Maggie's Mountain (2 page)

Her body was still stiff, her muscles bunched for flight. If he moved he knew she would run. It took every ounce of his control not to stride up to her and demand her name, but he knew he had to be patient, so he silently reached into his reserves. He stood, his hands resting on the front cooling vents of the bin, and waited for her to decide what she would do.

Vaughn Adkins chose that moment to amble out of the swinging door between them, the fluorescent lights bouncing off his bald head as he carefully balanced a tray of pork chops. He stopped beside the woman, his voice reflecting the grin he sent her.

“Evening, Maggie. We’ve got ice cream on sale today.”

Her eyes were still on Hale when she replied. “Jolene’s already told me to get her favorite.”

Mr. Adkins chuckled, his rotund belly jiggling as he began packing the meat into the bin. “I always keep an extra gallon back for her. Heaven knows what would happen if Ben didn’t come home with some if it’s on the list. Got the tuna salad on sale, too. Know how much you like that.”

Her gaze suddenly cleared, as if she were crashing back into reality. “Uh, thank you, Mr. Adkins. I’ll just go…get some.”

She tore her eyes away from Hale, staring at the floor as she spun around and wheeled her cart out of sight. It took a few seconds for his lungs to cooperate and his heart to slow to a regular beat. Who did Mr. Adkins say she was? Maggie? The name, like the face, was somehow familiar. Determined to know her identity, he walked to the humming man who was carefully stacking food.

“Mr. Adkins.”

His friendly, wrinkled face peered up. “Need help finding something, Hale?”

“No, everything’s where it’s always been, thank goodness.” Knowing it was expected, he smiled. “I was just wondering, who was that woman you were talking to?”

He squinted and swiveled his head around to stare down the aisle, following the path the woman had taken. “Oh, you mean Maggie Brannon? Sweet girl. Sad about her husband and momma.”

A knife of regret sliced into his gut. “Husband?”

“Chris Brannon. He was a state trooper, got shot a couple of years ago when he pulled over the wrong people. Nice fellow, but a bad end.”

So she was a widow. He felt a trickle of guilt at his sudden relief. Absently he asked, “And her mother?”

“Hard working woman, Becca. Some might not agree. Guess certain people like to base their opinions on nasty gossip. Nice that Maggie was able to let her momma rest the last couple years of her life. She died not too long after Chris. Had a massive stroke.” He shook his head in resigned regret. “Poor little Maggie, left all alone in the world. Too young to have so much tragedy.”

The names tangled in his head, the memory determined to stay just out of reach. “How long has she lived here?”

“Maggie Brannon? All her life. Oh, wait, you would have known her by her maiden name. Cooper, Maggie Mae Cooper. I’m sure you remember her momma and daddy, Rebecca and Quinn Cooper. Shame, too, about her daddy killing himself; let’s see, that had to have been seventeen years ago.”

Disbelief jolted him with a cold blade of ice. That woman, that very attractive woman, was the Cooper girl? The daughter of the alcoholic who had slandered the Warricks for years? And her mother, this Becca, was the same Rebecca Cooper who had tried to wheedle her way into his father’s bed. Hale remembered the devastation of his mother’s tears when his father had threatened to do exactly what Rebecca was suggesting and go to her instead of staying in what he’d called his frigid marriage bed.

Maggie Mae had stayed at the edges of the town’s periphery in the years he’d lived here, so he only had flashes of memories of her. Out of fashion hand-me-down clothes, long hair pulled back in a nondescript style, bare faced, and sometimes bare footed, but always clean. Always painfully clean. His parents had preached that the Coopers were trash, but somehow the tidiness of the scrawny girl had made him feel sorry for her. Not so sorry that he could disregard what Maggie’s parents had tried to do, though. Not so sorry that he didn’t chastise himself for his immediate attraction, either.

Mr. Adkins was eyeing him with speculation, as if waiting for Hale to say something negative. The whole town knew how the Warricks felt about the Coopers; obviously he was poised to defend Maggie. Instead of commenting, Hale thanked Mr. Adkins and moved on, stalking the aisles and tossing in boxes and bags of products indiscriminately.

