In Service of Love

by Laurel Greer

  “Hey.” Maggie settled a hand over one of his. “I thought you said Ruth seemed okay with us dating.”

  He released the wheel with one hand so that he could link fingers with Maggie. “She did. Something set her off about leaving the dog at home, though.”

  “She hasn’t confided in you?”

  “Not yet. She often needs a day or two to mull over whatever’s bothering her.”

  She nodded. “She knows she can trust you, Asher. That much is obvious. No way would I have let my dad put his arm around me when I was mad at him.”

  “Well, that’s something. You think I should dial down the paranoia?”

  “You’re having to compensate for being her only living parent. Having extra worry is probably normal. I just wouldn’t panic about her having a quiet moment,” she said.

  “Okay.” Maybe the wave of guilt that he still wanted time alone with Maggie was overkill, too, then. Or at least he’d tell himself that so that he could enjoy the next couple of hours. “Hardware store first?”

  “Yeah, and after, I have somewhere to show you.”

  “No dinner? I wanted to take you out to a nice restaurant. Somewhere without a platoon of well-meaning senior citizens breathing down our necks.”

  “I don’t need anything fancy. I just like spending time with you. Let’s hit up a drive-through and then I’ll take you for a tour.”

  Which is how he ended up full to the brim with a double cheeseburger and fries, parked under a private overhang of trees by the river a few minutes out of town. Lap full of woman. He’d left the keys in the ignition and the battery on, some folk rock setting the mood.

  “You’re sure this is private enough?”

  “A friend of mine owns this property. No one’ll come down here.”

  “Maggie Reid,” he murmured, kissing a line from her throat to her ear. “Are you taking advantage of me?”

  “You seem like you need to loosen up, Asher. And while I don’t think you’re wrong to try to suss out what’s on Ruth’s mind, she’s busy at the moment.”

  He cupped one of her breasts and flicked her hardening nipple with his thumb. She whimpered.

  “So we should get busy, too?” he asked.

  “I’ve had worse ideas.” She circled her hips over his half-hard penis, and pleasure rushed downward. Man, he could get used to having her straddle him in the front seat of his car. He would dearly love to throw himself off an emotional cliff with this woman, but until she was more comfortable, that would be like jumping without a parachute—

  “Asher?” Stilling her movements, she blinked and palmed his chest. “Are you not into this?”

  “Uh, you can’t tell?”

  “An erection isn’t consent. And you seem distracted.” Her teeth tugged at her lower lip.

  “Sorry, love. I’m fully yours. So long as some deputy isn’t about to come arrest us for public indecency.”

  “Promise, we’re alone.”

  Kissing her, delving under her shirt and bra with his hands, he did his best to prove he was willing to take advantage of their privacy. Her body was strong, from working with animals, no doubt, but she had a hell of a lot of soft parts, too. And his hands were still getting used to that, to the feminine. He loved touching her. Exploring her curves, coaxing out moans. And discovering how wet she was when he slipped his fingers under her skirt and shifted her panties to the side.

  He groaned his appreciation and teased a languid pattern on her slick flesh. “You feel so good, Maggie.”

  She squirmed against his hand, gripping his shoulders hard enough for her short nails to sting through his shirt. “Not...quite...good enough...”

  “Can’t have that.” Rubbing her nub with his thumb, he thrust two fingers inside her wetness and pressed her inner wall. He settled his mouth over hers, a deep kiss mimicking the rhythm of his hand.

  Her mouth fell away as she cried out, her sex pulsing around his fingers. Heat pooled in his groin, the satisfaction of having helped her find her release fueling the desire to find his own. He withdrew his hand and gave her back a stroke.

  Chest heaving, she pressed her forehead against his shoulder. “Now that was enough,” she mumbled.

  “Sounded like—”

  His ringing phone, connected to his hands-free system, interrupted. He glanced at the display. “Ah, crap, it’s the synagogue.”

  Maggie stilled in his lap, and he answered.

