Chapter 19
NINETEEN
The cops went and did cop things while Lucy and Cormac went back to his place. They were silent, Lucy staring out the passenger window as she tried to come to terms with what they’d discovered. She was shaken. Her heart was still thumping a bit too hard, her lungs constricting a bit too much. Her hands trembled, so she clenched them into fists and relished the bite of her nails against her palm.
Once they were upstairs behind locked and alarmed doors, Lucy looked at Cormac. “What now?”
“Elton and I work on surveillance footage. I want to find out where Phillips is hiding. Once we find him, we’ll get answers.”
“And until then?”
“Work on your pitch,” Cormac replied quietly, lifting his hand to brush his fingers over her cheek. “We’ll stay here today, keep our heads down.”
Work was the furthest thing from Lucy’s mind, but sitting in front of her computer and getting lost in new designs might help. If she was going to present in front of the Juniper and Sage board, she needed to get her pitch deck created, her new designs completed, and her presentation rehearsed.
All while trying to not get herself killed.
Easy.
Snorting at the thought, she grabbed her laptop and sat at the dining room table. Cormac took his own laptop and sat on the couch, and the two of them spent the afternoon in companionable silence. When the light faded, Cormac put his laptop aside and moved to the kitchen.
The smell of Cormac’s cooking drew her away from her work. She closed the laptop lid on the design she’d been working on, happy to have made some progress despite her roiling emotions. Work had helped. It was familiar, and it had kept the panic at bay for a few hours. She drifted to the kitchen, where she found him pulling a ridiculously thick cut of steak out of the oven.
“Steak’s got to rest for ten minutes,” he told her, glancing up, “but it’s nearly ready.”
“I think you might be a figment of my imagination,” she replied as he turned back toward the oven and checked on the potatoes that were boiling on the back burner.
He glanced over his shoulder. “Why’s that?”
“This smells too good to be real. Men who look like you don’t also know how to cook and keep a clean house.”
His grin was quick, but she saw it. As she slid onto her usual barstool on the other side of the kitchen island, she watched him move with ease in the kitchen, tasting, seasoning, and preparing side dishes as he went. It was very sexy to watch. Utter competence—that’s what radiated off him.
Which reminded Lucy?—
“Hey, I wanted to ask you something.”
“Yeah?” He grabbed a bunch of fresh broccolini from the fridge and started chopping it, using the knife like he’d worked in a kitchen for decades.
“You think you could teach me to fight?”
The knife paused. Cormac looked up. “What?”
“I mean, like, you know… Self-defense.”
He resumed preparing the vegetable, a slight frown between his eyes. “Sure.” He stopped again and met her gaze. “Are you afraid? You don’t have anything to worry about, Lucy. I’ll keep you safe.”
Pinching her lips, Lucy tried to find the right words to explain what was in her heart. She trusted him implicitly with her safety, but there was something else…
“I want to feel capable,” she finally said. “For the past few years, I’ve always felt like I’m trying to catch up, or I’m an impostor, or I’m one big disaster away from crumbling again. I think learning some self-defense skills might…help.”
It sounded lame. Lucy cringed, but Cormac resumed his work on dinner and nodded. “Okay,” he finally said. “We can start tomorrow.”
And they did. The next morning, Lucy regretted her request when Cormac jumped out of bed at six o’clock and told her to get dressed.
She groaned. It was only the second night they were sleeping in the same bed, but she’d gotten used to waking up with the warmth of his body wrapped around hers. Now he was ripping the blankets off and opening the blinds, proving he had a sadistic streak.
“I take it back,” she complained. “I don’t want to learn to fight. I’d rather sleep.”
“Too late.” He leaned over her and planted a hard kiss on her forehead. “I’ll start the coffee.”
Lucy shuffled across the apartment to the guest room where she’d dropped her suitcase, got dressed in some comfy workout clothes, then downed a mug of coffee and a slice of toast. When they were done, Cormac led her to a door she hadn’t investigated yet across from the guest room.
It was a home gym. A rack of dumbbells lined the back wall, with a bench neatly tucked in against the side. Cormac pulled some mats out to the big open space and stepped onto them, barefoot. He nodded at Lucy to join him.
The mat was cool beneath her bare feet, its blue plasticky covering creaking slightly as she stepped to the center where Cormac stood. He watched her approach, assessing.
The top of her head reached his shoulder. His biceps were bigger than her thighs. There was no way she’d ever be able to defend herself against a man like him. This was a stupid idea.
“First rule,” Cormac said. “If you can run away from a threat, you run.”
