“Yes.”
“As in, drop whatever I have and just leave the store.”
“I know it sounds crazy, but, uh, yes, I need to talk to you before…” Raine’s voice trailed off, and immediately Maggie’s internal radar roared to life. She heard it inside her head, pounding out an alarm that was in sync with her fast-beating heart.
“Before what?” Maggie turned her back to Rebecca, suddenly convinced every single person in the store was either staring at her or talking about her behind her back. She was uncomfortable and filled with inexplicable fear that her world was about to crumble.
She lowered her voice and hunched her shoulders. “Raine, seriously, what the hell is going on? And don’t say ‘nothing.’” She chanced a look at Rebecca once more and winced at the venomous glee that was in the woman’s eyes as she continued to stare.
“Maggie, I’m almost there. Can you please just drop whatever you have and meet me out front?”
Rebecca had a magazine clutched between her fingers, and her friend grabbed it from her and opened it wide. The cover was bright crimson, the headline bold black and white.
She read it clearly from where she stood: “Natasha Simmons’s Ex-husband and Mystery Woman Get Hot and Heavy.”
The blood drained from her face. Oh God.
“Maggie, are you there?”
“I…” She couldn’t speak. It felt like a box of cotton balls was stuffed down her throat.
“Maggie, you’re not near the cash registers, are you?” Panic filled Raine’s voice, but Maggie wasn’t listening. She pushed her cart to the side, abandoned it, and walked toward the front of the store, her cell phone still held against her ear. People moved out of her way. Some stared. Some didn’t. Some opened their mouths to speak and then closed them rapidly when they got a good look at her.
Did she look psycho? Deranged? Unhinged?
She reached the magazine section and nearly lost her lunch. Hollywood Scene stared back at her, the bold headline big enough for a person half-blind to see. The cover sported a picture of Maggie and Cain, bodies close as they danced together at the Coach House. Her face was upturned, mouth open for his kiss. His hands were in her hair and on her face, and he held her as if she belonged to him.
It spoke volumes.
She nearly dropped her cell and heard Raine’s frantic voice as she tossed it into her purse.
Maggie grabbed the magazine and made her way over to the self-serve register. After scanning the item, she paid for it and, ignoring the whispers and eyes that followed her, walked through the exit to head blindly into the parking lot.
She didn’t stop walking until she crossed the length of it and stood beneath the shade of an oak that bordered Main Street. There was a bench a few feet away, and she sank onto it, the magazine between her fingers as she fought to keep her nausea at bay.
Carefully she opened it and flipped through the pages rapidly until she came to the center spread.
Her breath hitched. She choked. It was so much worse than she’d even thought possible.
There were several photos, ranging from candid beach shots to a few more of them dancing together inside the Coach House. But the largest photo drew her eyes—hell, there was no way to ignore it. The text beneath it was salacious and made her sick.
Natasha Simmons’s newly divorced ex, rocker Cain Black, has been hiding out in his hometown of Crystal Lake, Michigan, since his tour ended abruptly last month when Black punched bandmate Blake Hartley onstage in Barcelona. Cain Black returned home to attend the funeral of an old schoolmate, a soldier who was killed in Afghanistan. He’s said to be devastated. Looks to us like Mr. Black’s new girl toy has done a lot to ease his broken heart. Wonder what his ex, Natasha Simmons, thinks of this mystery lady? Wonder what his girl toy thinks of the fact Simmons has expressed interest in reconnecting with her husband, claiming “he’s the man for me. He just doesn’t know it yet. He’ll figure it out and come back.”
She clutched the magazine tightly and stared at the photo. It was an intimate shot. Cain was shirtless, his back to the camera as he looked up at her. His face was in profile, and it was obvious that it was him. She was in her skimpy black bra, her hands on his shoulders as she gazed down at him.
Her hair hung loose, and the expression on her face was one of longing, anticipation, and lust.
Two things were very clear. First off, she was identifiable. No question there. And secondly, the picture had been taken from her backyard, with a lens pointing in toward her bedroom.
Heat flushed her cheeks, and she bit her lip. She remembered that night. She knew exactly what had happened after the picture was taken. The ick factor alone—that someone had taken photos without her knowledge—was enough to make her sick, but the thought that they’d spied and seen things… Seen her and Cain together? She couldn’t comprehend that.
Maggie closed her eyes as she tried to calm her nerves and the fear that was growing inside her. Hollywood Scene was a major trash magazine and was in every grocery store from coast to coast.
Oh God, they have a show…a half-hour recap on television every night at six.
Maggie stood, dropped her purse in her haste, and scooped it up quickly, throwing the magazine inside as she glanced down the street. Bus stop. She needed to get to the bus stop. She had to get home so that she could think.
So that she could plan.
There was no question that Michael’s father, Dante, would see the pictures. The only question was, how much time did she have before he came after her? Days? Weeks? Or was it already too late?
The fear she felt for Michael was paralyzing. She let it claim her soul, but only for a moment. She needed to remember what it felt like. She’d become too soft, too complacent. She needed to feed from that fear.