  “Asher? It’s Jill Kaufman.” Ruth’s teacher’s voice rang with concern. “How far away are you? Ruth got sick to her stomach during the history lesson.”

  His own nausea reared at the teacher’s news—guilt induced, of course. Killed his sexual desire, too. Damn it. He never should have sent Ruth tonight. Had he let the time with Maggie cloud his judgment?

  After assuring Ms. Kaufman that he’d be there in ten minutes, he hung up, and helped Maggie over the console and back into the passenger seat. They both straightened out their clothes. He peeled out of the riverside site, driving as fast as he could get away with.

  “Sorry, Maggie,” he said, rubbing his chest. Where was his container of antacids when he needed it?

  “Don’t apologize. I just hope she’s okay. Want me to drive home so you can sit with her in the back seat?”

  “Maybe.”

  Ruth’s spiking temperature answered that question for him. He let Maggie take over the wheel so he could be closer to his now-feverish daughter. She rested her head in his lap on the trip back to Sutter Creek, dragon tucked under her chin.

  “You must have a stomach bug, Ruthie. Sorry I didn’t notice,” he said. Though part of him was almost happy it was a virus—maybe her gastrointestinal troubles were unrelated to her mental health.

  Even so, between missing her illness and having to cut his date with Maggie short, he was letting down the people he cared about on all sides tonight.

  “Sorry I threw up. The garbage can was too far away, and I made a mess on the floor.” Tears sparkled in her eyes. “Some of the other kids laughed. The rest ran to the other side of the room.”

  “That’s rotten, honey. They’ll forget by next week, though. Everyone throws up in public at some point.”

  He wasn’t paying much attention to where they were going, so when Maggie pulled into his driveway, he startled. “I’ll drop you off, Maggie. It’s freezing out.”

  She shook her head and got out of the car, snatching her purse from the floorboard as she exited. “I have gloves and a hat—I’ll walk home. You take care of your sick one.”

  He lifted a corner of his lips and slid out himself, taking Ruth’s backpack with him. His daughter wobbled a bit when she stood, and he went to her, lifting her into a spider monkey hug like he’d done when she was a preschooler.

  Maggie unlocked their front door and rubbed Ruth’s back. “Call me later?”

  “Yeah.” He loved the idea of ending the day with a phone call. He just wasn’t sure Ruth was actually ready for Maggie being in his life.

  Hours passed before Asher got the chance to call Maggie like she’d asked. Having been unable to convince Ruth to have a piece of dry toast, he’d settled for getting her to take in as much electrolyte drink as he could. Instead of going to an after-hours clinic, his brother had come by to check on Ruth. He and Caleb ended up chatting and playing fetch with the dog in the backyard for an hour after Ruth fell asleep.

  By the time his brother left and he showered off the sickbed grime, it was already past ten. Instead of risking waking Maggie up, he sent her a text, asking if she was awake.

  He was going to need to apologize—with Ruth ailing, he’d be housebound tomorrow night, which would put him behind on the renovation project. Garnet was saving his ass when it came to finding child care—she’d volunteered to spend her day off with Ruth so that he could work his usual Wednesday shift at the libr
ary—but he couldn’t justify working through the evening as well, or taking Ruth along with him while she felt so crummy. Which would mean being short for the fees that were going to be due for the ski club in a couple of weeks. To borrow one of Maggie’s phrases, fudge crackers.

  She replied a minute or so later.

  I’m in bed, but awake.

  He smiled. The possibility of ending off the night with conversation rather than vomit and money worries was welcome. As was the mental picture of Maggie in bed. A teeny pair of sleep shorts would showcase her toned legs in all the right ways.

  He dialed her number.

  Maggie answered on the first ring and settled against her pillow, sure to add extra innuendo to her tone. “What are you wearing?”

  Laughing, he replied, “Afraid I sleep fully clothed. T-shirt and boxers.”

  Mmm. Hot. “You say that as if you in a T-shirt and boxers is a bad thing.”

  “Flattery will get you everywhere, Maggie Reid.”