Maggie Cooper—no, Brannon, he amended, was obviously doing well for herself. He knew the way she’d lived better than most. Quinn Cooper had left them in debt; her mother had been forced to work two jobs just to keep them afloat. Looked at from her side, he supposed he could understand why Rebecca would have pushed herself on a rich man. Still, her persistence when she’d been turned away had been pathetic and downright hurtful.

Maggie wasn’t her mother. She wasn’t even her father. It couldn’t have been easy to be their daughter. Logically he understood that. But logic had nothing to do with emotions—his mother’s, the town’s, even Maggie’s—and it definitely had nothing to do with his physical reaction. He couldn’t want her. Not with their families’ past.

She was pretty, he’d give her that much; pretty enough to stir his libido despite his better instincts. He’d toyed with women who were mouth wateringly sexy. He knew attraction when he felt it. He could accept it, absorb it, and ignore it. He’d learned how to control himself years ago, especially when the woman in question stood in sacred territory. He’d keep his distance from Maggie, go about his life, and ignore his mindless desire. When he happened to see her—and he knew he would in a town this size—he’d remind himself of the complications that meant he couldn’t have her. That would cool the waters well enough. There was no need for anger, or accusations, or out of hand lust. He had no desire to be his father. He could—no, he
would
keep himself under control

He caught a glimpse of her as she rounded the aisle he was stepping into, and all his good intentions sizzled and evaporated like water in a hot skillet.

“Damn it.” He tightened his jaw and reached down to adjust his jeans.

Chapter Two

Maggie felt like a fool. Big F with an exclamation point at the end. She’d known Hale was in the store, had tried not to look for him, had hoped he would check out before she happened across him, had sworn if she stumbled into him she would just smile politely and turn away. Still she’d been completely unprepared for the way she had reacted when she’d seen him.

He’d changed. Not in a bad way, either. It seemed almost unfair that time appeared to adore him. His lean body had bulked slightly, carving the man out of the boy with a skillful hand. His face had been an artistic study of sharp angles and strong bones, and when mixed with his dark hair and eyes made him look like a rugged avenging angel. He was far too good looking for her peace of mind.

Her brain had gone to complete mush, her palms had begun to sweat, her heart had practically jumped out of her chest and her nerves had jittered with awareness. He was what people called a man’s man, all hard body, searching eyes, and crooked smile. It was easy to see that he still didn’t have a problem bending women to his will. Even she, a woman who had only ever been with her husband, wasn’t immune. Her body had instinctively recognized Hale as a man built to please and had reacted accordingly. God only knew what would have happened if Mr. Adkins hadn’t stepped out and gotten her attention.

Heat crept up her neck to stain her cheeks as images of that first meeting crept into her mind. He must think she was a blubbering idiot, someone with as much sense as a gnat. Worse, she’d probably confirmed every statement about her ignorance that his father had ever made.

She looked up and stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. “And why exactly do you care, Maggie Mae? He’s a Warrick, you’re a Cooper. Might as well be the Hatfields and McCoys.”

Sighing in disgust, she switched the bathroom light off and made her way to the large wrought iron bed. Sitting down, she let her head fall forward as she contemplated her dilemma. No, there wasn’t a dilemma. There wasn’t even a small issue. Hale Warrick was back in town for good, and so what. She had a life, a very good life, thank you very much, and he was entangled with his own family and his family’s business. Their paths didn’t ever need to cross, unless by circumstance. They had spent years doing just that when they’d been kids and it had worked fine. Not that she’d go out of her way to hide anymore. She wasn’t the same scared girl she had been back then. She’d lost her fear of the all powerful Warrick name years ago when she had made the deliberate choice to step past Royce’s threats and build a small empire of her own. One not nearly so large, or so influential, or so well known as Warrick Holdings. But it was her little piece of the world and nothing Royce could do or say had been able to take it away from her.

“I can ignore him. I
will
ignore him.” Even to her own ears her voice sounded faint.

She kicked off her blue slippers and with determined movements slid underneath the warm wedding ring quilt, curling onto her side as she stared at the empty space of the bed. There had been times over the past few years when she’d desperately missed Chris. Tonight was one of them.

