Okay, everything ached, but this trip didn’t come complete with a steaming hot tub.  They were roughing it, after all.

Man, she was so out of shape.

She toed off her hiking boots-which she’d likely never get back on again-peeled off her sport socks, and stuck her feet in the sluggish stream they’d been following. 

Wriggling her toes, she lay back and let the heat from the stone ease into her sore muscles.  

Ahh, nature’s own spa.

“Hey, Mellie Mel.  Move over.  That looks like a great idea.”

One of Belinda’s considerable hips slammed into her and nearly jettisoned her off the rock. 

“Ow!  Bee!  Watch out.  I’m in enough pain.”

“Waa, waa, whine.  I’m here to protect your virtue and stave off a war.  But don’t thank me or anything.”

Raising herself on one elbow, Mel looked down at Belinda.  “What’re you jabbering about?  You know I love you, but sometimes your nonsense gives me a headache.  You’re not making any sense.”

Bee smirked at her, than gestured behind her with a tilt of her head.   “Sure I am.  Our Mr. Darcy, ever so dark and brooding, was staring at you like you were some sort of concubine laying in wait for him. Your son noticed, and it’s plain as day he’s seriously considering trying to take out either Mr. Darcy or his son.  Since James isn’t suicidal, my guess is he goes for Cameron.”

Flopping back down on the rock, Mel said, “You’re making that up.  And stop calling him Mr. Darcy.  His name is Steven Bishop.   I’ve talked to him, and he is nothing like a figment of Jane Austen’s imagination. 

Bee whooped and sat up.  She leaned over Mel, blocking out the sun.  Entirely.  “You’ve talked to him?  When?  Where?  How could I have missed that?  Come on, spill.  Tell Auntie Bee all about it.  All about it, you hear?  No detail is to be considered irrelevant.”

Tenacious as a terrier, Bee hovered right in Mel’s face, and Mel knew trying to skirt the issue would be a pointless exercise.  Bee would get it out of her somehow.  

The sound of tumbling water and the rock’s penetrating heat offered peace, but the thoughts Bee stirred stole it from her.  “We talked last night.  When you and Caleb went for a swim.  The boys got into a bit of a scuffle and we had to pull them apart.  They got sent to their tents, and Steven and I chatted for a bit.  That’s all.”

“That’s all, eh?  Then why has he been looking at you like that all day?  Like he hasn’t eaten in a week and you’re a prime cut of filet mignon wrapped in bacon?  There’s got to be more to it then that.  What did you talk about?”

A loud voice spared her from answering.  “All right, troop.  It’s time to get moving!  Let’s get ready to move out.”

Mel sprang up and searched for her socks and boots, trying to ignore the finger Bee waved at her.  “Don’t think I’m letting this go.  You will answer me later!”

“Yeah, Bee.  Later.  I need to go find James.  I don’t see him anywhere.”

She found him a moment later.  Just inside the tree line, nose to nose with Cameron Bishop.  James, big for his age, and Cameron, small for his age, yet both of them holding an aggressive stance.

Fists on her hips and about to give her son a piece of her mind, Melanie found herself interrupted by a voice over her shoulder.

“Knock it off, you two.  You’ve been at each other since we got here, and I think it’s time you learned to work with each other instead of against each other.  Isn’t that what the point of this whole trip has been, anyway?”

Both boys, and Mel, whipped around to look at him. 

“Forget it!”

“No way!”

“What do you have in mind?”

As soon as the question passed her lips, Mel gulped and wished she’d kept her mouth shut.  Having that intense, brooding, and yeah, okay, Mr. Darcy like gaze pinning her was more than a little alarming. 

“The next leg of this hike requires some teamwork.  I’m suggesting the boys work together.  Which will mean you and I will have to… hook up.  Are you okay with that?”

“Hook up?” Mel squeaked.  “Ah… you mean… um, we’ll just team up like the boys, right?”

Steven raised a brow but didn’t deign to answer. 

“No way.  I’m not doing anything with the King Nerd of Dorkdom!”

Melanie whirled to face her son.   “James Clarence Anderson!”

“Clarence!  Haha!  And you call me a nerd!”

Steven barked, “Cameron!” and both boys fell silent.

“James, I agree with Mr. Bishop.  The two of you are going to have to work together.  The group is moving out, so get a move on.”

