Staying Grounded (A Rocky Harbor Novel Book 1) Page 6

  “I’m surprised you never enlisted,” Maggie commented as they left the ruins to walk down the path toward Portland Head Light. The lighthouse stood tall and white among the bright blue sky. A symbol to those in distress, a thing of beauty to those coming to enjoy the scenery. Beyond the lighthouse stretched thousands of miles of sea. The Atlantic crashed along the rocky shore as brave tourists climbed out among the rocks, looking for crabs and sea creatures.

  “Fighting has never been my thing.” He laughed and turned to her. “I bet you just rolled those beautiful green eyes of yours.”

  Maggie couldn’t help her laugh. “No, but I am now.”

  Graham slid his hand in hers. It felt natural, walking along the path by the water, Graham to her right, the dog on her leash to Maggie’s left. This was what she wanted in a man. In a relationship. Someone who appreciated nature and being outdoors. Someone who could make her laugh and look at her like he wanted to… She yanked her hand out of his and stopped in her tracks.

  “I need to use the restroom. Here.” She handed him Sweetie Pie’s leash. “Take this.” Maggie turned and jogged toward the outhouse on the other side of the park, not waiting to see if he’d follow. What the hell am I doing? She couldn’t write an unbiased report for the airline while she thought of him naked. Holding her breath, she whipped open the door to the outhouse, did her business, and squirted a glob of hand sanitizer before running out of air and bolting out the door.

  Taking in the fresh air, she rubbed her hands together and looked around for Graham. She mentally prepared her speech for why he needed to take her home, forget this tour guide crap and stick to the professional relationship. She heard a familiar yip and spun around toward the long stretch of grass, where Graham held Sweetie Pie to his chest, rubbing his face against her neck.

  Maggie could see what was causing her puppy to freak. A poodle jumped and humped Graham’s legs, as did his blonde owner. Well, she looked like she wanted to. Sweetie Pie was petrified, and as Maggie neared, she could hear Graham’s calming words to her dog.

  “It’s okay, Sweetie Pie. He’s not going to hurt you. I’ve got you.”

  The blonde ignored her dog and petted Sweetie Pie while sidling up to Graham. Tramp. “Your puppy is so cute. What’s her name?”

  “Sweetie Pie,” he said absently while rubbing the scared dog and nuzzling her neck. If his mouth came anywhere near the blonde’s…

  “That’s so adorable. We should, you know, maybe get our dogs together to play sometime. I’m sure they’d like that.”

  What a bimbo. Can’t you see my dog hates your dog?

  As Maggie got ready to come in and rescue them both, Graham surprised her with his comment. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Sweetie Pie is really shaken right now. I need to take her somewhere quiet. Thanks anyway.” Graham turned around without even looking up at the blonde and bumped into Maggie. “Hey,” he said with a tight smile. “Sweetie Pie is shaking like jet engine ready to roll. She wasn’t scared of the German Shepard she chased earlier today. What’s the deal with her and little dogs?”

  Maggie reached out to take Sweetie Pie, who plastered herself to Graham’s chest and snuggled her head under his chin. Instead of smirking with arrogance, Graham continued to love her little dog with his big hands.

  Don’t go there. “She almost got eaten by a fox. Ever since then she’s been afraid of small animals.” They circled the lighthouse twice before Sweetie Pie finally calmed down.

  “You’re okay, girl.” He petted her some more and motioned to his Jeep. “I have lunch packed. You hungry?”

  “You packed a picnic?” Her ovaries combusted. First the dog, then the picnic.

  Graham stilled and pretended to be shocked. “Oh, my manhood. No. I didn’t pack a picnic. I made some subs and tossed them in a cooler with a few water bottles, apples, and a few lemon squares.”

  “You bake?”

  “Again. Shrinking manhood.” Maggie looked down at his crotch and doubted a cold polar dip could shrink him. “You keep looking at me like that and…”

  “Ass.” Maggie took Sweetie Pie from him as he opened the back to his Jeep.

