Little Boy Blue and the Man on the Moon
R
ICK TOOK THE FORK IN THE TRAIL LEADING UP A HILL,
pushing his body even harder than the day before. After nearly two weeks of living in the cabin he felt physically and mentally better, stronger and fresher than he had in too many years to count. Inhaling the river-scented air, he ran down the well-worn path through the woods, most likely used by kids riding four-wheelers and dirt bikes. With summer just around the corner, he would soon get up earlier to avoid the heat. Breathing hard, he paused to take his shirt off and mop the sweat from his brow and then slowed to a jog for his cool-down.
With his two weeks nearly up Rick reminded himself to head up into town to extend the lease for the rest of the summer months. Although his initial reason to come to Cricket Creek had been to apologize to Addison, living in the log cabin was bringing him a sense of peace that he hadn’t felt in a long time. He had first option but he didn’t want to risk losing the cabin to someone else. He’d even considered buying the place but wasn’t quite sure, so he planned on talking to Maggie McMillan about the possibility. And he would take the opportunity to finally face Addison Monroe. He’d pulled into the parking lot of Wedding Row a couple of times but he’d been hesitant to get out, worried that he might be recognized and not wanting to blow his cover or bring unwanted attention to Addison, who was also avoiding the spotlight. He certainly didn’t want to do anything to put a damper on the grand opening of her lovely shop. The irony didn’t escape him that Addison was opening a bridal boutique, of all things. She had spunk and a sense of humor. He’d always liked Addison and the news of the breakup saddened Rick in too many ways to count.
Hours, no, make that
days
of soul-searching revealed more than Rick wanted to see and a lot in his lifestyle that he planned on changing. Becca, his ex-wife, had moved on a long time ago, remarried, and had two more children but often had a hard time raising rebellious Garret. She’d complained that Garret was a chip off of the old block, self-centered, refusing to grow up. Rick knew he’d been a “Cat’s in the Cradle” father and he now felt such loss. And, in truth, he was ashamed. Garret was a damned good musician, given a hard time simply for being Rick’s son. But what had Rick done about it?
Nothing . . . telling himself at the time that Garret needed to find his own way in life and not ride on Rick’s coattails, when in fact being his son had resulted in the opposite, robbing Garret of the chance to follow his dream. What would have happened if Rick had taken Garret under his wing and helped launch his son’s career? Then again, Rick wondered if deep down he’d wanted Garret to fail rather than be sucked into a lifestyle that many couldn’t handle. Maybe even including himself. He loved his son and longed to have him back in his life.
Rick scrubbed a hand down his sweaty face and sighed. This past week he’d poured his sorrow into songwriting, bringing himself back to his bluegrass and blues roots. He’d always wanted his music to have more heart and soul and less head banging, but even in recent years introducing new material while on tour was met with the disapproval of fans who only wanted the old stuff, and so Rick eventually stopped trying.
During the past few days he’d downloaded several self-help, inspirational books and read each one. The sad but darkly funny truth was that he didn’t need to change, but to go back to who he was before fame consumed his life.
Rick paused to look out over the river, letting the peace of the water wash over him. In all fairness, he’d tried to put the songs he loved on his early albums but his record label refused. He’d had success as a rock star and he was stuck. In addition, he soon became a franchise, with dozens of employees depending on continued success to put food on the table, and in order to do that he’d had to spend most of the time touring . . . away from Becca and Garret. Everyone saw the glitz and glamour but didn’t know the pressure, the grueling hours, and the loneliness of being on the road. Tour buses and hotel rooms were a poor substitute for being home. He wasn’t quite as selfish as Becca liked to believe when she went after a huge divorce settlement, not that Rick cared about the damned money.
“Enough about the past,” Rick muttered as he skipped a rock across the water. All of the books preached to move on, go forward, and forgive people, including himself. He planned on doing all of those things. It just wasn’t easy facing that he’d recently been on the fast road to becoming an old, faded version of his youth, clinging to something that was long gone and he’d never really wanted in the first place. But regret caused bitterness and the last thing he wanted to become was a bitter old man.
When his stomach rumbled, Rick tossed his damp shirt over his shoulder and headed back toward the cabin. When he spotted an SUV parked in front his pulse raced, thinking he’d been found. Then he spotted Maggie McMillan stepping out of the driver’s side, and he smiled.
