Page 65 of The Bitter Heir and the Beauty

The flame in his eyes tells me he disagrees. The one in my belly burning me up suggests I’m lying to myself.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t been thinking about this every day since we talked about not kissing.”

Every hour of every day. But instead, I say, “You know as well as I do. There are strings.”

“Maybe I like these particular strings. Maybe I want strings in my life.”

“I find that hard to believe given the way you roared into town.”

He leans in and roars in my ear, then whispers, “I think you secretly like it.” Again, he nibble-kisses the spot behind my ear and I melt.

But before the world turns totally fuzzy, I say, “I’m afraid to have this conversation because of what it could mean or result in. Not because I don’t want it, but because I don’t trust it. It’s easier to tell you off than to let you in.”

He leans back and goes still. “Is it?”

I nod slowly and he searches my eyes. His gaze alone fills me up in a way that I didn’t realize I needed or wanted, but the risk freezes me in place.

Maddock’s rough fingers trace my jawline and his thumb rubs my chin. “I want my lips on yours. I want your mouth on mine. But I’ll wait until you’re ready.”

It’s been a long time since someone has been considerate of me in this way. But that almost makes it worse. Makes me want him more.

So I drop my lead foot on the gas and go.

I cannot hold back. Fisting his shirt in my hand, I tug him toward me. Once more, we’re kissing and his hands on my skin ignite me.

Maddock lets me direct the proximity and intensity. The space between us narrows until it no longer exists. My hands grip his back as if I’m holding on for dear life. Some days it feels like I’m falling. All over my failures. But this is something else. It’s a different kind of falling ... more like I’m floating. However, I’m not in a fog. More like a daze as my thoughts drift away, leaving nothing other than affection and sensation as Maddock slides his fingers through my hair.

As the kiss deepens, his pulse is erratic, yet somehow mine remains steady. With this man, it’s like I can breathe again.

But this is risky. What if I come to rely on it? What if he leaves?

Right now, with his mouth on mine and his big, warm, protective body pressing against me, I decide to let myself forget until tomorrow. This is my first time kissing Maddock and with him leaving, I fear it could be our last as well. So I pour myself into it, never wanting it to end.

Shooting upright in bed, I wake with a start. I have the eerie feeling someone is watching me sleep. But I was also having a bad dream. After nearly baring my soul to Maddock last night, the secrets that I usually keep under lock and key snuck loose.

Well, most of them.

Fitting that it’s the day before Halloween, traditionally the night that young, misguided youth do things like toilet paper houses, toss eggs at cars, and other unruly things. I’m not saying I didn’t partake, but I’m notnotsaying that either.

Leonie rouses in the Pack ’n Play and I recommit myself to her life never resembling the one I recounted last night. I won’t drag her into debauchery or debacles, use her as an accomplice or exit strategy as my mother did.

Taking the little bundle of love into my arms, I sing our morning sunshine wake-up song. As I pass the window, Maddock’s truck disappears under the canopy of trees down Shady Lane.

I never imagined my life would take me back here in such an unexpected and somewhat redemptive way. I want to hate this house with its many rooms, secret passageways, and memories, but I can’t hate anything with Leonie’s bright blue eyes looking around with wonder.

It’s my day off, which is another way of saying the day to do all the things I can’t manage while running the restaurant duringthe work week. This includes, but is not limited to laundry, bills, and other responsibilities that I sometimes avoid. Not because I’m lazy or negligent. More because I rarely have the cash to pay for things like insurance for the mobile home, but I figured I could skip a couple of months given the new roof. If I have the chance to go over to Sunnyside today, I should probably check on things, grab some more clothes, and see if there’s anything salvageable—if rodents haven’t kicked out the frogs and made themselves at home.

When Leonie and I get downstairs, I find five days’ worth of breakfast treats on the counter—muffins, pastries, and beignet buns—along with coffee and a note that says,Don’t you dare eat any of this! xo Maddock.

I chuckle at his calling me out on my stubbornness by trying reverse psychology. I’m onto him ... and really into him, as it turns out. I cannot erase the kiss from last night from my mind. I don’t want to. But the little thrills that shoot through me when I remember the heat of his hands on my skin, the spark between our lips, and the fire in his eyes is like living in a daydream.

When I get the baby’s milk from the fridge, I discover that it’s stocked with labeled glass containers. Another note from Maddock includes reheating instructions. He provided a week’s worth of meals so I don’t get caught up and miss a meal. My jaw hangs open.

No one has ever done something so ... thoughtful.

If I could afford to hire an employee besides Antoine to pay in cash rather than crème brûlée, then I wouldn’t be running myself ragged. But Maddock’s meal gesture touches a place inside I’d cordoned off, fueling me in the best of ways.

After Leonie and I have breakfast, we walk over to the mobile home park. It’s a beautiful fall day. The air is crisp for southern Louisiana and the leaves have faded to shades of yellow andgold. They carpet Shady Lane and I sing the “Yellow Brick Road” song to Leonie. She giggles all the way.

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