  “First the crotch, now the ass. And I thought you wanted to keep this platonic.” His back was to her but she could hear the grin in his voice. When she turned around his eyes locked on hers before trailing down her face, stopping at her lips, then following her neck, over her chest. Knowing her sports bra did nothing to flatter her, she cursed the uni-boob and the lack of nipple protection it provided.

  He shifted the cooler in front of him and continued his heated journey down her legs before making the track back north again. Really, she should scold him. Yell at him. Turn away, even. She was transfixed, unable to move her sneakers.

  Setting Sweetie Pie down, she tugged at the bottom of her shorts, wishing she’d worn jeans. Overalls. A snowsuit. Something not as revealing. “I thought you were hungry.”

  His lips lifted into a predatory smile. “Starving.”

  Damn. She rolled her eyes and shook her head. It was either laugh or get angry and, like Graham, she wasn’t one for getting upset. Or at least, not for showing her emotions.

  “What? No blanket?”

  “What guy ever has a picnic blanket in the back of his car?”

  “You seemed the type,” she said before walking off to find a patch of grass in the shade.

  “See, that’s what ruins us guys,” Graham said as he handed her a sub and water.

  “What’s that?”

  He leaned against the tree and stretched his long legs in front of him. Sweetie Pie left Maggie’s side and curled in his lap. “Those chick flicks you watch and romance novels you read. They make these men out to be evil, arrogant monsters until they cave into the clutches of woman and lose their manhood. Flowers, dancing, candlelight, private jets, island getaways. Only a bunch of pansy asses do stuff like that. Buy their women.”

  “And you know this how? Read a lot of romance, do you?”

  “Definitely not, but I spend a lot of time with flight attendants who always have a book in hand. Seems they’re always talking about made-up people.”

  Her belly tightened. She uncapped the water bottle and took a few sips, trying to wash the sourness away, before she replied, “Spend a lot of time with them, do you?”

  Graham finished chewing then he laughed. “I didn’t mean it that way. I don’t mix business with pleasure. Number one rule: don’t fraternize with flight attendants. I’ve seen too many good pilots ruin their lives that way.”

  “That’s a pretty sexist comment.”

  “Didn’t mean that either.”

  “Seems you need to work on your communication skills.”

  Maggie nibbled on her lunch, gauging his reaction. It shouldn’t have surprised her that he laughed instead of getting defensive.

  “I seem to only have that problem with you. Let me clarify. One. I don’t hook up with anyone I work with, whether she be a female co-pilot or flight attendant. Two. I’ve seen too many pilots cheat on their wives. It’s not the woman’s fault if she doesn’t know he’s married. And three. I don’t care for women who think men need to do certain things, whether it be spend thousands or write poetry, to show how they feel.”

  “I agree about buying a…woman, but how does having a blanket in your Jeep making you a pansy ass? A romantic picnic by the water doesn’t cost much and is more meaningful than a trip to some tropical island.” Realizing what she just said, Maggie shoved her turkey sub into her mouth and chewed. Mad at herself for showing her hand and for doing exactly what Graham said he’d never do. Mix business with pleasure. She was in so much trouble.

  “That’s all it takes, huh?” Graham smirked before taking a bite of his own sandwich.

  Chapter Five

  Maggie

  Thankfully Graham left her alone on Sunday. There were no phone calls, no cute texts, and from Kenzie’s report, no visits to the coffee shop. Maggie didn’t leave her house for the
rest of the weekend, afraid she’d run into Graham, lose all her senses, and jump his bones.

  She cursed that head of hair, dark as night, that brought out the bright grey of his eyes. And those arms. Those legs. The shoulders that filled a doorway and were meant for protecting.

  Damned his strong arms that rescued Sweetie Pie from the snarling teeth of Blondie’s vicious canine. And damned his stupid not-a-picnic. If the gentle-hearted man weren’t her patient she’d have jumped his bones six ways to Sunday. Whatever the hell that meant.

  Maggie dug at the ground, turning the soil and planting the annuals she bought last week. The pink and red geraniums brightened her front walkway and filled in the mulched area by the lamppost. In another few weeks her hydrangeas would start to bloom, as would her primroses.