Maggie wore navy blue slacks and a matching blazer, typical business attire for a real estate agent, but when she leaned back onto the SUV the blazer hiked upward, revealing a very nice butt. He found the straitlaced attire covering womanly curves damned sexy, and for a moment stood there and fantasized about what kind of lacy lingerie she wore beneath the suit. Rick shook his head, wondering if his reaction stemmed from the fact that this was the longest he’d gone without being with a woman in as far back as he could remember.
In truth, keeping up with Caitlyn had been like participating in a triathlon, often leaving Rick more worn-out than satisfied. What would it be like to be with a warm and willing woman who wanted to make love slow and easy instead of hard and fast? Someone who was more into touching than toys?
Someone who cared?
Instead of a hot-spot restaurant and a loud nightclub, what would it be like to stay in and make dinner together, share a bottle of excellent wine, and watch a movie while cuddling together on the sofa with a big bowl of popcorn? What would it be like to have a real, meaningful conversation about a subject that mattered?
Rick longed to find out.
With that thought in mind, Rick walked over to where Maggie looked down at some paperwork. She had her back to him and when she tilted her head, her hair slid to the side, revealing a delicate slice of her neck. There wasn’t anything sexy about the movement, just sweetly feminine. “Good morning, Maggie.”
“Oh!” When Maggie whipped around papers went flying in the breeze. “Oh no!” She chased after them but a sudden stiff gust of wind sent the papers skyward. They started fluttering downward, but just when Maggie got close the wind did its thing and sent the papers away just out of her reach, as if playing a teasing game of tag.
Rick decided he should help but when she started laughing he joined her in the fruitless effort. She finally pounced on one sheet and he jumped up to catch another, but another gust of wind sent the rest floating toward the river. “Here,” Rick said with a sheepish grin. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“I get startled easy. My son used to laugh that I’d jump when he’d walk into the room. I tend to get into a zone or something. Not your fault.”
Rick reached up and shoved his damp hair off of his forehead. “How’s the ankle?”
“Um . . . I . . .” Maggie blinked at him for a minute. Her cheeks were flushed, he guessed from the chase, but then he remembered he was standing in front of her shirtless and in damp, clinging jogging shorts. “Fine. Th-thank you for the fl-flowers. I tried to contact you but the number I have wasn’t yours.”
“Oh, no problem. I’m just glad that you’re okay.” Rick shrugged.
Maggie nodded as if at a loss for words but then her eyes widened. “Oh, I came out here with papers for you to extend your lease”—she winced—“but, well, except for these two, they’re gone with the wind. When would be a good time to come back?”
“For dinner,” came out of his mouth without really thinking. “I was going to the grocery store later and I’d planned on grilling some steaks or chicken. Would you care to join me? I ask only that you help me with the side dishes. Grilling is about as far as my cooking skills go—well, unless you count breakfast,” he added, but then realized that his comment sounded suggestive. “Not that I expect you to stay for breakfast,” he added quickly, and for the first time that he could remember Rick Ruleman, rock star, blushed. “Sorry. I guess I’m . . . so rusty that I creak.”
“Then should I bring some oil?” Maggie asked, and then slapped a palm to her forehead. “That was a lame attempt at a joke. I didn’t mean . . .” She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and shook her head. When she burst out laughing Rick joined her.
“Okay, let me try this again. Maggie, would you like to join me for dinner tonight? I’ll grill and you can help me in the kitchen.”
“Yes, thank you very much. I would be delighted to join you,” she replied. “May I bring something?”
“Dessert,” Rick said, and then chuckled. “Let’s just leave that one alone, shall we?”
Maggie tossed her head to the side and laughed. “What time would you like me?” she asked.
How about right now?
went through Rick’s head. Something in his thoughts must have been written on his face because her cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink.
“I mean to come . . .
arrive
.”
Rick laughed. He was so used to having a woman trying hard to be suggestive instead of the other way around and he found it so damn refreshing . . . and a really big turn-on. “How about around seven?”
Maggie nodded. “Perfect. I’ll see you at seven.”
Rick smiled. There was a moment of awkwardness when he didn’t know what to do next. Shaking hands seemed silly and yet kissing her didn’t fit either and so he simply nodded, but then on a whim leaned in and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “See you tonight.”
