French Roast (20 page)
Authors: Ava Miles
Tags: #romance, #contemporary, #small town, #New Adult, #foodie romance
Chapter 26
P
eggy McBride wished she really could cart her germs off to jail. But while bad guys bowed to her wishes, germs were immune to her threats. They knew about torture, though—oh yes, they had that down to an art. As far as she was concerned, having an electric prod shoved into her chest couldn’t be as painful as this cold.
Thank God, Keith had wanted to go to school today. He was planning on showing off his bright blue cast—and his new bike helmet. She owed Mac Maven a sliver of gratitude for her son’s transformation. Not that she’d tell him.
When someone knocked on the door, she wished for one of those door intercom thingies. Then she could tell whomever it was to go away because she was dying. When the person resorted to pounding, she dragged herself out of bed and staggered down the stairs, holding onto the rail in a vise-like grip.
Jill and Mac’s presence at her door made her think the germ torturers had called in some back up. She was so not up for visitors.
“Are you
that
sick?” Jill asked, rushing forward and putting her hand against Peggy’s forehead.
“Ouch,” she replied, pushing Jill away.
“You don’t seem to have gotten any better,” Maven said silkily, shutting the door.
“I’m not. You should leave me to die in peace. These germs are diabolical.”
Maven took her elbow. “Where’s your gun? We’ll threaten them.”
She didn’t care if he was leading her. “Done and failed. I’ve lost the war.”
Jill circled to her other side and wrapped her arm around her waist. “You haven’t lost. You just need rest. Lots of it. I told you you’ve been pushing yourself too hard.”
Peggy all but fell on the couch in the family room. “Stop gloating.”
Her friend eased against her side and patted her arm. “I’m not. I’m worried about you. You should go to the doctor.”
The chills were starting again, so Peggy reached for the discarded blanket on the unvacuumed floor. Maven nudged her hands away and tucked it around her.
“I did. This morning. Sat there coughing and blowing my nose for two and a half hours, shaking from chills like everyone else. When I finally saw the doctor—for five minutes, mind you—he said it was a virus like Keith’s. Nothing he could do. It’s like I’m terminal or something. Pull the plug.”
“Let’s hope it’s not that dire,” Maven murmured, sitting on the couch’s arm.
Being flanked by these two struck her as strange. Then she remembered Jill was working for him. The hotel. Poker. She wished she felt better. Not a single snarky comment came to mind. Damn congestion.
“How’s Keith?” Jill asked.
“Better. Your helmet worked like magic,” she said to Maven. “He couldn’t wait to show it off at school. He’s been shooting bad guys all over this house. Makes me proud.”
Maven gave a throaty chuckle, somehow warming. “I’m delighted to hear it.”
“What helmet?”
“Maven gave him a Woody helmet from
Toy Story.
”
Jill gave an “ah,” and then shifted in her seat. “The person who named that character was all about sexual innuendo. I mean, ‘woody?’ Tell me there’s not some adult joke hidden in there. And he’s packing a pistol.”
“Just don’t mention that to Keith,” Peggy mumbled, laying her head against the back of the couch. “I know why Jill is here. Why are you?”
“I’m here to usher in more miracles,” he said with a wink. “A glimmer of the direct, tough Peggy is already coming back.”
He produced an envelope from his tailored navy coat jacket. She tugged at her own wrinkled shirt. Did he always have to look so presentable?
“Here’s a copy of our laudable crime statistics and the security policy for our hotels. I hope they’ll reassure you I won’t turn Dare into some seedy town run by mobsters.”
Jill had the audacity to laugh out loud. “If you do, can I have one of those fun names like Red Curls Jillie?”
Maven joined her, his throaty laughter making her head pound. “Sure, and we can name this one No Bristles Peg.”
Covering her face didn’t make them go away. “Stop talking about my hair.”
The two of them muffled their laughing. “I’m only going to be more wowed than I already am when you finally feel well enough to brush it.”
There was a moment of silence. Peggy peeked through her fingers. Jill was watching Maven like he was a puzzle. He gave her the hairy eyeball.
“Oooh-kay,
” Jill finally said like she’d uncovered a new clue in a crime. “So, what can we do to help?”
“Maven, make yourself scarce for a minute. I want to hear how Jill’s doing.”
He set the envelope on the one clear space on the coffee table. There was junk everywhere, but who cared? It’s not like she had a maid. He probably did. He owned a hotel, so he had a whole fleet of maids.
