No Magic Moment (Secrets of Stone Book 4) (33 page)

I bit my inner cheek to force a solemn stare. “Code?”

“A code among men. We don’t poach on our brother’s territory, you see.”

“Oh. Well yes, I see.”

“Secondly, there is the issue of how much I care for you. I would never subject you to a life with me. You truly
are
a princess, Margaux. You deserve to be treated like one, whether you believe that in here,”—he touched a warm finger to my temple—“or in here.” He tapped the same finger to my sternum. “It’s the truth, girl—but I still cannot marry you. Lastly, and most importantly of all, you can’t cook worth a damn. This man needs to eat—and none of that organic, super food, quinoa, grass-fed, wonder-tofu, tastes-like-cardboard crap
you
call food!”

I burst into giggles. His levity, on top of the wonderful things he’d already said, were what my day needed. Regrettably, it had only worsened my immediate challenge. I was still an emotional basket case, with an epic public meltdown imminent. Knowing Andre, that was why he’d ended his list on that “special” note. This man was so much wiser than he let on. When my life was fully squared away and I cornered Claire for some stress-free girl time—in short, about ten years from now—I had to talk to her about finding a perfect match for Andre.

But first things first.

My life.

Squared away.

“Okay, big boy. Let’s hit the road.”

Andre grinned. “Where to?”

“Torrey Pines.”

“Golfing? You didn’t tell me to schedule a tee time. And since when do you play?

“Don’t be an ass. I mean the beach.”

“Excuse me? Who are you and what have you done with my sweet boss lady?”

I whapped his brawny shoulder. “Pushing it, buddy. I have some serious thinking to do, and since it worked last time…” It had also become a special place for Michael and me, period. I actually liked hiking there now—a
little
—but would let that be a little surprise to Andre, who already snuck a peek at the dashboard’s temperature readout. Clearly, he worried about a repeat of the last time he’d dropped me off at the beach route’s trailhead, before I’d nearly died hiking back up to the parking lot.

“Stop worrying, you big mother hen. I’ll be fine. We can pull over and get a few bottles of water.” I scrambled into the car.

“Yes, ma’am,” he grumbled while sliding into the driver’s seat.

Within minutes, we eased onto the 5 freeway, heading south toward La Jolla.

Andre still frowned a little when I got out at the trailhead but loosened up once I pulled a blanket out of the 750i’s trunk, took a big swig of water, then sprayed on some sun screen. Last but not least, I switched out my heeled boots for easy sneakers.

The hike down to the beach was easy and even invigorating. I spread the blanket on the sand. After kicking off my sneakers, I planted myself in the middle of the square.

At first I simply watched the waves chase each other onto the shore, then back out toward the ocean. Over and over the cycle repeated, absorbing me into its timeless rhythm. The sound of the water crashing was my favorite part of the beach experience. Droplets of ocean spray carried in on the breeze, misting my face just enough to keep me cool.

Tilting my head back, I let the brilliant light soak into my skin. I visualized myself as a tree, being nourished by the sun’s rays, made stronger by the radiance I absorbed. I didn’t usually go for the new age bullshit but I desperately needed some inner peace. I had to find the strength to move forward, develop a game plan that was going to work for me and Michael. Failure wasn’t an option. It couldn’t be.

Besides, this just felt good. The sun was warm and forceful, literally filling me with new strength as I continued to picture gaining its power. I was a survivor. I was capable. I could hold us up if Michael wasn’t willing to. I needed to show him that I wasn’t afraid of Declan or the scary-mafia-whatever bastards, and that if we had to, we’d figure a way to beat them at their own game.

But we had to do it together.

Yes
.

I pulled up his beautiful face in my mind.

No.

The only memory I could access was his face from this morning. The sorrow of it. The finality of it.

My newfound light crashed into darkness.

I needed to be stronger. I
had
to be. Why couldn’t he see we could conquer anything we set our mind to—any enemy or monster that threatened to tear us apart? Why didn’t he believe in us the way I did?

My thoughts comingled like the colors on the old Rubik’s Cube I just couldn’t master. I needed to compartmentalize in order to see things clearly. But was that the answer I didn’t want to face? Had it been staring me down all this time, and finally, there was just no other place to look but dead ahead, right at it?