Man, I Feel Like a Woman
A
FTER PULLING OUT ONTO THE MAIN ROAD, MAGGIE PUT
her fingers to her cheek where Richard had kissed her. She tried to recall when she had last had a date with a man—a super-sexy man—and came up blank. “This isn’t a date,” she chided herself, “just dinner with a client.” And what was up with every sentence that came out of her mouth sounding suggestive? Maybe it was because for the first time in such a long while she had sex on the brain. Not that she was going to act on it, but it felt pretty good to feel like a woman. She didn’t think there was any juice left in those particular batteries but apparently all she had needed was a little recharging.
When she’d turned around and seen Richard standing there in nothing but skimpy running shorts she’d almost swallowed her tongue. He was just, well, to put it simply,
gorgeous
. Richard was fit without being bulky, handsome but with a little rough masculine edge that just made Maggie want to grab him and kiss him. She still didn’t know what that tattoo said but she sure was curious. Maggie hadn’t really been able to stop thinking about Richard ever since he’d carried her up the steps and tended to her twisted ankle. Luckily, when the beautiful bouquet of flowers arrived no one had been around to see that she’d been so moved that she’d cried.
And to think that she was having dinner with Richard at the beautiful cabin . . . Well, she just felt giddy with anticipation.
Wait. . . . What am I going to wear?
Maggie swallowed hard and looked at the digital clock on the dash. She had so much work to do at the office, but after doing a mental inventory of her neatly organized closet she realized with growing horror that she didn’t have one single thing to wear. Maggie had business attire and casual clothes but nothing suitable for a date.
“It isn’t a date!”
Still, she wanted something flirty but not too revealing. “Screw the paperwork. I’m going to check my e-mail and then go shopping.”
When she pulled into the parking lot of Wedding Row, Maggie spotted Addison Monroe watering the pretty flowers in the clay pots perched in front of her shop. She decided to walk over and say hello.
“Hi, Maggie!” Addison looked over at her with a wide smile. “How’s the ankle doing?”
Maggie lifted her foot and wiggled it in a circle. “Good as new.”
“Glad to hear it,” Addison said. “It sure is a pretty day.”
“I know! I adore late spring, when everything is blooming. And your shop is really coming along. Do you mind if I take a peek inside?”
“Sure, I’ll give you a tour. I can’t believe that the grand opening is next weekend!” Addison put a hand to her chest and shook her head. “And your idea to have a Wedding Row open house at all of the shops was genius.”
“I thought it would draw more customers if everyone banded together. It’s going to be how it works, anyway.”
“You’re right. Flower Power is giving away free long-stemmed roses. Grammar’s Bakery is having a wedding-cake tasting. Nicolina is holding a drawing for a beautiful necklace. We all went together and put an ad in the paper,” Addison said as they entered the shop. “Any word on when we’ll have a salon and photographer? Uncle Mitch said that there is a high-end salon based in Lexington that’s interested.”
“We’re getting close to having a deal with the salon,” Maggie answered. “Keep your fingers crossed!”
“I sure will.” With a smile Addison held up crossed fingers. “So, what do you think?”
“Oh, Addison, this is simply lovely. You’ve done an amazing job. Elegant! I adore the chandelier. The antiques! Oh, the display of veils is just stunning.” Maggie felt unexpected tears prick at the back of her eyes.
Addison put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Are you okay, Maggie? Is something wrong?”
“I’m just overwhelmed at the beauty of it all. It’s menopausal hormones too.” She laughed as she brushed at a tear. Stepping closer to the wedding gowns, she touched a beaded satin skirt. “This is so pretty,” she said, but felt embarrassed when her voice sounded wistful. “I always dreamed of having a fairy-tale wedding. I guess I’m just a hopeless romantic.”
“There’s nothing hopeless about being romantic. Maggie, you’re a beautiful, vibrant woman. Your life is far from over. You might still get your wish.”
Maggie waved her hand through the air and turned away from the display of gowns. “Oh, I do believe that ship has sailed. Life just doesn’t go as planned, you know.”
“Oh, I’m the poster child for that,” Addison agreed with a chuckle. “I wouldn’t have believed even a few weeks ago that I’d end up living in Cricket Creek, Kentucky, or owning a bridal shop. But here I am!”
