The Summer He Came Home Page 20

  “Who’s Shelby?” Jake teased. “I sure hope that’s not your girlfriend.”

  “Nope.” He giggled. “I like Kristen Blake. Shelby is Luke’s dog,” Michael answered.

  “Who’s Luke?”

  “Jansen. He’s Maggie’s neighbor.” Cain offered.

  Jake’s eyebrows rose questioningly. “Jansen…fullback Jansen from football?”

  “That’d be the one.”

  “He’s a paramedic, and he gets to drive a big red and white truck.” Michael inserted. “He likes my mom.”

  “Really?” Jake’s smile was now wide.

  “Yep, but I don’t think she wants him to be her boyfriend. She likes Cain.” The kid grinned shyly.

  Jake snorted, but Cain ignored him. “It’s a bass, Michael.”

  “It’s really cool.” Michael waved its scaly hide in the air. The dead eyes looked like round black buttons that had been dried out. “Bigger than the ones we caught the other day.”

  “Maybe we should toss it up into the bush.” Cain tried to hide his grin but wasn’t totally successful.

  “Sure.” Michael yelled to his friend, “Tommy, we got a mission!”

  Cain watched the two boys scamper off toward trees that surrounded the cottage and picked up his guitar once more. His fingers ran along the strings, picking out an upbeat melody. The acoustic sang beneath his touch, and he changed the rhythm slightly, incorporating a bluesy feel with some heavy fills.

  “That something new?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, been working on it for few days.”

  Jake sat back into his chair. “Sounds good, so what’s the issue?”

  “I’ve always been the melody guy, ya know? I just…I don’t do lyrics.”

  “You’ve got to suck it up and focus.” Jake’s voice was matter-of-fact.

  “Yeah.”

  “You’ll get it done.”

  The two of them settled into a certain kind of silence that only they could enjoy. It was full of ease and a comfort that had been years in the making.

  Cain grabbed some snacks and watched the two young boys indulge to the point he knew he’d be in trouble. He somehow doubted Maggie would be impressed with the chips and soda he’d provided.

  Mac rolled in around three thirty, and Cain jumped up. He wanted to pick up Maggie when she was done at work. She’d be finished around four, and he intended to get there before she hopped the bus.

  He pulled a T-shirt over his head and slipped into a pair of sandals. The woman had been stubborn this morning, insisting she’d take the bus as always—refusing a ride—but he was determined she ride home in style.

  She was at Rebecca’s, and he knew exactly where the house was located. According to Jake, she and Bradley Hayes had bought the house at the end of Maple Avenue. It had once belonged to the mayor of Crystal Lake and in its day had been a real showpiece. He was quite sure with Hayes’s family money it had been restored to its original splendor.

  His mouth tightened at the thought of Maggie working for Bradley Hayes. He’d always been a dickhead, and his wife, Rebecca Stringer, was a grade-A bitch. He didn’t want to think about the abuse Maggie sucked up in order to survive. She was right. He couldn’t relate to her day-to-day life.

  His gaze wandered to Michael. Years ago, if someone got in his face, he’d told them off and moved on. End of story. There was no groveling, no sucking up in order to make some cash.

  A sobering thought, that. He wasn’t sure he was a big enough person to deal with some of the crap she did.

  “I’m off to grab Maggie. You guys watch the boys till I’m back?”

  Mac saluted him. “Sure can do.”

  “Not me, I’m outta here.” Jake stood and stretched out his legs. “I feel like I’ve been standing still for days. I’m gonna hit the gym, burn off some energy. What are you guys doing later? Thought I’d swing by the Coach House. Ran into Salvatore the other day, and he said Texas Willie’s in town.”

  “Texas Willie?” Cain laughed. “Tell me how it’s possible that son of a bitch is still alive.”

  Jake shook his head. “I have no clue. I’m sure his brain is fried, though it hasn’t affected his guitar playing any.” He shrugged. “According to Sal.”

  “I’m in.” Mac threw a football toward the water. “Let’s play fetch, boys.” Michael and Tommy took off at a run, their legs and arms pumping hard.