“Mo-om!”

“Don’t bother trying to change my mind.  Off you go.  And James, think about Gary while you’re at it.”

James narrowed his eyes at her, but did as she said.  Apparently Cameron knew when he was wasting his time and didn’t try to get around his dad’s orders.

Unfortunately.  Because Mel suddenly found herself alone with the man.  And since he made her feel jumpy and unsure of herself, she’d been trying to steer clear of him since the trip had begun.  However, between being the only two single parents on the excursion, and Belinda constantly trying to push them together, that had turned into something of a challenge.

Oh well.  It looked liked she’d finally have to relax and deal with the fact that he made her jumpy because she found him attractive.  And if he watched half as much as Bee said, maybe he felt the same way about her.

Only one way to find out. 

She fell into step with him.  “How do you know what’s up ahead?” 

He grinned down at her, as if he knew she’d deliberately struck up a benign conversation.  “I thought this trip was a good idea.  Why should these team building and problem solving exercises just be for the corporate world?  Cameron wanted to give it a try, and I agreed, but thought I should get the lay of the land first.  That’s how I know what’s up ahead.  And believe me, not too far ahead, those two are going to have to put aside their jock, geek differences and rely on each others strengths.  Who’s Gary?”

The question threw her.  Likely because she hadn’t really been listening to him.  She’d been cataloguing all she’d learned about him in the last few days, and concluding that it all equaled up to a really great guy.  Even if he did seem kind of brooding sometimes. 

“What?  Oh.  Gary.  He’s a kid that used to live a few houses down from us.  He was born without hair-I forget the name of the disease-and the kids would make fun of him because he was bald.  James always defended him.  Said you shouldn’t pick on other people just because they were different than you.  They ended up being great friends.”

“Your son sounds like a good kid.”

“He is.  Tell me about… oh, no.  Are they going to get hurt?”

They’d come to a part in the stream where the water ran much faster.  And their guide was leading everyone across it!  On a series of rocks. 

“No.  This is the one of the points in the trip where they start honing those team work and problem solving skills.  They’re both smart kids, and they each bring something different to the table.  If they work together, decide to trust each other, they’ll make it across just fine.”

Mel watched the boys, her mind full of the fact that soon it would be her turn to make the trip.  Chewing her lip, she looked up at Steven.

And found his intent gaze trained on her. 

He put his hand out to her.  “Will you trust me?”

She looked at his hand, then turned back to check on the boys.  They were about half way across the oddly placed stepping stones made by the rocks.  Yelling at each other of course, but she caught the undertone of laughter in their voices.  As if a grudging degree of camaraderie had sprung up between them.

Putting her hand in his, she said, “I’ll trust you to help get us across to the other side.”  Then she grinned, letting go of the insecurities that had plagued her since meeting him.  “After that, we’ll see.  You may need to convince me every step of the way.”

Tugging on her hand, he pulled her in close, then whispered in her ear.  “I fairly sure you’re worth the effort.”

“Then let’s get this team building started.”

The End

Learn more about Elle Fredrix at her SHOWCASE page!

Kevin watched her reflection in a mirror and saw the sigh that gusted out of Catherine’s mouth and ruffled her hair as she sat back in her chair, closing her eyes.

It was time to make his move.

Before she became aware of his presence behind her, he cupped the back of her neck, his thumb caressing her just under her left ear.  He felt her pulse leap, saw a smile burst across her face as she turned to look back over her shoulder.  Kevin stepped up beside her and watched as her smile died.

Yanking herself away from his touch, she frowned at him.  “What’re you doing here?”

Kevin just gave her a long-suffering look.  Then, jerking his head, he said, “Come on.  Let’s go.”

Catherine hunched a shoulder and turned her head away.  “Get lost.  I don’t need you to rescue me.”

He glanced at the two empty water bottles sitting before her and pulled a bill out of his wallet to leave on the table.  Then he stood there for a moment, gazing at the top of her head, his mind juggling the usual spank her or kiss her debate.  Under his breath, he said, “Yes, you do.  And this time I’m going to do it right.”