Being able to share fears and joys, secret jokes, quiet moments, heavy burdens, had been a small slice of heaven for her. When she’d lost that life partner she had never thought about searching for another. She had loved her husband and had done her best to be a good wife to him. But she had known, deep down in her heart, that what she’d felt for Chris wasn’t the same passionate devotion and adoration that she’d seen other couples show—no matter how much she had wanted it to be. If Chris had known he had never mentioned it. She liked to think that he had been happy, content in his choice for a wife, and that he had felt loved until the very end.

The guilt of knowing she hadn’t ever given her husband her whole heart kept her from trying to find love again. She was afraid that she simply didn’t have it in her to give. Not after what she’d seen her mother go through. Not after she’d found out the truth about why the Coopers had been branded the town pariahs for so many years. If only Hale knew….

But going down that road would leave her empty and drained and she had a business to run. Resolutely, she shut her eyes and tried to think about anything else but Hale Warrick and the secrets between their families. It was a long time before she was able to drift into a fitful sleep.

****

Hale sat on the veranda, nursing a glass of whiskey as he stared out into the cool evening. He’d missed this, hadn’t realized it until he’d driven over the rise and seen the brick Colonial standing like a stoic sentry in the large clearing. Home, with the winding roads, fresh mountain air, and crisp breezes. The trees were holding their vibrant colors, like they always did in the fall, the leaves a wild blend of reds, yellows, golds, and browns. Tourists would come to snap pictures, stopping along their way over to Gatlinburg and the Great Smokey Mountain National Park. Exum’s economy would get a small boost, nowhere near what Pigeon Forge would rake in, but some.

He wondered if Maggie’s husband had ever taken her to the tourist trap town.

Hale grimaced and took another sip of whiskey. Where the hell had that thought come from? A tired mind and the relaxing effects of alcohol, he decided, and sent the rocking chair he was sitting in moving. He wouldn’t think about her. He wouldn’t think about her hair, which couldn’t seem to decide what color it should be. He wasn’t going to think about her lovely, classical features. He most definitely wasn’t going to think about her tempting body. And, under no circumstance, was he going to even consider her heart-stopping eyes.

Nope, he wasn’t going to because the sad fact was he was already thinking about all of that, and had been since he’d seen her in the store. Frustration rose and fell in his chest and he shrugged it away philosophically. He repeated the same mantra he’d been fixated on for hours now. He was attracted to her, there was no denying that. It was what he did about it that mattered.

“Hale.”

He looked up and nodded when he saw his brother standing there. “Trent. Thought you’d gone to bed.”

The other man sighed and sank down on the porch steps, stretching his long legs out in front him. “I couldn’t sleep when freedom was so close.”

Hale chuckled as he watched his little brother lean back and stare up at the stars. Strange how two people who’d come from the same gene pool could have such different feelings about family obligations. Trent would do his duty, as he always had, but he was much more the schmoozer and diplomat than Hale. For Trent, being cooped up in an office and sitting behind a desk for more than an hour was nerve wracking. For Hale, it was being trapped at a business party that made him edgy. The one thing that they both agreed on was the desire to be outdoors, to enjoy the physical activity that came with manual labor and hard work.

“You going over to check out the stables this week?” Trent aimed his question at the sky.

“Yes, I thought I would. Mother says Dulan is doing a miraculous job with one of the fillies.”

“Hestia is an amazing horse. We could definitely win some ribbons from her. In a year or two we might want to consider selling her breeding services.”

Hale cocked an eyebrow and stared at the back of Trent’s dark hair. “I didn’t know we were expanding the stables.”

“Just a thought I’d had. It could be lucrative, or it could be a complete failure. Either way, it could be worth a try. We do fairly well with purchasing, training, and selling, so breeding seemed the natural next step.”

“It’s a good idea, Trent. It makes sense. Is this something you’d like to handle?”

His brother nodded. “I would, yeah. We’d need another pasture at least, and the stables would have to be renovated. Probably ought to think about refurbishing the farmhouse, too, so clients can stay overnight if they wanted. A breeding stable would have to be built, of course. Only problem is I’d like to add more space.”