Chapter 5
Chapter 5
B y the time a month passed, Maggie felt all settled in. She had her commute down pat, and she had almost started to enjoy it. She was reading so much she could barely keep enough books in stock. Her dog seemed slightly morose, but it helped that he adored his dog walker. And the fact that the days were getting longer meant Maggie could take him on a walk in the evenings, in addition to a run in the mornings. She was trying to buy his love and forgiveness with exercise, and it seemed to be working.
Work was going well, better than well; it was great. After Babs and Blue extended their welcome, it was as if she had passed some sort of test and the other inhabitants of the office began to creep closer and make themselves known. In addition to Babs and Blue, she had also become friends with two women named LuAnn and Ellen, both data entry specialists. As for her actual work, it was fast paced and challenging, but she was loving it. The only fly in the ointment was Ridge.
He was predictably busy and seemed to be under an enormous strain. He and Maggie had yet to get together outside of work, and they barely saw each other at work. Twice he had asked her to accompany him to meetings because they would be listening to audio in Arabic and he wanted his own translator—her.
The second audio had been hard to listen to because it had depicted an operative’s torture and eventual murder. Maggie made it through dry-eyed and even managed to take notes, but it left her shaken. Miraculously, she and Ridge had the elevator to themselves on the way back to their floor. He rested his hand on her arm.
“Are you all right? That was brutal.”
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak much. Did she want to cry or throw up? Maybe both. “Does it ever get any easier to hear that kind of stuff?” she croaked.
“Easier, no. More commonplace? Yes,” he said. He gave her shoulder a squeeze. The elevator dinged, and they went their separate ways. “Ellen, my office,” he said, tapping the desk of a woman who looked around the room, panicked and forsaken. Maggie watched as the two of them disappeared into his office. When Ellen emerged sometime later, she headed for the bathroom and didn’t come out the rest of the day.
“Another one bites the dust,” Blue whispered as he eased by her office later. Maggie didn’t understand it. What was the problem? She knew Ridge was a nice guy. Why didn’t that convey to the rest of the team?
The next week, she tapped gently on his door. “It’s open,” he barked, sounding like the last thing he wanted was a visitor. Maggie took a tentative step inside and held a plate aloft.
“It’s Ellen’s birthday,” she explained. “We’re having a party. Want to come?”
“Can’t,” he said, his eyes never leaving his computer.
“I thought you might say that, so I brought you some cake.”
“Thanks. Leave it on my desk.”
She took a step forward. “You can tell it’s delicious because it’s lumpy and half falling over. That’s how you know it’s made with love.”
When it became obvious she wasn’t going to leave until he acknowledged her, he peeled his eyes away from the screen and looked at the cake. “That’s the ugliest cake I’ve ever seen. Whoever bought it should get their money back.”
“I made it, thank you very much. And then I dragged it all the way here on the train, carried it five blocks in the rain, and lovingly presented it to Ellen. And now to you.” She held out the plate and set it purposefully on his desk. “Happy Ellen’s birthday to you.”
“Thank you, Maggie.” He turned back to his computer.
“I can’t leave until you taste it. Otherwise I know you’re going to dump it in the trash as soon as I’m gone,” she said.
He sighed. “How do you do that?”
She tapped her temple. “Intuition.”
“I’m beginning to think psychic would be a more apt descriptor.” Nonetheless, he picked up the fork and took a large bite of the cake. And then quickly wolfed the rest down in two more bites.
“Would you like me to bring you a turkey leg and a flagon of ale, King Henry?” Maggie asked.
“Sorry. I skipped lunch and I guess I didn’t realize how hungry I was,” he said. He sighed heavily.
“Ridge, are you okay? You seem incredibly tense.”
He gave her a wry smile.
“Okay, I know you’re the head of this team and that’s an immense amount of pressure, but we’re all behind you, ready to help with whatever you need. So, you know you’re not exactly alone, is what I’m saying.”
He blew out another breath and a little of the weight seemed to leave his shoulders. “Thank you.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to come to the party?” she asked.
“I really can’t, but thanks. Hey, what are you doing tonight?”
“I’m going to take my dog for a walk and then, um…I was trying to think of something that makes me sound like I have a life outside of work, but I came up dry. I’ll probably watch reruns of The Great British Baking Show and fall asleep on the couch. Again.”
“Let’s go out. We haven’t had a chance to celebrate since you came to town, and I’m miraculously free tonight. Sound good?”
“Sounds superlative,” she said. “Do you want me to bring you more cake or a barrel of mead?”
“Thanks, but I should probably call it quits on sugar for today.”
“Yeah, you’re looking kind of flabby in that one cell of yours that has body fat. It’s good you’re attempting to be disciplined for once,” she said.