In one way or another, he’d been rescuing her since they were kids, and she’d always resented it.  Whether as a pre-pubescent tomboy, or the swan she’d evolved into, she’d been diving headfirst into catastrophes and he’d been reeling her out.  And though until just recently — he hoped — she’d viewed him as nothing more than a bothersome big brother, he’d never considered her a sister.

Kevin’s problem was that every time he’d tried to tell her how he felt, he’d muck it up, the result being she’d never believed him.

He reached down and started to pull her chair out from the table, the muscles of his arm flexing.

She didn’t surprise him.  True to form, Catherine was stubborn and tried to dig her feet in, but after a brief struggle she must have realized it was pointless.  With a sigh, she let him help her up and followed him out of the restaurant.  They walked for a block without speaking, but he had no problem reading her thoughts.  She had an expressive face, and he’d been translating it for years.

Before long he was unlocking the passenger door of his car.  “Come on.  Get in.”

She pulled away from him, then turned and lifted her head and looked into his eyes, still not saying anything.

Kevin felt his lips twitch.  “What?  Still mad at me?”

She settled her butt back against the side of his car and shook her head, a sad look on her face.  “I’m not mad at you.  I’m mad at Mark.  Mad at myself — or at least disgusted with myself.”  His heart clenched as tears began to roll down her face.  “What’s wrong with me, Kevin?  Why is it so hard for me to find someone who will care about me once in a while, instead of thinking only of himself?  Someone who can remember which night of the week is my night, and which night is the night with the guys.”

Taking a step forward, she settled herself against his body, her arms around his waist, the side of her face resting on his throat.  His chin came down, and using it, he gently rubbed the top of her head while his arms surrounded her in a gesture of comfort and protection.  Their movements were fluid and natural, as if they’d stood like this many times before.  They had.

Catherine mumbled into the bare flesh beneath her mouth, “If you crack a joke, or make fun of me, I swear I’ll bite you.”

Kevin cupped the back of her head, pulled back, and dropped a kiss on her forehead.  “It wouldn’t be the first time, would it?  All right, no jokes, no making fun.  Come on.  Get in the car.  Everything will be okay.  I promise.”

Frowning up at him,  Catherine said,  “I have my own car here.”

Lightly squeezing her head, he said, “Kitty Cat, I told you to get in the car.  Now get in!”

Wrenching herself out of his hands, nearly hissing like the cat he’d just called her, she said, “Don’t call me that!  And how many times have I told you, you are not the boss of me!”

Grinning, he replied, “I’ve lost count.  But I do remember that you were six years old the first time you said it.”

Grumbling, crossing her arms over her chest and staying her ground, she said, “For all the good it’s done me.”

Exasperated, Kevin said, “Fine, I didn’t want to do this here, but you leave me no choice.”  With that, he pushed her back against the car, using the weight of his pelvis to hold her there, letting her feel one facet of his desire, but knowing he had to make her understand the extent of it.  With a deep breath, he said, “You’ve been a part of my life since you were six, and I was eight.  So I can speak with authority and say there is nothing wrong with you, Cat.”  He paused.  “I wanted to drive you to the park near where we lived when we were kids.  I was fourteen years old the first time I told you I wanted to marry you, and that’s where we were.  Since then I’ve told you four times.  And each time, it was in that park.”

He felt her gasp and heard the wobble in her voice as she said, “I told you no jokes.  You’re making fun of me again.”

Kevin leaned his forehead on hers.  “Sweetheart, it’s never been a joke.  But the way I feel about you scares me, so every time I tried to tell you I deliberately made it sound like I was teasing.  But I was serious, even when I was fourteen.  Every time, I was standing there with my heart in my palms, offering it to you.”

Catherine put her hands on his chest and pushed him away, looking up into his face.  “What are you saying?”

He swallowed around his heart, which had taken up lodging in his throat.  “I guess I still haven’t said it, have I?  I love you, Cat.  I want you to be my wife.  And lately I’ve been thinking that, just maybe, you love me too.”

She punched him on the shoulder and then yelled in his face.  “You moron!  Of course I love you.  Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

Laughing, Kevin grabbed her fist, and then pulled her tightly to him.  Lowering his mouth to hers, he said, “I’ve been asking you to marry me since I was fourteen!  What more do you want?”

The End

Learn more about Elle Fredrix at her SHOWCASE page!

Leah Thornton looked at the group of friends and family gathered for her rehearsal dinner and couldn’t control the tears that sprouted. 