  Cain started toward his truck. “You guys mind if I bring Maggie?” He didn’t wait around to hear their answer. He didn’t care. Texas Willie, his buddies, and his girl. Sounded pretty damn good to him.

  Fifteen minutes later he pulled up to Rebecca Hayes’s house and cut the engine. The driveway was a fair size for in town, with majestic oak trees lining either side, providing enough shade to keep the blacktop as dark as the day it had been paved. He supposed the leaves were a bitch in the fall, but that was a small sacrifice.

  He took a moment to savor the place. The grandiose style had been refurbished to suit the period in which it was built, the late 1800s, and Cain would give credit where it was due. Bradley had done a great job. It was one of the oldest homes in Crystal Lake, and when he was a teen, it had been an abandoned wreck—a flophouse for drunken parties and the go-to place to bring your girlfriend for sex. Well, that and the Wyndham place.

  He exited his truck and glanced around. There was some new money on the street. Most of the homes were in great shape, and he noticed a lot of minivans and SUVs in the driveways. The sound of children’s laughter echoed from someone’s backyard.

  It was…nice.

  He turned. A brightly colored ball rolled toward him with a little girl fast behind it. He scooped it up and threw it to her.

  “Thanks.” With a quick smile she darted back to where she’d come from.

  A male voice cut through the gentle quiet, and he turned back toward the house. Bradley was walking down the drive toward him, waving furiously, as if they were long-lost buddies. Cain gritted his teeth and nodded to him as he moved up the drive.

  “Cain! What the hell? This is a surprise. Come in for a beer.” Hayes was dressed in swim trunks and nothing else. His ruddy complexion was in dire need of sunblock, and sweat beaded his forehead. He’d grown soft, his body reflective of a life of leisure. Bradley looked just like his father, down to the slightly thinning hair and accompanying paunch. “Rebecca didn’t say anything about you swinging by.”

  “I’m good, thanks, and Rebecca didn’t know.” Cain nodded toward the house. “Is Maggie done?”

  Surprise crossed the man’s face but was gone just as quick. His eyes narrowed slightly, and Cain didn’t care for the calculating look that crept into them. A slow grin spread across his face. “So it’s true.” He laughed and shook his head. “Didn’t doubt it for a minute.”

  “Sorry?” Cain’s eyes narrowed. He knew what was coming even before the words left Bradley’s mouth.

  “Dude, you’re banging the maid.”

  Chapter 23

  “What did you say?” He clenched his hands and squared his shoulders. Son of a bitch. His anger was instant, the burn hard.

  “I…” Bradley laughed nervously. He’d overstepped and realized it too late.

  “First off…” Cain took a step forward. He enjoyed the fear that he saw in Hayes’s eyes. He had at least four inches on the man, and while Bradley had gone soft, Cain was lean, in shape, and at the moment very, very pissed off. “Don’t ever call me dude. Got that?”

  “Sorry.” Bradley shook his head as a silly grin crept over his features. “I didn’t mean…”

  “And secondly,” he interrupted, “I’m not banging the maid. What are you? Fifteen? What I do in private and who I do it with is none of your goddamn business. Same goes for Maggie.”

  “Look, I meant no offense.”

  “Your kind never does.”

  “Hold on a second, Cain.” The man’s bravado had returned. He puffed out his chest and sucked in his gut. “It was a stupid comment, but really
, don’t you think you’re overreacting a bit?” He smiled then, like they were buddies sharing a secret. “Christ, I don’t blame you. With that Southern accent and all that hair, she’s pretty damn hot. Hell, if I could nail that piece, I would, but come on, she’s a fucking maid in a town that you’ll be saying good-bye to in a few weeks, and you’ve been with Natasha fucking Simmons, for Christ sake.”

  Cain’s anger erupted, washed through him in a cold fury, and he was barely able to keep it together. In that moment he wanted nothing more than to pound his fist into Bradley’s face. Pulverize his nose and shut his filthy-ass mouth. His hands fisted, and he took a step forward but froze when a small gasp caught his attention.

  Cain glanced toward the house, and his heart rolled over at the sight of Maggie a few feet away. That she’d heard most, if not all, of the entire exchange was evident. Her face was pale, and hurt shadowed her eyes.