“Mind if I tour your house?”
“There’s not much to see, but…sure.”
As he moved out of the room with that easy, confident stride, Jill made a humming sound. “He likes you.”
Peggy put a hand to her forehead. Her brow still felt feverish. “No, I pulled a gun on him—or a stick. He’s intrigued.”
“I don’t think so. Why won’t you call him Mac?” she asked, all innocent-like. “Maven is
very
formal, Peg.”
So not going there. “Nuh-uh. Tell me about you and Brian.” Even to her ears, her voice sounded terrible. Like she’d stuffed a sock puppet down her throat.
“Ah…” Her friend leaned closer to whisper. “We’re…moving in together.”
“That’s…” She bit off her comment. The germs hadn’t deleted all her good sense.
Jill’s gaze darted to the door, but Maven was still out of earshot. “I know. I told Brian he has to convince me he’s super into me before I make some important life decisions. And he needs to know I can trust him and be with him before he does the same.”
Her head hurt when she tried to nod. “Moving in together would be convincing.”
“And there’s a slight chance I might be pregnant.” Her screech made Peggy wince. “Oh God, why do those words make me want to scream and hide my head in the sand like I’m an ostrich?”
Oh crap. Now the haste made sense. Peggy wove a little where she was sitting, attributing it to shock and the stupid weakness. “I don’t think ostriches scream.”
“Who cares? I saw that French chick leaving Brian’s house, and I got mad at him. Things got intense and…we…went nuts with each other. A tornado couldn’t have stopped us. I know it sounds stupid now, but I was so hot for him, I told myself one time without a condom wouldn’t matter. The whole thing was intense and wonderful, but things are complicated.” Jill brought her up to date on Brian’s affair with the French chick. Her words continued to rush out faster than water from a hose. “So, when Brian popped the craziest idea on the planet, I agreed.”
When she smacked herself on the forehead, Peggy’s face contorted. That had to hurt.
Jill told her the rest in greater detail. Her rampant energy drained the life out of Peggy like some vampire with a victim’s life force. She slumped onto the couch, trying to assimilate the news.
The hand Jill was clenching uncurled, revealing Keith’s mini race car. She dropped it to the ground. “What a mess, huh?”
“You’re doing the best you can. That’s all anyone can do.”
“You’re right. Everything will be…whatever the hell it is.”
Peggy patted her hand, her vision wavering in and out.
“You really are wiped,” Jill muttered. “Let’s get you back in bed.”
“I can’t make it,” she whispered. Colors swirled behind her lids. She rubbed her nose when it tickled, wishing she had a blanket.
A warm hand settled on her back. Her body immediately recognized the heat and size of it. Maven. Let him do that magic thingee. When he rolled her into his solid frame, she moaned.
“Leave me,” she protested.
“No way.”
He lifted her into his arms like she was weightless. She cracked her eyes open a fraction to see his face. He was staring down at her, his handsome face softened with gentleness. His stoplight green eyes pierced her soul. She let them close again. She didn’t want anyone to see into her soul.
Still he was warm, hot actually, his body like the heat vent she’d stood over in the kitchen when the microwave was nuking her soup. Part of her wanted to crawl inside him to ward off the chills.
“It’s okay, Peggy. We’ll get you to bed.”
Jill’s voice sounded close by. Good, she wasn’t alone with Maven.
“When does Keith need to be picked up?” Jill asked.
Her head lolled down onto a pillow when Maven put her down. “Tanner is getting him,” she whispered.
“Have him stay a while so you can rest,” Maven said, tucking the covers around her shoulders and sides. “Go to sleep, Peggy.”
That warm hand brushed hair back from her brow. Then she was falling into a place where deep rest called her name along with another.
Mac.
The sweetness of his name rolled through her.
Her mind interrupted the warmth cushioning her heart. She had to find a way to stop him. He threatened everything she’d become.
Chapter 27
W
hen Jill got home, Brian’s car was parked on the street outside her house. She had to force herself to stop gripping the steering wheel. It was now or never.
She checked her face in the mirror. Smoothed her hair back. Her stomach had knotted up after seeing the French chick waltz across Main Street earlier that day, her perfect skin and body making Jill’s old insecurities rise up. She wasn’t as pretty as that woman, never would be. And she certainly wasn’t as experienced.
When she opened the door, the smells of a new culinary parade made her wonder if she’d be able to eat tonight.