Lucy frowned. “You didn’t run from those two guys who attacked us outside Phillips’s stationery store.”
“I had five people to protect who were more vulnerable than I was,” he answered matter-of-factly. “In that situation, running wasn’t an option. But if you find yourself in a situation where you feel threatened, you get out of there.”
Lucy nodded. “Okay.”
“Ready position,” Cormac said, bending his knees slightly. He held his arms up, palms facing Lucy.
She frowned, expecting him to curl his hands into fists. But he kept his palms up and nodded when she copied him. Then he circled around her body, adjusting her stance with a few slight touches. He widened her feet and told her to soften her knees.
“You get in this position, it might be enough for someone to change their mind. People who go after small women are cowards, and they don’t expect you to fight back.”
Lucy nodded. “Okay. And if they come at me, I punch them?”
Cormac shook his head. He wrapped his fingers around Lucy’s wrist and brushed his thumb over the base of her palm. He was warm and broad, his fingers encapsulating her much smaller hand completely. The calluses on his palm rubbed against her skin, rough and warm. Calluses that had pushed her thighs wide last night while Cormac spent some time with his head between her legs.
She blinked, focusing.
“Use this part of your hand, and aim for the nose. Most of the power will come from the rotation of your hips.” He moved his hands to her hips, and warmth curled in Lucy’s abdomen.
She gulped. “Okay.”
“Like this.” Cormac stood beside her and demonstrated. He twisted his hips and extended his hand at the same time in an explosive movement.
Lucy mirrored him.
“The power comes from your hips,” he reminded her, moving behind her. His body dwarfed hers as he placed his feet behind her heels, his hands coming to rest on her hips. They twisted together as Lucy extended her arm, trying to mimic that explosive power Cormac had demonstrated.
“Good,” he said, hands lingering on her hips. Her top had ridden up a little, and Cormac’s fingertips brushed the bare skin of her stomach. Lucy tried to ignore it, tried to focus on the movement she was attempting to learn, but all it took was the slightest touch of his fingers to send her mind into a tailspin.
“Now,” Cormac said, wrapping his arm around Lucy’s chest. “What happens if your attacker has you in a hold like this?”
“Um,” Lucy replied. She blinked rapidly, trying to focus on the task at hand. The mat beneath her feet felt warm from the heat of their bodies, and she’d already begun to sweat. Cormac’s arm was made of steel as it clamped across her chest.
She struggled, trying to get out of his hold. She twisted, but he twisted with her. She clawed at his hand, and he tightened his hold. She tried to wriggle away, but she didn’t make it an inch.
The heat in her core ceded to frustration. She wasn’t turned on now. She just wanted to get away, to prove that she could do it. How?—
“Two things you can do,” he said. “Stomp on my foot, right on the arch, and elbow my solar plexus. The foot will distract your opponent and it might make him loosen his hold. The solar plexus will cause an immediate contraction of his muscles and make it almost impossible to breathe for a second. And a second is all you need. Then you remember rule number one, and you run.”
Lucy listened, nodding.
“Try it.”
She didn’t move. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
He tightened the arm around her chest. His voice was low, lips near her ear. “Lucy. Try it. You won’t hurt me.”
Huffing, Lucy braced herself. She lifted her leg and, as hard as she could, stomped?—
The mat right beside Cormac’s foot. She’d missed him.
“Lucy,” he cajoled. “Stomp on my foot, baby.”
A noise she’d never made before—some kind of animalistic growl—escaped her lips. This time, she stomped on Cormac’s foot without hesitation. He grunted, and she took the opportunity to jab her elbow backward.
Cormac let out a gust of air and immediately loosened his hold. He gasped, going to one knee, and Lucy whirled. His face was red, and he clutched his chest as he struggled to take a breath.
She lunged for him. “Oh my God, Cormac, I’m so sor—” A yelp escaped her as Cormac grabbed her ankles and took the legs out from under her. Suddenly, he was on top of her, pinning both her arms and legs. She struggled against his hold and made that growling noise again.
“What was rule number one, Lucy?” Cormac asked, infuriating in his smugness.
“I’m not going to run away from you ,” she shot back, still trying to yank her arms back. “I was worried I’d actually hurt you.” She aimed to knee him in the groin, but he saw her coming a mile away and used the weight of his leg to pin hers down a little harder.
“You did hurt me,” he said, that stupid smug grin still on his lips. He didn’t look very hurt. “It was very good for a first time.”
Lucy glared. Cormac laughed.
A retort was on the tip of her tongue, but she lost it when Cormac kissed her. His hold on her loosened and her arms came around him, and then they were tearing at each other’s clothes.
