Chapter 2 – Leo
Seducing Miss Miller
Leo
“I’M GOING TO tell her I make more money than you, and you better fucking back me up.” I scan the crowd packing my parents’ house, looking for any sign of the dark-haired woman who walked in an hour ago.
“I have lied to your own mother for you.” My best friend, Gavin, holds up two fingers. “Twice.”
I grin at the reminder of our unruly high school years. “And I expect you to lie to her again when she asks if you saw me talking to Miss Miller.”
“Fuck, Leo.” Gavin rakes a hand through his dark hair. “Your mom told you to stay away from her and you were going to throw me under the bus?”
I definitely was. Gavin’s been hard up for female companionship lately.
I thought a little company might improve the sad-dog disposition he’s been sporting, and Maddie’s the only girl our age I knew of who would be in attendance.
I suggested he might want to chat her up.
Did I also withhold the threat my mother made? Maybe.
Then I saw her and decided if anyone got to seduce Miss Miller, it was going to be me.
“Hell yeah, I was.” I smooth a hand down my chest before dragging it over my hair, making sure the blond waves are at least a little under control. “But you missed your chance, so now I’m the one who’ll be under the bus.” I give Gavin a wink and begin backing away. “And maybe under Miss Miller.”
Gavin angles a brow as his eyes drop to my shirt. “You sure you want to shoot your shot wearing a ‘Balls Deep in Christmas’ shirt?”
My feet stall out as my chin tucks so I can stare at the phrase I previously found hilarious. “Shit.”
Looking serious as hell, Gavin asks, “You want to trade?”
Is he fucking kidding?
“No, dick. Yours says ‘Wanna See My Sack?’ It’s fucking worse.”
Slamming my empty punch cup onto the kitchen counter, my eyes snap around the crowd, hoping Maddie’s not already judging my admittedly juvenile sense of humor. “I need to go raid my dad’s closet. Entertain yourself for a while.”
Instead of boldly striding into the great room, where the majority of my parents’ friends—and Maddie—are hanging out, like I was planning before Gavin pointed out my dumbass shirt, I duck into the dining room.
Cutting a path along the edge of the space, I stick close to the walls, trying to move as stealthily as a man my size can.
I’m not as big as Gavin—no one is—but my six-five frame is still bulky enough to grab attention everywhere I go.
And for once, I don’t want it.
Finding the door leading to the deck, I slip out into the night, hustling to the opposite end of the house.
Grabbing the handle of the door I’m targeting, I twist, unsurprised to find it locked.
Luckily, my mom keeps a key hidden. My dad is notorious for accidentally locking her out when she’s in the backyard, spending time in her she-shed.
Digging it out of the giant potted bird of paradise situated in the closest corner, I quickly unlock the knob before sneaking into my parents’ first-floor bedroom.
The space is quiet thanks to its positioning at the back corner of the house, keeping it tucked away from the noise of the party.
The party I would really like to get back to so I can shoot my shot with Maddie.
Unfortunately, it takes a few minutes of rummaging through my dad’s shirts before I find one that will fit me.
My dad and I are the same height, but he’s not nearly as wide as I am, and I don’t want to look like I’m bursting at the seams. Then it takes a few more minutes to find one that won’t make me look like I raided my dad’s closet.
Eventually, I settle on a faded blue option, printed with a logo from some fictional surf shop. It’s not great, but it’s better than what I’ve got on, so I make the switch, pausing to check my reflection in the bathroom mirror before creeping out into the hall.
When I reach the doorway of the great room, it only takes me two seconds to find Maddie.
She’s sitting alone, tucked into a relatively quiet corner.
I lean to the left a little, trying to get a better look at the woman I haven’t seen in years, managing to get an eyeful of dark hair, golden skin, and breakneck curves.
Shit.
I should never have agreed to leave Maddie Miller alone.
To be fair, when my mom was dishing out threats of bodily harm if I went near the Millers’ daughter, it hadn’t yet occurred to me the Maddie Miller walking in tonight would be a grown-up version of the gangly eleven-year-old of my memories.
And holy hell has Maddie been busy growing up.
