Welcome to Bluestone 1 - Bluestone homecoming (24 page)

“You okay in those shoes?” He nodded to her
strappy sandals.

“I’m a woman. I’m accustomed.” Though not at
his long-legged speed, so she tugged at his hand to get him to slow
down. “Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“What kind of surprise?”

He grinned. “What kind of surprise would it
be if I told you?” He folded his hand around hers and led her down
the street in front of the school.

“I feel like I should be getting to some of
that work piled up on my desk,” she said as they walked past the
dark empty building.

“One more week and then you’re free.”

“I have another week after the kids are gone.
In the past I’ve managed it, but I always panic this time of year.
Feels endless.”

“Add to that this weekend—”

She heaved a sigh. “My part is done after the
craft show.”

“I thought you’d play softball with us
Monday. It should be okay, right, if you don’t go sliding into
Quinn or something.”

She was more thinking depending on how tired
she was after this weekend, how emotionally drained after he told
her he was leaving, but he was thinking about the baby’s safety.
That was nice.

He stopped in front of a sweet lemon-colored
cottage with a lovely green lawn and roses along the front, beneath
a picture window. His hand shifted on hers, nervously. She glanced
up at him. She’d never seen Leo nervous. Well, maybe a little at
the doctor’s office, but that was understandable. Before she could
say anything, he guided her up the sidewalk to the wide porch.

Did he know someone who lived here? She
wracked her brain trying to remember whose house this was. “What’s
going on?”

He pulled a key out of his front pocket and
opened the door.

Her heart raced. No, she had to be wrong. But
why would he have a key. “Leo?”

He didn’t answer, only flicked on the light,
which shone on the empty room, the gleaming wood floors, the soft
sage-colored walls. Her heels echoed on the floor as he led her
into the kitchen, not too big, not too small, but updated with
granite counters and glass-fronted cabinets, stainless appliances.
He didn’t say anything as he guided her through the living area to
the bedrooms—three of them, one with French doors onto a back deck,
an attached bathroom, with a glassed in shower. The other bathroom
had a lovely deep tub and molded ceiling tiles, and ceramic tiles
on the floor. The neatest little house, and her heart swelled with
hope as he took her through the French doors onto the deck
overlooking a backyard with a lovely playscape.

The only piece of furniture was a patio
table, and on the table was a small box that Leo plucked up. The
music from Quinn’s floated over the lawn when he turned to her.

“Do you like it?”

“The house? It’s lovely.” Her voice shook as
her gaze flicked from the box to his face. No nerves now, only the
steady demeanor she was used to. Joy spread through every part of
her, and tears burned the backs of her eyes.

“Plenty of room for Max and the baby. Maybe
not a lot of space, but we can convert the basement and maybe add
on a bit as time passes.”

“Leo.”

He went down on one knee and took her left
hand in his. Her legs started shaking as she looked into his
beautiful blue eyes. “Do you like the house, Trinity?”

“Leo,” she said again, unsure of what else to
say.

“When I went to Washington, I went crazy
missing you. I realized then I’m in love with you. I wanted to hear
you, feel you, wake up with you. And when I came back, and you told
me you’re pregnant, it was like a sign.”

“You didn’t call.”

“We left things—badly. My fault. I didn’t
know how to fix it over the phone.”

She nodded, though the effort would have been
nice, would have made things easier, but it was in the past. Right
now her future knelt in front of her.

“Will you live here with me? Have this baby
with me?” He slid his other hand over her belly, rested there, and
her skin jumped beneath his touch. “Will you marry me,
Trinity?”

She couldn’t speak, her throat swollen with
emotion. Panic flashed in his eyes, and he covered it quickly with
options.

“We can move if you want, if Bluestone is too
much, if being by your parents is too much. We can go anywhere you
want. But I can see us here, the four of us, taking the kids to the
lake, playing baseball, hanging out at Quinn’s, avoiding your
parents, if you like.”

She laughed then, choking on her tears. She
squeezed his hand.