Sitting alone at a table covered in fine, white linen, her thoughts began to spin out of control.  The scene before her–a group of people, well fed after a catered meal, dancing and socializing–faded.  The sounds of music, laughter and conversation blurred to form an indistinct background hum.  Almost hypnotized by the flickering candle placed at the center of the table, her gaze turned inward.

She should be the happiest woman in the room – the bride-to-be.  She wasn’t.  She felt confused.  She felt afraid.

Trying to deal with something more than a severe case of bridal jitters had finally taken its toll.  She hadn’t slept the night before, and instead of eating her usual healthy breakfast, she’d downed a tub of Häagen-Dazs ice cream while she sat staring at her engagement photo.  Her and Stephen, laughing and happy.  Heads pressed together, ear to ear. His hair, raven black above the bluest eyes she’d ever seen.  One of her long brown curls dancing across his cheek thanks to a sudden gust of wind, only to be snagged and held by the natural Velcro of his beard.  A rough stubble that gave him that bad-boy look she loved.  The undeniable sparkle of happiness in her hazel eyes.  Their arms around each other, so sure of a joyful future.

Somewhere between then and now, she’d lost that feeling of assurance. 

Now she felt queasy.  Afraid of a future she couldn’t predict.  At a time she should be one hundred percent sure she was making the right choice, she felt more unsure than she’d ever been in her life.  

At twenty-nine years of age she was about to take a leap.  A leap of faith.  The problem?  Leah realized she didn’t put much stock in the institution of marriage.  Oh, it wasn’t that she didn’t believe in marriage.  She did.  She even believed in good marriages.  Hadn’t she’d seen them with her own eyes?  Her parents.  Her grandparents.  Many of their contemporaries.  However, finding lasting marriages amongst her contemporaries could be a little more challenging, and that generated more angst than she could deal with.

Was the deck stacked against her before she even began?  She wanted a marriage that would last a lifetime, but maybe she was living in a fool’s paradise.  In a few years time, would she look back and wish she’d followed a different path? 

Leah loved Stephen, but did she love him enough to ride out the storms they would eventually face?  Did he love her enough? 

She was one of those people that demanded excellence.  Not so much in other people, but in herself.  Taking a course doomed to fail wasn’t her style.

Pouring herself another glass of merlot from the open bottle on the table, she hoped it gave her strength.  Of course, between the ice cream for breakfast, and this, her fourth glass of wine, she doubted she’d end up with strength. 

Her throat tightened, and her chest ached. 

Maybe she should call this whole thing off.  It would be heart breaking, but far less so than a divorce would be.

A hand covered hers where it lay on the tablecloth.  She didn’t need to look to know it belonged to Stephen.  No other hand could convey such love, such confidence in their love.  Confidence she wished she had.

The sound of his voice, and the concern it communicated, wrapped around her like a tight embrace. 

“Leah?”

She blinked, trying to dispel her tears.  She loved this man.  She wanted him.  Needed him.  But…  

“Uh-huh?”

“This is your party.  And you’re the only one not partying.”

“Stephen, I…”

He caught her face in his palms and turned her to him.  “Honey, what is it?  You’ve been acting strange all day.”

How could she tell him?  Her heart–her foolish heart?–yelled marry him!  You love him.  Take the chance and everything will be okay.  And on a purely emotional level, she believed that.  Her feelings–her intuition–told her marrying him was the right thing to do.

Ah, but her rational side.  Her brain.  It sang a different tune, with a chorus so loud, she couldn’t ignore it any longer.  After a day of conflicting emotions, it was time to make her choice.  And then tell him.

Through a veil of tears, Leah looked up at him.  The man she’d agreed to marry.  To bind herself to till death do they part.  Navy blue eyes that never missed a thing watched her from under a hood of dark brows and a forehead wrinkled with worry.

She reached up and cupped her hands over his.  Took a deep breath.  “I’m afraid.”

Stephen’s glance bounced around the room before he crouched down before her.  “Of what?”

Tears began to stream unchecked.  She ignored the voice deep inside, screaming, No!  Don’t do this!  “I don’t think I can go ahead with the wedding.  I don’t want to get divorced.”

