My Way Back to You (Harlequin Large Print Super Romance) (4 page)

She’d kept up that nonsense for years.

But losing Zeke affected her differently. She’d quickly sold their beautiful home on Kentucky Lake, and rather than moving back to Taylor’s Grove, she’d bought the old Morris farmhouse outside of town. She would talk about Zeke only if someone brought up his name—and then reluctantly. She never brought him into the conversation on her own.

She had seemed angry, which Rosemary knew was one of the stages of grief. She’d read that on the internet, too. But it certainly had gone on for a long time now. Too long. Maggie didn’t date. Didn’t do much of anything except work and spend time with Russ.

What would she do now that he was gone?

Eli’s breathing stopped again, and Rosemary began her ritualistic counting. She wasn’t sure why she counted. He was never impressed with the numbers she spouted the next morning. Tomorrow, over coffee, she would report to him that he’d held his breath for almost thirty-five seconds. He’d shrug and say, “So which do you want—snoring or silence? Because you complain either way.”

Her retort would be that she wanted him healthy.

What would she do without him? The previous question echoed in her mind. Maggie was young—could easily start over. But she herself was sixty-one and had been with the same man for forty years. She had no desire to start over. She could never love another man the way she did Eli. Could never love again, period. The thought made her shudder.

Was it her imagination that Eli’s color was off?

She slipped her phone from the bedside table and turned on the flashlight app, shining it down on his face—the man could sleep through a rock concert once he got horizontal. He looked so peaceful and relaxed but definitely a little grayish in pallor.

One eye winked open and glared at her. “What are you doing, Rosie? Checking me for fleas?”

“You’ve been holding your breath.”

“And you’re getting back at me by shining a light into my eyes? You trying to make me think a train is coming through our bedroom?”

“I wanted to check your color. You look kind of gray.”

“You’d be gray, too, if you had to live with you. Now turn off the damn searchlight.”

She turned it off and placed the phone back on the table, but not because he told her to do it. She was finished looking... Definitely gray. They would resume this conversation in the morning. She settled under the covers again.

“Rosie.” Eli’s tender whisper shimmied through the darkness. “Slide back over here, and I’ll make
you
hold
your
breath.”

She laughed and did as he asked, snuggling into the crook of his arm. He kissed her sweetly a few times then with more purpose, and her tiredness got tangled among the sheets as their excitement rose and the pace of their movements accelerated.

They didn’t take long. After forty years, there was no experimentation and nothing new. The new had been sorted through years ago. What worked was kept and had now become part of the routine. What didn’t work had been lost with no remorse. What remained was the best of the best, carefully chosen, deeply intimate and immensely satisfying.

Their sighs mingled as they held each other in the afterglow, and soon the familiar rumble that would become Eli’s snore began to take form.

Rosemary changed her tactic and began counting the breaths rather than the non-breaths. It made more sense to pay attention to what gave life to this man she adored.

She’d only gotten to seventeen when drowsiness caused her to lose interest. With his body spooning her back and his arm across her front, she felt warm and complete.

Life without Eli?

The thought induced another shiver.

She snuggled closer against him.

CHAPTER FOUR

“W
E
COULD
’
VE
WALKED
faster than this.” Maggie blew out a breath and cut her eyes toward Jeff in the passenger seat. “It’s only seven miles.”

He pressed his lips together as if he intended to give that some serious consideration, but then he shook his head. “I’m not about to walk seven miles in this heat unless I have a golf bag over my shoulder.”

Maggie snorted. “Some things never change.”

As on the previous afternoon, heavy traffic lumbered its way up Lake Shore Drive. Though she’d added the grumble for effect, Maggie didn’t really mind the slow ride. The morning sunshine and the excitement of being in the city—not to mention the company of the man in the car with her—had her blood pumping. She’d allowed herself plenty of time to relax this morning, eaten a hearty breakfast to chase away any growls her stomach might consider making and had chosen a pair of shorts she could wear with sneakers.

