Maggie Moves On(45)
“Ice is on me,” Rudy said proudly. “Maggie bought us doughnuts this morning since she couldn’t sleep from all the excitement last night.”
“Tattletale,” Maggie muttered under her breath as Rudy trotted past them. “Hey!” She pulled against his grip when Silas started dragging her toward the steps. “Hands off!”
He shoved her down on the top step. Kevin, unaware of any betrayal, plopped down next to her and begged shamelessly for belly rubs.
“Which foot?” Silas snapped.
The look she shot him could have peeled bark from trees. But one thing Maggie didn’t know about him—when his dormant ire rose, shit burned down.
Finally, she acquiesced and pointed to her left foot and then yelped when he attacked her boot. He felt his nostrils flare at the effort it took to steady his hands. Easing the boot off her foot, he worked her sock free.
“Fuck me, Mags,” he said when her bruised and swollen big toe came into view.
“That’s definitely not happening now, buddy,” she snapped, sounding good and surly.
Gently, he held her ankle in one hand and traced the tendons and bones in the foot with his other.
“Wiggle it,” he ordered.
She did, and he heard her sharp intake of breath. He rested her foot on his knee and dug his phone out of the pocket of his shorts.
“What are you doing?” she demanded.
“Hey, Morris,” he said into the phone when his stepfather answered.
“Silas! What brings you to my ear on this fine Saturday morning?”
“Have time to make a house call? I’ve got a mule-headed woman with a potentially broken big toe.” He closed his fingers around the arch of her foot when she tried to pull away from him.
“I don’t need medical attention. It’s a fucking toe,” she argued in a low voice.
“Shut up,” he told her, covering the phone.
“I’ve got nothing but time, especially since this will get me out of helping your mom reorganize the pantry,” Morris announced.
“The woman loves her alphabetized canned goods. I appreciate it.” He looked at Maggie. “I’m up at the Old Campbell Place. Oh, and don’t bring any lollipops. The patient doesn’t deserve any.”
Maggie flipped him the bird as he hung up.
“This high-handed, ‘I’m in charge’ bullshit does not fly with me,” she announced.
“You either tell me what happened or I go inside and get Jim to tell me, since you had no problem talking to him. And if you make me hear this secondhand, I’ll be very, very pissed off.”
“For Pete’s sake. It was no big deal. Four kids—teens—showed up here last night and tried to get in so they could drink their cheap garbage liquor. The front door was locked, and they were having a debate about going someplace else or breaking a window to get in when I scared the crap out of them. Most of them peeled out like it was the zombie apocalypse.”
“What happened to your toe?”
“Jammed it on one of the stones on the terrace when I snuck around the side of the house.”
He looked up and counted backward from ten. It didn’t work. “You confronted a gang of trespassing criminals in the dark when they tried to break into your house?”
“They were teenagers with a bottle of Mad Dog, not mastermind villains,” she argued.
“Did you call the cops?” Her hesitation had his blood pressure skyrocketing again. “Did you call Dean? Me? Anyone to come over so you wouldn’t be alone if they came back?”
“No. I handled it.”
“You need to get it out of your stubborn head that every single thing has to be handled by you.”
She yanked her foot off his knee. “I don’t like being handled, Wright.”
“Yeah? Well, I don’t like you taking unnecessary risks just because you think you’re safer depending on yourself.”
She scrambled to her feet on a gasp of indignation. “This is exactly why I don’t tell people shit. You open up to some good-looking, landscaping jerk one time, and he can’t wait to throw it in your face.”
He rose to his full height. “Get over it, Nichols. And sit your ass down.”
“You sit your ass down. In your truck. And drive away from here. Far away from here.”
He reached for her and caught her because she was off her game. Cupping her chin in his hand, he leaned in. “This is one of those signs from the universe I was telling you about. You tell me you feel like you can’t depend on anyone when really you’re too scared to ask for help. And now you’re paying for ignoring that sign with a busted-up toe and a pissed-off boyfriend.”
His dog wedged himself between their feet and grumbled about the lack of attention.
“You are not my boyfriend. I really don’t like you right now,” she seethed.
“Be as pissed off as you want to. You know I’m right.”
“Go home, Silas,” she said. “If you’re lucky, your crew will be allowed back on Monday.”
They turned at the crunch of gravel. Dean pulled in next to Sy’s truck and hopped out of his snappy little Mini Cooper.
“You two should be more careful with those sparks. You could burn this dump down,” he said, clapping his hands and calling Kevin to him. The dog joyfully barreled into the man, and the two exchanged enthusiastic greetings.