When they were naked, Cormac whirled them around so he was on his back, Lucy straddled on top. Heat bloomed low in her stomach, but her anger hadn’t quite abated. His cock was notched against her, hard and hot against her wetness.
“I could punch you in the solar plexus right now,” she informed him.
His lips curled. “Try it, sweetheart.”
Just because he was so smug, she did. He caught her wrist, flipped her onto her back, and entered her. They gasped in unison. The tension that had built over their lesson crested and broke within her, urged on with every rough thrust of Cormac’s hips. It was a storm of emotions, something deep and wild and free. Lucy had never made love like this before. She’d never given and taken so completely, without reservation. It didn’t take long for them to lie panting, sated, and sticky on the mats as they caught their breath.
Her body twitched and pulsed all over, the space between her legs deliciously sore.
“I need a shower,” Lucy noted, not wanting to move.
Cormac hummed in agreement. They peeled themselves off the mats and headed for the shower, and later, before Cormac left to go to work, he pressed a soft kiss to Lucy’s lips.
“Same time tomorrow?” he asked.
She’d regret this in the morning when he opened the blinds and let sunlight assault her eyes, but Lucy was still suffering from post-orgasmic stupidity. “Yes, please.”
By the end of the day, Cormac was frustrated to find out the police had made no headway in locating Aaron Phillips. Both he and Elton had put many hours into tracking the man and come up with nothing. How could a man disappear so easily in a town as small as Stirling?
As he powered down his computer and prepared to go home, Elton came out of his den of computers and leaned on the wall opposite Cormac’s desk. Cormac glanced up and arched his brows in question.
“What I don’t get is why Aaron Phillips would draw attention to himself like this,” Elton said. “If he had this counterfeiting business going, why jeopardize that by going after Lucy? It makes no sense. He blew up his business by getting this Paul Wendell guy to blow up her car.”
Cormac huffed. “I know.” He’d been turning every aspect of this situation over since the explosion had happened. He was missing something. “Phillips said something when he confronted her on Sunday morning. He said he knew what she was up to in her apartment.”
Elton crossed his arms. “He thought she was in on the same game. Thought she was using the wedding stationery as a cover for a counterfeiting operation?”
“Ridiculous assumption. Why would he think that?”
Elton nodded. “But nothing else makes sense. Why go after her unless he thought she had him figured out?”
Cormac’s chair squeaked as he leaned back. He crossed his arms, drumming his fingers on his biceps. “She told me it started when she made inroads in the local wedding business. He didn’t like her showing up at the Wedding Expo last year, and it’s escalated since then.”
“So it goes way back. And he saw the Wedding Expo as a real threat to him or his business. But why?”
It made no sense. Cormac rubbed his forehead and stared at the wood grain of his desk. “I’ll talk to her,” he finally said. “Get to the bottom of it.”
Elton grunted. “Okay. I only have a few hours of work to put into the Hampstead system programming. We’d promised them a commissioning date by Friday this week. You want me to finish that up, or keep hunting for Phillips?”
Marlon would kill Cormac if he came back from his honeymoon and found the business in shambles. Cormac sighed. “Finish it. We’ll complete the Hampstead contract on time. I’ll work on Phillips.”
A nod, and his tech wizard of an employee headed for the door. Cormac wasn’t far behind, stopping at Karin’s desk at the front of the building.
“Any messages?”
“Some lady called and asked if she could speak to you. Didn’t tell me her name, and wouldn’t say what it was about, so I told her she’d have to make an appointment.”
“What was the number?”
“Blocked. She sounded older.”
Odd. “All right. Thanks, Karin.”
“See you tomorrow.” She smiled at him and grabbed her gigantic purse from the drawer where she’d stored it. Her keys jingled, and Cormac waited until she’d locked the office up, made it to her car, and driven away before he drove home himself.
He turned over the conversation with Elton all the way back to his apartment and up the elevator. There had to be a moment where Phillips had switched. Something had happened to make him think Lucy was doing more than selling wedding invitations, and Cormac intended to get to the bottom of it—but as he approached his front door, he heard voices.
Frowning, he unlocked the door and stepped inside to see a crowd of people lounging on his furniture.
His mother ducked her head around the corner and smiled. “Honey! Welcome home! We heard about the fake money.”
“How’d you hear about that?”
“Rachael heard it from her sister-in-law,” Ruby provided. Rachael was Ruby’s friend from high school, and her sister-in-law worked at the police station as a 911 dispatcher and non-official town gossip, which meant the whole of Stirling probably knew everything about the discoveries they’d made the morning before.
