by Meg Maguire
I hope that one day you and I will find it possible to forgive one another our decisions. In the meantime, I want you to know that I will no longer be making your life my business, although letting you go will cause me great anxiety. I worry about you every day, but I promise I will trust you to find your path, even though I may not understand it. I hope that one day you might choose to come to me, to reestablish a relationship on whatever terms you wish, but I promise I will not contact you.
Your mother and I love you very much, and wish you all the best in your life. I hope you figure out where it is you belong, and find happiness there.
Love,
Dad
Epilogue
Seven months later
The midsummer sun streamed through the front window, bouncing off the beer glasses as Paul Nolan’s Pub bustled with a capacity crowd. Reece clambered onto a table and tapped his glass with a spoon until the chatter quieted.
“It’s time for a toast!”
“Oi!” Colin shouted from somewhere toward the back of the room. “You’re not staff, anymore. Get off the bloody furniture.”
“Firstly, I would like to thank everybody for coming this afternoon,” Reece began, looking out across the small sea of family and friends and familiar neighborhood faces. “We’re calling this a reopening, although those of you who have been here amid the dust and clutter for past couple months will remind me that we didn’t actually close, and we thank you for your patience.”
“Cheers, Graham,” Annie yelled.
“But at any rate, I would like to make it clear that I deserve none of the credit for any of this. Some of you know Libby, now—Libby, raise your freakishly long arm, would you? There you are. Yes, you can put your finger down, now. Libby Prentiss is the one to thank for all of the new improvements. She has a shiny new…business investor’s visa, is it called? And she is solely responsible for everything you will like or hate that’s changing around here.”
“Our solvency, for one,” Colin interjected.
“True enough. And also for the karaoke night that’s going to keep whatever poor sod moves into my old room awake until the wee hours every Saturday. Colin also thanks her for her bartending, so he can finally have a blooming day off. So cheers, to Libby!” Reece paused for the clapping and whoops.
“A toast to Libby also for…everything. For everything she has done for this family in the past, what? Nine months? She and I have had our differences of opinion—”
A loud laugh from Libby.
“But I can honestly say that she and my brother are possibly the most well-suited couple I have ever seen, and I hope the next time I give a toast it will be as her brother-in-law.”
The crowd let out a collective Awwwww.
“She hasn’t got a ring on him yet, but the helmet’s a bloody good start.”
“Hear, hear!” Annie shouted.
“But of course the biggest thanks of all go to my brother, Colin, who as everybody knows has kept this pub and this family together and afloat for the last couple years, and even before that. It’s because of him that we’re standing here now.” Reece set down his glass to lead the applause.
“I should also add ‘happy birthday’, so you people will stop asking me whether or not this is a Valentine’s party. So happy birthday, Col. If you’re anything like Annie, this will be the first but not the last time you turn twenty-nine.”
“Oh, ha ha ha.”
“Mum, anything to add? Hang on, she’s already crying.”
Marjorie pulled herself together and moved to the bar. She cleared her throat. “This pub was Paul’s biggest dream… Oh, here I go again.” She took a tissue from Annie and recomposed herself. “Okay. Thank you, thank you, thank you, Reece, for coming home when we needed you. And thank you to Annie and Mark, who met in this very pub, of course. And to all our wonderful customers and neighbors, and to Libby, especially, for everything she’s done for this family and for my son. And to Colin, who has been my rock for years and years. Your father would be so proud of you today.” She waved her hand to say she was too overwrought to go on. Colin cut through the crowd and hugged her before taking Reece’s place on top of the table.
