Hot Summer Nights (Lucas Brothers)

“That’s enough for now. If I uncuff you, Maggie May, are you going to try and run from me?”

“I don’t want to leave tonight,” she allows. “Let’s take this day by day.”

“Promise me you’ll stop fighting me at least for the weekend, Maggie.”

I feel like I’m holding my breath waiting for her answer.

“Okay, Bryant,” she finally says.

I pull the key out of my pocket and carefully undo the cuffs so that one side is still hooked to the bed, but the one around her wrist is open. I bring her hand to my lips and kiss the inside of her wrist, her pulse jumping underneath her soft, golden skin. Slowly, I pull away, letting my hand move against the same spot.

“What do you say we fix dinner together.”

“What? I thought you liked being the king in the kitchen?” she says, her voice a little lighter, freer.

“Tonight, I want my queen back. What do you say, Maggie May?”

“You do realize I can’t cook, right? That’s how you became the king of the kitchen,” she laughs.

I stand up, slipping my hold from her wrist to capture her hand in mine. She falls into step beside me as we go back to the kitchen.

“You can cook great for this meal, baby,” I assure her, suddenly feeling like there might be hope. As we reach the doorway of the kitchen, the sun shining through the front door, catching her hair just right, I stop, pulling on her hand. She turns into me, and without a word, I capture her lips and kiss her. Maggie gasps, her arms going around me. I deepen the kiss, our tongues tangling in a sweet dance that is always familiar but never the same.

With Maggie, everything is new.

20

Maggie

I wash my hands and come out of the bathroom feeling loads lighter. Not being able to go to the bathroom when you need to sucks. I had plans for making Bryant’s life miserable. While I was alone, though, I figured out that I’ve already made his life miserable. Plus, honestly, I just didn’t want to. I want to spend time with him even if he went about it the wrong way. His whole ‘this is me with balls’ speech was kind of hilarious if I thought about it. Especially since Bryant is the most growly man I’ve ever met. Testosterone oozes out of his body and it always has.

“Hey there,” Bryant says, when he turns to see me standing at the edge of the kitchen. This place is quite beautiful. The kitchen is the first room you come to, which I guess is a little different, but the living room is completely open to it, so it feels like one large space. There is a half bath and laundry area at the corner of the kitchen and then off the living room is a door that leads to the bedroom and attached bathroom.

It’s compact, yet roomy at the same time. I can see eclectic touches from my cousin Faith, but definite signs of luxury that I know come from Titan. That man does love having the best—which works for him, since my cousin Faith is the best.

“Hey,” I respond, almost shyly.

Bryant walks over and kisses me again. This kiss is just as good, but lighter and sweeter. When we pull apart, the cat is in the corner swishing her tail in anger. I look at her and she lets out a loud hiss.

“Your cat doesn’t like me,” I mutter, touching the forgotten scratch on the side of my face. Bryant sees me and kisses it gently.

“She’s not mine. She just showed up, but she does seem a tad unhappy with you,” he says, frowning.

“That’s an understatement. What do you want me to do?” I ask, wanting to forget the annoying cat. “Go ahead and brown the hamburger while I finish the crust,” he says, turning back to the counter.

“Are we making homemade pizzas?” I laugh.

“Yeah, it seemed fitting,” he says with a wink. I smile, feeling warm inside.

“You always did have a great memory,” I murmur, getting the hamburger out of a surprisingly stocked fridge. I find a skillet in the cabinet and get to work browning the hamburger. Bryant and I made pizzas together on our first date. It’s probably one of my favorite memories. Out of the corner of my eye, I see that damn cat wrapped around Bryant’s leg. “And that cat might not have been yours, but I think she claimed you.”

“She’s just lonely,” he defends, as I shake my head.

“I tried to pet her, and she tried to claw my eyes out. She’s a woman who found her man and doesn’t want to let him go,” I mutter, using my spoon to separate the meat. He doesn’t reply and I smile, figuring that means I won the argument. “So tell me, besides homemade pizzas, what else do you have planned for tonight, Mr. Matthews?”