With a stunned expression, he stood, then pulled her up into his arms.  “Leah, sweetheart, what are you talking about?  Who said anything about divorce?  Why are you saying anything about divorce?”

“Nobody said anything.”  She gulped.  Her stomach did a summersault and she knew it had nothing to do with what she’d eaten.  “Stephen, I’m afraid that if we get married, one day we’ll end up screaming at each other in divorce court.”

Pulling her tight, he tucked her head under his chin, and then cupped the back of her skull with his palm.  “Why are you even thinking such a thing?”

Leah grabbed the lapels of his charcoal grey suit.  Anchored herself.  She had to make him understand.  “Look around.  How many of our friends are still happily married?  Doesn’t it seem like it’s only the old folks that are still together?”

She felt the movement of his chest as his lungs expanded on a deeply indrawn breath.  “Then we’ll go talk to the old folks and find out what their secret is.”

Banging the sides of her fists against his chest, she said, “I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

Leah stilled.  Was it really that simple?  She doubted it.  If it were, seniors would be getting rich handing out advice to the lovelorn.

She let her gaze wander around the room.  There were her parents, dancing up a storm.  She was too far away to see the look in her father’s brown eyes, but she could imagine their twinkle as he looked down at her mother.  They’d been married for nearly forty years.  They’d had their ups and downs, but they’d survived them with their love for each other intact.  And her grandparents.  Sitting talking to friends at a table not far away, his arm around her shoulders.  More than sixty years, and they were still together.

The more she thought about it, the more she believed the situation had to do with lifestyle and the society of today.  At least to some extent, anyway.  Her parents and grandparents had lived in an era when they were taught to put other people first.  Now it was me first and every man for himself.  And the simple life had reigned a few generations back.  Somewhere along the way, paying for the gas to fill up the SUV you just had to have–not to mention everything else–became more of a focus than hanging onto a spouse.  A couple of today had much more stress to deal with then a couple of a few decades ago.  Trying to keep up with the spiraling cost of living played havoc with the time a family could spend together.

When had the world spun out of control?  And why were couples–families–paying the price?  Could she and Stephen escape the traps and pitfalls they’d surely encounter?

Stephen pulled a chair away from the table, still cluttered with empty dessert plates and coffee cups, sat down, and then pulled her into his lap.  Pointing with his chin, he said, “Look at Michael and Tasha.  They’re happily married.”

Turning in his arms, she scoped out the dance floor. There they were; Tasha’s arms around Michael’s neck, his resting low on her hips.  Barely moving, but attuned to each other on a level that couldn’t be defined. 

Leah lifted her shoulders, and then let them fall in a dejected droop.  “Yes, but this is Tasha’s second marriage.”

“Do you think her and Michael will make it?”

She burrowed into him.  He made her feel so…safe.  Cherished.  But was that enough?  “I think so.  They’re working at it.”

He dropped a kiss on her forehead.  “And what about you?   Will you work at our marriage?  Even if things get tough?”

She jerked her head up and glared at him.  “Of course I will.  You know I always strive for the best.”

With a fat smirk, he said, “Oh, I know it.  Just look at me.  You chose the best in husband material.”

That egotistical remark lightened her despondency a bit.  One of the things she loved most about him was his ability to comfort her. 

Smoothing a finger over his brow, she said, “Yes, I did.”

Maybe she needed to take a moment and ponder on the things she loved about him.  Focus on the positives she had instead of worrying about negatives that may or may not be part of her future. 

Okay–the positives.  What were the things she loved about him?  It wasn’t just his ability to comfort her.  If she needed comfort, he gave it.  It was his thoughtfulness.  His willingness to treat her like a partner.  His sense of humor.  The way he seemed to know when she needed tenderness or when she just wanted to be treated like one of the guys. 

She loved this man.  Why had she begun to question that, and his love for her?  He showed it in so many ways, day after day.  He knew, understood, and cherished each facet of her makeup. 

Leah thought of the song they’d picked for their first dance.  It had taken ages, but they’d both wanted lyrics that meant something to them.  They’d finally settled on a track from the Moulin Rouge soundtrack, called Come What May.  Didn’t that song say it all?  The exact words escaped her–yep, obviously too much wine–but the gist of it was that the world was a much better place because of the love they shared.  And that no matter what happened, the other one would be there.  They’d be at each other’s sides.  Come what may, they would love each other until their dying day. 

