Читать книгу The Coltons: Fisher, Ryder & Quinn - Justine Davis, Caridad Piñeiro - Страница 23

An open bottle of wine sat on the kitchen counter and he poured them each a small glass before making them a quick dinner.

Macy had protested, saying she wasn’t hungry, but he had insisted. She needed to keep her strength up so that they would be ready to figure out what T.J. was doing and where he might have taken Sara, since both of them now had no doubt that he knew where the girl was.

Between the trip to the Amarillo Rose and the stop at the ranch, it was already dusk. T.J. had likely been gone for hours and what made the most sense was for them to refuel, get some rest and prepare to find T.J. the next day.

He also insisted on Macy helping him, hoping that the simple chores would help take her mind off things. As they worked together in the kitchen, he intentionally kept the talk away from T.J., wanting Macy to relax. If she felt more at ease, it might prompt some idea of where T.J. might have hidden Sara.

While Macy chopped onions and red peppers for the omelets, Fisher took out the eggs and found some bread to toast.

“There’s only six eggs,” he said, glancing down at the plastic egg tray from the refrigerator.

“There’s only two of us,” Macy replied with surprise.

“A man’s got to get his protein,” he said with a smile and rummaged through her fridge until he found a ham steak. Taking it out, he walked with it to the island counter where she was working and laid it before her.

“If the veggies are ready—”

“They are,” she said and handed him the cutting board with the chopped peppers and onions. She grabbed another so she could cut up the ham.

“I’ll get them cooking up,” he said and little by little, with the two of them working side by side, the omelet and toast took shape.

Within less than half an hour, they were seated at the table, eating a delicious omelet. Silent as they finished the simple meal and sipped the last of the wine in the bottle. After, they cleared the table and cleaned the dishes together at the sink.

By the time they had finished, Macy was obviously more in control. More relaxed and truthfully, so was he. Being beside her…

It made him imagine what it would be like to have a family of his own. To do everyday things together like they had tonight. Simple things which somehow brought a peace to his heart that he hadn’t experienced in some time.

She walked him to the door, but then they both stood there, awkward. Uncertain. Lingering at the door, heads hanging downward. He wondered if she was as reluctant as he about all that had happened that day. About leaving her, although he was hesitant to admit that.

“Fisher,” she said, her voice rising in question although she didn’t pick up her head.

He bent a little, trying to see her face, but couldn’t in the dim light of the bulb at the front door. He placed his thumb and forefinger beneath her chin and gently tipped it upward so that he could see her face.

“Macy?”

She kept her eyes downcast as she said, “I don’t want to be alone tonight. Would you stay?”

Stay. With her?

It tightened his gut to imagine being with her. Lying beside her and yet…

She was vulnerable and he was…decidedly too puzzled about what she made him feel. Regardless of all that, as she finally tipped her eyes up shyly and the need there slammed into him, he realized he couldn’t deny her request.

“I’ll stay.”

As they walked back into her home, he finally took the time to appreciate her house’s simplicity. No fripperies or excessive feminine touches. He wondered if she had kept this home simple and feminine-free for Tim and T.J. If it was the kind of house she wanted or one she had settled for because of the men in her life.

Was this the kind of house they would have shared if things had been different or if she would have taken the time to stamp their home with her unique personality.

As she opened the door to her bedroom, he finally saw traces of her.

He knew little about design, so the best he could do was call it feminine. Lacey things adorned the rich mahogany furniture in the room. Floral curtains were at the two windows and a bedspread with a similar pattern of roses covered a queen-sized bed. To the far right of the bed sat a big soft chair and ottoman in a floral chintz pattern. A romance novel sat on the ottoman. The cover was up with the open pages facing the ottoman, marking the spot where she had stopped reading.

Macy paused in the middle of the room and gestured to a door at the other end. “The bathroom’s in there in case you need to…you know.”

He didn’t need to do anything, but decided to give her a moment to collect herself. With a courteous nod, he went to the bathroom and shut the door behind him.