  “Too bad it can’t get us in the same bed.” She sighed. She felt badly that she hadn’t gotten the chance to make him feel as good as he had for her, before they got interrupted. “How’s Ruth doing?”

  He gave her a rundown of his evening, then paused awkwardly.

  “Everything okay?” she asked. Ruth had been irritable at times on the car ride to Bozeman, and she wanted to be sure the mood had been illness-related, not caused by Maggie’s company.

  Asher cleared his throat. “I’m not going to be able to come in tomorrow to finish up Lachlan’s office. It’s going to push it forward a few days, because Thursday is parent-teacher night at Ruth’s school and then Friday’s family night, and Saturday there’s a Shabbat service...”

  Maggie sucked in a breath. “It’s okay.”

  “Are you sure?” he asked. “Doesn’t sound like it’s entirely fine. I’ll give your brother a call tomorrow to explain.”

  She rushed to correct his misinterpretation of her tone. “The schedule change is honestly not a problem. I’ll tell him. He has classes next week, but as long as he gets the multipurpose area set up for then, I’m sure he’ll be okay if his office is in shambles.”

  “I don’t like not being able to follow through.”

  She paused. She had to ask him about Ruth, otherwise she’d never get to sleep. “Speaking of follow through, I wanted to make sure you still think this is a good idea. Ruth was less than happy to see me today.”

  “Right, uh, I don’t think there’s anything to worry about, but we can talk more if you want. Do you want to video chat me instead?”

  “What, so you can destroy my sense of reason with a smile and a wink? I seem to be pretty weak when it comes to your face, Asher. Especially when you’re wearing your glasses.” Which was most of the time, given he rarely wore contacts.

  “I’ll keep the winking to a minimum.”

  “And smiling?”

  “No guarantees. It seems to be my natural state when you’re around.”

  Her heart pattered.

  They connected via the app thirty seconds later, and his appreciative half grin filled her phone screen. Pushing up his glasses with a finger, he winked at her “Hey.”

  “Told you not to do that.”

  “Not happening, Maggie. I might be tired, and it might take me days to get the scent of puke out of my nostrils, but you make me happy.”

  “That’s...” She glanced away from her phone. Ugh, it was harder to guard her feelings over a video connection.

  He didn’t fill the silence, though, and she appreciated the time to gather her thoughts.

  “I didn’t like Ruth being grumpy with me today,” she confessed.

  “I know,” he said. “But she was coming down with the flu. I’m pretty sure that her mood was from her feeling sick, not her opinion on our relationship.”

  “If you say so. I have no frame of reference. I mean—” she stared into his understanding gaze “—how am I supposed to know how to raise a child? I had the worst example.”

  He nodded slowly. “Is that why you don’t want to have a baby of your own?”

  “No,” she said. “I just—I’m not a baby person. That was never going to be for me. I find it easier to connect with older children. Whether or not I would be any good in a parent role, though? I’m going to need some time.”

  He rubbed his cheek, smoothing out his beard.

  Dang, this conversation would be so much easier if she was lying next to him, running her own fingers along his facial hair.

  “That’s fine,” he said. “I explained to her there were no guarantees.”

  Her chest cramped at his words. “It doesn’t seem like enough. Are you sure it’s okay?”

  “I’m sure that I like seeing you. And that I want to keep doing that, even if it means having to stop myself from kissing you in the car like I had to earlier tonight. I lose my head a little when I’m around you, Maggie.”

  “You do the same to me.” She couldn’t tell him everything she was feeling. But that little admission seemed a fair compromise. And the smile it earned her kept her happy for days.

  * * *

  By Saturday morning, Ruth was on the mend.

  Asher, however, was hanging over the toilet, wishing he’d never heard of such things as breakfast and coffee.

  “Dad?” His daughter hovered outside the bathroom door. “Guess we’re not going to temple this morning?”

  “Sorry, peanut.” He dragged himself to the sink and rinsed out his mouth. “That’s going to be a no. Movie marathon?”

