Chapter 10 #2
But he had no choice as Susan propelled him through the kitchen and out to the backyard, where several Maverick ladies, a gaggle of children of various ages, and Jeremy, Harper Franconi’s younger brother, gawked at him as if he were Bigfoot.
The estrogen on that deck enveloped him like a cloud.
The two boys, Jorge and Noah, splashed in the pool, while their mothers, Ari and Rosie, sat at the table, watching over them.
A huge playpen had been set up on the deck—though it looked more like a corral for puppies—with innumerable babies crawling or toddling around.
As Owen, Lyssa’s little boy, bonked his head against the side of the playpen, it was obvious that without the corral, he would been over the edge of the deck before anybody could grab him.
Isabella, Rosie’s baby girl, clung to the railing, holding herself up, and Penelope, Ari’s daughter, went wherever Isabella did.
Behind him, Susan whispered, glee in her voice, “They’ll all be taking their first steps any day now.”
Jeremy, the very big brother at twenty-one years old, gamboled on the lawn with Paige and Evan Collins’s twin toddlers. He was a wonderful big kid himself, and Troy didn’t think Jeremy had ever been happier than when he had toddlers and babies to play with.
Susan dragged over a chair for Troy. “Would you like some lemonade?” Then she winked. “Or, if you’re going to stay for a while, you might like a margarita.”
With this much estrogen around him, he needed to keep his wits. “Lemonade would be great, thank you.”
After he’d taken a sip, she asked with a smile, “You were very mysterious about what you wanted to talk about. Tell us, Troy, how can we help?”
He wanted to say there was no we about it. He wanted only Susan. This felt like showing his underwear to the entire Maverick clan. Before he knew it, all the guys would know too.
But he couldn’t wimp out now. “I know you’ve become friends with Flo Killian.”
“She’s a lovely woman,” Susan enthused. “She came over for coffee the other day, and I so enjoyed getting to know her better.” Then, before Troy could even ask for advice, Susan launched into a litany of glowing comments about Flo.
“She came from such humble beginnings. Flo supported herself and Michaela as a seamstress back in Modesto. She could work at home, you see. Though she worked for a dry cleaner, that was never enough, and she had to hustle to find clients.” She leaned forward and tapped Troy’s hand.
He was aware that the other women around the table listened as avidly as he did.
“Some of the women she did alterations for at the dry cleaners wanted her to make clothing designed just for them, choosing fabrics and patterns, and Flo was so good at picking out what would enhance their features.” She squeezed Troy’s hand.
“But, oh my gosh, the one who was best at matching a pattern and fabric to a woman’s figure was Michaela.
Even when she was just a child. She even brought in business,” Susan said with a smile that spread across her face.
“From her school friends and their mothers. She and Flo went to thrift stores and found the most amazing things they could revamp and resell. They made an incredible team.”
Troy realized he’d heard only part of the story from Michaela on Friday. There was so much more to admire.
Lyssa leaned forward. “Did you see the outfits they were wearing at the gallery?”
Troy only had time to nod before Harper added, “Flo designed those dresses herself.”
Ari added, “And she’s going to make kids’ clothes for us.” She turned a fond gaze on the playpen where her daughter was smearing chocolate on her dress. “Although at the rate they’re growing and the amount of dirt they get into,” Ari said dryly, “I’ll need a new outfit for every day of the month.”
All the ladies laughed.
Susan set down her margarita after a sip. “But Flo doesn’t need to work anymore. Michaela takes care of them both now. Flo sews for her own enjoyment.”
Paige winked. “And for our pleasure.”
He knew Michaela was an incredible woman, and so was her mother.
But Susan fed him more tidbits that revealed what an amazing, generous, caring woman Michaela truly was.
She’d mentioned that her mother was a seamstress and that they’d gone to rummage sales for things they could turn into marvelous pieces of clothing, but this was so much more.
Even as a young girl, Michaela had been an industrious worker.
It made him all the more eager to give her the best cruise and picnic of her life.
Which meant he couldn’t wait out the Maverick ladies.
They were entrenched in the gorgeous afternoon and the fun of watching their children.
Though all the Maverick and Harrington ladies were welcome to drop by, Tasha, Daniel Spencer’s girlfriend, was working on a project with a deadline, Saskia had flown with Clay to some undisclosed city where a street mural would soon pop up to the amazement of the art world, Cammie and Gabby were all the way down in the south Monterey Bay area, and Ava…
Well, Ava never took a day off. He was glad his sisters weren’t available, or he’d never hear the end of it.
But the rest of the ladies wanted in on the fun, even if it meant taking a day off work. Or maybe because it was a day off.
There was nothing for it but to get to the point, even if he had to do it in front of them all. He cleared his throat. “I came to ask for some help, Susan.”
She clapped her hands. Susan was always enthusiastic. “What can I do for you?”
Damn. This was going to be embarrassing with the audience.
But he had a plan, and nothing, not even all the lovely Maverick ladies bearing witness, could deter him.