Yeah, she’d prepared herself for moving day and the ten thousand trips they would make back and forth to the car with Russ’s things.

What she hadn’t prepared for was the slam to her stomach brought on by Jeff’s smile when she’d stepped off the elevator. Or the delicious tingle his presence gave her in the close quarters of her car. She should find some comfort, she supposed, knowing a part of what they’d had still remained—a kind of validity that what they’d felt for each other years ago had been real. And maybe he felt it, too. The smile that had greeted her this morning had seemed genuine.

“Spike Grainger was in the bar last night,” Jeff said.

The comment came out of nowhere as the light turned green and traffic started moving at a faster but steady pace.

“Who?”

“Spike Grainger. His son Matt is one of Russ’s teammates. Anyway, he was pumping me about you.”

Oh, Lord!
“You were discussing me with someone in the bar? Why?” She flipped the air conditioner to high and directed the vent toward her heated face.

“I didn’t bring you up. He did. I think he’s interested. But you need to be warned that he’s only been divorced for three weeks and his ex is on her honeymoon.”

Her ex-husband was trying to fix her up with somebody? Maggie bristled, not exactly sure why she found this extremely irritating—except that she’d shared some things with him last night that had left her feeling vulnerable. She certainly hoped she hadn’t come across as desperate. “Thank you, Mr. Matchmaker, but I don’t need your help finding a man.”

“I wasn’t helping you find a man,” Jeff bit back. “I’m helping you
not
find a man. The guy’s needy and on the prowl. I suspect he’s going to put the moves on you today, and I wanted you to be aware.”

“I told you about Zeke, so now you think I’m some pushover where men are concerned?”

“I didn’t say that, Mags.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“I think Zeke was a bastard.”

“Let’s drop the Zeke subject, okay? I’m good. Things are good.” Her hands were aching again from gripping the steering wheel too tightly, just like yesterday. She let go with one and stretched her fingers as the silence continued for a couple of minutes.

“You dating anyone?” he asked.

When she’d first found out Jeff was coming to this orientation, Maggie vowed she wouldn’t get into all the subterfuge some exes seem to find necessary. She pretended to focus on the traffic as her mind contemplated whether or not this was something worth lying about to him. She decided it wasn’t. “No. I haven’t been out with anyone since...you know.” She stopped herself short of the conversation topic she’d just banned. “Oh, guys have asked,” she added. “I’ve just been too busy.”

“How is business, by the way?”

“Fabulous.” Not having to exaggerate about the hair salon she owned in Paducah brought a smug smile to her face. “I have ten stylists and four nail technicians now.”

Jeff’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Wow, impressive.”

She’d always assumed Russ kept his dad as informed about life in Kentucky as he kept her about life in California, but maybe she’d assumed too much. “My best friend Emmy’s my assistant manager, so everything runs smoothly even when I’m not there. Time with Russ has been my top priority the past few years.”

“He’s a great kid, isn’t he?”

She glanced away from the traffic long enough to share a proud, tender smile. “The best.”

The car went quiet again, and then Jeff gave a cough that sounded forced. “Did you...um...” He gazed at Lake Michigan on their right. “Did you date much after we split up?”

“Not for years,” she admitted. It was the first open reference either of them had made to their divorce, and her heart squeezed in response. “And only a couple of guys before I met...Zeke.”
Grrr!
How many times was he going to come into the conversation? “What’s with all the dating talk this morning?” The question flashed in her brain, but she didn’t mean to verbalize it. Still, there it was. And there was the university, as well. She moved into the left-hand turn lane and miraculously caught the green turn signal.

“I never questioned Russ too much about you...or your personal life. Didn’t want him to think I was prying.”

Maggie nodded as she pulled into the parking lot and headed for a spot.

“But, now we’re together,” Jeff continued, “I realize how much I don’t know about your life, so I’m trying to catch up on those lost years. I figured the best place to start was the beginning.”