  He spent the day in a blur of Netflix and flu symptoms. Ruth got a crash course in paying for delivery pizza, lest Asher pass the bug on to the unsuspecting delivery person, and they both went to bed early, Ruth still being tired from three days of the flu. Asher was up most of the night, glad he had an en suite so he didn’t disturb his daughter across the hall. He woke up Sunday morning, a sweaty, shaky mess.

  No way was he going to be able to go into the clinic and knock off the rest of the finishing work in Lachlan’s office. His stomach clenched, from guilt and disappointment instead of nausea.

  He’d have preferred nausea. Letting down Maggie and her brother made him feel like an absolute heel.

  After a shower, he shuffled to the living room and downright oozed onto the couch across from Ruth, who was lying curled on the floor with Jackson, watching a Disney cartoon. An empty bowl sat on the coffee table beside her with the dregs of milk and Alpha-Bits—her weekend treat—in the bottom.

  “You look like you’re going to puke again.” She studied him, dark eyes full of concern. “I don’t think we should go to Maggie’s today.”

  “I don’t either,” he croaked. He’d have to call and cancel, and then figure out where he could make up the time. Damn it. Lachlan was supposed to be holding a class there tomorrow.

  Dialing Maggie’s number, he sandwiched his cell between the cushion and his ear so that he didn’t have to hold his gelatin-muscled arm up for any length of time.

  “Morning, sunshine,” she greeted, sounding disgustingly chipper. “When are you coming to work? I might head to church this morning. My friend Emma is playing the piano for her mom, who’s singing. I like to go for moral support. You’ll probably be started on the last cabinet doors by that point.”

  He tried to reply with words, but a low groan came out instead. “Maggie, I...”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing big, I just—”

  “Cut the crap.” She spoke with the firmness of a medical professional well used to getting emergency phone calls from people dealing with illness. Animal sickness, mind you, but ailing creatures just the same. “You’re sick.”

  “As a dog. Better to be a dog, really. You could medicate me.”

  “You don’t want to call Caleb?” she suggeste
d.

  “Just a virus. Need to sleep it off.” He glanced at his daughter. Aside from crapping out on Lachlan and Maggie, he was cheating Ruth out of her weekend, too. And the dog would need to be walked. He groaned again. Where was his get-out-of-adulting-free card?

  “I’m coming over,” Maggie announced.

  “You don’t have to.”

  “You need me to,” she insisted.

  She was right. He so did. “Thanks, love,” he murmured before hanging up.

  His eyes fluttered closed, and God, just a little sleep would do wonders... Like, maybe a week or so.

  “Daddy?” Ruth whispered.

  “Mmm-hmm?”

  “You called Maggie ‘love.’”

  Oh, hell. He didn’t have the energy to sit up, let alone navigate another complex conversation about grief and love and moving forward. He cracked one eye open. “I did, Ruthie.” Not exactly a lie. Why he’d started to use the endearment when he’d never used it before in his life, he didn’t know. The other options—babe, sweetheart, beautiful—didn’t seem quite right for Maggie, though. “It’s just a nickname.”

  Also not a lie. Had he been thinking, he would have waited to use the word in front of Ruth.

  “Do you...” Her face screwed up on one side, and she curled up tighter against the dog, who lifted his head to lick her cheek. “Do you love Maggie?”

  His heart launched into his throat. “Not yet, honey. Are you okay with her helping us today?”

  “I can help you. I can make toast and tea. Or soup.”

  “I know. And we’re a good team. But you need a functioning grown-up around.”

  Her face clouded with anger. “If we hadn’t moved, then Grandma could help.”

  Oh, he had no doubt of that. His mom had bent over backward trying to help Asher and Ruth after Alex’s death. But she’d supported his decision to take a new job, as well as his hope that somewhere new would be a good foundation for a new start.

  Had he made the right choice? Seeing the uncertainty and mistrust on Ruth’s face, unable to even sit up because his muscles felt like they were made up of processed meat—how was he supposed to stay optimistic about his decisions?