Michael didn’t believe in us the way I did. Was he scared to? Unable to? Was the answer even relevant? Simply put, I loved him more than he loved me.

He wasn’t breaking up with me to protect me. He was just—breaking up with me.

Cue the fucking waterworks.

I fell to my side. Curled my knees to my chest. And like the foolish girl I felt, bawled my eyes out. Ugly sobs. Heaving breaths. A grief I hadn’t fully allowed to invade—until now.

I cried until the sun went down—or at least it seemed.

Eventually, I realized someone hovered nearby. No. More than that. Standing at the edge of my blanket, blocking the sun’s rays.
Well, shit.
I didn’t want to see or speak to anyone. But because this day wasn’t hideous enough, the shadow wasn’t changing. Didn’t move.

I forced myself to sit up, swiping tears from my cheeks. I had to shield my eyes while looking up, but the glare made it impossible to see the person only three feet in front of me.

Finally, the visitor got a clue and moved to sit on the blanket, right beside me—a little too close, actually. As I scooted by an inch or two, my eyes began to refocus—and a gentle voice reached my ears.

“You look like you could use a friend.”

“You—”

My mouth worked, trying to produce words, but everything was strangled in my throat as I took in the woman’s sun-streaked hair, dancing green eyes, and warm smile lines—none of which had vanished.

“You—”

“Hello, sweet girl.”

“Oh, my God.” Was this happening? Was she actually sitting here, the woman who’d only made cameo appearances for most of my life? “C-Caroline. It’s really you…right?”

She brushed strands of hair off my face. “Yes, sweetie. It’s really me.” Her stare…she didn’t just look
at
me. She peered
through
me, as if needing to read every thought in my head. Normally, I’d think it was creepy. At the very least, irritating as hell. But I only felt…cherished. Special. Completely perfect in her eyes.

A fresh flood of tears burst out.

Caroline drew me into her arms, crooning quiet sounds of comfort and strength. “It’s all right, my little star. Sshhh. It’s going to be all right.”

I burrowed against her shoulder. “How—how did you know I’d be here?”

“I’ve always known where you were. I’ve never left you. I just couldn’t come near because of—”

“That witch who dabbled at being a mother? Yes, I know what happened, how she turned you out for getting too close to me.”

“She’s not here anymore. I am—and I always will be. I’ll never,
ever
leave you.” Her grasp closed tighter but her voice grew shakier. “You are the most important thing in my world, my beautiful girl. I knew it—I swore it—from the moment they put you in my arms, and I first laid eyes on your beautiful face.”

Tears. Breath. Thought.
Stopped
.

Shock. Amazement. Joy.

Oh

my

God.

Now what
?

“I—” I pulled back, gawking at her. In so many ways, it was like peering at an older version of myself. “How the
hell
did I not see it before?”

She laughed. The sound was feminine and cute but flared with snark—just like mine. “Of course you knew, my little Mary.” She pressed three fingers to the space over my heart. “Deep in here. Where it mattered the most.”

“Holy shit.”

I threw myself at her, hugging her so tightly that if a hurricane hit the beach right now she wouldn’t be ripped from me again. After she joined a lot more tears to mine, I managed to rasp the one word in the world I never imagined speaking with love.

“Mom.”

She burst with another sob, the sound that belonged to dammed-up emotions finally granted freedom. “I’ve waited twenty-seven years to hear that, honey. And every second was worth it.”

Michael

“D
ude. This is
amazing.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Sorry,” I explained, cocking a brow at Killian, “I just don’t think I’ve ever heard you say ‘dude’.”

“Surfer Jesus has to represent sometimes.” He finished it with a grin, still circling his stare around the small underground cavern I’d led him to. Watery patterns danced across his face courtesy of the LED lights Carlo had mounted to the walls, though they were the only signs of recent technology down here. On the other lip of the spring, about thirty feet away, a grotto was consumed by an electric pump that would’ve been at home during the days of Reaganomics and
Flashdance
.

“What does surfer Jesus think about all this?” I asked.

“He’s impressed,” Kil returned. “There’s workable infrastructure here. I think we can access the spring with very little impact to the orchard.” His face tightened as he went on with noticeable care, “The only thing that might have to be relocated…is the main house.”