She looked across the room again.  At her parents and grandparents.  There they were, still at each other’s sides.  They were somehow living up to their pledge to stick together.

Knuckles tapping on her forehead pulled her out of her thoughts.  “What’s going on in there?”

“I’m thinking of all the reasons why I love you.  And the ways you show me you love me.”

“Good.  You need to keep thinking about that.  Keep remembering.  And think about something else.  You just said it yourself.  You strive for the best.  Why would your marriage be any different?  I don’t think you’re ever going to throw your hands up and say what we have isn’t worth working for anymore.  I can assure you I’m not.”

Leah chewed the inside of her cheek.  “But it can’t be that easy, can it?  If it were, divorce wouldn’t be so common.”

He shrugged.  “I’m not saying it’s easy for everybody.  And besides, let’s just worry about us, not everyone else.”

Sitting up straighter in his lap, Leah drew in a cleansing breath as reason trickled in and doubt ebbed.  Quitting wasn’t her style.  “So what do you suggest?”

For a moment, he gazed at her, obviously deep in thought.  Finally, a sparkle flashed in his jewel blue eyes.  “Okay. I have it.  What do we have in common when it comes to our cars?”

“Huh?  What does that have to do with anything?”

“Just answer the question.”

Shrugging, she answered,  “All right.  Whatever.  We’re obsessive about the maintenance schedules.”

“Why?”

“It’s the only way to keep them running at optimum performance.”  She wrinkled her nose.   ”Are you suggesting we have a maintenance schedule?”

“Seems like a good plan to me.  How about this?  Let’s set specific times where we run a diagnostic on our relationship.  And we promise to work on whatever isn’t up to par.  Would having a plan like that in place ease your fears?”

The other thing she loved about him?  He always took her seriously.  If something scared her, he put aside time to still her fears. 

They were in this together, and he’d be right beside her, doing his best to bring her happiness.  She didn’t expect perfect sailing all the time, but she knew making their relationship work would never be on her shoulders alone.

Leah leaned forward, pressed a butterfly kiss to his lips, and then laid her forehead against his.  “I love you, Stephen.  I always will.”

Tomorrow was her wedding day–and she was going to leap.

The End.

Learn more about Elle Fredrix at her SHOWCASE page!

Maggie halted her silent litany of discontent and looked up. Biting her tongue, she reined in the rude response that sprang to mind, but didn’t even try to control the constant drumming of her fingertips against her desk.  This was her own fault.  She’d taken a chance and hired a web design consultant from a listing in an online directory.  Yes, she knew better.  Yes, she should have checked to confirm the glowing testimonials on his website were legit, but she hadn’t.  She’d taken one look at his work and been sold.  Well, she was paying for her hastiness, wasn’t she? 

Caveat Emptor.  Let the buyer beware.  Hopefully, at the very least, she’d come out of this with a lesson learned.

Relaxing her jaw enough to speak, Maggie stood and reached out her hand.  “Mr. Hanson.  So glad you could make it.”

He shook her hand and winced.  Likely at the sarcasm in her voice, because while she’d been tempted, she hadn’t dug her nails into his hand.  She was far too professional to do such a thing.  His professionalism had been in doubt for the last twenty minutes.

Sitting back down, she pointed to one of the chairs opposite her desk in a silent invitation for him to sit as well.  Then she waited.  Waited for the excuses that were sure to start rolling off his tongue.  Because really, seeing as her life had been chock full of irresponsible men, she knew exactly what to expect.

Instead of sitting, he took off his glasses-yes, he had computer geek written all over him-and rubbed his face with his hand.  The face he’d apparently forgot to shave this morning.  And she didn’t miss the fact his clothes looked as if he may have slept in them.

Yet despite the sloppy appearance, something about his eyes woke something in her.  Something Maggie had long ago decided was a waste of energy, so she’d boxed it up and done her best to forget about it.  For the most part, she managed just fine.

She swallowed a sigh, squashing whatever it was she felt.  This was real life, not a romance novel, and she needed to focus. 

What had she gotten herself into?  She had a self-imposed deadline to get her new site up and running and it looked like she’d have to go back to the beginning and start from scratch again.  