Maggie wiped away the tears that had gathered in the corners of her eyes and walked rapidly toward the bus stop. She checked her emotions and froze them in place, her body going into battle mode in much the same way it had when she fled Savannah a year earlier.
Minutes later she hopped the bus, kept her head low, and sank into the seat just behind the driver. They pulled away from the curb as her cell phone chimed once more. She grabbed it and saw Cain’s number, and her heart shifted, the pain so intense, a whimper escaped from her lips. Everything had changed in less time than it took to wash her kitchen floor.
But had she really expected the fantasy to last? She’d played with fire, and only a fool would believe the burn wouldn’t hurt.
Maggie threw her cell back into her bag without answering.
She couldn’t worry about Cain. He was a big boy.
She’d worry about herself later too. At the moment her only concern was Michael.
On second thought, she reached for her phone and hit speed dial. Raine answered before the second ring. “Maggie?”
“I need you to do a favor.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m on my way home. Can you do something for me?”
“Maggie, of course, anything.”
“Cain has Michael. Can you get him and bring him home?”
“But Maggie, you need to talk to Cain.”
“I need for my son to be home. Can you get him or no?” She was abrupt and didn’t care.
Raine sighed. “I’m heading out of the parking lot from the Super Saver now and will swing by the football field.”
Maggie tossed her cell into her bag and stared out the window. In the distance dark gray clouds were blowing in. Angry clouds filled with menace. How appropriate.
The train had just derailed, and there was no doubt in her mind. She was about to get run over.
Chapter 29
Cain saw Maggie about a minute before she realized he was there. He’d parked in the driveway but had spent the last five minutes pacing up and down her porch, trying to get rid of the nervous energy that hung low in his gut.
She moved up the street, her steps quick, her head bowed. A large bag hung off her shoulde
r, and she was hunched forward as if trying to ward off something.
He cursed, pissed at himself. He’d let his guard down. A lame-ass move, and now she was going to pay for it.
Maggie glanced up then, and he clenched his hands at the look in her eyes. It was back. The deer-in-headlights thing was back, and it was his fault.
“Where’s Michael?” A hint of panic rolled beneath her words. Her Southern accent was much more pronounced, and she couldn’t hide her fear.
“Jake took him back to the lake, but Raine knows he’s there. She called me.”
Maggie blew out a shaky breath, and her expression changed. It wasn’t so much that her features physically moved. It was subtle, like a shadow creeping across her eyes. She squared her shoulders and marched up her narrow walkway, shoved her way past him, and unlocked her front door. She slipped inside, and he followed, wishing she’d at least yell. Throw something. Do something.
The silent treatment left him uneasy.
She let her bag fall to the ground, and a copy of Hollywood Scene slipped out. He stared at the cover, wincing again at the bold headline.
“Maggie, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to say. I had no idea there were paparazzi in town. Hell, why would I? They’ve never followed me before unless Natasha was around.”
She walked into her kitchen without a word, and again he followed. Two wineglasses were pulled down from her cupboard, and she filled them with some merlot left over from a few nights back.
She treated herself to a generous gulp and moved away from the sink, leaving his glass behind. The unease in his chest tightened, gripped him in a band of tension that made it difficult to breathe. His eyes followed her as she slipped out the back door and disappeared into her yard.
Still without uttering a single word.
Cain grabbed his glass and downed the entire thing. He traced her footsteps down the stairs until he stood a few feet from her.
Overhead the gray clouds that had blown in earlier filled the sky, and he thought that maybe he’d felt a big raindrop. Maggie sipped her wine and leaned against the railing that led from the small deck down to the grass. She looked small, vulnerable, and he wanted nothing more than to hold her, just like he had the night before.
He felt like the biggest ass ever. Bringing this load of crap down onto her world.
Ignoring him, she walked to the back fence, her hands trailing along the yellow honeysuckle as she wandered toward the small waterfall in the corner.
“Maggie, I—”
She shook her head, held her hand up, and with the flick of her wrist he was silent. Cain watched her, hating the hopeless rush of emotion he felt. But he respected her parameters and hung back.
She slowly undid the clip atop her head, and a silken wash of crimson fell over her fingers as she gently shook out her hair. The wind had picked up, and he watched transfixed as her long tangles floated on the breeze.
She wandered over to the other side of the yard and stopped midway between the back fence and her house. She bent down and picked up something and then she froze.
Cain moved forward until he was able to see what she held—a cigarette butt. He frowned and watched her carefully.
“He stood right here,” she said, her face tight. “And I never knew.”
Cain followed her line of vision and cursed as he stared at the dark patch of window that belonged to her bedroom. She was talking about the dirtbag photographer.
“Maggie, I’ll sue the bastard.”
“What’s the point in that? The damage is done. I’m just trying to understand what kind of person would sneak into someone’s backyard and take pictures of them through their window.” She hugged her arms around her body and shuddered. “It’s invasive, perverted, and just…wrong.”
“You’d be surprised.”
She turned then, her eyes angry, their blue depths as dark as the clouds above them. “I don’t want to be surprised. I have a little boy to look out for, remember? Being surprised isn’t a good thing.”
“Maggie, I know what you’re thinking.”