  Rebecca was a few feet behind, and to her credit, a look of embarrassed shame colored her cheeks a deep rose.

  But it was Maggie’s huge blue eyes that tore at him, and he turned to Bradley, his voice calm, though the underlying anger was clear. “Apologize to Maggie right now, or I’ll kick your ass all over Maple Avenue.”

  The threat was real, and Bradley knew it. Cain Black was one of the Bad Boys. Their reputation was legendary.

  Bradley turned to Maggie, though the bastard didn’t have the balls to look her in the eye. “I’m sorry if anything I said offended you,” he said stiffly.

  She strode past him without a word and jumped into Cain’s SUV.

  Cain looked at Bradley in disgust. “You’re an asshole. I’d find someone else to scrub your floors. She won’t be back.”

  He didn’t say anything until they’d turned onto Main Street. Maggie sat stiff as a board, her hands clutched tight to a small bag.

  “Are you all right?”

  Maggie nodded but didn’t reply.

  “Maggie, talk to me. What that dickhead said back there…he’s just…you can’t let a small-minded loser like him upset you.” Shit. Was she going to pull away now because of someone like Hayes? The thought twisted his guts.

  Her fingers relaxed and she leaned back into the seat. For a few seconds she was silent, but then she turned to him. “He’s just saying what everyone in town is thinking, Cain. He doesn’t have the manners to keep it to himself like everyone else.”

  “Maggie, that’s ridiculous.”

  “I don’t care,” she said softly.

  “What?” He pulled over onto a side street. There was no way he could drive and talk to her at the same time. Not when the conversation was so intense.

  Maggie turned toward him. Her eyes still shone with the glimmer of tears. “I don’t care what the gossip is, or what someone like Rebecca or Bradley thinks.” Her voice was tremulous, the soft lilt that caressed her words exquisite. “I deserve a bit of happiness, Cain, and if being with you gives them the power to point fingers”—she shrugged—“I won’t let that bother me.”

  He undid his seat belt and slid toward her. “Babe, you gotta know, what he said, about Natasha—”

  “Shh.” Her fingers were on his lips, and she leaned into him. “I don’t want to talk about your ex-wife.”

  Cain gathered her close, inhaled her scent as she nestled in his arms, and for a few moments felt absolute peace. Everything about her felt right.

  “I want to take you out tonight,” he murmured next to her ear. She shivered in his arms, and he shifted his body. He was hard, ached for her with an intensity that was painful.

  “What about Michael and Tommy?” She turned, and he thought that he could look into her eyes forever. They were dark, luminous pools of navy.

  “Already looked after.”

  “Really.” Her eyebrows knit together. Damn, but her eyebrows were perfect.

  “I called Sharon on her cell, and her husband is picking them up. They’re not heading back to the campground, but Michael’s been invited for the night. They’re going to pitch a tent for the two of them in the backyard.”

  “Oh.” She sounded unsure, and he was afraid he’d overstepped.

  “I didn’t think you’d mind, considering they were supposed to be together until tomorrow.”

  “That’s fine. How’s Sharon’s father?”

  “He’s good. Apparently it was a small stroke, but he’s expected to make a full recovery.”

  “So”—her fingers crept along her chest—“two nights in a row. That’s a record for me.”

  “Good to know.” He chuckled.

  “If we’re going out, I’ll need to shower.”

  The thought of Maggie naked and wet in the shower did all sorts of crazy things to him. “That sounds like an amazing idea.” He nuzzled her neck and smiled at the groan that slipped from between her lips. “I could use a shower myself.”

  “Well, what are we waiting for?”

  Holy hell, but she set him on fire. Cain grabbed her mouth with his. He cupped her face between his hands and marked her with a deep, passionate kiss that left them both breathless when he finally pulled away.

  “Let’s go,” he said hoarsely.

  He made it back to Maggie’s in record time, and the two of them were like giddy teenagers—all fumbling hands, tearing of clothes, and the mad, insane, desperate need to be together.

  Hot water mixed with passion made for a hedonistic experience. Cain took his time and cleaned every single inch of his woman. He lathered and stroked and kneaded and massaged until she trembled against him. He was man enough to admit to a certain amount of pride in the fact that he’d coaxed several orgasms from her as he did so.