“Hi,” Brian said a little too brightly.
Okay, so he was nervous too. Thank God. Then her brain signals crossed. His indolent pose in a simple gray pullover with jeans made her mouth water. He’d shaved recently, his cheeks and jaw smooth. Great, no beard burn tonight when he buried his face in her…
“Hi,” she responded brightly, like a demented weather girl. She eyed the entryway. “Where’s Mutt?”
“With…a friend.”
His hesitation tipped her off. He didn’t want to use Pete’s name. Probably better.
“You hungry?”
Her stomach continued jumping up and down—and not because it wanted to eat. “Sure.” And the pep-pep-pep in her voice made her want to gag. God, she’d spew cotton candy from her own mouth soon.
“Great.” Then he lurched forward to kiss her. Since she was in the process of turning to hang her coat, he banged her nose instead. She fell back a few steps, pain shooting up her sinuses like someone had stuck a spike in there.
“Ow!” she howled.
“God, I’m sorry. Here, let me see.”
“It’s fine,” she assured him, even though it wasn’t.
When he reached for her face, she drew back. “Seriously, it’s fine.”
His eyes had a crazed expression as he let out a huge breath. “Let’s try this again.” He kept his gaze glued on her as he lowered his mouth to her cheek. “Hi. How was your day?”
God help her. She was on
Leave it to Beaver.
“Great,” she continued in the same over-bright voice. “How was yours?” Did people actually do this every day? No wonder they ate dinner with the TV on. Who could talk like this?
He reached for her coat and hung it up. “There’s something I need to tell you before we start this.”
His tapping foot drew her attention. Dread, dread, and double dread rolled over her like a tropical typhoon. She held up her hands. “Is it about the future?”
His head nodded like some bobble head on a car dashboard. “Ah, sorta.”
“Is it something I won’t like?”
“Maybe… no…probably,” he replied, crossing his arms, his whole body tense.
“That’s clear.” She blew past him into her family room. Her heart started pounding like bongo drums as she cleaned up the crap on her purple coffee table. “I don’t want to hear it.”
He grabbed her hands to stop her from picking up her zebra coaster. She straightened. The sheer dread in his expression intensified.
“You
promised
this would be the Jill and Brian Bubble,” she said.
When he released her hands, he took the coasters and stacked them. Sitting down, he patted the place on the couch beside him. “Maybe we should make an exception to that rule this one time. A new option opened up for me. One in Dare.”
“Good for you. But seriously.” Instead of sitting, she paced the narrow space by her coffee table. “We either have the rule, or we don’t.”
Brian put his head in his hands. “You’re putting me in a position here.”
All she could think about was
the position
they were supposed to get into tonight. How in the hell was she supposed to give herself to him if there were any more known obstacles? Like Siren Simca wasn’t enough. “Right now I think we should just get it on. I can’t stand drawing this out.” She pulled off her wrap, revealing the silky tee underneath.
Brian lurched off the couch. His hands stopped her from tearing off more clothes.
“Wait,” he cried. “Just wait one damn minute. This is exactly what happened the first time.”
She struggled. “Worked for me, aside from the missing protection. I think we’ll manage to work that in this go-round.”
“Jill, can’t you even look at me?” He angled his head in toward hers and caressed her cheek with his nose. “How are we supposed to make love if you can’t even do that?”
“I don’t know,” she answered, inhaling a whiff of his cologne. “It’s harder this time.”
I keep comparing myself to your ex, dammit.
“It certainly is,” he drawled, shifting his hips against her.
Her gaze flew to his. His mouth quirked up. “That got your attention.”
So, he was turned on. Funny, how she wasn’t even close. She punched him in the arm. “That’s not what I meant.”
“I know. You want to be swept away. Have all that hot, sweaty desire make the decision for you. We already did that. Last night you said you thought we needed to make an intentional decision. What happened?”
“Reality! Now I understand why people have sex in the back seat of a car.” They weren’t thinking about ex-whatevers when they did that, she’d bet.
He snorted out a laugh. “We’ll have to try that later. I made you dinner. We’ll eat. Relax. Take our time. I want to treat you right, okay?” Then he pulled her into the kitchen with him before she could argue.
A large pot coughed out steam, giving off notes of mushroom and garlic. Crusty French bread lay on a cutting board. She caught a hint of roasted meat. None of it tempted her taste buds.