“We were worried about Lucy, so we decided to stop by,” his mother explained.
“And to make sure you weren’t keeping her trapped here,” Scarlett called out from the couch. She had Princess Snowball draped over her shoulder, and the cat’s eyes were closed despite the noise of boisterous conversation in the room.
Maybe his cat actually hated men, because Cormac had never seen the feline be so friendly with anyone the way she was with Lucy and now Scarlett. Snowball certainly wasn’t this friendly with him, and he’d spent years plying her with food.
Archer nodded at Cormac and reached over to scratch the cat’s ears. Princess Snowball cracked an eyelid, then reached a paw over to rest it on Archer’s shoulder.
Nope—the cat didn’t hate men. She might just hate Cormac. Fickle creature. Didn’t she know he was the one who fed her?
Lucy stood from the armchair she’d been sitting in and approached, a slight cringe on her features. “Your mom and sister showed up with my parents an hour ago. I hope it’s okay I let them in?”
“It’s fine,” Cormac said, scanning the crowd. Apart from his mother, his sister, Archer, and Scarlett, Cormac saw both of Lucy’s parents, as well as Amelia and Leo. Maggie and Emory were there too, sitting across from Scarlett. Maggie’s golden-blond hair was tied up in a messy bun, her husband’s arm draped over her shoulders. She was deep in conversation with Dolly, while Gus and Emory seemed to be hitting it off. He’d never had so many people in his apartment at one time.
“Everyone else showed up not long after,” Lucy explained, following his gaze. “Your sister called them, apparently. And my mom happened to be in Scarlett’s shop, so Scarlett tagged along. And then she called Amelia and Leo. Leo called Archer, who was at Emory’s house.”
“We brought artichoke dip!” Leo called out, as if that made a difference.
“I tested seventeen different artichoke dip recipes over the past three years, and that one was the best one,” Amelia added, on the same wavelength as Leo about the importance of artichoke dip compared to ambushing someone in their own home. “I can show you my spreadsheet.”
“Babe, he doesn’t want to see your spreadsheet,” Leo said, wrapping an arm around Amelia’s shoulders to tug her closer so he could kiss her temple.
“It’s a really good one. I isolated the ingredients and tested variables like cooking temperature and baking vessel. There’s a pivot table and everything.”
“I believe you,” Leo said fondly.
“I also tested some common substitutions, so I have the data on that as well. Artichoke dip is fascinating, actually.”
“Have I ever told you how much I love you?” Leo said, grinning.
Lucy glanced at Cormac, who was still standing by his front door. “I can ask everyone to go,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry. I know I’m a guest here. It kind of spiraled out of control when your mom showed up.”
Cormac sighed. “It’s fine,” he said, reaching over to tuck a strand of dark hair behind Lucy’s ear. He shot a sideways glance at the unexpected guests and added, “At least they brought artichoke dip.”
Lucy’s answering giggle made everything better. He narrowly held back from wrapping her in his arms and kissing her, remembering that his mother was standing just a few feet away, watching them with avid interest. When Cormac looked up and met her gaze, she brightened.
“Dinner’s nearly ready,” she said. “Rubes, can you and your brother set the table?”
“On it,” Ruby answered, poking her head into the foyer. “Come on. I’m not letting you weasel your way out of this like you used to.”
“I never weaseled my way out of anything,” Cormac answered, offended.
“Yeah, right. We all know who Mom’s favorite is.”
“I love you both equally!” Vicky said from around the corner.
Ruby shook her head at Lucy, mouthing, “ Lie ,” then swept her hands toward the big dining table Cormac had literally never used for eating dinner. There’d never been any point—no one ever came here for dinner. And if someone did, they just ate at the barstools at the kitchen island.
But not everyone would fit at the island, so he moved the stack of papers from work from one end of the table and counted the chairs. He found some placemats buried at the bottom of one of his drawers, and then he and Ruby set the table for everyone. Vicky brought trivets to the table, and then she dropped a beautiful roast beef on the table, along with mashed potatoes, four different roasted vegetables (including Cormac’s favorite, honey-glazed carrots), gravy, and even popovers.
“Wow, Mom,” he said, taking a seat next to Lucy. “This looks incredible.”
“It’s nothing,” Vicky said, then waved for everyone to serve themselves from the various dishes. She put the carving knife in front of Cormac, and he did his best to slice the roast, then got to work piling food onto his plate. Utensils clacked against dishes and conversation flowed.