The decor of the bathroom was even more feminine. Lace decorated the one window and the light rose-colored towels were adorned with beige lace. A painted wrought-iron stand by the bathtub was fanciful as was another by the window which held an assortment of African violets blooming in shades of purple and pink.

He smiled at the flowers, which added so much life to the space, and walked over to touch the velvety surface of one bloom. Soft and lush. Like Macy’s skin.

Wrong, wrong, wrong, he reminded himself. He needed to be in control if he was going to survive the night.

He walked to the pedestal sink, turned on the cold water and splashed his face with it over and over again until he had restored control.

Drying his face and hands with one of the very feminine towels, he then folded it neatly and laid it on the rack to dry.

When he walked back into her bedroom, her door was closed and the room was dimly lit by one small lamp on a nightstand by the bed. Macy was on top of the covers, fully clothed, her back turned toward the bathroom.

He wrung his hands nervously, then wiped them up and down on his jeans before taking a stutter step toward the bed.

She turned at the sound he made, leaned back on one hand as he approached. Her brown-eyed gaze looked him up and down, hesitant but hungry as he stopped at the edge of the bed.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“I don’t want to be alone tonight. I haven’t been alone in this house since…”

“Tim died?”

Shaking her head vehemently, she said, “I bought this house and everything in it a couple of years after Tim died. T.J. and I…we needed a change. There were just too many sad memories at the old place.”

Relief washed over him then. Relief that he wouldn’t be lying in another man’s bed. Beside another man’s memories.

He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled off his boots. Tossed them aside and they landed with a thud on the polished hard wood floor.

Facing her, he copied her pose, leaning back on one hand as he considered her. “It must have been hard for you.”

She lay down on her back and nodded. “I didn’t want to believe it at first—that Tim was really going to die. Since we found out that he…”

She shuddered and closed her eyes before shifting to grab the crocheted throw at the foot of the bed. She pulled it up around her, as if she was cold.

It tugged at him with the vulnerability it exposed and he shifted quickly, moving to her side and embracing her. Bringing her to rest beside him as he stroked his hand up and down her side, trying to soothe her.

“I know I said I was sorry at his funeral, but—”

She slipped her hand over his mouth. “Can we talk about something else?”

He frowned, confused until she said, “Could we talk about you? Why you chose the Army?”

He wanted to say “Because of you” but bit the words back. He had already been considering the Army before what had happened with her. What had happened with her had only cemented the decision he had already been about to make.

“My dad did a great job of giving Jericho and me stability after Mom left and I needed that after high school. Community college just wasn’t doing it for me. I needed more.”

“And the Army gave you that?” She cradled his cheek and stroked her thumb across the roughness of his afternoon beard.

He nodded, but it seemed to not be enough for her.

“Did you ever miss Esperanza while you were gone?”

He should have lied. It would have made things that much easier, but he was a man of honor and couldn’t lie to her.

“I missed home more than I thought I would.”

Macy told herself not to read anything into his words. “Jericho and your dad miss you a lot. They worry about you. So do a lot of people in town—you’re our hero.”

He smiled tightly, clearly uncomfortable with the praise. “I’m just doing my job.”

“A job that could get you killed.” She shifted her hand down to rest on the hard muscles of his chest. Beneath her palm his heart beat strongly. Steadily, much like the man beside her.

He covered her hand with his, his palm rough on the back of hers. The thin white line of a scar marred one knuckle and another larger one was close to his wrist. The hand of a warrior.

“Almost more than anything, I want you to be safe and to be happy,” she said, finally admitting to what had been in her heart for far too long.

“Almost more? Can I guess that what you want even more is to see T.J. safe and happy,” he questioned, tenderly rubbing his hand back and forth against hers.

“Definitely.”

He slipped his hand from hers and slid it into the short waves of her hair, softly cupping her head. “And what about you?”

“Me?” she asked, slightly befuddled until she met his brilliant green-eyed gaze and his meaning was clear. “What do I want?” she asked, just to be sure.

“Yes, what do you want for yourself?” he said, leaving no room for doubt about the answer he expected from her.

What did she want that was only for herself? she wondered, but then the answer came too swiftly to be denied any longer.

“I want you.”