Unlikely Allies (17 page)

He shook his head, grabbing her shoulders again. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll keep going out here. We won’t bother you. I promise.”

Overwhelmed, she threw her hands up to her face and broke down into sobs too. No questions, chastising, or complaints, he tucked her against his chest and held her until her tears dried up. After she swiped her arm over her wet eyes and nose, he walked her to the house, opening the door and waiting until she went inside.

Cece’s hiccupping whimpers hit her first. Kat registered next, arms crossed and on guard between the kitchen and the living room. It didn’t matter how ticked off her sister might have been, she needed to get to her daughter. In several large strides, she shouldered past Kat and marched to the couch, where Cece had curled into a ball. She carried her upstairs to console her and when calmed down, she’d talk to her about her father, in a way a four-year-old could understand.

If only Maggie did. Because no matter how many times she tried, none of it ever made any sense to her. She loved her daughter more than life itself, and she didn’t know how to make up for the fact that Jake acted like Cece didn’t exist. Did she want him calling and threatening her every chance he could? No. But she would listen to it every day if it meant he would care about his daughter like she did. She’d put up with anything if Cece didn’t have to experience heartbreak at such a young age. No child or adult deserved to be treated with such disregard. Jake had refused to hold her as a baby, play with her as a toddler, and barely spoke to her. What would cause a man to treat his own flesh and blood with such indifference? She just couldn’t understand it. The amount of joy Cece brought into her life couldn’t compare to anything else. Not even cooking, which she couldn’t imagine not doing. Yet without Cece at her side, taking part in the process, it wouldn’t be the same. Just as her own mom had done, she taught Cece basic cooking techniques from the time she turned two. She wouldn’t have it any other way. All she wanted was for her daughter to be happy and loved. If Cece got that, then Maggie had what she needed.

As they lay in Cece’s princess bed cuddled in each other’s arms, she made a solemn vow to ensure her daughter always had that. No matter what.

Exhausted from the breakdown, Cece fell asleep almost as soon as her head touched the pillow. It wasn’t uncommon for her after an emotional event. She’d be knocked out for the next hour or two.

About a half hour later, Maggie made her way downstairs, baby monitor in hand. The screen door slamming darted all eyes her way. The amount of progress they’d made astonished her. The fort base and climbing wall were secured, and the poles for the swing portion were stacked and ready to mount. Maybe she’d been upstairs a lot longer than she thought.

The more Matt, Alex, and Mr. Stone watched her, the more agitated she got, because she could just imagine the slew of questions on the tips of their tongues. As she trudged toward them, she ended the discussion before it began. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Oh, good, 'cause you’re too late. I already gave them the run down.” Kat’s snide declaration had her fuming all over again.

“Have you lost your ever f-in’ mind?” She charged up to her sister, shoving Kat in the chest. “What’s wrong with you?”

Kat tapped her chin and mocked, “Go ahead, hit me. At least you’d be
doing
something. Maybe you’ll find those guts you used to have, Mags, and stop Jake from harassing you.”

As she bent over ready to wrestle Kat to the ground like they used to as kids, strong arms wrapped around her middle, hauling her off her feet. “Whoa, calm down. That won’t help.”

Her hands swung in the air along with the pent-up frustration and anger Maggie had building toward Jake, not her sister. It came gushing out as she growled and kicked.

“Dammit, Maggie, settle down. You’re pounding the hell out of my shins,” Mr. Stone demanded, twisting her further away from Kat and setting her down, but he didn’t let go. His arms remained secured around her waist like a corset.

Hopping from one foot to the other, Kat jabbed her fists from side to side, taunting, “Come on. Come get me, Mags.” Kat darted behind Matt, but he walked away and grabbed a pole, while Alex picked up the other end, continuing to work and ignoring the crazy sisters.

“Kat, put those hands to good use over here.” Matt jerked his chin toward the far side of the fort. “Bring the bolts and socket wrench. We might get this done today if you quit messin’ around.” He propped the cedar plank in place and chided, “Boss’s orders.”

With her tongue stuck out, Kat sauntered past, keeping a foot away and out of Maggie’s reach.

“You know what they say about paybacks,” Maggie grumbled under her breath.

Kat patted her mouth, yawning loudly and echoing it in the process.

There must be a strand in sibling DNA that carried the stick-it-to-you gene. If Mr. Stone didn’t still have a stronghold on her, she would’ve taken a potshot when her sister passed by. Kat knew how far to dig the knife without gutting. Just enough to agitate the hell out of her.

“Do you need a time out?” Of all the people to start badgering, he should be careful, since he had a part of his anatomy sticking into her behind that she could damage in a matter of seconds. She rested her head on his shoulder and looked up at him. It might be a good time to remind him. Since actions spoke louder than words, she did just that.

In a circular motion, she rubbed her butt cheeks against a very primed and hardened part of his shorts. Paybacks. Her grin widened and she almost laughed out loud as his eyes grew larger and his lips parted; a hitch in his breath rocked his chest into her back even more.

His grip tightened, and whether he realized it or not, loosened and drifted over her stomach, creeping south. Before he could reach whatever destination, she grabbed his hands, stopping him.

Jumping back several steps, he shoved his palms against his closed eyes, mumbling something she couldn’t figure out. Then he glanced over at the playset where Matt, Alex, and Kat had the swing portion affixed and were untangling the chains, ready to hang them. None of them paid any attention to her or Mr. Stone. His eyes darted to her, then dropped to her chest. Yep, she’d forgotten to put a bra on when she’d been inside. She had other, more important things on her mind. The reminder had her dashing over to the monitor she’d dropped when she went after Kat. Cece’s gibberish put a pep in her step and had her jogging toward the house. Mr. Stone paraded past her, going in the opposite direction. Focused on her target, she hadn’t acknowledged him, and out of the corner of her eye, she didn’t think he’d glanced her way either.

