there kept a wary eye on Hale. Even the rowdier ones avoided him. It wasn’t hard to guess when a man needed to be left alone, he decided, and tapped the bar for another drink.
Roland Jackson gave him a jaundiced look but complied. He put the half empty bottle on the bar beside him and leaned his scrawny hip against the polished wood. “Might want to slow down, Hale. Don’t want to have to explain to your momma why I had to scrape you up off the floor.”
“Screw my mother.” He uttered it before he could stop himself, then winced at his words. “Sorry, that wasn’t very nice.”
Roland shrugged and crossed his surprisingly wide arms over his thin chest. “We all get upset with our mothers sometimes. When mine was alive we’d have words at least once a month.”
“Mona was a yeller,” he replied. “At least with her you could get it out of your system and move on. Bet she didn’t care who you slept with.”
Always a good bartender, Roland kept his face straight and his answer noncommittal. “She loved me.”
Hale gave a disgusted snort and slammed back his drink. “I wish my mother would scream. Wish she would rant and rave and cry and demand. Wouldn’t feel so damned torn, you know?”
“Oh, sure, sure. You’re a lot like your daddy. Like the women to be a bit temperamental, not so meek.”
“My father…let’s not talk about him.” He shook his head, lifted his glass, realized it was empty and put it back down. “My mother, a meek woman.” He snorted. “More like she’s cold. Marble. You ever been loved by a hard marble woman, Roland?”
The older man picked up a clean glass and began to wipe it with a fresh rag. “Can’t say as I have. Gina would as soon pull my hair out than lecture me.”
“Me ask you something.” Hale blinked when he realized his words were beginning to slur. “If you died would you care if Gina slept with someone else?”
Roland paused in his work but otherwise didn’t show a sign of surprise. “That’s some question.”
“ ’Cause it seems to me that asking a young, pretty, healthy woman not to have a life after you’re gone is just wrong. Selfish.” Hale picked up the bottle and tilted more into his glass. “Gina feel obligated not to take anyone else to her bed?”
“I couldn’t answer that.”
“Guilty. That’s what it is. Guilt. Can you love someone too much?” He drank this round a bit slower, letting the fire seer his gullet.
Roland didn’t hesitate. “Yeah, I’ve seen it. It gets nasty.”
“Exactly. You love someone too much and when they’re gone you can’t be open to the idea of having anyone else in your life. Your bed. I meant in your bed.” He wasn’t sure that’s what he meant but he needed to believe it.
“Uh-huh.” Roland’s eyes strayed to the door for a moment before he turned his gaze back to Hale. “You know, sometimes love is a strong thing. Sometimes you can’t help but to love someone too much. Comparing people you might be interested in to the person you lost is natural. It’s something you do without really knowing it.”
“But you can get past it. I mean, if you want someone enough, you can get past it.” You had to, he thought, or he’d be sunk.
“I’ve seen it go both ways. My momma, now she was a passionate woman, and when my dad died she mourned him with all that passion. Buried herself in grief for a time, then was careful with that passion, didn’t place it too readily on any one person. Took her a while, but when Beau Kingston came into the picture and started courting her, he sparked that passion again, brought it right back up to the top.”
“Beau was a lucky man.”
“Beau was a patient man.” He chuckled as Hale poured more liquor into the short glass. “Got to be patient with a passionate woman. Course, a woman whose passion runs deep and quiet, those you have to handle with special care.”
That was Maggie Mae, a gentle woman with desires that ran as deep and rich as untapped gold. Or was it spring waters? He couldn’t remember. Didn’t matter, really. Roland was showering him with useful information and he needed to pay attention.
“Special care, right.”
“Women like that, they break just as easily as the others, you just won’t see it. Usually there’s a reason they play their cards so close. Could be they’ve been hurt and felt it just as deep as they felt the good. Passionate pain is the most destructive.”
He stared at the lanky man behind the bar in awe. “You should be teaching these things. Teach classes at the rec center. I’d sign up.”
Roland shook his head. “Happier back here serving drinks.”
A breeze filtered in letting Hale know someone else had wandered into the bar. He saw the quick flare of relief on the bartender’s face but was too much in a liquored haze to care. When a body slipped onto the stool next to his he swiveled his head around to look and found Trent sitting there.
“Welcome little brother.” He raised his glass in a small salute, noted it was empty again, and reached for the bottle.
“Hi, big brother. What’re you doing here this time of night?” The question was casual as he took a soda from Roland.
“Getting drunk. Blind stinking drunk if I can.” He tossed back the shot, closed his eyes for a quick second. “I have to get it out of my head.”
“Maggie?”
“Someone poisoned her garden. Said it was my fault. Probably is.” And that pain was acid on an open wound.
Trent made a noncommittal humming sound. “Think it might be more than the garden?”
If he hadn’t been liquored up he might have been angry. Maybe. He was too fuzzy headed to decide. “So what if it is? People talking, hurting other people, have to make choices. Sucks. Arguments make sense that shouldn’t. What about it?”
Trent gave a one
shouldered shrug and sipped his drink. “Nothing, just curious. I’ve never seen you drink over a woman before.”
“Not just the woman. Not just the argument. The ghost. A damn ghost. Can’t beat up a ghost. Can’t speak ill of the dead. A hero. Of course he’d have to be a hero.”
“Chris?”
Hale hissed through his teeth. “She should’ve just put herself in the ground with him. Can’t admit she might want something that’s not him. Someone can give her more but she won’t take it.”
Trent sent him a quick glance, lifted an eyebrow, and looked back into the mirror over the bar. “You want to give her more?”
“Wanted to give her pleasure. Nothing wrong with that. Sleep together a few times, enjoy the company, maybe offer more, maybe get smacked down. Fine. Nice friendship with a lady. Nice lady. It’d be enough. It should be enough.” He hung his head as his heart gave a shudder.
“But it’s not enough.” It was a statement, not a question.
“Should be. Damn well should be. Maggie Mae Cooper…Hale Warrick…oil and water. Can’t mix ʼem. Shouldn’t mix ʼem. Want to mix ʼem. So bad.” He spun his glass, considered another drink. “Loves a dead man. Loving the memory, I could take that. Understand it. She loved her husband. But he’s dead, she’s alive, I’m alive, it makes sense.”
“So you asked her out?”
Shame blended with the guilt. “Sort of.”
Trent’s head turned so fast it made Hale dizzy. “Sort of? So, you want Maggie, I think I got that much. We both know how Mother feels about her, not that I think you’d really let that stand in the way of—wait, did you do what I think you did?”
Hale hung his head again. “Probably.”
“You propositioned Maggie, asked her to sleep with you.”
Fury rose then fell quickly. “Not just sleep with me.”
The silence was as good as a gasp. “You wanted her to have an affair with you. A hushed up, carefully concealed affair.”