I almost chuckled again. “Go ahead. You can breathe. Mom and I don’t have fond attachments to the building itself.” Not with the ghost of Declan lurking in nearly every room. “Razing it to the ground and starting something new might even be therapeutic.”

He nodded, picking up my subtext with his famous sixth sense. “You’ll have the flow to erect a castle after we’re done with this deal.”

“Mom’s not the castle type.”

He worked his jaw back and forth as if tempted to spin that comment—toward the subject of a certain princess, perhaps? I whipped back a searing glare, sending a silent message of my own with it.
Don’t go there, Stone.

Wisely, he rolled his shoulders. Wiser still, he snapped back to business mode. “I’d like to send out a survey team next, along with an environmental engineering crew. They’ll measure everything out, take a bunch of soil samples, examine the farm’s layout again, that sort of shit.”

I frowned. “Is all that necessary at this point?”

“In this case, it is. I predict things are going to move quickly, and you want SGC to broker a deal that’ll make everyone happy, including your neighbors. That means working smarter, not harder.”

I smiled and nodded to mask my jolt of realization. Wow. Shit was getting real.

“Here’s the number for my buddy, Fletcher Ford.” He pulled a business card out of his pocket and extended it. “He owns FF Engineering, and will personally supervise the survey as a favor to me.”

My smile grew. “Yeah. I remember meeting him at your wedding. Good guy.” I clapped his shoulder. “Thanks for all this, Kil.”

One side of his mouth lifted in slow sarcasm. “Aren’t you glad you didn’t beat the shit out of me last year?”

I mocked a glare. “Smart ass.”

“Pretty boy.”

“
Pretty
? What the hell?”

“Hmmm. Good point. Normally, you
are
much prettier.”

His tone hinted at enough sobriety to yank me back in the same direction. “Sleep hasn’t been abundant lately. Managing a lot of the shit around here, then up and down most nights with Mom…” I shrugged, knowing the rest would fill itself in.

Killian did that—and then some. Dammit.

“Fairly sure those aren’t the only reasons, man.”

I leaned against the wall, glad I hadn’t fully surrendered the glare. The guy was as smooth as his custom leather jacket. Though the rest of his attire—beat-up cargo pants, a faded Henley, and shit-kickers—conveyed a bad-ass vibe, I wasn’t intimidated. “That’s not a subject we’re tromping to, Kil. I invited you up here for advice about our options for rights on the spring. You knew the boundaries coming in.”

He narrowed a contemplative gaze. “Boundaries? You used your mom’s pie as bribery,
dude
.”

“It got you here, didn’t it?”

He found a sizable boulder and straddled it. “Agreed.” Angled a smirk up at me. “As you know, I do like bending boundaries.”

My shoulders tensed. Screw it; everything else did, too. “Fuck.”

“Oh, come on.” He planted his elbows to his knees then threaded his fingers. “Did you really think you’d get out of this without the get-your-head-out-of-your-ass speech?”

I turned my back on him. Ground a fist against the stone wall, welcoming the distraction of the pain. “Too good to hope for, huh?”

“Pretty much.”

“Goddammit.”

His answering pause was
not
encouraging. “Stop kicking at the ground like a twelve year-old. Your game’s already transparent, man.”

“Who says I’ve got a ‘game’?”

“The guy who dabbles in playing them for a living.”

Bastard had a point.

I glowered over my shoulder. “All right, oh great and wise enigma. What
is
my game?”

He squared his shoulders while sliding fingers atop his thighs. “It’s called your-head’s-up-your-ass, remember? Like that one we played as kids, where everyone gets to pull the little plastic body parts out of the electric holes, only you’re going to need something bigger than those tweezers.”

“Such as?”

“My boot.”

I pivoted, baring a challenging grin. “Little hint? That’ll probably set off the buzzer. Sorry; you lose.”

“Not if I kick so hard your skull pops out your dick.”

He let that one plummet right into silence. Long, unnerving gobs of it.

“Shit,” I finally muttered.

“Something like that.”

A hard push off the wall sent me pacing across the packed dirt. “I’m not going to do this, goddammit.”

Kil rose as well. “The fuck you aren’t.”