Right then, it didn’t matter. She ran inside, taking care of her first priority.

A huge feast had been prepared and the table set. Maggie’s precious assistant helped serve a late dinner as a thank-you for a job well done. Cece insisted “Max is hungry” after he came inside patting his stomach and said, “Feed me, sweet pea.” As if the earlier catastrophe hadn’t happened, Cece’s dogged determination and extreme focus on getting “Max’s order” had her daughter singing, “This is the way we make our food, make our food, make our food,” with a huge smile as she washed vegetables, got pots and pans out of the cabinet, and put plates, silverware, and napkins out for six people.

After getting washed up in the adjacent powder room, Matt roamed around the kitchen picking up lids and peeking under covered dishes. “What’d you make me, Mags?”

She pushed him out of the way, smacking his hand as he tried to snatch a thumbprint cookie from a tiered serving platter. Since Cece could put together most of the ingredients from memory and because they were her favorite dessert, her daughter took charge and got the majority of it mixed while Maggie whipped up an oatmeal pie. An uncommon choice, but the few instances she baked one, everyone raved about it.

“You wanna eat? Take a seat, boss,” she teased, shoving him toward an empty chair. Everyone else had already crammed in around their comfortable for four people, jammed for six kitchen table. She recited the menu as if she were presenting the Culinary Institute catering service to high society. Next week, she’d be doing just that, since they were contracted for a fundraiser event. She might as well practice on a non-hoity-toity audience.

“Okay, we have mild and hot Italian sausage with red and green peppers and Vidalia onions, slow cooked in my homemade tomato sauce. Secret ingredient undisclosed. You’ll have to guess. An American classic, ham barbeque, sweet with a bit of tang. And in honor of my Irish father, shepherd’s pie. Bon appetit.” With a wave of her hand over the feast, one by one they scooped their selections onto their plates and heaped mounds of meat on the fresh-baked rolls she’d readied at breakfast. At various points throughout the building project, she ducked inside and cooked, expecting she’d have to feed the crew. Being a bulk shopper, she stored reserves for any occasion. Her usual fourteen-day menu saved her plenty of headaches in the past, and once again, came in handy. A combination of leftovers and just-cooked entrees, along with plenty of easy to put together sides, provided a variety for any appetite.

After everyone finished the main course, Maggie hoped they left space in their tummies, since Cece repeated at least a thousand times that she baked dessert “for Max.” She’d share though, “'cause big girls do, right, Max?” From one week to the next, her speech changed as baby teeth fell out, leaving gaps and contorting the sounds. Seated in her booster chair next to her idol, Mr. Stone, she chattered away, providing a rundown of her preschool adventures and entertaining all of them with her witty comebacks. Alex, Matt, and Mr. Stone gave her their undivided attention, asking questions about cooking. Encouraged even more, Cece boasted about her wealth of experience and how she enjoyed teaching her mama too.

“Okay, that pie goes on my dessert of the month delivery.” After three servings heaped with whipped cream, Matt wiggled his fork and his last bite, talking over the mouthful he’d just shoved in.

“You taking orders?” Alex prompted, “What else do you bake?”

“Mama and me makes good stuff.” Over a cookie-filled mouth, Cece spurted crumbs of proof with her testimony. Maggie shoved a napkin over the flying bits, keeping them from landing on the crab-stuffed mushroom cap. She picked up the plate to put it on the counter, when Alex snatched the last piece, and after one chomp, swallowed it without batting an eye.

“Good stuff.” He imitated Cece, his mouth clamped shut so it sounded the same as her garbled compliment.

As a round of laughter and giggling filled the kitchen, she examined the faces of delighted family and friends, grateful for the positive end to a chaotic day.

After the huge meal, Cece insisted Max join her on the playset. Dusk had set in, and it was almost time for a bath. Maggie tried to sway her daughter from the mini-adventure by putting
Cinderella
on the DVD, but Cece didn’t want anything to do with the distraction. About to offer another compromise, a puzzle, coloring, or anything else that would keep her daughter inside and easy to wrangle, Maggie didn’t have to because Mr. Stone did.

He pointed to his watch, showing it to Cece. “See the big hand, right there?” After Cece nodded, he said, “When it gets to the twelve, you have to tell me.” He tapped the exact number, making sure she did too.

Her brows scrunched and repeating her favorite word in the world, Cece asked, “Why?”

“Well, you wanted me to read a bedtime story. I can’t do that if you don’t get your bath. That means we have five minutes to play. That’s when the hand is on the twelve.”

Her fingers linked through his, and Cece yanked him to the back door. “We better get goin.’ Ya gotta read to me.”

On his way out, he glanced over his shoulder. “Thank you,” she mouthed as he got dragged out the door, a smile as big as Cece’s brightening his attractive face. When the screen slammed shut, his elated,
haha, I’m doing something you can’t do
laughing eyes accentuated a charm he didn’t often let show. She saw the serious CEO, not an at-ease, teasing boy next door.

The clean-up had started but wasn’t finished. Maggie scrubbed the dishes while Matt dried. Alex and Kat took off down the hall, mentioning they had a case to discuss and needed privacy. Maggie’s and Cece’s bedrooms were upstairs, and Kat’s on the first floor. Discrete for the most part, her sister didn’t bring men home. Instead, she engaged in sexual escapades elsewhere. Any fears Maggie might’ve had were alleviated when Kat indicated she didn’t want Cece to deal with strangers coming and going. And so far, she stayed true that practice.