  And when he finally drove his body into hers, when her legs were wrapped tight around his waist, her breasts crushed against his chest, and the heat of her surrounded him in a warm, wet sheath, he experienced something he’d never known before. Complete and utter surrender.

  He felt like…he’d just come home.

  “Oh Cain, that was…” She was breathless, and he kissed her bruised lips.

  “Yeah.” He wrapped her in a towel and carried her into her bedroom. “It was.”

  She giggled and wrapped her arms around his neck. Cain loved the sound of her laughter.

  “Dammit, Maggie, we should just stay here and eat and have sex and then eat some more.”

  “And have sex?”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  She walked to her dresser, and his eyes followed the smooth, easy lines of her body. She was petite, but had a dancer’s body—lithe and fluid. He felt a twinge below once more—her ass was damn fine to look at as well.

  “We should hurry up. I want to see Michael before Sharon’s husband picks him up.” She slipped into a pair of pink boy-short undies and he groaned. Christ, it wasn’t fair what a little slip of lingerie could do to a man. “Where are we going?”

  “What?” He dragged his gaze from her delectable body.

  “Tonight? Where are we going?” She bit her lip. “I don’t know what to wear. Not like I have much choice but…”

  He crossed to her, stooped, and closed his mouth around one of her nipples, teasing the peak into a hard pebble as his tongue stroked.

  “God, Cain, if you keep this up we won’t make it out the door, and I need to see my son.” She pushed him away with a grin, though her heightened color told him all he needed to know. As much as he couldn’t keep his hands off her, she felt the same.

  “The Coach House.”

  “What was that?” she asked.

  “It’s where we’re going, so dress casual. Jeans are fine. Promise me something though.” His grin was wicked as he feasted upon the perfection of her breasts.

  “I don’t make promises until I know the consequence.” Her eyes flashed, and he welcomed this saucy side of her wholeheartedly.

  “Promise me you won’t wear a bra, and as for the consequence…” He laughed at the expression on her face and pulled her close for one more kiss. “The consequence,�
� he murmured against her mouth as his hands reached down to cup her butt, “will be a repeat of last night…if you’re up for it.”

  ***

  Maggie had never been to the Coach House. In fact, until a few hours ago she hadn’t been aware of its existence. She glanced around. Her initial reaction? She wasn’t missing much.

  It was dimly lit, with the requisite neon beer signs strewn about—Budweiser and Miller the most popular—and a small stage tucked into the corner. The smell of stale beer and fried foods filled the air, and even though it looked less than respectable, she had to admit the atmosphere was upbeat, the energy and vibe electric.

  She sat next to Cain. They were in a booth that gave them a clear view of the stage, and she’d been told it was theirs—as in the Bad Boys’. And though she’d never been one of those girls—the kind that clung to their men with rabid glee—she totally loved the fact that his arm was draped around her shoulders.

  It made her feel like she belonged to someone, and that was something she hadn’t felt in years.

  She noticed the looks, the whispers, nudges, and pointed fingers, but didn’t care. For the first time in a long time, Maggie relaxed and was worry-free. She accepted a cold beer from Cain and took a long drink, loving the desire she saw in his eyes when he looked at her. Desire he made no effort to hide.

  She’d taken him up on his dare and wore a low-cut fitted black vest—with no bra—and she’d matched it with her only good pair of jeans. They were old, well-worn, but fit her curves snugly, and though they were low in the waist, Maggie had no problem showing off her trim belly.

  Something he would have flipped over. She shuddered at the thought of Dante, Michael’s father, and tucked it away immediately. She wasn’t going there, not tonight.

  “So Maggie, where are you from?” Mac smiled. “I detect the sultry South in your voice.”

  She set her beer bottle on the table and turned to Cain’s friend. Mackenzie’s bruises and scrapes had pretty much healed, but none of them detracted from his good looks. In fact, they gave him an edge that a good many women liked, judging from the looks he’d garnered when they walked in. The man was golden sun, piercing green eyes, tall athletics, and as charming as Cain.