Before she could suggest he leave, the phone clipped to his belt started to sing.  Oh, this just got better.  What kind of grown man had Scooby Dooby Doo, where are you, as a ringtone? And instead of apologizing again, and turning his phone off, he answered it!

Although his voice dropped a few decibels, Maggie had no problem hearing him.  “Sweetheart, I haven’t even been gone an hour.  I told you I’d be back as soon as I could.”

And there it was again. That inexplicable awakening.  Only this time it brought with it a feeling of-what?  Discontent?  Why would she even care that this man-whom she was having a hard time respecting-had a “sweetheart?”

Maggie stood and started walking to the door.  Enough was enough.  The man clearly wasn’t a professional, and regardless of how brilliant his web design may be, there was no way she could work with him.  She prided herself in being reliable and expected the same from the people she worked with.

And besides, he stirred up things better left alone. 

Hand on the door, she turned back to him just in time to see him scrub a hand over his face again.  “Sweetie, I know you’re in pain.  And I promise I’ll be back home as soon as I can.  You know I wouldn’t have left you unless it was absolutely necessary.”

She rolled her eyes.  Oh, brother!   Maggie liked to believe that not all men were insensitive to the needs of others, but this was ridiculous.  What we he, a doormat?   

Wait…what’s he saying now?

“…and I know the pills taste yucky, but do what Grandma says and take it, okay?  Daddy will be home as soon as he can.  I’ll pick up some of your favorite snacks, and we’ll just hang out for the rest of the day and watch Scooby reruns, okay?   I have to go now.  Be a good girl, and listen to your Grandmother.”

He hung up and looked at Maggie.  “I’m sorry.  My daughter broke her leg yesterday.  She’s cranky, she’s whiny, she clingy, and she’s in pain.  Bad combination when you’re eight.  I was up with her all night.”

Suddenly the rumpled clothes, the barely washed, unshaved face disappeared and a concerned, distracted father-something hers had never been-took the place of the bum she’d assumed walked into her office moments ago.  Well, you know what they say about assumptions, she thought to herself.  And hadn’t she just proved them right?

Maggie’s alter ego-the softer, more sentimental Maggie, the one she’d kept under wraps for so long, the Maggie that still had dreams of the kind of man who would be around for her when she needed him-pushed the more pragmatic Maggie aside. 

Walking back toward him, sure her body language conveyed a different message than the one it had been screaming moments ago, she said, “Oh, no.  I’m so sorry.  What happened to her?”

He grinned at her, then put his glasses back on.  And oh, my.  They did nothing to hide the mixture of love, tenderness, anxiety and merriment that shone from his eyes.

“My baby girl is something of a tomboy.  It’s just her and me, so maybe that’s why.  Anyway, she had to try to prove herself to a bunch of boys yesterday.  Or so she says.  Basically, they told her that there was no way a mere girl could outshine them on a skateboard, so she took it upon herself to show them the error of their way.  That this isn’t the dark ages.  Girls can do anything boys can do!”

Maggie made a fist with each hand and thrust them toward him, thumbs in the air.  A grin of her own stretched across her cheeks.  “Yay, girl power.  But it’s not so cool when you get hurt trying to prove a point.”

Recalling times from her own childhood, times when she’d wished her dad was interested enough to cancel whatever he had going on to be with the daughter that sometimes desperately needed him, Maggie asked, “Did she want you to stay with her today?”

Mr. Hanson-Brian-nodded.  “Yeah.  And I would have too, but our meeting was for nine and I didn’t want to just leave a message on your voice mail saying I wasn’t coming.  If we had an established business relationship, I would have pressed upon your compassion and asked to reschedule.  Either way, when we spoke, you indicated a fairly tight deadline, so I didn’t want to just leave you hanging. ”

He gave a little humph of laughter under his breath, and shrugged his shoulders.  “Given the first impression I’ve likely just made, I doubt it matters anyway.  I really am sorry.”  He spread his hands out toward her in a gesture of pure supplication.  “But what else could I do?  I got away this morning as soon as I could with the promise that I’d be back home to in just a few hours, but she’s never been hurt like this before.  She was scared.  I was scared.  I’m fairly sure we’re both still scared.”

Maggie suppressed the snort that threatened to explode.  What could he have done?  He could have walked away from his daughter without a care for her needs.  He could have made it quite clear to her that his job was far more important to him than she was. 

