5. Maggie
5
MAGGIE
The impact never happens. Instead, my sexy mountain man is wrapping his arms around me. When I open my eyes, he pulls me closer, nestling me against his hard body. His gaze drops to my lips, and I lick mine, anticipating his next move.
Instead of kissing me like I’d hoped, he frowns. “Careful there, pixie.” He lowers me to my feet but keeps an arm around my waist as if he knows my legs are shaky not from the adrenaline of the almost-fall but from the almost-kiss.
I brush my bangs from my eyes. “I was trying to gather the ingredients for cookies. Snow days require them.”
The corner of his mouth tips up, almost like he wants to smile but he doesn’t. Instead, he moves toward the open cabinet. “Tell me what you need.”
You and me in front of the fireplace with no clothes between us. I shake my head, trying to clear the strange thought. It’s not that I haven’t ever wanted to have sex. It’s just that I’ve never wanted a man like this before, not with a burning need that’s settled between my thighs and is making me ache.
Finally, he arches an eyebrow and I realize I’ve been fantasizing about his huge, strong body.
A blush creeps up my neck as I rattle off a list of ingredients, trying to distract myself from the things I want him to do to my body. Something tells me that with a body like his, he probably knows exactly how to keep a woman warm during a snowstorm.
He quickly retrieves the items I list, and he doesn’t even have to stretch. He must be over six feet tall and it’s all lean muscle.
“What was it you said you did again?” I ask when he places the five-pound bag of flour on the kitchen island. With just one chair, I wouldn’t have expected him to have the things I need for baking.
“I work at the lumbermill,” he answers as if he understands that I was clearly not in the best frame of mind when I arrived at his place.
“So, you’re a lumberjack.” I take a dry measuring cup from the island drawer. My grandmother would have loved a day like today, trapped inside with me and my grandpa. A lump rises in my throat at the thought.
He grimaces at the word lumberjack. “You never did tell me what you do.”
I hesitate. People treat you differently once they know you come from money, and I don’t want that from Crew. “I’m in the family business.”
He snorts, crossing his arms over his chest. The simple motion pulls that gray t-shirt even tighter across those very broad shoulders and hard body. “Is that code for mafia?”
I do my best Godfather impression. “I’ll make you a cookie you can’t refuse.”
He chuckles and a giddy warmth fills me. I don’t know what it is about him that leaves me feeling like a silly schoolgirl but whatever it is, I like it. Why couldn’t I have been engaged to someone like Crew?
“About how long will the snowstorm last?” I ask as the wind howls again and the lights flicker.
“A few days. Usually takes a week before I can safely get the truck down the mountain again,” he explains.
His words should probably trouble me, but they don’t. I was supposed to be on my honeymoon for the next two weeks which means all my work at the office is covered and my friends are taking turns checking in with my grandfather. I’ll be home again before anyone needs me.
“Do you want help with that?” He gestures toward the bowl where I’m working on mixing together the dry ingredients.
I give him instructions, knowing the steps for my grandmother’s famous chewy cookie recipe by heart.
He pauses when I mention the secret ingredient that makes the cookies taste extra decadent. “Cream cheese. That’s Ma’s recipe. It makes the cookies—”
“Chewy in the center but crispy on the edges,” I finish with a grin.
He nods as he cracks two eggs. I watch his long, calloused fingers move with practiced ease.
Being here with him as the wind whistles outside and the lights flicker makes it feel like my problems are a million miles away. There’s a peaceful coziness that has me wishing I could step away from my real life and into this fantasy land.
I know that when I go back, I’ll need to find a rich husband. Sebastian Thomas isn’t the only rich guy in need of a wife. I just have to find someone else to marry for his money. Maybe if I’m lucky he’ll be someone kind. Someone like Crew.
He adds all the wet ingredients to a mixing bowl then looks up to frown at me. “Something wrong?”
I realize I’ve been staring at him again and blurt out, “Why is there only one chair here? You have everything you need to cook gourmet meals and desserts but not the furniture to share it with someone.”
Pain or maybe loneliness flickers across his face. “I’m a grouchy bastard who doesn’t particularly enjoy company.”
“You enjoy my company,” I counter quickly. As soon as I say it, I feel a blush start up my neck. What is it about this man that makes me spit out the first thought that pops into my head?
“I’ve answered your question,” he says as he puts down the spoon he used for stirring. “Now answer one of mine. Why the hell isn’t your groom here, begging on his knees for a second chance with you?”
Crew
It’s the question that’s been haunting me all morning. Maggie isn’t flighty like my ex. She’s beautiful and strong and smart. Her mind is always working and she’s constantly examining everything around her. I can’t imagine the kind of idiot that wouldn’t be showing up to plead for another chance with her.
Her face goes blank, and she shrugs a shoulder.
It’s a simple gesture that tells me a thousand little things. She doesn’t like to let anyone see her in pain. The realization has me wanting to pull her against my chest and comfort her. It’s a foreign feeling after so long on my own.
“I’d have chased you,” I mutter. I did chase my ex down. It took a fourteen-hour plane ride. When I arrived in our honeymoon suite, I discovered she was in bed with a rich billionaire. It makes me wonder if Maggie has someone else she’s waiting on. Except she doesn’t strike me as the kind of woman who has another man in the wings.
Maggie finishes with the mixer then sighs. “It was an arranged marriage.”
Something about her confession eases the tension in my shoulders. I hated the idea that she could be here in my cabin, thinking about and longing for another man. I want to be the only man on her mind, day and night.
I nudge the bowl of wet ingredients toward her and wait. It seems like there’s more she wants to say but she’s trying to decide if she should.
She won’t look at me as she mixes the two together. Finally, she lets out a soft sigh. “An arranged marriage probably sounds silly to most people. But it worked for my parents. They were the happiest two people I’ve ever known. So in love with each other.”
The wistful note in her voice has me thinking of my own parents. Somehow, they’ve managed to make nearly forty years of marriage look like a wonderful adventure.
She grabs the baking sheet and I pass her a spoon for dishing out the cookies. She makes quick work, filling the sheet with rounded teaspoonfuls. “They died when I was just six. But I swear I can still feel all the love between them surrounding me.”
My heart aches for a little girl growing up without her parents. “I’m sorry.”
She shakes her head, a soft smile playing on her lips. “I was luckier than most kids. I had my grandparents and they loved me just as fiercely as my parents had. Grandma is gone now, but I still have my grandfather.”
She moves to the stove, carrying the baking sheet. She slips it into the oven. When she bends over, I have a fantasy of licking her center while those beautiful globes are in my face.
To distract myself from the overwhelming urge to give her the tongue-lashing of her lifetime, I grab the baking utensils and rinse them in the sink.
But when I turn around, she’s back on the countertop again to put away the flour. She’s shifting her weight from foot to foot, wiggling her ass. Her t-shirt has ridden high and somehow those panties aren’t covering as much over her ass as they were only seconds ago.
“You do want to be naughty,” I say as the realization settles over me. If my woman wants to play games, I’m more than happy to oblige.