Staying Grounded (A Rocky Harbor Novel Book 1) Page 8

  “So, how’s therapy going? Any idea when you’ll get back in the air?” Luke picked up the ball and threw at the basket from the free throw line, sinking the shot.

  Graham shrugged. “Eventually.” He retrieved the ball and made the shot from the same line.

  “You don’t sound like you’re in a hurry to get your wings back.”

  “I’m not worried. I didn’t do anything wrong.” He rebounded his brother’s missed shot and made a layup.

  Luke grabbed the ball and rested it on his hip. “You hate being on the ground. Being home for more than a few days makes you itch. So what’s with the sudden nonchalance bit?”

  “Nonchalance?” Graham laughed. “You’ve been hangin’ with girls too much. First the touchy-feely talk, then the big vocabulary?” He stole the ball from his brother, dribbled around him and sunk the ball from outside the three-point line. “You’re getting rusty, old man. Is this what a woman does to you?”

  “You’re a pain in the ass, Maverick.”

  Graham smiled at his childhood nickname. He hadn’t thought about those days in a long time. Not since Maggie started asking him questions, making him look in to his past. Luke dribbled over to where Graham stood and sunk the same shot.

  “Nice job, Slider. Always were a sidekick, though.” Graham smacked his brother on the back. “I’m gonna run home and shower. Let me know when you have a night off. We’ll go out for a beer or something. Unless you’re confined to umbrella drinks and a nine o’clock curfew.”

  “You’re just jealous that I’m getting lucky every night while you’re stuck at Ma’s.”

  “Oh, wouldn’t you like to know, little brother.” Graham punched the ball out of Luke’s hold and went for a layup, only to miss his shot.

  “I’d say you look a little rusty.”

  “Screw you.”

  “Like I said, I’m getting—”

  “Asshole.” Graham tossed the ball back to Luke and wiped his sweat again. “Let me know about the beer.”

  “Sure. Should probably do that soon. You’ve been in town for a week now. Midnight’s gonna strike anytime now. You don’t want to be stuck here forever.”

  Graham thought about what his brother said during his drive home. He loved his family, loved hanging out with his brothers when he could, which didn’t happen often enough—but small towns and small talk weren’t his thing. Big cities, fast planes, easy women, and good times were all he needed to keep him happy and focused.

  Which was why he needed to get out of Rocky Harbor soon. The slow life and smart redhead were distracting as hell.

  ***

  Maggie

  The rest of the day flew by in a blur. Maggie had no idea what kind of advice—if any—she doled out to her patients. Hopefully she sounded semi-professional. Thankfully her Monday caseload didn’t consist of any new patients. She could sit, listen, take notes, and ask her standard questions.

  How did that make you feel? Why do you think you said that? Why do you think he acted in that way?

  By six o’clock her mind was numb and her heart confused. She couldn’t be falling for a man whose smile could melt the panties off an Eskimo, and who would be gone the next day.

  A man who had a reputation similar to her father. Maggie craved stability. It attracted her more than the bad boy who drove in on his motorcycle, spoke seductively, swept a woman off her feet, and then drove off into the night. She’d never been attracted to that image. Not that Graham was a badass. The news circus made him out to be, which enticed the entertainment news and women around the country. And he drove a Jeep, not a Harley.

  Sighing, she unlocked her car and drove methodically home, picturing Graham’s tall physique leaning over a powerful motorcycle, the wind whipping through his hair, molding his thin T-shirt to his sculpted chest. A chest that was defined by muscles she’d never seen on anyone in real life, only online and in the movies. She wished she had more time this morning to explore the contours of his body, the indents of his abs, the pelvic muscles that begged to be gripped.

  Without even a memory of passing the town square or the Dairy Curl, her favorite ice cream stop, somehow she managed to make her way to her driveway and turn the car off. Resting her head against her steering wheel, she berated herself for being so…animalistic. Never. Never in her life had she initiated sex, much less completely throw a guy down on a couch and have her way with him.

  In her office.