“Thank you, Mum, and thank you, Constable Nolan,” Colin said once the heartfelt clapping died down. “I’ll reiterate everyone’s thanks to Libby, for everything she’s done for this place. Some of you will note that the so-called function room is actually functioning again for the first time since the late nineties. We’ve got a new pool table and a digital jukebox, and, as Reece said, karaoke. Reece will be getting his karaoke cherry popped tonight, if his word is any good.” He looked down at his brother. “What do you think, ‘I Fought the Law’? Something by the Police? Public Enemy? Something fitting, at any rate, so look forward to that once he’s got a few more in him. Oh, and pub trivia, right? Mondays, we think, coming someday soon. Libby will not be allowed to play because she’s too bloody smart. Also, we can afford to hire staff for the first time in years, so it won’t just be sad old me behind the bar for your entertainment.”
A couple of girls expressed their exaggerated disappointment.
“Settle down, ladies. And we’ve replaced our horrible house wine with something actually potable, so cheers for that, Libby. You’re the only one who drinks it, anyway. And thank you for… Everything.” He cut his toast off with a weak smile. “So have at it, everyone. We’ll be starting the barbecue up on the roof in a bit, and the kegs are open for business. Cheers!”
“Cheers!” everyone echoed.
“Wait, wait, wait,” Libby interrupted, coming forward. “Doesn’t the new co-owner get to say a few words?”
“Silent partner,” Colin corrected with a zipping motion across his lips.
She crossed her arms and stuck out her tongue.
Colin hopped down, and she joined him behind the bar, setting out stacks of clean glasses.
“Excited?” she asked.
“Not as excited as the day you landed, but yeah. This will go down as one of my life’s highlights, I reckon. You?”
“Ditto. I’m glad you finally decided to accept my help.”
Colin laughed. “Help, nothing. This place is half your responsibility now, sucker.”
“I’ll take it.”
Colin laid a discreet hand on her lower back as he wiped the bar, racing to keep up with the chaos. “Probably not exactly the future you dreamed of when you were studying chemistry or plotting to save the third world, though, eh?”
She smiled, grabbing dirty glasses and loading them in the washer. “No, I can’t say I ever pictured myself becoming a businesswoman… But I also never thought I’d fall in love. Being wrong feels pretty fantastic, though, so you won’t catch me complaining. I like wrong.”
“That’s good, because I’m going to do some things to you later that are probably downright illegal.”
She pushed the dishwasher door closed with her hip and grinned. “Is that any way to talk to the boss?”
“Partner,” he corrected. “Though we shouldn’t be allowed to work together,” Colin said, looking her up and down. “Can’t risk the distraction.”
“Yes, heaven forbid. Plus we need your tips if we’re ever going to get the floor refinished.” She studied his face a long moment. “Happy birthday, by the way.”
“Cheers. Did you get me a prezzie?”
She smirked. “Not yet. I wanted to talk to you about that, actually. You’ve earned yourself a break. I think we need to start looking at travel guides. In a few weeks, once everything’s settled here, I’m taking you on a trip. Anywhere you like.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “Upstairs, then.”
She punched his arm.
“Honestly, I am exactly where I want be, now that you’re here.”
“Well, get used to me,” Libby said. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Colin braced an arm on the bar on either side of her waist, and kissed her forehead. “You’re bloody right about that. I’m bu
rning your passport.” He glanced at the clock. “I have to go start the barbecue. Reece is useless with a steak. You okay down here for now? I’ll send Annie over to help.”
“Of course.”
“I’ll be back down in a couple hours, just in time to help you break in your new karaoke setup.”
“Damn straight. Get those pipes warmed up for me.”
He smiled. “As you wish.”
She brushed her lips against his. “I’ll save you a good one.”
About the Author
Before becoming a writer, Meg worked as a record store bitch, a lousy barista, a decent designer, and an over-enthusiastic penguin handler. She loves writing sexy, character-driven stories about strong-willed men and women who keep each other on their toes…and bring one another to their knees.
Meg now writes full-time and lives north of Boston with her extremely good-natured and permissive husband. When she’s not trapped in her own head, she can usually be found in the kitchen, the coffee shop, or jogging around the nearest duck-filled pond.