She shook her head and laughed, a short, harsh sound that didn’t belong on her lips. “You have no idea what I’m thinking. Trust me.”
He took a moment and then tried again. “This story will be big for a while, and then it will blow over. They’ll move on to the next sorry son of a bitch. And then the next one. It’s the way the machine works.”
She looked away, and he felt her withdrawal like a physical slap. It pissed him off. That she could just turn off like that.
“Maggie, I know you’re upset, and rightly so. But let’s put things into perspective here.”
“He stood in my backyard and pointed a camera into my window.” She shook her head and her voice rose. “What if he’d held something else? What if it had been a gun pointed in my window?”
“Okay, you’re getting carried away. A gun? Seriously? I’m a guitar player, for Christ sake, not the president.” His chest tightened as he glared at her. She was blowing the entire thing out of proportion.
“For now.” She muttered.
“What do you mean for now?” What the hell was she getting at?
Maggie rounded on him, her face flushed with anger. “Where do you think you’ll be a year from now, Cain? Here? With me?”
“A year from now?” He sputtered.
“Because that would be wrong.” She continued as if he’d never said a thing. “These past few weeks have been a fantasy. Those pictures in that trash magazine aren’t real. They’re fantasy, nothing more. A year from now, you won’t be here and you won’t be with me.”
“How the hell do you know what I want?” He ran hands through his hair, his thoughts twisted, confused, and just plain fucking mad.
Maggie shook her head. “I don’t know what you want, Cain, because we’ve never talked about it, but I do know one thing.” She blew out a hot breath. “I have a son who needs to be protected.”
“Maggie, nothing will happen to Michael. I’d never allow it.”
“You’d never allow it?” She set her empty glass on the small patio table near the barbecue. “Let me be clear about this. I’ll never allow it. I’m his mother. You’re just…”
His pulse spiked as a new wave of anger rolled over him. “I’m just what?”
She stared at him, her eyes huge as several fat drops of rain fell from the sky. “You’re the man I’ve been screwing, and as of now, it’s officially over. We can’t do this anymore, Cain.” Thunder rolled in the distance and lightning streaked across the horizon.
“Can’t or won’t?” he snarled, his anger erupting.
“I won’t do this anymore.”
“Maggie…”
But she’d closed off. Retreated. Frustration and anger churned madly, feeding his dark mood. He blew out a long, hot breath and took a moment. He couldn’t lose his temper. That would push her further away.
“Maggie, you need to take a step back. This isn’t as bad as it seems.” He tried to keep his voice calm and neutral, but the panic parasites were burrowing deep.
“I disagree. In fact, I strongly disagree, and I think it’s going to get much worse than it is today. It may seem like no big deal to you, but we’re looking at this from two entirely different perspectives.”
“They’re pictures, Maggie. This will blow over.”
“Blow over, my ass.” She shook her head. “Maybe for you, but not for me.”
Cain looked away. He didn’t know what to say. How could he make her understand? It would blow over. This kind of thing always did.
He lowered his voice. “Maggie.” She was going to run. He could feel it. “Why don’t we discuss what this is really about? Because I sure as hell don’t believe you’re this upset over some pictures. What are you afraid of? Your ex-husband?”
She was surprised, her mouth half-open and eyebrows furled. She stared at him for several long moments, her mouth pinched tight. “I can’t talk about this anymore. I need you t
o leave.”
“I want to talk about it.”
“I don’t care what you want, Cain. This isn’t about you or me.” She thrust her chin forward. “It’s about my son.” She inhaled a ragged breath. “My son.”
He’d been dismissed. “So that’s it.” Cain’s nostrils flared, his eyes flattened, and he clenched his mouth so tight that pain radiated along his jaw. “Just like that.”
“Look, Cain, I don’t have time to hash this out.” She shook her head, her eyes huge in her pale face. “I’ve got a lot to think about.”
“I’m not leaving, Maggie. Tell me about your ex-husband and what he did to you.”
“Dante is none of your business.”
The energy in the air crackled, and lightning rushed across the sky once more. Raindrops splattered onto her face and body, the large drops leaving fat, dark circles on her clothes. Dante. He had the bastard’s name.
“Michael made him my business.”
“Michael? What do you mean?” Her chest heaved, and she glanced away. He knew she was fighting for control, and it broke his heart to see her so upset.
She ran trembling fingers along her temple.
He decided to lay everything on the line. What the hell did he have to lose? “I know he abused you, laid his hands on you and hit you.” She flinched as he spoke, as if every word uttered slammed into her the way Michael’s father’s fists had. She clenched her fingers so tight around the delicate crystal glass, he was afraid it would shatter.
“Why would you…how would you…?” She struggled to finish her sentence, and if he could have done anything to wipe away her pain, he would have. She swallowed thickly.
“Michael told me.”
Her eyes widened, and silence stretched between them. “No.” She finally whispered. “But Michael, never…he never saw…” She looked away, her body and voice trembling.
Cain fought the urge to grab her into his arms. He wanted to offer comfort but at the same time was afraid to drive her away. A fragile connection had been forged and it wouldn’t take much to break it.
The Summer He Came Home Page 24