“Well, I never thought I’d come back here to live and here I am too. At least my son, Tristan, and Savannah will be planning their wedding soon. I’ll get to pick out a mother-of-the-groom dress.”
“Oh, I already have a few in stock. I’ve ordered some traditional dresses but I’m leaning away from beaded, matronly styles and bringing in some fresh ideas. Would you like to take a look? I’d like to know what you think.”
Maggie nodded. “What I really need is something to wear tonight.”
“What’s the occasion?”
“Oh, just dinner.”
“A date, Maggie?”
“No . . . with a . . . client,” she tried to say casually but felt the warmth of a blush creep into her cheeks.
Addison gave her a knowing smile. “Let me guess: a very handsome client. Someone you’re interested in?”
“No . . .” Maggie scoffed. “I just, you know, want to look nice.”
“Well, you’re a beautiful woman, so no worries there. Oh hey. You know what? I might have something.” Addison walked over to a rack of dresses and pulled out a peach-colored dress, belted at the waist. The scooped neckline would show a little bit of skin but not too much. “It’s simple and feminine, and if you pair it with a denim jacket or maybe a white blazer it would be cute and not too dressy. It should hit just a little bit above the knee. Would you like to try it on? I think the color would look great on you, Maggie. I have it in several sizes, and you look to be about a size eight petite?”
“More like a ten, but, yes, these short legs need a petite size. I’m glad that you thought to carry petite. Selections at most stores are slim.” Maggie nibbled on the inside of her cheek. Would a dress be too much like a date? What would Richard be wearing? “I do love the soft color and it’s a flattering style. I’ll try it on.”
Addison smiled. “I’ll look around to see if I have anything else that might work. The dressing rooms are behind the velvet curtains at the back of the shop. Let me see you when you try it on.”
Maggie took the dress and nodded. “I will.” She admired the rest of the shop as she headed for the dressing rooms. There was elegance everywhere but with an underlying warmth that would put jittery brides-to-be at ease. After taking off her clothes, Maggie looked at her reflection in the mirror and frowned. While she ate healthy for the most part and had an active lifestyle that kept her relatively fit, at her age her body was far from perfect. Still, she’d always worked hard to feel comfortable in her own skin. She slipped the silky material over her head and let it slide over her skin.
“Oh . . . very pretty,” she said with a soft smile. Maggie was so used to suits during the day and sweatpants at night that she forgot how fun it was to wear something totally feminine. She pushed back the curtain and stepped out for Addison to see her. “What do you think?” She did a little spin.
“Oh, Maggie, you look so pretty. That peach color is perfect for you.”
“I like your suggestion about pairing this with a denim jacket.”
“Or a blazer if you want to wear this for work. A light sweater would work too. Maybe add a silk scarf.”
“I’ll take it! Wow, this was easy. I thought it would take me all afternoon!”
“Well, I talked it over with Mia and we decided that we would have a wide variety of dresses. I like when the bridesmaid dresses can be worn for other occasions too. I’ve even got some wedding gowns that turn into shorter dresses for the reception. How cool is that?”
“Oh, that sounds like something Savannah might like. I’m sure she and Tristan will come in for the open house. I’ll be popping in all of the shops. If you need for me to do anything, feel free to tell me.”
“Thanks, Maggie. Make sure you come over and tell me all about this dinner with your handsome client. Is he local?”
“Actually, Richard is renting Ty McKenna’s cabin by the river. He was only going to stay for a couple of weeks but he’s going to spend the rest of the summer here. I’m thinking he might have an interest in buying, and I know Ty wants to sell.”
Addison nodded. “Sounds like you’re a busy lady, Maggie.”
Maggie looked at her watch. “Yes, and speaking of, I’d better get going. Just let me change so you can ring this up for me.”
With her purchase swinging from her arm Maggie hummed as she walked back to her office. She tried to get some work done but all she could think about was dinner with Richard, and after a couple of hours she hurried upstairs to get ready. She had a frozen apple pie that she’d bake while Richard grilled the steaks. After taking extra care with her hair and makeup, she slipped on the dress and added a denim jacket that she loved but didn’t wear too often. She thought the look was flirty and fun and had to laugh at the sheer joy of having an evening out.