He made a flicking motion with his fingers. “Away with you, pest.”
She curtsied. “Yes sir, I’m sorry sir. Please don’t beats me again,” she said in her best cockney accent. He shook his head, but he was smiling when she closed the door.
They met at a trendy cocktail bar in downtown DC. Maggie could tell immediately it wasn’t her type of place. She stood outside waiting for Ridge and watched all the beautiful people stream by. She had visited a lot of large cities, but DC was unlike anywhere else. Nowhere had ever felt as competitive or driven. She felt judged as she stood outside alone, but maybe it was her imagination. Maybe no one cared about the lone librarian trying hard to blend in to the bricks behind her.
“Hey, sorry I’m late,” Ridge said, approaching from her left. He looked exactly like every other young professional around them, well-cut suit, tie, and expensive shoes. Maggie felt dowdy, even though she was wearing one of the new dresses her sister, Amelia, had picked for her.
“You’re fine,” Maggie assured him. “I’ve been people watching.”
“See anything good?” he asked.
“A few budding romances,” Maggie said. “But I’m fairly certain a few of those people were married to someone else, so I tried to exude disapproval at them.”
“I’m sure they felt chastised and will immediately rethink their behavior,” he said.
“That’s all any scold can ask for,” she said. He opened the door for her and she edged her way inside. The room was crowded, so much it was hard to navigate or even breathe. Ridge put his hand on her back and began trying to shepherd her toward the bar. When that failed, he clasped her hand and led the way. People moved aside for him, and Maggie felt grateful for his commanding presence as she did a quickstep behind him to keep up. At last they reached the bar. Her stomach rumbled with hunger, but there was no food, only exotic-sounding cocktails. What was a Moscow Mule? She had no idea, but several people seemed to be drinking them. Intimidated and hungry, she ordered a ginger ale.
“We make our own,” the bartender said. He had a long, trendy-looking beard that came to a point in the center of his chest.
“Super,” Maggie said. Until then, she hadn’t known it was possible to make one’s own ginger ale, but she supposed that explained the ten-dollar price tag.
Conversation swirled around them, loud and jarring. People jostled into her as they waited for their drinks, knocking Maggie into Ridge.
“Sorry,” she said, pointing to the guy behind her who had bumped her without apology.
Ridge leaned close to speak in her ear. “Want me to kill him for you?”
“I don’t want to react unreasonably. Let’s wait and see if he does it a second time,” she said.
Their drinks arrived and they shifted aside for the next people. They were quiet a moment as they sipped. Maggie began to wonder if the outing had been a mistake. Maybe their earlier camaraderie had been a blip. This wasn’t her scene, but Ridge looked seamless here. Was it actually possible that he and she could be friends?
“You look like you fit in here,” Ridge said. Or at least that was what Maggie thought he said. She had to lean in to hear him.
“Is that a bad thing?” she asked, refraining from telling him she had just been thinking the same about him.
He shook his head. “It’s just that I have this image of you in my head from our last meeting, faded sweatshirt, reading glasses, warm cookies. And now you look so…sophisticated. I kind of miss the old Maggie.”
Someone else jostled into her, knocking her into him. He put out a hand to steady her. “My sister picked the dress for me. I still prefer the sweats.”
“This city is a rough place. I don’t want it to change you,” he admitted, sticking out a hand to block someone else from bumping her.
“Do you come here often?” she asked.
“I’ve been a few times,” he said.
“Do you enjoy it?” she asked, practically yelling to be heard over the cicada’s buzz of conversation.
He glanced around at the swarming mass of humanity. “Not especially.”
“Do you want to go somewhere else?” she asked.
“Where did you have in mind?” he asked.
“I know a place,” she said. This time she took his hand and led him out of the maze of people, breathing a sigh of relief when they reached the sidewalk.
He seemed to take the same breath. “Where do you want to go?”
“There’s a diner three blocks over,” she said.
He grimaced. “A diner? I’m not in the mood for a meal I’ll still be digesting next week.”
“It’s not like that. It’s farm to table.”
“What does that even mean?” he asked.
“Do you trust me?” she asked.
He stared down at her, and she wondered if he was thinking the same thing she had been thinking. Were they wrong? Had the weird chemistry between them evaporated? “Yes,” he said, though his tone lacked confidence.
“Come on.” She held out her hand to him. “You’re going to love this place, I promise.”
“What if I don’t?” he asked, eyeing her hand warily.
“Then you’re a weirdo who doesn’t know a good thing when he sees it,” she said.
