The Summer He Came Home

Chapter 3



Maggie-Grace O’Rourke drained the last of her coffee and rinsed her cup in the sink before quickly drying it and putting it away. Her counter space was limited, and she liked to keep it free of clutter. She was a great believer in the saying Less Is More, though truthfully, when you didn’t have a whole lot, it sure was easy to live by.

Besides, a dishwasher wasn’t in the budget, and the one that had come with the house had never worked. She looked at it in disgust. It was there for looks only.

She glanced out the window above the sink and felt her spirits lift as sunlight crept inside. Honeysuckle climbed the trellis along the fence in her small backyard, and a tiny hummingbird flitted about, its wings a blur of speed as it sipped the precious nectar.

Maggie slid the window open and inhaled the subtle scent that the yellow blooms emitted. It was still early, barely past eight in the morning, and the forecast called for a warmer than average day. She’d have loved nothing more than to kick back in the small garden and work on her children’s book, but time was her enemy these days. Her need to be creative, to draw and write, would have to wait.

There was always something. Like the need to earn a living and put food on the table.

It was Friday, and she had two clients slated. Luckily she had help. School was done for the summer, and Michael’s extra hands would knock off at least an hour of her time.

She slid the window back into place and locked it. The house wasn’t air-conditioned, and if she didn’t make sure they were closed and blinds drawn, it would heat up like an oven in no time.

“Michael, let’s go. If we get done early, I’ll take you for ice cream.” She smiled to herself when the pounding started. Michael flew at her from down the hall, his feet hitting the worn wood floors like a herd of buffalo had been let loose.

“Ice cream! Sweet!”

“Did you comb your hair?” Her eyebrow arched as she studied her son. He was dressed in shorts and a wrinkled T-shirt. His feet were bare, though he had one sandal in his hand. Lord knows where the other one had gone to.

“Uh…” He shook his head. “Yep.”

Maggie crossed over to him. “Really?” She fingered a stray curl, the one that always hung down his forehead. The one that she loved.

“I did.” He was indignant. “It’s not my fault my head looks like I stuck my finger in a socket.” He squared his shoulders. “Can’t we cut it? Brett Lawson got a buzz cut the last day of school, and it’s awesome. He doesn’t have to comb his hair for the whole entire summer.”

Maggie shook her head. Michael’s hair was the bane of his existence and one of her greatest pleasures. A compromise might be in the works. She rumpled the mess of it. “Teeth?”

“Yep.” A smile tugged the corners of his mouth. “Anything else, Captain?”

“Did you brush and floss?”

He hesitated and bit his lip, his eyes sliding to just beyond her. “I brushed and made sure I got my back teeth really good, but…um…”

She gave him a quick hug and smiled wryly. “We don’t have time now. You’ll have to floss before bed.” Maggie tousled his hair. “Your other sandal would be a good idea though.”

Michael whirled around. “I think I left it in the bathroom.”

“Hurry up.”

She watched him disappear into the bathroom, and a familiar tug of emotion unraveled inside her. He was everything to her. Everything. She would clean ten houses a day if that’s what it took to keep him fed, warm, and safe. When her life was at its darkest, he was the miracle that had gotten her through.

Maggie quickly packed a small cooler with sandwiches, drinks, and snacks for the two of them. She didn’t own a vehicle—couldn’t afford one and hadn’t had one since leaving Savannah—so she kept things compact and easy to carry.

She and Michael either walked or took the bus everywhere they needed to go and were lucky that in a town as small as Crystal Lake, there was public transportation other than expensive cabs.

However, today was a treat. She had a ride—the large SUV parked in her small driveway needed to be returned.

She grabbed the cooler. “Come on, Michael. We’ve got Mrs. Landon today, and then Mrs. Black’s.” Ellie Landon was a widow, and her house wasn’t much bigger than Maggie’s. Lauren’s, however, was much larger and took a lot longer to clean.

She grabbed the keys off the counter and studied them for a second. The fob was as impressive as the vehicle—a sterling-silver-and-sleek-black design. It had been a while since she slid behind the wheel of such a powerful machine.

“Do you think Cain will be there?” Michael hopped on one leg as he tried to snap his sandal strap closed.

“I hope not,” she murmured to herself.

The last thing I need is a complication. I just got rid of one.