The beginning.

Dread dropped into her stomach.

“Those first few years after we split up may have been a beginning for you.” She cut the engine as her fingers found the door handle. “To me, they felt more like the end.”

* * *

T
HE
WEIGHT
OF
Maggie’s last words stayed with Jeff all day. And while he tried to imagine that weight being carried on his shoulders, it sure as hell felt more like it was hanging somewhere inside his chest.

Years
,
she’d said. Not weeks or months. It was as if that one word had been engraved on a stone tablet and hung on an iron stake driven into his heart.

As soon as she’d uttered her comment, she’d leaped from the car and joined the other parents arriving for the tour. She’d also volunteered to join a different tour group than the one he was in—on purpose, he suspected. It was as if she didn’t want to be anywhere in his vicinity. And it wasn’t lost on him that Spike Grainger volunteered for the same group Mags had, taking up the last spot.

Everyone came back together for lunch, and Matt and Spike joined them at their table. As Jeff predicted, Spike grabbed the chair next to Mags. All through lunch, he laughed too loud and too long at her jokes, flirted outrageously and made a complete ass of himself.

Mags was friendly with the big brute, but she didn’t return his flirtation. In fact, Jeff thought he could almost read a hint of sympathy in her manner, but he wasn’t sure.

Time was when he would’ve been sure. He’d been intimately familiar with her every mood and every nuance of every mood. If she bit her bottom lip while they were making love, she wanted to play, but if she chewed her bottom lip while they were making love, she wanted him to take the lead and explore. And explore he always did.

The memory brought on an erection that came and went throughout the afternoon, springing to life at Maggie’s throaty laugh, lessening when he-man and his son came to help after getting Matt “all moved in in no time flat.”

They’d finally left two minutes ago, and their leaving had brought relative quiet to the room—although the hallway was still crawling with boisterous teenage boys.

Thank God he’s gone.
Jeff tightened the last nut on the bunk/futon combo unit Russ and his roommate Blake had decided on. The kid from Des Moines seemed nice enough, but Russ’s loud-mouth ways would likely take some getting used to for the quiet kid. Of course, that went both ways. His son, an only child his entire life, would have to get used to sharing a room with someone. Jeff smiled at the thought.

“You look happy we’re almost done.” Mags shot him a grin as she unrolled a circular rug in the center of the room.

“I am that,” Jeff agreed. “I was also thinking about the learning curve our son will have to go through beginning tonight.”

“Yeah.” Her chuckle had a wicked edge that brought him to life again despite his fatigue. “He thinks it’s going to be like summer camp. He doesn’t realize how hard it can be to live with someone day in, day out...” She glanced away as her voice trailed off. “The room looks good, though.” She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand as she made a slow, tight circle, inspecting the afternoon’s progress. “Never thought we could make it look like this considering how it was when we started.”

Her tired eyes met his, and for a moment he thought she was going to say something else, but her gaze darted to the top bunk. “But that ghastly sleeping bag is a travesty when there were all those cute sheet sets to choose from.”

“This is easy to make up. No fuss. And just as easy to wash.” Jeff captured her gaze again and returned her tired smile. “And he couldn’t care less if his bedding is cute.”

Just then, Russ bounded into the room. “Look what I just scored out of the garbage!” He held up a leg lamp of
The Christmas Story
variety, except in miniature, tabletop size. “Gort says it works and everything.”

“Ick.” Maggie’s mouth creased sharply downward.

“Ah, c’mon, Mom.” Russ rubbed his hand delicately down the leg. “It’s a conversation piece.”

“Like conversation is something you need more of?”

“She has a point.” Jeff eyed the strange object that had his son captivated. “If it works, why would he throw it away?”