He pushed her into a chair and headed to the stove. The table looked as romantic as it had for their aborted dinner days ago. Bright pink daisies made her think of Jemma. Brian probably wouldn’t know it had been her favorite flower, but Jill did. So did Pete. Thinking about their old friendship was more than she could bear.
“What were you planning before, when you decided you were ready to make love with me?”
Not having images of your ex in my head, for starters.
She took her gaze from the table. Brian was leaning against the counter, a yellow hand towel tucked in his jeans, looking very much at home.
“That seems eons ago.”
His mouth flattened. “Doesn’t make my question any less relevant.”
She played with an artfully arranged blue napkin and its silver ring. “New lingerie, aromatherapy candles. Music.” Her cheeks flushed with heat.
Walking toward her with a spoon, he gave her a smile that punched through to her heart. “You weren’t going to put on something like
Let’s Get It On
by Marvin Gay, were you?” He tipped her chin up. “No smile yet? Okay, how about
Just Shut Up, Shut Up
by the Black-eyed Peas?”
She narrowed her eyes. He was laughing at her!
“No? What about Lady Gaga,
Show Me Your Teeth?
”
Even a dentist couldn’t get turned on with that image. She shook her head.
“Billy Ocean?”
Crossing into 80s land was the limit. She threw her napkin at him. “Oh, for cripes sake. Would you let it go?”
“No.” His arms tightened. “Tell me what’s wrong with taking it slow tonight.”
Her emotions popped like a champagne cork. “This!” she cried, arm sweeping across the room. “It’s all a bunch of props to make me feel more secure when the truth is I’m scared shitless.” She could admit that at least.
He pulled the chair out, but angled it close to her. His hands gripped hers. “Do you think you’re the only one who’s scared here, Jill?”
“I wish we were in some Victorian movie where the wife gets under the covers and her husband joins her, lifts their nightshirts, and just does it.”
“While she’s thinking about merry ol’ England?” He dropped her hands, cupped her cheek. “Jill, you don’t want that. You forget. I remember how you were when we made love the first time.”
“That was insanity. I wasn’t thinking. I—”
“Exactly, which is why this whole thing is spinning out of control. We need to relax and savor each other.”
Okay, now she was getting hot. Those blue eyes of his always knocked her back. There was no way he was even remotely thinking of Simca, looking at her like that. It was time to tell him the truth. The only way they could move forward was if they were honest with each other.
“I’m afraid I’m going to disappoint you.” She looked down, pulling at the wool fibers of his V-neck sweater. “I can’t stop thinking about your ex.”
“Stop it,” Brian ordered, pulling her into his arms, rocking them back and forth. “I don’t want you to think about her.” He angled her back so that they were looking in each other’s eyes. “Do you have any idea what I see when I look at you? I see fiery red hair that reminds me of the aspens in autumn, white skin like whipped cream, legs that go on for miles, and those eyes. They see right through me, Jill. Every time.” His soft gaze melted her heart. “You’re beautiful.”
Her throat thickened like the soup on the stove. “Thanks.”
He drew back, raised her hand to his mouth and kissed it. “We’re going to be fine, Jillie. Better than fine.” Then he smiled with total urbane smoothness. “Didn’t I promise to stir you within an inch of your life?”
The warmth rose to a bubbling boil. Her insides clenched, and she settled her body closer to his. “Yes, you did.”
He pulled a wooden spoon out of his back pocket. “It’s bamboo, so it won’t give you a splinter. I plan on running this all over your body tonight. Jill, I’m going to make you cry out my name until you’re too hoarse to speak.”
Her breath rushed out. Shock, excitement, and lust all converged into a fiery ball in her stomach.
The spoon ran down her neck in a slow, teasing gesture. “I’ve been dreaming about you for over a decade. I have a lot of ideas stored up.”
When had she ever thought bamboo was boring? She was going to plant acres of it—somewhere. And make more spoons. All sizes. She clasped her hands around his neck. “That many years? Weren’t you a child prodigy?”
“I also brought something I think you’ll like.”
When he stepped away, a sliver of panic resurfaced. He wasn’t into anything kinky, was he? She didn’t think she could pull that off tonight, if ever.
Since he was opening the fridge, it couldn’t be that bad, could it? He held out a fancy bottle. “It’s a Belgian beer, corked like champagne. Very unique. Like you.”
As he reached into her cupboards and pulled out some beer mugs, he gave her a smile—the one she’d missed all those years he was away.
“Light the candles, Jill. Let’s make this a night to remember.”