She turned the fob over in the palm of her hand and glanced toward her son. She’d overheard Cain talking to his mother the night before. Complication. Her cheeks burned at the thought, righteous indignation pulsing through her.

She shouldn’t care. She wasn’t in the market for a man. Especially one like Cain Black. He was enigmatic, charming, and way too easy on the eyes, with his dark good looks and perfect smile. She knew too well how deceptive those things could be. He represented everything she’d run away from.

“Miss Lauren told me her son plays guitar and that he sings too! Isn’t that cool? She says one day he’ll be a big rock star!”

“I’m sure he will be.” She tried to keep the sarcasm from her words, but Michael frowned. Somehow she wasn’t surprised the tall, good-looking man was an entertainer. She’d watched him the night before. He had a certain something that pulled people in, and in a crowded house like Steven and Marnie’s, he’d easily stood out.

“Don’t you believe her?” He bit his lip. “You don’t think she would lie about something like that, do you?”

Maggie shooed her son toward the door. “I think all mothers want their sons to be rock stars at whatever it is they do.” She watched his curls bob as he ran down the cement steps and jumped onto the grass, and her heart swelled all over again.

“So a police officer or a fireman can be a rock star too?”

Maggie locked the door behind them, checked twice just to make sure, and turned. She shook her head and laughed softly. “If they’re the best in their field, then yes.”

She unlocked the SUV and climbed in. Michael ran around to the other side and opened the passenger-side door.

“Uh, no, young man. You’re too little to sit in the front. You know the rules.”

“Tommy’s mom lets him ride up front all the time.” He pouted, but when she gave him “the look,” he closed the door and climbed into the back.

Maggie turned the key, and the powerful engine sprang to life. She put the truck into gear, backed out of her driveway, and headed toward Main Street.

“Mom?”

She glanced in her rearview mirror. “Yes?”

Michael’s brow furled. He chewed on his bottom lip and looked up. “So, when is a regular rock guy just a plain old rock star?”

Maggie’s gaze returned to the street. “Jon Bon Jovi is a rock star. Maybe we should ask him.”

“Who’s Jon Bob Jodi?”

Maggie turned into Mrs. Landon’s driveway and giggled. “Never mind, sweetie.”

Three hours later, they’d finished Ellie Landon’s bungalow and were on their way to Lauren Black’s palatial home on the water. It was gorgeous—modern, but with an old-world flair, a wonderful combination of brick, stone, and wood. Maggie maneuvered the SUV up the drive and parked to the side, near the garage.

“Do you think there’ll be time for a swim?”

“Nope.” Maggie hopped from the truck and made sure no mess was left behind. “And before you ask, I didn’t pack your suit.”

“Miss Lauren has an extra suit. She keeps one just for me.”

Maggie sighed and stared at her son. She didn’t want to linger, because there was no way in hell she wanted to run into Cain Black. She didn’t like him. Didn’t want her son to like him either.

She clutched her cooler and walked toward the house as Michael ran to catch up. She doubted Cain was home anyway. He’d mumbled something the night before about returning the truck at her convenience, since his buddy Mackenzie was picking him up for lunch.

She ran her fingers across the top of Michael’s head. “If you want a cone from The Pit, we need to head out as soon as we’re done. The five o’clock bus won’t wait. You know how busy it gets on a Friday night.”

“I guess you’re right.”

She let them in with her key and poked her head around the door. The house was silent.

“Hello?” she inquired cautiously. No answer.

Maggie took a few more steps inside and shouted a greeting once more, this time with a little more oomph. Still no answer. In fact, the house was as silent as a grave. Good. It seemed that Cain had left with his friend Mackenzie after all.

Her shoulders relaxed as she dropped her cooler and turned to her son. “You know the drill, buddy.” She nodded toward the back of the house, where the kitchen was located. “Grab an empty bag and collect the garbage.”

Michael scampered off, his sandals squeaking along the ceramic tiles.

Maggie cleaned Lauren’s house every Friday. It was too large to do the entire place in one visit, so the job was broken down into parts. The main floor and kitchen were done every week, but she alternated the bedrooms upstairs with the finished basement on each visit.

She headed to the laundry room. It was located on the main floor, just off the garage entrance. She peeked into the garage first—Lauren’s black Mercedes was gone—before proceeding down the hall.