  Banging her head against the steering wheel didn’t help any and Sweetie Pie’s barking only aggravated her oncoming headache. Reaching for her bag, she slid out of the car and greeted her super-happy dog with a fake smile and a rub to the head.

  After Sweetie Pie went out to do her business, little toenails clicked across the hardwood floor to give a more affectionate greeting. “So easy to please, Sweetie.” Maggie dropped to the ground to play and couldn’t help remembering the way Graham held her dog tight to his chest, protecting her from the little predators on the ground, and from the dumb blonde who couldn’t be more obvious about her attraction to Graham.

  She could see the allure. Hell, she’d been suckered into it in less than a week. Normally she dated a man quite a few times before showing her unmentionables. But one smoldering look from those steel blue eyes and her panties were soaked and wrapped around her ankles.

  Although, to be fair, Graham didn’t seduce her. She pounced on him and shucked his underwear down to around his ankles while she pushed hers aside to make room for him.

  Maggie blushed at the memory and kissed Sweetie’s head, hiding her face in shame.

  Her cell phone rang and she felt above her head on the counter, blindly fishing around in her purse while Sweetie jumped in her lap to give her face kisses. She tried to shuck her out of the way before answering but the little pooch kept interfering. Maggie answered without looking at the caller ID.

  “Hello?”

  “Did I catch you at a bad time?”

  “Graham?”

  “You sound out of breath. Thinking of me again?” he teased. If he only knew.

  “I just got home and am about to make dinner for Sweetie and me.”

  “I can’t help you with the dog’s dinner, but I can help with yours. I’ll pick you up in half an hour.”

  “What? No! Graham, I already told you, this isn’t right.” Maggie moved Sweetie aside and stood, holding her cell between her shoulder and her ear as she made her way to the pantry. She opened a can of dog food and scraped half into a bowl. Sweetie Pie dug in.

  “It felt pretty right to me this morning. And by the sounds you were making—”

  Maggie dropped the can on the tile floor, scaring her poor dog. “Stop. Please. Graham, we can’t see each other again. Tiffany said she emailed you some names of other therapists.”

  “Yeah, she did and I called Dr. Warner. She’s seeing me on Wednesday.”

  Maggie stomped the tinge of jealousy running through her veins. Abigail Warner may be a decade older than Graham, but she was a beautiful woman with stylish blonde hair and legs up to her armpits. What was it with her jealousy of blondes? “Good. Then there’s no reason to call me anymore.”

  “I’m not calling you for therapy. Well, not for that kind of therapy. Kidding.” Graham laughed before Maggie could say anything. “I’m seeing someone else professionally so you and I can keep seeing each other…personally.”

  “There’s no ‘keep’ about it. We never were and never are going to see each other personally, Mr. Riley. Please, don’t call me again.”

  “Maggie,” he pleaded.

  She couldn’t let her heart get destroyed. She’d already fallen too fast, too deep. One more minute with Graham would turn her into…her mother.

  “Look. I’m sorry, Graham. This is my fault and I take full responsibility. I shouldn’t have seduced you this morning knowing nothing would come out of this. I don’t do long distance relationships, and from what I gather, you don’t do relationships period.”

 
Graham remained silent on the other end. She secretly hoped he’d argue with her, tell her he was sticking around and wanted to turn over a new leaf. Instead, he sighed. “Okay. If you change your mind…”

  “I won’t.”

  “Well then. Have a lovely evening, Maggie O’Fallon.” He disconnected and her heart sank to her knees. If he’d only fight for her she’d…what? Things between them would never last. He represented everything she worked to avoid.

  Her phone rang again and she quickly answered, hoping he’d changed his mind. “Hello?”

  “Hey Mags.”

  “Oh, hi, Mackenzie.”

  “Ouch. Don’t sound so excited to hear from me.”

  “Sorry. Bad day, you know?”

  “Yeah, well, I figured you’d be naked with Mr. Sexypants, and not answer your phone, or you’d be pissed at yourself for letting him slip away and in need of some Kenzie love.”

  She didn’t want to talk about it, but moping by herself wasn’t healthy either. “Sure. Come on over.”