“Michaela is matching me with a yacht. We’re going on a cruise tomorrow to check it out.
For all her hard work, I thought I’d bring a picnic including her favorite drinks, food, and dessert. But I have no idea what those are.”
A warm and twinkling look grew in Susan’s eyes. “Do I smell romance in the air?”
He could have lied and said this was just a business deal, but he didn’t want to belittle his intentions with a denial. “I’m trying.”
Susan gave another excited clap, smiling broadly. “But it sounds as if you’ve caught a reluctant one if you’re asking for help, is that right?”
The ladies were all leaning forward, waiting with the proverbial bated breath for his next words. “Yes,” he admitted. “She’s a bit reluctant.”
The twinkle in Susan’s eyes grew to an outright sparkle. “Has that ever happened to you before? Someone turning you down, I mean.”
If he hadn’t had a will of iron, he would have blushed. “No. It hasn’t.”
She laughed, and the ladies giggled with her. “A little hard work in a romance helps build character.”
It probably would. If it didn’t kill him first. “Will you help me? I thought you could call Flo.”
Susan clasped her hands, completely delighted.
“I’ll call her right now.” She grabbed her phone off the table.
“I’ll go inside. I won’t be able to hear her over all the laughter and fun these children are having.
” Her statement was punctuated by another splash in the pool and squeals from the toddlers.
When she was gone, he was left with all the ladies. And dammit, he felt a flush creeping up his neck.
Rosie set her glass on the table. “When I was pregnant with Isabella, I was dying for some Brie, slightly warmed and topped with red pepper jelly.”
Troy couldn’t help asking, “That’s what you wanted instead of ice cream?”
Rosie laughed. “Oh, I wanted it, but you can’t eat Brie when you’re pregnant.”
Troy didn’t ask why, afraid to hear the answer and learn too much about pregnant women. Despite all the babies in the area—or maybe because of them—he wasn’t ready for any pregnancy details.
Then Rosie said, “But the minute I was able to eat Brie, my adorable husband rushed out to get it for me.”
He’d always known Gideon was a good guy, but hearing how he coddled his wife and saw to her after-baby cravings was… precious.
That gave him a brilliant idea. Leaning forward, elbows on his knees, he asked, “So why don’t you all tell me your favorite things.”
Kelsey Collins laughed and quickly covered her mouth. Then, as if her favorite things were sinful, she dropped her hand to say almost in a whisper, “I adore those Swedish meatballs from IKEA. I’ve been known to gorge myself on them.”
“Egg rolls with sweet-and-sour sauce.” Charlie Ballard still had that newlywed glow about her. Since she was a famous sculptor with a well-known name, she’d decided to keep it rather than change to Montgomery when she married Sebastian.
Lyssa Spencer’s eyes seemed to glitter. “I craved chocolate fondue. With marshmallows and graham crackers, like s’mores.” She sat back in her chair with an enchanting giggle. “But Cal ate more of it than I did.”
Cal Danniger and Lyssa, though they had little Owen together, would be getting married in a few short weeks.
Harper gasped. “Oh my God, cheese fondue. With those little pieces of French bread.” She slapped playfully at Lyssa. “Now you’ve made me crave it.”
He didn’t know how he would get a chocolate or cheese fondue set up. But the Brie with red pepper jelly, egg rolls, Swedish meatballs? All definitely doable.
He’d been expecting things like caviar or white truffles or foie gras or Kobe beef. But their favorites were more like comfort food. “What else, ladies?”
Ari raised her eyebrows, getting everyone’s attention. “You’re all going to think I’m crazy. But I love a grilled cheese.”
The entire table burst into laughter.
Paige nodded, smiling. “I want pizza. With everything on it except anchovies. There’s a place only a couple of miles from the house that makes pizza to die for.”
Troy laughed then. “You’re all making my mouth water.”
But what would Michaela’s favorite things be?
Susan Spencer opened the kitchen door and stepped out onto the deck. With a beaming smile, she proclaimed, “I have the perfect menu for you.”
He only hoped it wasn’t something he’d need to ask Fernsby’s help to prepare.
Oh my goodness . Flo wanted to jump off the couch, turn on some music, and spin like she was in Dirty Dancing , another favorite romantic movie, even if it was an oldie.
Troy Harrington wanted to wine and dine her beautiful daughter. She’d heard about him and all the other Mavericks and Harringtons from Susan Spencer. Troy seemed perfect for Michaela. He’d been so attentive at the gallery, as if there’d been no other woman there but her.
And what kind of man would ask his pseudo-mom—Susan—for advice about a special picnic made up of a woman’s favorite foods?
Only a man who desperately wanted to impress.
Only someone very special.
Exactly the kind of man Michaela deserved.
They always said the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach. Flo hoped she’d given Troy the way to her daughter’s heart. Even if it was through her stomach.
Then her phone rang. And it wasn’t Susan. Or Michaela.
Flo’s heart fluttered as she answered. “Hello, Walter. I’m so glad you called.”