Russ shrugged. “Girlfriend gave it to him. Then she broke up with him yesterday, so he says he doesn’t want the reminder.” He set it on the desk and plugged it in. A flip of the switch and the fishnet-covered leg glowed dimly. “
Fra-gee-lee!
That is rich!” A couple of posters he hadn’t decided on yet lay rolled up on the desk. He grabbed them and tossed them onto the top shelf of the closet. “Oh, yeah. Hey, Matt was down at the garbage, too, so I asked if he and Spike would like to have pizza with us tonight. Hope that’s okay. I figured we owed them for all their help. They’re meeting us at the hotel.”

Jeff grimaced, but neither Maggie nor Russ noticed his displeasure. They both seemed fine with the idea of more time with Thor and Company.

“Besides, Mom.” Russ swung around and caught Maggie playfully around the neck—standing a full head taller than she—and gave her a soft nuggie
.
“Matt says his dad thinks you’re hot.”

“Damn it.” Jeff swore under his breath.

“I am hot...and sweaty.” Maggie’s swift poke at the ticklish spot in Russ’s ribs efficiently broke his hold. She stepped away and wrinkled her nose. “He’s pretty basic.”

Jeff wasn’t sure what that meant, but it didn’t sound like a compliment so it gave him a reason to chuckle.

“Go easy on him, Mom.” A movement in the hallway caught Russ’s attention. “Hey, Steeger,” he yelled, and bolted that direction.

Mags watched him and then turned to Jeff, eyes wide with wonder. “I’ve never seen him so hyper. It’s like he’s five again.”

“Basic?” he asked.

“Tries too hard...easy to see through.”

“Ah.” Jeff tossed his wrench back into the tool bag Spike had provided. “So you prefer the guy who plays it cool.”

She gathered up the stack of towels she’d folded and started toward the bathroom. “I prefer no guy at all.”

The heaviness in his chest became apparent again. “Mags—” He wasn’t sure what he was going to say—only knew he needed to say something, but Russ bounded back into the room.

“Can we go eat now? I’m going to gnaw on that leg lamp if I don’t get some food pretty soon.”

Maggie handed over her armload to him. “I can’t go eat like this.” She pointed at her top, which sported a dirty tread mark from where she’d moved an armload of sneakers. “And neither can you, Russ. Go shower. Now. You can make it a quick one.” She picked up one of the boxes that needed to go back to the car.

“I’ll get that, Mags. It’s too heavy for you.”

Jeff reached for it, but she held on and rocked back on her heels. “I’ve got it. Russ can get the big one after he showers, and you can bring the other small one. I’ll have the car by the front door in ten minutes. And don’t forget Spike’s tools.” She disappeared into the crowded hallway.

“Spike has her thinking all the rest of us are wusses,” Russ grumbled as he headed for the bathroom.

“
Humph.
I was thinking the same thing,” Jeff answered, though too low for his son to hear. The bathroom door closed and he finished what was on his tongue. “I wonder which ranks lower in her estimation—a wuss or a basic?”

* * *

D
ID
C
HICAGO
HAVE
a downtown salon that stayed open late? Maggie glanced down Rush Street. With all the testosterone she’d been exposed to over the past three hours, her upper lip probably could stand a good waxing.

“So I see the puck headed right toward us.” Spike was in the middle of one of his many tales of heroic deeds. “And I throw myself in front of her and catch the damn thing in the back, right below my shoulder blade. Luckily, with all the layers I had on, it didn’t break anything. But I ended up with a bruise this big.” He held his hands out and cupped them to form a circle the size of a salad plate. “The doc said if I was an average-size guy, like you—” he gave a curt nod in Jeff’s direction as they walked “—it might’ve paralyzed me...or worse, if it had hit my temple.”

A hit to the mouth might not have done too much damage.
Maggie kept her thought to herself.

“Oh, hell, Grainger.” Jeff pointed his arm in silent direction to make the turn onto Walton. “If the damn puck had hit you in the head, it would’ve ricocheted off.” The tightness in his jaw told Maggie he’d said it only half in jest, but Spike guffawed.