Chapter Six Mercer #2
To my surprise, Janet’s voice is smooth, almost a purr now. “Well, the lusty part is still true. It just seems to be reserved for the right woman. By the way, I knew Calder was mine almost immediately. I was equal parts freaked out and turned on.”
“Only part of that is comforting.” I massage the back of my neck. Who knew finding love was so stressful?
“You take things like love seriously. You sound like you’re already falling for both of them, and to a single mom, that’s a big deal. Talk to her about what she wants and needs. Yes, you. Talking. Lots of it,” Calder urges. “I know that probably sounds scary, but—”
Oddly enough, it doesn’t. “I wish I could talk to Madelyn for hours and hours,” I confess. “There’s so much I want to know about her. I have so many questions. No, talking won’t be a problem.”
There’s silence on the other end of the call. “Um. Did I lose you?” I tap the phone.
“You want to talk to someone? For hours and hours? Oh, yes. This is the one. Can you please have the wedding in New York so I don’t have to travel so far with the boys?”
I roll my eyes at Calder’s teasing. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Lemon. Herbs. Butter. Potatoes. Asparagus. One of the cooking magazines at the checkout that promises “Easy Recipes Tonight!”
Damn it. Dessert. And a frozen pot pie for Zack? Maybe he likes that just fine, but what else can I do to show him that I think of him, that I want to make him happy? That he matters as much to me as his mother does?
My son.
No. Don’t let yourself hope.
Well, not yet.
Maybe.
One day.
Damn it.
I abandon the checkout. Back through the aisles, the linoleum of the market floor feeling cold and strange under my tentacles.
What do almost-three-year-olds like to eat? Is there some generic map of childhood preferences by age?
I’m so lost in thought and worrying about when the market closes, that I don’t look where I’m going when I turn the corner and feel my metal shopping cart collide with something else metal.
Another cart.
Pushed by a woman in a t-shirt that pulls tight over her ample breasts, bike shorts that show off just how many delectable curves she has below the waist, and a sleepy bundle wrapped around her while she pushes her car with one hand.
Madelyn.
“Mercer!” she gasps.
“Hello!”
“Mr. Mercer?” Zack lifts his head groggily, and I move forward, pulled like the waves to the shore, arms out.
“Hi, my honorary kraken,” I murmur softly. “Let me take him, you’ve got your hands full.”
“But you have a cart, too—” Madelyn’s protest dies as one of my tentacles wraps around the handle of my mostly empty cart, my eyes still fixed on hers. “Well, that’s handy.”
“Oh, you’ve no idea how handy.” I try not to let my mind wander to all the ways my body can delight hers, how it could wrap every inch of her in my embrace, how it could fill every opening she wants in one breath. I clear my throat. “It’s late for you two, isn’t it?”
“Our sleep schedule is kind of messed up,” Madelyn confesses with a tight grin. “Zack usually naps for a couple of hours in the early afternoon, and today he fell asleep as soon as he had a bath after his swim lesson.
“I’m wearing my whistle,” Zack mumbles into my shoulder, and then snuggles in, one of his hands clutching my shoulder-length hair.
“He’s got quite a grip,” Madelyn warns, her eyes still wide, as if she’s drinking me in.
“An excellent thing for him to have.” I take a peek in her cart and notice that hers holds very similar contents, including two thick steaks.
When she notices me looking, that pretty sunset-pink blush returns.
“I was thinking, I can’t believe I agreed to let you cook the dinner.
You’re my hero! You saved Zack, and I can never, ever repay you.
” The words rush out, thick at the end. Her eyes flutter quickly, not in a flirtatious way, but to hold back tears.
“You should be the guest of honor. When it wasn’t so early, and I wasn’t so flustered—”
“Do I fluster you?” I ask before I can think better of it.
Madelyn’s mouth opens and closes a few times. “I... Well... No, not you. The situation.”
Which situation? My being a kraken? The early morning? Me coming over when they’ve just moved in and aren’t settled?
Me being attracted to her? Can she tell?
“Is the situation what I am?” I ask carefully, suddenly wishing Zack weren’t dozing on my shoulder. I don’t want him to hear things like that, things that make him think about how different I am from his mother—even though a week ago, I was thinking those same things myself.
“No! Oh, God, no. No, I’m just... I’m so out of practice at doing anything but being a mom, juggling all the balls by myself, and trying not to let anything drop. I failed so hard yesterday,” she breathes, her own voice matching my hushed tone as Zack gives a little grunt in his sleep.
“You didn’t fail. Being a mother alone is incredibly hard. I know. I’ve seen it done. In our world beneath the water, it wasn’t easier, but it was less complicated in some ways. Women like you are warriors, guarding great treasures. Immeasurable treasures.”
“Thank you for saying that. It helps more than you know.” There’s a little hesitation, and then she confides, “My husband, that is, my ex-husband, detested my becoming a mother. The more I sacrificed for Zack, the more he hated it. Hated me. Hated my body, and everything that changed... I’m sorry.
” Madelyn stops talking with a wide-eyed look of panic, suddenly rubbing her arms as if the chill of the store is too much for her.