Unwilling, unable, to rob his daughter of her father’s attention, Maggie said, “Listen, why don’t we reschedule.  You go be with your daughter.  She needs you more than I do.”

Frowning, he said, “Are you sure?  What about your deadline?”

Maggie waved his concern away.  “Not meeting that deadline won’t impact anything but my sometimes anal scheduling.  Nobody even knows that this is in the works.  So, why don’t we check our calendars and see when we can meet again?  Do you think in about a week?  If you need more time, please, just tell me.”

Once again, off came the glasses and he scrubbed his face with his hand.  The first time he’d done it, she’d thought it was because of tiredness, now she wondered if it was his own version of a nervous tick.  If he habitually did it when he was uncertain about something.  It was kind of cute, in a geeky sort of way.

“Are you sure?  You’re really okay with this?”

“Absolutely.  I know what it’s like to need your dad around.  You give her whatever time she needs.”

He was already inching toward the door, as if he thought he should vamoose before she had a chance to change her mind.  Which she had absolutely no intention of doing.  On a purely cerebral level, she knew there were good fathers out there.  But since she chose not to get to friendly with family types-why torture yourself with a constant reminder of what you didn’t have?-she rarely got to see one in action.  She wouldn’t hinder him in any way.  

 ”I’m sure.  Listen, I won’t hold you up any longer.  Give me a call later and we’ll work out a time to meet, okay?”

Another smile spawned, this one aimed directly at her.  And while his first smile, when he thought of his daughter, had set off some very girly, very sentimental feelings of one sort, the feelings that spread through her now were of an entirely different sort. 

He stuck out his hand, silently asking her to shake. “Thank you.  From both of us.” 

Maggie gulped as they shook.  Hoo boy!  More girly feelings!

Brian-she didn’t want to stop and think of why he was suddenly Brian instead of Mr. Hanson-leaned over, picked up his laptop case from the floor and headed for the door.  However, before he made it, he stopped and swung around.

“I forgot…”  He opened his case and pulled out a sheet of paper, which he handed to her.  Maggie briefly glanced at his letterhead, and the list of names, numbers and e-mail addresses on it. 

She raised a brow at him.

“It’s a list of references.  They’re on my site, but I didn’t know if you’d checked them or not.  I always like to give a perspective client that list.  Just so you can do your homework.”

Sucking in her cheeks to control the guilty smile begging to escape, she said, “Thank you.  We’ll talk later.”

And then he was gone.

 ***

The following Wednesday, at ten to nine, an IM from Maggie’s receptionist popped up on her screen.  It read, “I’m sending Mr. Hanson in.”

Trying to look cool and poised, Maggie stood and waited.  She dearly hoped the fact that she’d spent far too much time in the last week daydreaming about Brian Hanson showed nowhere on her countenance.  She was excited about seeing him again, and it wasn’t entirely due to the job she was about to hire him to do.  No, there was a whole passel of other reasons.  And it was so unlike her, it was making her a little jittery.

Then there he was, standing in her doorway.

And there it was, like before.  A smile that lit up his face.  Lit up her heart.

“Hi.”  Oh, that was professional, Maggie.

But he came back with a “Hi” of his own, and she relaxed a little.  Until she got a good look at him.  Then she started feeling jittery again.  Wow.  He cleaned up real well.   

He walked toward her, the smile still in place.  “Before we get down to business, I have a request.”

Maggie cleared her throat, hoping to dispel the squeak that had shrouded her voice the last time she spoke.  “Oh?”

Okay, somewhere she’d turned into a monosyllabic teenager. 

“My daughter and I would like to know if you’re busy on Saturday.  We’d like you to come over for dinner.  It’s our way of saying thanks, and apologizing.  At least that’s the official reason.”

He stood at her desk, the two of them face to face.  His gaze slid across her and she was glad she’d taken extra care getting ready this morning.  Then he took off his glasses and ran his hand across his face.  He cleared his throat. 

“Unofficially…”  He didn’t continue that thought, just raised a brow then continued with, “So, will you come?”

Maggie felt like doing cartwheels across her office.

Try and keep me away!

Oh, oh.  Had she said that out loud?

The End 
Learn more about Elle Fredrix at her SHOWCASE page!