“I’m your boss. That’s Mr. Weirdo to you,” he said, but he clasped her hand and allowed her to lead him down the road and around the corner to the cute little all-night diner. Though it was crowded, the atmosphere was cozy rather than oppressive. Ridge found himself sighing in relief as they slid into a booth. Instinctively he took off his jacket and loosened his tie. The menu looked good and not like the greasy spoon he’d been dreading. He ordered salmon with some kind of wheat berry salad. Maggie surprised him by ordering grilled chicken with steamed asparagus.
“Are you on a diet?” he asked.
“No, but I’ve found it’s easier to keep up on the running if I eat healthier,” she said. “Although I still plan to order pie for dessert.”
“But you already had cake today,” he blurted without thinking. Of course it was none of his business if she ate two desserts in one day, but it was the unspoken rule he followed and sometimes he forgot others didn’t do the same.
“You’re not my dad,” she retorted in the funny, non-filtered way she said things that made him laugh.
“You’re right, I’m sorry,” he said, smiling. “Eat whatever you like, no judgment here.”
“When is the last time you were home?” she asked after the waitress brought their drinks.
“This morning before I left for work,” he said, confused.
“I meant home home. Texas.”
“Two and a half years,” he said.
Her eyes bugged. “Why so long?”
“It’s the job. There’s not a lot of downtime. And, I don’t know, it’s not the same since my brother took over the ranch. It doesn’t feel like my home anymore; it feels like his. Not that I’m not welcome there, but my parents moved to a condo, and it feels so…cold.”
“What was it like to grow up on a ranch?” she asked, her chin perched in her hand as she awaited his answer.
He went into a long reminiscence about ranch life that lasted until their food arrived.
“That sounds like the best possible life for a little boy,” she said as she began to cut her chicken.
“It was,” he agreed.
“Does it ever make you sad your future children probably won’t grow up the same?” she asked.
“It didn’t, but now that you mention it, it kind of does,” he said.
“Sorry,” she said. “Here, taste this.” She cut a bite of her chicken and plopped it on his plate. “You should know my family is big into sharing food.”
“Just not warm cookies,” he said, reminding her of when she smacked his fingers.
“For the record, I offered you a bite and you refused. You could be killed for that in some countries.”
“Which countries?” he asked.
“You probably haven’t heard of them,” she said. “How’s the salmon?”
“Would you like a bite?” he asked. When she nodded, he cut a piece and deposited it on her plate. His family was not big into sharing food. In fact, he couldn’t remember ever sharing food with anyone before, not that he was complaining. Her chicken was delicious.
“That’s really good,” she said, eying his salmon with something like regret.
“Maggie, would you like to switch meals?” he offered.
“That’s too weird,” she said. “Isn’t it?”
He rolled his eyes and switched their plates.
“Are you sure you don’t mind?” she asked, taking a bite of the salmon before he could answer and change his mind.
“What is it with you and food?” he asked.
“It’s how it is in my family. Food is love,” she said. “Isn’t your family the same?”
“Not really. Food was more a means to an end,” he said. “You don’t have to look at me that way.”
“What way?” she asked.
“Like you feel sorry for me because my family didn’t bond over baked goods. We had other things.”
“What things?”
“The ranch, sports, anything that involved competition,” he said.
“We literally could not be more opposite,” she said.
“And yet here we are,” he said and smiled because he was enjoying himself. The magic of Maggie hadn’t worn off. He felt calmer and more at ease than he had in months, somehow more settled and less alone in her presence.
“What about holidays?” she asked.
“What about them?”
“Don’t you see you family for those?” she asked.
“Occasionally,” he said.
“What about when you don’t?” she asked.
He shrugged.
“ Alone ?” she mouthed, as if it were some awful disease to spend Christmas alone. Maybe it was.
“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but we don’t exactly close when the holidays roll around. It’s not like working at a bank. When something is going down, we stay until it’s finished. You will work some holidays, and other times you’ll work so close to the holidays you won’t be able to go home, either.”
“Oh,” she said, blinking. “What about girlfriends?”
He coughed, the abrupt change in topic having caught him by surprise. “What about them?” He took a sip of water to clear his throat.
“Don’t you spend your holidays with them?” she asked.
“Sometimes, if I have one. Sometimes not. Depends on the year, I guess. Why? Are you worried about me or are you attempting to play matchmaker?” He left off the third option—that she was asking for herself. He didn’t get that vibe from her, and he was more than a little relieved. He felt like a sniffer dog at the airport, except instead of checking for bombs, he was constantly searching for any signs of attraction on her part. So far he had found none, and so he continued to be comfortable around her, ridiculously so for the short amount of time they had known each other.
“It makes me sad, the thought of anyone spending the holidays alone, and I’m including myself in that. I’ve never spent a holiday away from my family.”