Today there were no linens; however, a pile of freshly laundered towels was folded on the dryer. Maggie scooped them into her arms, left the set of blue ones near the stairs leading to the basement—they belonged to the small guest bath down there—and carried the rest to the upper level. There were three bedrooms up here: the master, located straight ahead, and a guest room on either side of the stairs.

Maggie put away Lauren’s towels and spent the next half hour cleaning her bathroom. When she was done she moved to the guest rooms. One of them would need cleaning for sure. Her son had smelled like a damn brewery.

The room to her right hadn’t been used. The bed was undisturbed and the connected bathroom spotless. She gave it a quick dusting and moved on, shouting down to Michael to bring up the vacuum.

She stepped inside the second guest room and looked around in surprise. It too was spotless. A quick check of the adjoining bathroom told her the same thing. Neither one had been used. She shrugged. Maggie had no time to ponder the mystery of where Cain Black had laid his head the night before. For all she knew, he’d left or had gotten a more interesting offer.

From what she’d observed, the man had garnered the lion’s share of attention at the Edwardses’, even though he’d spent most of the evening outside with his friends. The women had been gaga over him. She’d heard the comments about his looks, his somewhat racy past, and his newly single status.

Who’s to say someone hadn’t dropped by after she let him off?

Maggie was willing to bet that a man as good-looking and charismatic as Cain Black didn’t sleep alone too often.

She grabbed the vacuum from Michael and instructed him to dust the blinds on the main level while she finished up.

“Are you sure you don’t mind being here with me today?” she asked suddenly, before he’d cleared the stairs. “What did Tommy have planned?”

Michael smiled, a dimple puncturing his right cheek. “It’s all right, Mom.” He shrugged. “They all left for sleepover camp anyway.”

He ran down the stairs, and Maggie stared after him, a twinge of sadness tightening inside her heart. She wished that Michael could go to sleepover camp and play hockey or have the latest Xbox game or whatever it was the kids were into these days. But her reality was such that it wasn’t happening anytime soon.

It was a good thing that her lack of funds bothered her much more than it did her son.

After she vacuumed, Maggie headed downstairs and attacked the kitchen with vigor. Michael settled in to watch TV in the family room, and they chatted during the commercial breaks.

It was nearly three thirty when she finished, and Maggie was hoping they’d be able to catch the four o’clock bus. They had a good fifteen-minute walk to the bus stop, since it didn’t come as far as Lauren’s house, so they’d have to get cracking. She pocketed the envelope left for her and hung the damp rag over the gooseneck faucet to dry.

She turned and spied the blue towels sitting near the basement steps. “Michael, I’ll be right back. I’m just going to run something downstairs.”

Maggie scooped up the towels and headed down. It was dark and cool. She shivered as the air rushed along her damp skin. The basement was a huge open space with a pool table and bar located at the far end and a sitting area to her left that featured the largest flat-screen television she’d ever seen.

Lauren had once confessed she never watched the damn thing and only kept it because it had belonged to her deceased husband.

Maggie smiled wryly. Typical. What was it with men and the size of their toys?

She hurried ahead toward the last door on the right, which led to a small office with an adjoining bath. The handle turned beneath her fingers, and she stepped inside. There were no windows in this particular room, so it was pitch-dark. She bit her lip and squinted. Usually a night-light illuminated the room.

Crap. Where was the light switch?

Her fingers crept along the wall to the right but came away empty. Maggie didn’t clean the room often, because it didn’t get used unless Lauren was entertaining, but she knew the bathroom was to her left.

She stepped forward, and her foot landed among a tangle of something on the floor. Shoes, maybe? She tried to balance, but her other foot got caught as well. A curse slid from her lips as she fell, and her hands reached blindly for anything to grab hold of. But there was nothing, and she cried out, twirled crazily, and went down hard, a loud crack echoing inside her head as her skull glanced off something sharp and unyielding.

She rolled to the side and took a second to get her bearings. Her eyes blinked rapidly, and her lungs grabbed for the air that had been knocked from her chest as she hit the floor. Maggie groaned. Pain splintered along her head, and her fingers touched the tender spot near her temple. She felt something wet and knew it was blood.