Lucy told the story of the exploding car to a delighted and horrified audience. Half of them had already heard the story, but it didn’t matter. Then she recreated the fight outside the Stirling Stationery Store with all the appropriate actions and sound effects. She laughed and leaned against him. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were bright. She was still afraid, he knew, but she was brave.
He went back to his food, glad to feel the warmth of Lucy’s leg beside his. The roast was moist and flavorful, the potatoes were creamy, and the honey-glazed carrots were tender and sweet. It was one of the best meals he’d eaten in a long, long time.
It wasn’t until he’d cleared his plate, mopping up the last of his gravy with his popover, that Cormac realized what he was feeling: contentedness.
Surrounded by family, friends, and acquaintances, he ate a home-cooked meal and felt the tension of the day—the week—melt out of him. Life could be better than what it had been, he realized. It could be great.
He’d kept himself apart from people for so many years. Even his family, who he loved dearly, were kept at arm’s length. He managed their safety and loved them as best he could, but he didn’t let himself get wrapped up in the relationships. He protected them, but he didn’t let them in.
But that evening, as he leaned back in his chair and refused his mother’s offer of seconds and thirds, he draped an arm over Lucy’s chair and realized he’d been missing these moments from his life.
Hearing the pride in his mother’s voice when she talked about running the car through the store’s front windows made him want to throttle her for being so reckless—but it also made him laugh. And watching Lucy was even better. Instead of curling in on herself like she had when they’d eaten pizza at Amelia and Leo’s new place, she laughed and spun tales like a born storyteller.
He’d kept himself apart from all these people because he didn’t want to be responsible for their safety. Except for his mother and sister, he’d put a gulf between him and everyone else. Even Marlon, who was his closest friend and business partner, probably didn’t really know the real Cormac.
“No, Cormac’s a teddy bear,” Lucy was saying to Scarlett across the table, who didn’t look convinced.
“A teddy bear who can punch,” the other woman replied, glancing at him.
“Well, sure,” Lucy said, turning to gift him one of her beautiful smiles. “But he only punches people when he’s trying to protect. I bet he’s never actually instigated a fight.”
“That is definitely not true,” Ruby piped in, and everyone laughed. Even Cormac cracked a smile—right before he crumpled a napkin into a ball and launched it at his sister’s head. Ruby gasped and gestured at him. “I rest my case!”
A chuckle even rumbled out of Cormac, then, and he decided that he liked this kind of gathering. Maybe keeping himself apart from people wasn’t the best strategy. He’d thought that all he wanted to do was lock his loved ones behind stone walls and head off to fight dragons for them, but he’d been wrong. Lucy was teaching him that, with her soft strength, her iron will.
Cormac, suddenly, wanted more than his self-imposed isolated position as the family’s protector. He wanted to be part of the fabric of his community. He wanted Lucy there too, smiling and blooming into her strength.
Dolly stood and started clearing plates, and she was soon helped by everyone else. Leo and Amelia were the first to make their excuses to leave, taking the dish that had previously held artichoke dip. It had been scraped clean and proclaimed delicious. Amelia nodded, unsurprised. She’d made a spreadsheet, after all.
Dolly and Gus helped clean up, kissed their daughter, and then said goodbye to Cormac. His own family weren’t far behind. Archer left with Maggie and Emory, and then it was only Scarlett putting her shoes on by the door.
“You coming to bootcamp tomorrow morning?” she asked Lucy. “You’ve been slacking lately.”
“Might I remind you that my car exploded?”
“You can only use that excuse so many times,” Scarlett answered with a laugh.
Lucy gasped in mock outrage. Then she relented. “Cormac’s teaching me self-defense. I’m not being entirely lazy.”
“I’ll allow it,” Scarlett said, then wrapped her arms around Lucy. “Be careful.”
“I will.”
They said goodbye to the other woman, closed the door, and were finally alone. Lucy sighed, wrapped her arms around Cormac’s middle, and nuzzled into his chest. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For everything,” she said simply.
He stroked her hair, keeping her wrapped in his embrace. The house was quiet again, the way it usually was—but it was different. The silence was alive somehow. It was brighter.
He kissed Lucy’s temple.
She looked up at him. “I have to go to the print shop tomorrow to see how my new design looks. Will you come with me?”
“Yes,” he replied.
She smiled, but it looked a little strained.
“You good?” Cormac asked.
“I’m good. That was a lot of socializing, though. I’m exhausted.”
He kissed her temple and forced himself to ask a question: “You want to sleep in your own bed tonight?”
Relief swept through Cormac when Lucy replied, “No. Do you?”
He tightened his hold on her. “Not even a little bit.”