I resist the urge to check my hair again and instead cup one hand in front of my mouth, blowing out so I can make sure the scent of queso isn’t lingering on my breath.
I may not have gotten as much action as Gavin has over the years —I'm not sure anyone has—but I do okay. Okay enough I shouldn't be nervous about talking to a woman I technically already know. But here I am with sweaty palms, nerves twisting my guts as I make my way to where she sits.
Stopping in front of her, I give what I hope is a charming smile. "Maddie, right?"
For some fucking reason, my voice chooses those two words to forget how to function, and a crack breaks right down the center of her name, making me sound like a fucking teenage boy.
And when her dark eyes meet mine, I don’t just sound like a teenage boy, I feel like one too—stupid, a little terrified, and determined to do the exact opposite of what my parents want.
Because she's fucking gorgeous.
Across the room I could tell Maddie was pretty. But this close? I can see the flecks of gold in her eyes. How smooth her skin is. The thick shine of her hair.
So maybe I'm not entirely a teenage boy. Because as a teenage boy, I would've only noticed her tits.
I'm gonna call that progress.
Maddie gives me a small smile that doesn't really reach her eyes. "Right."
There’s something in her expression—something that almost looks sad—and it draws me closer. I motion to the empty spot beside her on the sofa. "Can I sit?"
Her cheeks turn a little pink as she nods. "Sure."
I settle my big body into the space before she has the chance to change her mind, feeling a little more confident when she doesn't scoot away. "It's been a long time."
"Yeah. It has." Her delicate fingers tangle in her lap, twisting gently as her eyes drop to watch them work. "How have you been?"
I offer up the simplest answer. "I've been good."
Technically, I have been good. But, technically, I'm not super interested in discussing how I've been. I’m fucking boring. "What about you? How are you doing?"
Her body stills, muscles going rigid. "Fine."
That was a lie if I've ever seen one. A lie that gives me a little bit of a clue about why my parents want me to stay away from her.
But I want more than a clue. I want to know whatever she'll tell me.
All the reasons she looks sad and so different from the bright-eyed, smiling girl I remember.
"It doesn't sound like you've been fine. "
Maddie's eyes finally come back to my face. Her shoulders lifting in a small shrug. "It's a long story."
I relax against the cushions, draping one arm across the back of the sofa. "I've got time."
She huffs out a little laugh, eyes rolling to the ceiling. "I'm sure you want to spend your favorite night of the year listening to me complain."
Her words confirm a couple things for me. First, things aren’t going fine. At all. Second, Maddie remembers me at least a little if she knows tonight is my favorite night of the year.
It used to be anyway. The past few haven't been the same. Not since I started seeing certain things through the eyes of a grown man instead of a naive kid.
“Obviously, you underestimate my love of hearing complaints.” I stretch my legs out in front of me, using them as a blockade to deter anyone who might think of loitering a little too close to the quiet corner Maddie staked out.
“And this party is way less fun now that I’m legally allowed to drink the punch. ”
Maddie finally gives me a genuine looking smile. “I’d stay away from the punch if I was you. That stuff could start a house fire.”
The observation has me chuckling. "I think my mom’s primary goal every year is to see how many of their friends she can get on the brink of alcohol poisoning."
Back in the day, I thought the concoction was fucking amazing.
I could get wasted without getting caught since it only took a little bit of sneaking.
But now, the shit isn't worth the hangover that comes with it.
Even in the off-season. I don't love being out of commission the few days it takes to recover.
Maddie's eyes slide over the crowd around us. "It looks like my dad might be the first one to succumb."
I find her father standing in the center of a group of people, talking loudly as he gestures wildly with his hands. "Are you sure? I remember him being pretty much exactly like that."
Maddie offers a little laugh. "That's because you only remember him from these parties when he was drinking your mom’s death punch."
A laugh spills out of me. "Great name. That's what I’m calling it from now on." My eyes settle on the cup in her hand. "Does that mean you're the designated driver?"
Maddie follows my gaze, staring into the cup of bubbling soda.