“I told you I was out of practice. I didn’t mean to let all of that out. ”
“I wish you would let out all of that and more. I don’t mind.
I... It’s quite lonely being a solitary man, even when one moves to a bustling town that welcomes my kind with open arms. I can only imagine how lonely it must be when your life partner suddenly leaves. Places so much of a burden on you.”
“Zack is not a burden!” she hisses, a flash of fire in her eyes that should make me recoil.
Instead, all I can think is how gorgeous such flames are when they’re kindled with righteous indignation.
“No, but being saddled with your ex-husband’s idiocy is. You gave him this amazing gift, and he didn’t praise you for it? Fool.” I hope the way my tentacles suddenly thrash doesn’t put her off. I know I’m snarling.
How very beast-like.
Idiot.
Madelyn doesn’t look away. She looks rather captivated.
“We could talk more about that over dinner tomorrow night. A dinner that I would very much like to prepare.”
“Oh, but you should be the guest of—”
“I am incredibly honored that I was able to save your son, and equally honored to be invited into your home. A single mother is not only a hard worker; she is fierce. You must think I’m a good risk to let me visit your cave.
I mean, your home.” I close my eyes briefly, wishing I were smoother at this.
Her smile tells me my slip of the tongue doesn’t matter. “You’re right. I appreciate that you appreciate it.”
“You would find me very appreciative, I promise.” I don’t mean to let the suggestiveness creep into my voice, honestly, but it was suddenly there, and Madelyn tugs nervously on the hem of her shirt, like she needs to shrink or be covered more completely.
Mercer, if you ruin this, I will strangle you, I threaten myself. “Please let me make dinner and buy the food. I’ve never cooked for anyone. Ever.”
Way to convince her, you guppy-brained lump!
“But I have a cookbook, and I’m a fast learner. If I ruin the meal, I will make sure we go out somewhere else. My treat. Or I’ll come back the next night and try again.”
Madelyn nods, laughing quietly.
It’s enough temptation to make me want to burn everything on purpose, just so I can see her again.
“I’m sure you’ll do fine, but I should do something for you,” she protests.
I don’t know what possesses me to say what I do, but my lips are once again moving, as if this woman is my Circe, enchanting me to speak after years of near silence. “But when was the last time anyone did something for you?”
“You saved my son!” she cries, hands flung out in exasperation.
“That’s my job. When is the last time a person did something purely for you, because he wanted to?”
Madelyn seems caught off guard, and her lips move as if she’s trying to find the right words. “Oh. Five years ago, probably? Well, no, I mean, my parents help all the time—”
“I’m sure they want to, but that’s not quite what I meant.”
“I know. I...” She trails off, her eyes stopping at the flowers and vase in my cart. “You didn’t have to do that,” she whispers, a look of disbelief passing over her face.
“That’s correct. I wanted to. I want to catch the fish, learn how to make asparagus and potatoes, read Zack books, and let you work a bit.
I also want to know what to make him and what dessert to buy.
I want there to be a guide to almost-three-year-olds so that I make everything perfect tomorrow night. ”
I also want to possess a rewind button for my life so that I can stop talking long before I did.
Zack shifts on my shoulder, and I bounce him slightly, patting his back, waiting for Madelyn to tell me to get lost after blurting out all of that.
“You’re a natural with him.”
Madelyn’s praise and smile feel like a warm, tropical current.
“Thank you.”
“I should take him back, though. I need to check out, and it’s late.”
“I’ll help you put him in the car,” I volunteer quickly, ashamed of myself for immediately dreading how lonely I’ll be when they leave, even if we’ll see each other tomorrow morning.
“Are you sure? I mean, it’s a big help, but you have your own shopping to do.”
“I just need something for Zack and a dessert.”
“We’re both suckers for grasshopper pie, and I saw they had some in the bakery section,” Madelyn says with a twinkle of hope in her eye.
I would at this moment personally catch her a thousand grasshoppers and learn how to prepare this strange delicacy. I eat raw fish and shellfish. Who am I to judge? “I have never heard of this dessert. Are the insects naturally sweet?”
“Oh! Oh, God, no!” Madelyn speed walks to the bakery section, and I follow her, my eyes glued to her bouncing bottom in the most ungentlemanly way. “It’s mint and chocolate!” She holds up a startlingly green-and-black pie. “I don’t eat bugs! Oh, but if you—”
“Never on purpose,” I chuckle.
The warm, tropical waves are washing over me, warming me from tentacle to top. I’ve never laughed with someone so easily, or felt so good about it being at my expense.
I take the pie from her with one of my tentacles and scope out the rest of the case, where refrigerated pies, cakes, and some more savory pastries are stored. “How about a chicken, broccoli, and cheese quiche?” I ask.
“That sounds like scrambled egg pie—one of Zack’s faves. I’ll pay for it.”
“You will not,” I say firmly.
“But—”
“I want to. Please let me,” I say, backing down the ferocity in my voice.
Madelyn hesitates, then nods. “You shouldn’t, though. You’ll spoil me.”
Yes, that’s what I’m trying to do, I think, but I just keep pushing the cart.