  Her father had taught her to appreciate the natural beauty, but no one ever taught her how to garden. Thankfully her flowers and the weather had been forgiving. Every year she tilled a little more soil, planted a few more shrubs and perennials and annuals. Soon, she’d be living in a fairy cottage. Who needed a man to bring her flowers? She’d plant them herself.

  Needing to straighten her back, she stood and stretched to each side. It was probably time for her to head in and take a shower anyway. Her mother and Benny would be expecting her for dinner.

  Maggie knew having dinner with her mother once a month wasn’t a lot, but the obligatory dinner sometimes felt so. She’d rather pop in and visit on a whim, but never knowing what mood her mother would be in, she stuck to routine.

  Benny had been part of their family since Maggie was a little girl. She’d been there when Liam was diagnosed with leukemia, and all the days after from his treatments, frequent doctor visits, and ultimately the funeral. Burying an eight-year-old was something a mother couldn’t handle on her own, and Benny took over for Joan and the ever-absent Edward O’Fallon. She’d been comforting and caring for Joan for the past twenty years and helped raise Maggie when she was unfit or Ed was away on a shoot.

  Maggie took one final look at her garden and gathered her tools. She rinsed them off before heading inside to take a shower. Dressed in a flowing skirt and white top, she slipped into a pair of burnt orange strappy sandals and added a matching chunky bracelet to her wrist.

  “Sorry, Sweetie,” she said to her dog. “You’re staying home. We don’t know how Joan is feeling today.” Had Maggie been a better daughter, she’d call more often. But after so many years of her mother’s emotional distance and neglect, Maggie knew it was best if she stopped hoping for a change. Hoping her mother would become invested in her daughter’s life and stop mourning for her son whom she’d lost twenty years ago.

  Pushing her negativity aside, Maggie picked up her purse and keys and sent air kisses to her loyal companion. The one who never let her down and was always happy to see her.

  The drive to her parents’ place didn’t take long. Her childhood home—or rather, mansion—stood out on the cliffs of Rocky Bay, basking in the million-dollar view. The Victorian home had been remodeled nearly a decade ago. Its character and beauty had remained the same, with the addition of an apartment above the garage for Benny and sunroom in the back.

  Pulling into the long, curvy driveway, Maggie looked around at the picture perfect beauty. The grounds were meticulously landscaped and maintained weekly by a professional. The house stood grand, the backdrop of the Atlantic making a majestic photograph, yet it still appeared welcoming.

  Looks could be deceiving.

  She pulled to a stop in front of the house and took a moment to compile her thoughts. Happy thoughts. Her mother needed her, and she’d be the dutiful daughter until the day she died. Steadying her heart rate, Maggie slid out of the car and made her way to the front door. She knocked before letting herself in.

  “Mom? Benny?” Usually Benny greeted her the second she heard the car come down the crushed shell driveway. Maggie listened to laughter coming from the kitchen. “Hello?” Laughter was an unusual sound in this house.

  Maggie entered the kitchen and gasped.

  “Sweetheart. I’m so glad you’re here,” her father said before stepping around the counter to embrace her in a hug. “You look more beautiful every time I see you.”

  “Dad? What are you doing here? I mean…I didn’t know you were coming home.”

  “The weather in Scotland is being fickle, so I decided to come home to my favorite girls.” He turned around and picked up his wife, swinging her and dancing with her around the kitchen island.

  Ed O’Fallon looked good. Tall and fit and tanned. His red hair had turned gray over the years, but his green eyes still held an Irish sparkle that seemed to capture everyone’s attention. Especially the ladies’.

  He spent more months on location than he did days at home, and every time he returned, Joan welcomed him with open arms. All past sins forgiven, she was just happy he was with her. Ed brought Joan to fancy restaurants and spoiled her with jewelry and exotic treasures from across the world to make up for his absence, and she’d smile the entire time he was home as if nothing was amiss.

  Then he’d take off, leaving Joan alone and depressed while Benny and Maggie picked up the pieces. Still, her father charmed her and she had a hard time being angry with him when he danced a silly Irish jig and twirled her mother around the room. He was the only one who could bring Joan out of her darkness, and the one responsible for putting her there.