"I thought they invited me tonight so we could spend some quality time together, but now I'm thinking your assumption is probably a little more accurate.
" Her dark eyes lift to search the crowd again.
"I'm assuming my mom is in the dining room with the rest of the wives, bitching about their husbands. "
Her observation sits between us. It's one I made a few years ago, when I started seeing this party through the eyes of an adult. When I started seeing my parents’ marriage in a whole new light.
Part of me is glad I grew up blissfully unaware, believing my mom and dad’s relationship was the epitome of health and happiness.
I'm not sure how my teenage hormones—and the reactivity they caused—would have handled knowing the truth. Especially since I haven’t handled the truth so well as a grown man.
I pull in a deep breath, blowing it out. "I'm not sure I can blame them. If your dad's anything like mine, he deserves to be bitched about."
Maddie's face snaps my way, her dark brows pinching together. "What makes you say that?" Her tone isn't accusatory. Just curious.
I tip my head, trying to diffuse a little of the harshness I know my words will seem to carry. "I just mean my dad probably isn't the world's greatest husband."
Maddie seems to lean a little closer, her already soft voice dropping even lower. "Why not?"
"He doesn't appreciate my mom. Takes all the shit she does for him for granted. Pretty much expects that she’ll make him dinner every night. Do all his laundry, clean the house, book all his doctors’ appointments… And all he has to do is bring home a paycheck and occasionally mow the grass."
I might look like my dad, but growing up I was always closer to my mom. That's probably why it hit me so fucking hard when I figured out the dynamics of my parents’ marriage. The unfairness and imbalance had me seeing my dad in a whole different light.
When I confronted him about it, he tried to feed me some bullshit about the way he was raised. That almost made it worse. Him trying to push blame onto someone else instead of stepping up and taking action changed everything.
I love him, but I've never been able to look at him the same. If he loved my mom the way he claimed, he wouldn't expect all the shit he does. He wouldn’t let her carry the entire load of their existence. Regardless of how he was raised.
Maddie studies me for a second before her eyes drift to where her dad stands.
"My parents are pretty much the same." She goes back to staring at her hands, entirely focused on the spot where one dark pink fingernail picks at the cuticle of her thumb.
"Growing up, I always thought they had the perfect relationship. "
I wait for her to continue. When she doesn't, I prompt, "And now?"
Slowly, she refocuses on my face. "Now I know that it might not be perfect, but it could be so much worse."
A pit forms in my gut. Hard and sharp and cold as ice. "Do you know how much worse it could be from experience?"
Mattie's chin dips, eyes darting away from me. "I do."
The admission explains so much.
The change in her personality. The sadness in her eyes. The hint of fragility that drew me to her side.
It also explains the familiar need to protect her coursing through my veins.
In all honesty, it’s always been there. Even when we were kids, Maddie was always too sweet. Too kind. Too gentle. It made me stick close when she was around so I could make sure no one fucked with her. That none of my friends acted like the idiots they were.
Unfortunately, more than a couple did, leading me to end those friendships with a fist to their dumbass faces.
The urge to repeat history is strong. But I have no clue whose face I need to punch since Maddie and I drifted apart as we got older. I wouldn’t have the first clue who she might have married.
But I sure as hell want to find out.
One of my parents’ friends amps up the volume of the story he’s telling the group of men about the time he got hit on by ‘a ten’ when he was on a work trip and turned her down.
I know it’s all bullshit since the only way ‘a ten’ would hit on his pudgy, balding ass was with her car.
And it has me gritting my teeth, wondering if my dad has ever spewed similar bullshit trying to sound impressive.
I want to leave. To get the fuck out of this place. But I can’t. My best friend is here somewhere, and the list of questions I’ll have to answer about ducking out early will be never ending.
Plus, I won’t leave Maddie on her own.
Leaning close as the noise of drunk men full of their own idiocy becomes ear splitting, I make a proposition I’m positive is a bad fucking idea. “Would you like to go somewhere a little quieter?”
I half expect her to turn me down. But, without hesitation, Maddie shifts to the edge of the cushion, her soft hand gripping mine tight as she stands. “Yes, please.”