  “I won’t take your lack of excitement personally. I’m ordering a PuPu platter and will be there in twenty. Have a bottle chilling.” Kenzie disconnected before Maggie could argue. So much for being in control of her destiny.

  True to her word, her best friend arrived, a tempting smell of fried rice and teriyaki in her wake. Once they opened all the cartons, poured glasses of wine, and dished out their food, Kenzie motioned with her chopsticks. “You’ve had enough time. Now spill.”

  “I jumped him on my therapy couch.”

  “You what?” Kenzie choked, a piece of shrimp flying from mouth. “As in jumped him jumped him?”

  “We had sex. I initiated.”

  Kenzie whistled, sipped her wine, and grinned. “You slut. I love you even more now.”

  “Yeah, well, after he zipped up I told him I couldn’t see him again. Professionally or personally.”

  “And?”

  “And nothing. It was a onetime deal. I’ll never see him again.”

  Kenzie set her wine glass down and took the chopsticks out of Maggie’s hand. “No way, Mags. You’re holding back.”

  “Seriously. That’s it.”

  “So why the long face? You said he wasn’t a keeper. He’s back in Texas already?”

  “No. He’s still here. He’s seeing someone else until he gets a clean bill of mental health.”

  “So what’s the problem? You can still shag him on the side, right?”

  “He’ll be leaving soon, Kenzie. I don’t need this complication.”

  “And he’s okay with this?”

  Maggie shrugged and picked up her wine.

  “I can’t decode you,” Kenzie said. “You’re pissed because he’s okay with screwing and leaving, or you’re pissed because you’re being stubborn and won’t see him again while he’s still here.”

  Maggie tore off a huge chunk of eggroll, filling her mouth so she wouldn’t have to reply. Kenzie raised an eyebrow and sat back. “That ass. He let you do him in your office and then left? What a bastard. I’m sorry for pushing you on to him. Sucks that all the hot guys are asswipes.”

  “He’s not an asswipe. This isn’t his fault.”

  “I knew it.” Mackenzie’s grin grew and she leaned in. “You’re mad at yourself. Come on, Mags. Screw your rules. Screw the guy.” She laughed at her joke.

  “You’re pretty crude sometimes, Kenz.”

  “You know it’s all for show.”

  And it was. Mackenzie loved to talk tough with the girls; however, she was actually quite shy around men she was interested in. Growing up poor in an affluent community made her tough, and sensitive as well. And she was still dealing with the painful rejection of her ex-fiancé.

  Maggie continued, “He wants to continue having sex until he’s off probation. I don’t think I can do it.”

  “You’re in love with him.”

  “As if. I barely know him.”

  “Okay, maybe you’re not in love, but you’re falling for him and pushing him away now is actually smart. Your heart is going to be crushed when he leaves. I’m sorry, Maggie.” Kenzie reached out and squeezed her hand. “Can you at least tell me how good he was?”

  Maggie laughed. “It was an experience I’ll never forget.”

  “Oh,” Mackenzie sighed. “Please. Details.”

  “No way. There are some things a girl likes to keep private.”

  “Does he have any tattoos? You know I love them.”

  Maggie stopped to think. There weren’t any on his chest or arms, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have one somewhere else.

  “Tell me you at least got naked with him. The fully clothed thing is only a turn-on when you’re in an elevator or bathroom or something.”

  “I took his clothes off and sort of kept my clothes on.”

  Kenzie studied her outfit. “You’re wearing your date night dress. You planned on seducing him all along.”

  She couldn’t lie about the Vera Wang wrap. “I didn’t plan on having sex with him this morning. That sort of happened in the heat of the moment.” She did want to look nice for him, though.

  “All joking aside, I’m sorry, hun. This sucks.”

  They finished off the bottle of wine and most of their take out, not talking about sex or planes or men again. Maggie only wished she could go back in time and lay on Graham’s naked chest for another hour. Or day. Or week. Or lifetime.