Feeling lighthearted and young Maggie played country music all the way to Richard’s cabin! But when she arrived, a sudden fit of nerves took flight in her stomach. She might have told Addison this was a business dinner but Maggie secretly hoped it would turn into more than that . . . at least a kiss? She put her fingers to her lips. When was the last time a man kissed her . . . held her in his arms?
Shaking her head, Maggie picked up the pie and the paperwork. She knew she should be reminding herself that Richard was a client and would be leaving Cricket Creek at the end of the summer. She’d never allowed herself to become more than friends with a client, especially when there was a potential sale in the future. She’d lived by that rule for a long time and now wasn’t the time to break it, she sternly told herself.
But when Richard answered the front door, looking incredibly handsome, all of her reasoning flew out the window. The light blue oxford shirt was tucked into jeans, giving him a sexy causal look that made Maggie swallow hard. The top two buttons were open, giving her a peek at the tanned skin. Her brain conjured up the previous image of him shirtless, with a sheen of sweat glistening over his chest, and she stood there even after he’d said something to her and stepped to the side. Maggie nodded even though she had no clue as to what he’d said, but she followed him into the gleaming, gorgeous kitchen that was a cook’s dream.
Finally finding her voice she said, “I brought pie. Apple.”
“Ah, one of my favorites and I don’t indulge often. A slice of apple pie will be a real treat. Thanks.”
“I would have baked it but I thought it would make the cabin smell wonderful.”
“I’ve got the oven heated up for baking potatoes. We can pop the pie in after the potatoes are done. I thought they would be easy, along with a tossed salad and rib-eye steaks.”
“Sounds delicious,” Maggie answered, and tried to shake the sudden shyness. She put the paperwork on the granite countertop and wished she remembered how to flirt.
“You look amazing, Maggie,” Rick said, even though he’d reminded himself over and over not to make advances. All he wanted was dinner and conversation. He was done with meaningless sex. He wanted something more substantial, beginning with friendship.
“Thank you.” Her smile was soft, hesitant, like she wanted to say more. “And . . . and so do you,” she finally said, but then averted her gaze.
Damned if he didn’t long to sweep her into his arms and kiss her. She just looked so sweet but sexy at the same time. “Would you like a glass of wine?”
“Oh yes, please.”
“Not knowing what you preferred, I bought a variety. I have Chardonnay or Riesling chilling, or a merlot or a medium-bodied pinot noir if you prefer.” He grinned. “And just about anything else in between.”
“Oh, you didn’t have go to all that trouble,” Maggie protested, “but it was certainly nice of you to be so thoughtful.”
“No problem at all.” Rick could tell by her bright smile that it made her happy that he’d wanted to please her. He thought about the demanding, selfish women he was used to dealing with and pulled out the corkscrew. “Preference?”
“How about the Chardonnay while we cook, and the merlot with the steaks?”
“I like the way you think.” Rick reached inside the Sub-Zero fridge and pulled out a bottle of chilled white.
“I just have to take it easy so I can drive home.”
After searching for the corkscrew Rick said, “How about this: You kick back and enjoy yourself. There are three guest rooms upstairs. If you have too much wine to drive you are welcome to stay. And I promise to be a gentleman. No worries, okay?”
“Thank you, Richard. I have to admit that being a single mom made me pretty much a worrywart.”
Rich handed her a glass of wine and then poured one for himself. “Here’s to no worries.” He raised his glass to hers.
“No worries,” Maggie said, and clinked her glass to his before taking a sip. “Oh, this is good. Nice toasty finish,” she said, and looked at the label. “Fat Bastard.”
“I beg your pardon,” Rick said, and then laughed with her. “I’ll put on some music. We can enjoy our wine on the front porch while the potatoes bake and the steaks come to room temperature.”
“Can I do anything?”
“Nope. I rubbed the potatoes with olive oil and sea salt. The salad is a spring mix from a bag and ready to go.”
“You have everything under control. I came prepared to help out.”
He grinned. “I wanted dinner to be simple so I could enjoy your company.”
“Why, thank you.” Maggie smiled and tried to hide her blush by taking a sip of her wine but Rick noticed and, God help him, but he was . . . What was the word? Smitten. He grinned at the rather old-fashioned word that popped into his head, but it fit. There was something about Maggie that made him smile just from being near her. Rick wanted to sit and chat with her, learn more about her.