  “Your turn, Little Red. Come dance with your daddy.” He gave her no choice and picked her up as if she weighed nothing, twirling her around like he did with her mother. “Louder, Benny. Crank that music.” The Dubliners sang about drinking and whiskey and death, while Ed O’Fallon did his terrible rendition of the Irish Jig.

  When the song ended, Ed poured whiskey for himself and wine for the rest of them. He treated Benny like a sister, never like a housekeeper. Maggie knew he appreciated the support Benny provided Joan while he was away. She only wished her father could be a man and stay with them. Make them a family again.

  Even with her degree in social work, Maggie didn’t know where to start the healing process after twenty years of dysfunction.

  They enjoyed dinner on the patio and stayed outside until the cool evening breeze chilled them.

  “I should head home. I have an early patient tomorrow.”

  “Maggie, dear. I didn’t give you your gift yet. Stay a minute.” Her father took off down the hall while Maggie said her goodbyes.

  “Mom, why didn’t you tell me Dad was coming home early?”

  “I didn’t know,” Joan said shyly, looking away to avoid eye contact. Maggie could always read her mother, but she’d never understood her. Joan didn’t want her daughter to see the hurt and betrayal that she tried to hide beneath the façade of laughter, and later, silent depression.

  Ignoring the problem, not talking about it, had always been the O’Fallon way. Edward would take off for exotic locations to snap award-winning photographs, sending sporadic emails and texts and gifts when he could, and Joan would accept the small tokens and use them to fill the void in her life. Not that she’d ever communicated this to Maggie. It didn’t take a licensed therapist to read what was happening between her mother and father. And between her parents and herself.

  Maggie refused to ever hide in a hole like her mother, yet she did share one thing in common.

  Avoidance.

  Not even Mackenzie knew the depth of Maggie’s heartache and neglect. Mackenzie knew Maggie’s parents weren’t emotionally there for her, not since Liam died, but had no idea how much emotional distress it caused her. Or about the medication she took to help her avoid the spiral into depression that her mother suffered from.

  “Do you know how long he’s staying?” She had stopped asking her father, knowing he’d never give her a straight answer. Not until I get my fill of you, Red Riding Hood. Apparently his fill took only a few days. Sometimes he’d give her a day, and would leave in the early hours of the morning. Anything to avoi
d an emotional goodbye.

  When Ed O’Fallon disappeared for parts unknown, he’d leave a treasure and a love note for Joan, which she’d hold onto and read daily for the months of her husband’s absence.

  “Do you want me to come by this week?”

  “I don’t know what your father has planned.” A typical Joan O’Fallon reply. Knowing her mother loved the time with her husband, Maggie didn’t want to interfere. One day she hoped to be a priority in someone’s life. Before she could get angry with her mother, she turned to the woman who felt more like a mother to her.

  “Dinner was delicious, Benny.” Maggie kissed her cheek.

  “You’re welcome here any time, you know that, Maggie.” Benny, her hands now covered in age spots, tenderly caressed Maggie’s cheeks before she wrapped her short, chubby arms around her. “I love you, sweet girl.”

  “I love you too, Benny.”

  “Here you go, Little Red. The moment I saw this, I knew you were meant to have it.” Her father handed her a small box. Carefully, she lifted the lid and discovered a tiny pewter turtle with emerald eyes. Maggie’s stomach twisted in pain and a lump formed in the back of her throat.

  “Thank you, Daddy.” She stood on tiptoes to kiss her father as he beamed with pride.

  Fleeing before anyone could see her tears, she gathered her purse and rushed out the front door. They were too caught up in their own charade to see the sadness on her face. Only Benny would know.

  Ever since a snapping turtle bit her finger when she was fourteen she’d had a terrible fear of turtles.

  Chapter Six

  Maggie

  For the first time in—ever—Maggie brought a bad mood to work. After leaving her parents’ house last night she downed a half bottle of wine and nearly drowned herself in her tub. Not really, but she needed to get her frustration out and it was too late, too dark, and she’d had too much wine to go for a run. So she soaked in the tub and sulked.