  Chapter Eight

  Graham

  Graham spent the rest of the week running in the morning, playing pick-up games of basketball at the fire station with Luke and whoever else was hanging around in the afternoon, and attending therapy sessions with Dr. Warren and a support group for those with anger issues in between.

  It didn’t bother him to go to the meetings. In fact, the stories he heard made him think about his childhood and the issues his parents faced. If his dad had received the help he needed, maybe he wouldn’t have been so physical with Graham and his mom.

  Graham’s stint in juvie taught him a few things. One, he never, ever wanted to be associated with the punks in there. Two, he couldn’t trust anyone, not even himself. And three, he couldn’t use his father’s abuse as a crutch his whole life. Graham had heard it all from the kids in the detention center. They blamed their aggression on a dad or uncle or poverty.

  Graham attended his counseling sessions and did the homework they provided without complaint. He couldn’t stand the whining and passing blame. The most important thing he learned was that he was responsible for his own actions. And one thing he didn’t blame himself for was kicking his dad’s ass. He’d never regret jumping in the middle, trying to stop his dad from killing his mom. Even though Graham’s mom died a few months after the incident.

  Juvie didn’t completely clean him up. Graham still got into his share of trouble with the law. It wasn’t until later on, when Keith sat him down and had a heart to heart, that he did a complete one-eighty.

  Too often Graham saw foster kids he’d met in the system mirroring the behaviors of their parents. Graham worked hard not to be anything like his parents. Not the aggressor and not the victim. But he could see how those who didn’t have a stable upbringing could succumb to what they knew, what they were familiar with.

  Thankfully he had the Rileys. Keith and Doreen raised their foster kids no differently than they’d raise any biological kid. Graham had the love and support and attention a teenager needed, and they taught him to be humble, respectful, and to appreciate what he had.

  The Rileys didn’t have a lot of money, but what they lacked in the bank, they more than made up for in heart. Most other foster families would have shipped Graham off after he got in trouble with the law. Again. But Keith taught him how to find an outlet for his emotions, whether they be anger, depression, anxiety, or fear. All the kids under their roof faced some sort of demons, and each was nurtured until he or she figured out how to manage them.

  For Graham, the cure was his first flight expe
rience. Being in the air, flying a craft, gave him the freedom he desperately needed. When the walls felt like they were narrowing around him, closing him in and taking away his ability to breath, he’d run the eight miles to the airstrip and work on the planes. At first he was the grunt boy. He swept, cleaned the toilets, put air in the tires. His hard work and attention to detail caught the eyes of the other mechanics.

  After working his way up from janitor to mechanic, he earned enough money to take flying lessons. And then he became a sponge, soaking up the purposes of every button and control on the instrument panel. He’d never forget the first time he held on to the yoke, controlling the plane’s pitch and roll.

  Driving home from therapy with Dr. Warren, he passed the private airport that gave him his start. He hadn’t visited Seacoast Regional in years, always in a rush when at home. Every visit had its purpose: a birthday, a holiday, an award. Once the occasion was over, the cake cut, the guests gone home, Graham would hightail it out of Maine and take to the skies.

  With nothing better to do, he pulled into the small airstrip, eyeing the Cessna, bi-planes, Skyhawk SPs, and a Gobosh G700. How long had it been since he flew one of those? Too long. He climbed out of his Jeep and made his way to the hangar, hoping someone from the good ‘ol days was still around.

  In fact, an old-timer stood beside one of the planes, locking up a toolbox.

  “Bill? That you?” Graham smiled at his old mentor.

  “Well, holy hell. Graham Riley? Never thought I’d see you around here, now that you got your fancy planes to fly.” Bill was old two decades ago, and he looked like he hadn’t aged a day since. Thin and wiry, he wore a patch of gray hair combed over to the side. He embraced Graham and kept his hands on Graham’s shoulders long after their quick hug was over. “You look good, son. Staying out of trouble?”

  Graham laughed. “You still don’t watch the news, huh?”

  “That crap is nothing but gossip. Alls I need to know is the weather, the jet stream pattern, and whether the fish are biting. To hell with everything and everyone else.”