“Tell you what, if it happens this year, we’ll spend them together,” he promised.
“What if you have a girlfriend by then?” she asked.
“I’ll tell her I’m unavailable,” he said.
“What if I have a boyfriend by then?” she added.
“You’ll tell him you’re unavailable,” he said.
“What if we’re really serious and it causes a big fight and we break up and it turns out you came between me and what was potentially the love of my life?” she said.
“Then he should send me a thank you because you’re apparently exhausting and high maintenance. Also, I’ve probably saved him a fortune in cookie bills,” he said.
“I told you I’ve cut back,” she said, waving her fork and a bite of salmon at him for emphasis.
She was cute, adorably so, and not just physically. She was like his best friend’s fun little sister—he shouldn’t want to have her around all the time, but he did. “Are you enjoying my salmon?”
“I prefer chicken,” she said, smiling when he rolled his eyes in exasperation. “What’s a wheat berry?”
“No idea.”
“You grew up on a ranch,” she said.
“We didn’t herd wheat berries,” he said.
“I always assumed farm people know everything about agriculture,” she said. “You’re kind of letting me down here.”
He pulled out his phone, Googled wheat berries, and gave her the description. “See? I knew you’d know,” she said.
“I don’t remember you being this much work before. I must have blocked out the parts of you that are exhausting,” he said.
“Me, exhausting? I’m as low-maintenance as they come. I’m not into makeup or shoes or purses or fashion or decorating. I’m practically not even female,” she said.
“You’re definitely female,” he assured her. “If you’re not into any of those things, what are you into?”
“My dog, my family, my friends, travel, reading.”
“That’s a short list,” he said.
“I’m a small person,” she reminded him.
“You left one important thing off the list,” he said.
“What’s that?”
“Work.” He pointed to himself.
“The job is still new. I haven’t been doing it long enough to know if I love it,” she said.
“What’s not to love? The long hours, the stress, the relatively low pay?”
“When you put it like that, of course you’re right. I love my job,” she decided. They talked for several more hours, until, even after ordering pie and coffee, the waitress began giving them impatient looks. They left her a generous tip, and Ridge walked Maggie to the train station.
She prattled the entire way. Generally Ridge found it grating when people chattered incessantly, but in Maggie’s case, he found it soothing. Maybe it was because he realized it was borne of the loneliness of being in a new city; she was saying all the things she had stored up for weeks of having no one to talk to. Somehow understanding her loneliness eased an echoing solitude inside him. Despite what he said to her about not being bothered he so rarely made it home to Texas, now that he thought of home, it opened an old ache inside him, one he thought he’d quashed long ago in military life. He had rarely been home since he was eighteen, and now he wondered why. What was so important that kept him from his roots? And then there was his future to consider. Did he really want to raise a child on the mean streets of DC? The flat, hot, vastness of home had helped make him the man he was today. Who would his children someday be?
A group of men on the street ahead pinged on his radar, the internal one that, since his early time in the navy, was always tuned to danger. The way they were eyeing him and Maggie, especially Maggie, told him they were up to no good. Without her notice, he eased her to the other side of the street, gently steering her with a hand to her shoulder. When they were on the other side of the street, she linked her arm through his. It was a companionable gesture, and it was nice. They were pals; she was safe and warm and pleasant and everything Ridge didn’t know he’d been missing for a long, long time.
He deposited her at the train station with instructions to text him when she arrived safely home.
“What if I don’t arrive safely home? What will you do?” she asked, the teasing glint in her eyes sparkling off the dim overheads at the train station.
“First I’ll find you and fix what’s broken. Then I’ll avenge you,” he said.
“And you expect me to believe you’ve never seen a superhero movie? Because that was literally a line from either Batman or Daredevil,” she said.
“You’re a grown woman. Why do you know superheroes so well?”
“I’m sandwiched between two brothers,” she told him. “Superheroes and video games were the mainstay of my house until my baby sister came along, and then it was Barbie.” She wrinkled her nose.
“Not a Barbie girl, were you?” he deduced.
“I was more into GI Joe, but I could never get my brothers interested. There’s my train. Thanks for tonight, Cam. It was exactly what I needed.” She patted his chest, smiling sweetly up at him.
He searched her features, once again checking for hints of misplaced attraction. When he found none, he was relieved. Wasn’t he? “Text me,” he reminded her.
“Yes, Mom,” she said.
“Mom?” he echoed.
“I was going to say Daddy, but it sounded kind of kinky in my head, so I switched it up.” With one last smile and wave, she boarded the train. Ridge stayed until the train pulled out of the station and then, reluctantly, walked to his car alone.