Meg welcomes reader feedback. E-mail her at [email protected], follow her on Twitter @megguire, or visit her website at www.megmaguire.com.
Look for these titles by Meg Maguire
Now Available:
The Reluctant Nude
Trespass
He opened his home. She stole his heart…and his money.
Trespass
© 2011 Meg Maguire
Many would envy veterinarian Russ Gray’s life in rural Montana’s wide-open spaces. Russ calls it lonely. In a country with more cattle than eligible females, he doesn’t envision his seven years as a widower ending anytime soon. Until a mysterious woman lands at his door in the dead of night, riddled with buckshot.
Sarah Novak hates lying to such a kind, handsome man, but if an upstanding citizen like Russ finds out why she’s been three weeks on the run, he’d surely turn her in. Yet she can’t refuse his offer to let her stay until she heals, no questions asked.
From the start they fall into an easy companionship, then teasing flirtation flares into an unexpected intimate connection. But no matter how right it feels in his arms, guilt tugs at Sarah’s heart. Russ doesn’t deserve what she must do next.
When Russ wakes up with an empty bed—and an empty wallet—his first instinct isn’t to call the cops…it’s to catch her and find out why his urge to protect her overshadows all reason. Because he’s had a taste of real passion, and he’s not letting it slip away without a fight.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Trespass:
Sarah rose first and cleared Russ’s yolk-stained plate. He let her do the dishes and start a fresh pot of coffee, turning back to his newspaper while she puttered. She did an overly thorough job of wiping down the counter, watching him through the open space in the wall that separated the kitchen and den. He had a dab of yellow at the corner of his mouth, sleep-mussed hair glowing gold at the edges from the morning sunshine. She glanced at the pocket watch before her on the ledge and the antique medicine bottle beside it, its thick, cloudy glass the same gray-green as Russ’s eyes.
“Tonight,” she began, gaze still locked on the glass.
He looked up, attentive. “Yeah?”
She remembered how he’d felt when he’d slid in behind her on the couch, that comforting, forceful combination of need and demand. She felt prematurely like a cad. “I need to sleep alone tonight.”
His attention shifted to the window and he nodded. “Sure. Of course.”
She set the sponge down and rinsed her hands, drying them on her jeans as she walked over to him. “I don’t mean I don’t want to…you know. Mess around.”
“No?” That look again—adorable, desperate hope.
She shook her head, stepping close enough to put her fingertips to his shoulders. “No, I’d like that, if you would.”
He nodded, setting a hand at her waist. “Yeah, I’d like that.”
“But afterward, I just want to be alone, on the couch, so I can catch up on the sleep I’ve been missing. I told you I’m kind of restless.”
“Yeah.”
“Actually,” she added, as though she’d just thought of it. “You don’t have any sleeping pills, do you? Or even like nighttime flu medicine? I know that sounds pathetic—”
“No, it doesn’t. And I think I do. I’ll check this afternoon.”
Worries swirled around in her head and she fumbled for a way to get the information she most needed from him. “Cool, thanks. I didn’t know if you only had animal sleeping pills lying around…”
Russ laughed. “I’m sure I can find you something a bit gentler than what I’d use on a horse.”
What about a dog? She dropped the baiting for the time being, too close to sounding suspicious. “Anyway. You know when you want to sleep but it’s just not happening?” She thrust her lip out in a frustrated pout.
“I thought that’s what whiskey was invented for.”
She smiled and ran her fingers through his messy hair, down his stubbly cheek. “Anyhow, thanks. But for now, chores. Then dinner, then who knows.” She grazed a conspiring hand over his neck. “But after that I’m catching up on my beauty sleep.”
Russ looked as if he was resisting the urge to turn that comment into a corny flirtation. Instead he stood and put his hand in her hair the way he seemed to love doing, leaned in and kissed her. Mouth closed, eyes closed, warm lips holding in a faint noise, a grunt or sigh.
He let her go and she stared at his chin, a little drunk from him. She reached up to wipe the yolk from beside his smiling lips.