“So?” His voice was tight now. “Do you need
time to think?”

She knelt before him and took his other hand.
“I don’t need time to think. But I want you to know the
reality.”

“I do, Trin. And what I don’t know I’ll learn
with you. What do you say?”

“I say I love you, too, Leo, and want
everything you said, especially you waking up with me.”

He grinned and opened the box. She couldn’t
see the ring, other than it was a round diamond, through the
shimmer of her tears. Even when he slipped the delicate band on her
finger, she could do no more than wrap her arms around him and kiss
him, squeezing his hand tight.

Holding on to her future.

THE END

MJ Fredrick knows about chasing dreams.
Twelve years after she completed her first novel, she signed her
first publishing contract. Now she divides her days between
teaching elementary music and diving into her own writing,
traveling everywhere in her mind, from Belize to Honduras to Africa
to the past.

Romantic suspense

Guarded Hearts

Midnight Sun

Don’t Look Back (2012 Epic finalist)

Breaking Daylight (2011 Epic winner)

Beneath the Surface

Hot Shot (2009 Epic winner)

Contemporary romance

Three Days, Two Nights

Something to Talk About

Road Signs

Star Power

Bull by the Horns

Where There’s Smoke

Historical romance

Sunrise Over Texas

Paranormal romance

A Ghostly Charm

An excerpt from

Book 2 in the Bluestone trilogy

Beth Lapointe was working the lunch shift
when Maddox Bradley walked into Quinn’s Bar and Grill in Bluestone,
Minnesota. She’d just turned away from Dale Simmons, smiling and
warm from the flirtation with the handsome doctor and stopped short
when her past appeared in front of her.

Maddox looked better than ever, lines fanning
from those whiskey brown eyes, a healing scar beside his right
eyebrow, straight brown hair combed neatly, his widow’s peak more
pronounced, shoulders broad beneath a crisp white shirt, stomach
flat into his Levi’s. She didn’t let her gaze slide any lower. He
removed the cream-colored Stetson that had become his signature in
a slow gesture, like he might have done if he came face to face
with a panther and didn’t want to make any sudden moves.

Smart man.

The titter of conversation told her Quinn’s
customers recognized the country singer. She doubted they
understood his connection to her. She doubted he’d even known she
was here. He’d probably just come in to talk to Quinn. Ballsy,
since he’d bailed on the concert he was supposed to have given
Memorial Day and cost the town a ton of money.

“Beth,” he said in that smooth quiet voice
she’d heard hundreds of times when she tortured herself by
listening to him in interviews with the likes of Katie Couric and
Barbara Walters. Yes, one of the Ten Most Fascinating People was
standing in her bar, in her path. Funny, since he hadn’t been able
to get out of her way fast enough fourteen years ago.

“You’re late,” she said, weaving around him
to get her plates lined in the pass-through.

He pivoted to follow, hat in hand, head bent,
contrite. “I’m here to make it up to you.”

“You have nothing to make up to me. Bluestone
was counting on you to play Memorial Day weekend. I told them you
wouldn’t come.”

“It wasn’t that I didn’t want to come back.
It was a scheduling issue.” He almost sounded serious.

She wanted to spin on him, lay into him about
letting everyone down, demand to know the truth about the car
accident a few weeks ago, the one that had been all over the
tabloids, demanding to know if he was drinking again, but they’d
already drawn enough attention with him following her around like a
whipped dog. Instead she said, “I have to get back to work. He’s
the one you need to talk to.” She jabbed a thumb at Quinn, who
watched them through narrowed eyes., hands braced on the bar. When
Maddox turned his head, she picked up a tray and headed for the
pass-through.

She loaded the plates on the tray, not daring
to watch Maddox shake hands with Quinn, not daring to register
Dale’s reaction to the whole thing. She pasted a smile on her face
and headed out to deliver the food.

She felt Maddox’s gaze follow her. God, why
did he have to look so good, sound so good, smell so good? That was
something she hadn’t been able to tell from TV, that he’d smell the
same as he had that night he’d talked her into the back of his
rusted out Buick, that warm, clean, male scent that made her want
to bury her face in his neck.

