CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
“Even if they’ve figured out where I live, there’s no way they can get to my floor or through my front door,” Mitch said, surveying his place. “We should be okay here, at least for the rest of tonight.”
Adam dropped them at the service entrance in the back after making sure no one was around. He’d come back for them once they figured out their next move.
“Look at that penetration!” Harold greeted them.
“Basketball games?” Maggie inquired.
Mitch shrugged. “They use the word penetrate way more than they should.”
“Humph. Still, an improvement.”
“Do you want anything to eat? I have cereal and canned soup.”
“I could eat. I was looking forward to milk and cookies, but I’ll take whatever’s easy.”
He opened a cupboard and grabbed two cans of Chunky Chicken Noodle soup. It took some searching, but he finally found a saucepan and dumped in both cans.
“You may have to show me how to work the stove,” he said, looking at all the buttons with a confused look.
“You assume that because I’m a woman, I’ll automatically know how to work the stove? How sexist,” Maggie teased.
He pushed at a few buttons, and finally, a light came on telling him it was heating. “Ha. Got it!” he proclaimed.
She walked over to stand next to him. “Were you planning to heat the soup in the oven?”
“Huh?”
She laughed and pushed him out of the way. “Move. You turned on the oven, but what we need is the stove.” She punched a couple of buttons and set the pot on one of the burners.
“Oh. So close. I’ll see if I can find some crackers,” he said on his way to the pantry. He came back, triumphantly waving a bag of Famous Amos chocolate chip cookies. “Look what I found!”
“Perfect,” she exclaimed. He knew Famous Amos was no substitute for homemade, but he appreciated that she was humoring him.
They ate soup, crackers, and cookies and washed it all down with white wine.
“Sorry about the accommodations. I’m not used to entertaining at home.”
“It was delicious. And think how easy cleanup will be.” She smiled.
She was so optimistic, so sweet, and so out of his league.
He had no business messing around with her.
No matter what she said, he knew the friends-with-benefits thing would not last. Casual sex was not for a girl like Maggie.
She deserved better, and he should let her find it, but damned if he wasn’t a little bit hooked on her.
He thought she’d be out of his system after they finally had sex, but that had only whetted his appetite.
He watched her put the pot in the sink and start the water.
She was humming a tune he didn’t recognize.
Her ass filled out her jeans in a way he’d be blind not to notice, and her long, brown hair hung in waves to the middle of her back.
It was a scene he was unaccustomed to, but she looked right at home, as if she did this every night.
For a fleeting moment, he thought he wouldn’t mind if she were here every night.
He envisioned them eating dinner together, cleaning up, and then snuggling on the couch to watch TV or read books. They’d head off to bed together, where he would make love to her and hold her while she slept.
What the hell? He shook his head. His near-death experience must be making him crazy. He desperately needed to be making a plan to keep them alive, and all he could focus on was her perfect rear end. God help them.
“Let me do that.” He gave her hip a bump and set their two bowls in the sudsy water. “Dishes, I’ve had experience with.”
She moved to put the crackers and cookies away. “Shall we just finish this bottle?” she asked as she poured, laughing.
“Yeah, I could use one more.”
In less than five minutes, the kitchen was clean.
Grabbing their wine and moving to the living room, they sat in awkward silence.
He had closed all the blinds and curtains as soon as they came in, so there was no view to admire.
Harold had been remarkably quiet. And her cat had taken off to who knows where as soon as they’d returned.
Finally, he could stand it no longer and pulled out his phone to put some music on the Bluetooth speakers that surrounded the room.
“Jazz okay?” he asked as a smooth saxophone began playing.
“Yeah, that’s fine. Mitch, how long do you think we’ll have to keep hiding?” The terrified look in her eyes told him she was scared. Getting shot at tonight had, understandably, shaken her.
“Until we catch Manuel. He made it clear tonight that he’s not messing around. We need to get back on offense and find him before he finds us. I think maybe your bait idea was a good one, but we’re not using you. I could go back to the strip club and just wait till they take me.”
“How do you know they won’t just shoot you on the spot?” She threw his own words back at him.
“I don’t. That’s the hell of it.”
“Well, we need to figure out something else then. Sacrificing yourself for nothing won’t do anyone any good. You need to be around to testify when he’s caught.”
“I suppose,” he muttered. “Look, there’s something I’ve wanted to say to you for a while now.”
She remained silent, waiting, while he mustered the courage to say what he should have said a long time ago.
“The months after Jimmy died—when I took off and abandoned Jenny and the boys? You were there for them. You had to handle all the shit by yourself, and I’m sorry. I should have been there to help. You had to deal with the fresh grief of a widow and two little boys who’d just lost their father.
“You were tougher than I was. I ran away and drank myself stupid while you were strong and brave and held it all together to help them get through it.” He heaved a sigh of relief.
Apologizing out loud eased his guilt just a little.
The one thing he didn’t say was that he admired her almost as much as he was ashamed of himself.
She shrugged. “You were grieving just as much as they were. Jimmy was your family, too. I can’t imagine how it must have been for you, dealing with it all alone. It must have been unbearable, and it’s understandable you also needed time. I just wish there had been someone to help you.”
“Don’t be so gracious. You ought to hate my guts. I’ve been nothing but an egotistical asshole to you.”
“Well, except for the last couple of days.” She winked, and he smiled.
“Mitch, you did what you had to do to cope. Everyone handles trauma differently.” Her words were a balm to his aching soul.
With a few simple, yet sincere words, she’d released him from some of the guilty burden he carried constantly.
“I’m gonna head to bed.” She got up and swayed a little. He reached out to steady her. “You coming?”
“Are you inviting me to your bed?” He stood and put his arms around her waist. Maybe just one more time.
“Technically, it’s your bed, but yes. Sleep with me?” She looked up, and he leaned in to kiss her.
“I’m not sure how much sleep there will be,” he muttered against her lips.
He grasped her hips and pulled her flush against him. He was already hard, and she moaned. The kiss heated quickly, and soon they were both breathing heavily. He untucked her shirt and ran his hands up to her bra, which he unhooked expeditiously with one hand.
He bent, grabbed the back of her legs, and lifted her effortlessly. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he made haste to the bedroom, stopping only twice to push her up against the wall and feel her up.
After making it to his bedroom, he gently laid her down and then covered her with his body.
“Am I hurting you?” he whispered.
“Hm, no, you feel good.” Her kisses were long and slow.
He took his time undressing her, stopping to caress and kiss everything he exposed. Once she was naked, he sat and stared in open admiration. Her beauty and the look of love in her eyes was just about his undoing. The look said she cared for him and had maybe even fallen for him.
Normally, that would have sent him running, but in that moment, he realized he cared for her as well. And was maybe even falling for her.
The last couple of times they’d had sex, it was hot and raw and quick, but this time he took his time. He was tender and intimate, slow and thorough.
Waking in a woman’s arms was a foreign feeling to Mitch. It had been a long time since he’d allowed a woman to spend the night, and even then, it was reluctantly.
He thought he’d feel claustrophobic, eager to leave, or have her leave, but instead, he felt like he was home.
This sassy, gorgeous woman was making him imagine something long-lasting.
Could he have actual feelings for her? He cared for her, and respected her.
He also felt responsible for her. Beyond that he wasn’t sure.
He relished her warmth for a moment more, then could put off no longer what needed to be done.
He disengaged himself and quietly showered, dressed, and headed to his office.
He needed to figure out who Manuel had called for help.
The fact that it was most likely someone out of the country made it all the more difficult.