“Okay. Put me to work.”
An hour later Sarah could confirm that shampooing a horse was indeed very much like washing a car, right down to the hose she was using to rinse the suds from Mitch. She craned her neck, looking to where Russ was standing in the pen, fussing over Lizzie’s gums. He’d ditched his sweater as the sun had risen, and he looked good in his dusty jeans, those strong, tanned arms, shoulder blades flexing under his T-shirt. That hat like a cliché, so endearing.
She chewed her lip, only fretting for a moment about whether or not to be evil to him. She let the hose trigger go, pumped it a couple times.
“Russ?”
He turned. “Yeah?”
“Hose is acting weird.”
His eyebrows rose. He gave Lizzie a pat then left her be, walking over. “What’s it doing?”
“It’s just kind of—” She squeezed the handle, soaked Russ from head to toe and sent his hat flying off behind him. When she finally released it, he blinked at her, hair dripping, shirt plastered to his chest, the front side of his jeans dark and drenched.
“Seriously?” he asked.
She bit her lip. “Yeah.”
Russ smiled, a deadly Jack Nicholson sort of smile, eyes narrowing. He took a step closer. “Seriously?”
She nodded.
“How fast can you run?” he asked.
“Real fast.”
“You better hope so.”
He took another step, and she tossed the hose aside, bolting past him into the pen and ducking between the wooden fence rails. She felt him grab her sneaker for a second, heard his feet hit the ground behind as she took off into the yard. He caught her easily after only a few seconds’ sprint into the tall grass. She yelped as he hooked her around the waist and brought them both crashing to the ground, Russ taking the bulk of the impact. Rolling her onto her back, he pressed his dripping front against her and made her feel six years old, made all the horrors from the past few weeks dissolve until the entire world consisted of just their two bodies, this patch of earth under this exact sky. She began to laugh, convulsive, cathartic sobbing laughs as Russ flipped her over on top of him. She kissed him, square on the mouth with her eyes open, and decided he was the handsomest man she’d ever seen or touched or tasted.
He made the kisses deeper, dirty hands in her formerly clean hair. She locked her thighs around his hips, wanting to stay right here for a month, so
filled with good feelings there was no room left for bad ones. She felt Russ grow hard and contemplated a near-literal roll in the hay, then decided the risk of ticks and every other thing lurking in the grass was a mood killer.
She let the kissing linger for another minute then freed her mouth. “You feel like a shower?”
“I feel like you just gave me one back in the paddock.”
“Do you feel like a proper one, with soap and hot water and naked strangers corrupting your cramped little ancient bathtub?”
He smiled, expression shifting in a way she adored. “Yeah, I could go for that.”
She got to her feet and let Russ take her dirty hand in his for the short walk back to the pen. He let Mitch out into the main yard and put away a few things and led them inside. They ditched their shoes at the door and headed for the bathroom.
Russ got the shower running and they watched one another undress. She loved his body…unlike any man’s body she’d been intimate with before. Not skinny, not bulky, strong and muscular but not from the gym. Just exactly what a man ought to look like, she decided. Russ had sexy shoulders, triceps so defined she wanted to bite them. He also had the very start of what would be an inevitable middle-aged belly, a charming flaw flying in the face of his otherwise too perfect working man’s body.
Russ shed his shorts, his sudden and complete nakedness pulling her out of her spacey admiration and into darker, curious realms. She undid her bra and let him step forward and push her panties down, his erection brushing her navel. She was about ready to trade a kidney for a box of condoms.
Strong hands took hold of her jaw, and she melted into him, into his forceful mouth and eager body, into the moans humming in his throat, begging to be unleashed. She slid her hand between them and stroked his soft chest hair, squeezed the hard swells of his shoulders. For a few greedy seconds, she explored his back and that textbook-perfect ass, then he pulled away, grinning. Sliding the shower curtain open, he gestured for her to get inside.