Her body tingled with remembered pleasure, an
experience not often repeated in the past fourteen years. She had
to occupy her thoughts elsewhere. She looked around for customers
who needed service. Why couldn’t he have come in earlier, when they
were busier? Dale was watching her, eyes hooded. He always could
see more than she wanted him to. No one could know Maddox was her
weakness. She couldn’t afford to have any.

She shifted her attention to Quinn, trying to
read his body language. He was tense as he leaned against the bar
to listen to Maddox, who angled his head. So she wasn’t learning
anything there. She wished he’d tell Maddox to beat it, but that
was unreasonable. They needed Maddox, his fame, to draw tourists
back to Bluestone.

But she was being ridiculous. Maddox was a
busy man, a star. He probably had a concert tour and an album to
record. He wouldn’t stay around Bluestone. She was worrying for
nothing.

She got home at eight to the sound of crying
and the smell of a dirty diaper.
Great
.

Where was her sister? She made her way down
the narrow hall to the nursery—ha, grand name for the tiniest
bedroom in the tiny house—where Jonah was on his back in the crib,
flailing his legs and arms angrily. With a grunt of frustration,
Beth lifted his rigid little body and carried him to the changing
table. He continued to scream as she struggled to change him,
remembering at the last minute to shield his little penis with the
diaper before he peed on her. His cries echoed off the thin walls,
and she worried the neighbors would call—or worse, already had. By
the redness of Jacob’s face and the wetness on his cheeks and on
the neck of his Onesie, he’d been crying awhile.

Once she had him clean and dressed, she
lifted him to her shoulder and rubbed his back as he continued to
wail in her ear. He was too far gone for an easy fix. Even feeding
him right now would only make him sick. She jounced him and turned
toward her sister’s room.

Where her sister was asleep on her stomach,
arms thrown over her head. Beth’s gaze flicked to the second-hand
nightstand and the empty beer bottles there. Beth’s heart sank.
Not again
. Where had she gotten the alcohol this time? Beth
lifted a foot to nudge the mattress a couple of times. Linda
grunted but settled deeper. Beth was about to kick her sister’s
foot when the knock sounded at the door.

Still trying to calm Jonas, she went to
answer and saw her neighbor Loretta Givens standing on the tiny
front porch, brow furrowed beneath her blonde bangs.

“I’m sorry, Loretta. Has he been crying
long?”

“A good half hour, I’m afraid. Where’s
Linda?”

“Asleep, poor kid.” Even as Beth lied, she
hated herself for it. “I’m so sorry he bothered you.”

Loretta’s lips pursed. “It’s not just that. I
thought you should know she had some friends over just after
noon.”

On a school day. Of course. Beth struggled to
keep her expression neutral, not to let her neighbor see her
despair. “Friends.”

“Boys, from the sound of it. Lots of laughing
and loud music. I think they were drinking.”

Beth’s stomach dropped. Dealing with Linda’s
drinking was one thing, the neighbors knowing about it was another.
She’d become Linda’s legal guardian eleven years ago, but still
worried they could still take Linda away from her. And Loretta just
stood on the porch waiting for Beth to say something. What she
could say, she didn’t know.

“I appreciate that, Loretta. I’m going to
deal with it, I promise, but I need to get Jonas calmed down.” She
placed her hand on the door in a clear signal to send Loretta on
her way.

“I know you’re doing your best, Beth. But I
think you need help with Linda, and with little Jonas. She’s too
much for you.”

That Loretta voiced Beth’s own fears didn’t
endear the woman to her. She’d been raising Linda for the past
fourteen years, and none of it had been easy, but the last two
years had been damn near impossible. She should have insisted Linda
give the baby up for adoption as planned, but Linda had seen her
son’s face and pleaded with Beth to let her keep him. Beth had had
power to do so little in Linda’s life that she’d relented. She
should have known Linda would go back to drinking.

Just like their father.