Dammit. She’d smacked her head against the desk. She pushed herself up and winced, her head swimming dizzily. Blood flowed freely now—she felt it trickle down her cheek—and a stab of fear shot through her gut. What if it was a serious injury? She was here, alone.

Michael.

Light cut through the dark suddenly, and she squeezed her eyes shut at the brightness, her hand cradling her head. “Oh God,” she groaned, exhaling in an effort to focus.

“What the hell?” The voice was male, deep, and raspy.

Once the world stopped spinning, Maggie’s eyes opened. She saw legs—masculine legs. They were spread slightly, and her eyes moved up to muscular thighs, a pair of plain black boxers that left nothing to the imagination, and abs that would make an athlete envious. She winced once more as pain shot along her skull and she angled her head to stare up into Cain Black’s dark eyes.

His hair was mussed as if he’d just woken, and his jaw was shadowed with more than a day’s worth of stubble.

“What the hell are you doing in here?” He was angry.

Unease uncoiled inside her, and she broke out in a sweat when he kneeled down. Shit, she didn’t know anything about the man. Didn’t know what he was capable of, other than the fact he looked damn good half-naked.

Oh God, she must have hit her head hard to be thinking such thoughts.

“Christ, you’re bleeding.”

She wanted him to move away, to give her some space and room to breathe. He was too close. Her thoughts were fuzzy, and she needed to think.

Michael. Suddenly her anxiety surfaced and her stomach churned crazily. Where was her child?

His hand reached for her and she flinched. “Don’t touch me.” Her words were hoarse, and she hated that she couldn’t hide her fear.

Cain was silent for a few seconds, then rose. “You’re hurt and need to see a doctor.” His voice was softer now.

“No!” She was now on her knees. “I’m fine, I just…” Her voice trailed away and she clenched her teeth in an effort to combat the dizziness. There was blood everywhere, it seemed. On her T-shirt, her fingers…the carpet. Oh God, what would Lauren say?

“Mom?” Michael’s voice cut through the haze inside her head. “Mom! Are you all right?”

“She’s okay, buddy. It looks a lot worse than it is. Head wounds always bleed like a son of a…like crazy. But we’re going to take her to the hospital just to make sure, all right? You think you can help?”

“Sure.”

“Do you know where your mom left the keys to my truck?”

The boy nodded. “I think she left them on the counter in the kitchen.”

“Good. Grab them and unlock it. Leave the passenger door open, okay?”

“Okay.” Michael ran from the room.

Maggie heard the sound of a zipper. When she chanced a look, she was happy to see him dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. He knelt in front of her. In his hand was a towel, which she accepted and held against her head.

“Let me help you up.”

She couldn’t go to the hospital. She had no insurance. Panic set in at the thought, and she tried to clamp down on it, but it was no use. How could she? A trip to the emergency room would wipe out her savings, because she sure as hell wouldn’t apply for Medicaid. That meant paperwork, and that left a trail.

“I’m fine, Mr. Black. Please give me some room.”

“You’re not fine. Ten to one, you have a concussion. At the very least, you’ll probably need stitches.”

He was right. Maggie gritted her teeth.

“And the name’s Cain. Mr. Black really isn’t me.”

He offered his hand and reluctantly she used it. Once she was on her feet, the world tumbled again and her stomach rolled over. A groan escaped, and helpless tears threatened.

“Just give me a second.”

His arms slid along her shoulders and under her arms, and he lifted her before she could protest. Cain filled the space around her—his hard, muscled body, the chocolate eyes that stared at her intently, and the solemn tilt of his mouth.

He held her close. Every inch of her was pressed intimately against his flesh as he lifted her into his arms.

“Please, I’d rather go home.”

Cain ignored her, took the stairs two at a time as if she weighed no more than a child, and headed outside to his truck. His voice rumbled in his chest as he spoke, tickling her cheek. “Lady, I’m not giving you a choice.”

The sun was still hot, bright, and it hurt her eyes. Maggie closed them and finally relaxed her limbs when he placed her in the passenger side of the SUV.

She rested her head against the soft leather and held the towel he’d given her against her head.

Cain slid in beside her, and the truck roared to life. “Seat belt on, buddy?”

“Yup,” Michael answered from the backseat.

Maggie gritted her teeth as a wave of dizziness rolled through her head.

Guess the ice cream cone was going to have to wait.