I Speak...Love (A Different Road #3) (8 page)

“Stephen Aaron Mason,” she calls in a stern voice, stopping me in my tracks. Hot coffee sloshes out of my cup and runs down my bare chest. I quickly wipe it away with my free hand, then turn back around. “Sam,” she gently calls. She has a special name for each of my siblings, and she’s the only person who has ever called me by my initials, “Eat your breakfast,” she says, sliding the plate across the kitchen island.

“Yes, ma’am,” I reply.

No one has used my full name in years. I set my coffee next to the plate and have a seat at the counter. She slides silverware on a napkin to me, then watches me until I’ve eaten every last bite, including the side of fruit. I pick up the plate and place it in the sink. Nelly smiles at me while she nods her head in approval. She refills my coffee cup, then disappears down the hallway toward her bedroom. I take the full cup and head back to my bedroom to get ready for work. After dressing in a three-piece suit, I go to my office to retrieve my briefcase. Realizing I left the stack of files I brought home on the desk, I neatly place them inside and latch it closed, before walking toward the garage.

I hit the garage door opener on the wall as the kitchen door closes behind me. Walking between the cars, I stop and look at my father’s canvas covered Mustang. I grab the corner and pull up the fabric, revealing the cherry red prize underneath. River and Kate wanted nothing to do with this house or anything inside it. They both know I live here, and both refuse to step foot in the house or on the grounds, yet River insists I come to his house for dinner on the weekend. Just like his half-assed invitations to lunch, I rarely go. Like lunch, the invitation never comes directly from River. Josh, Joss, and recently Kate are the ones who ask me to come to dinner. Like River, I have a hard time saying no to Kate.

After the accident, I couldn’t look River in the eyes or bring myself to talk to him for a full year. Things were too fresh, too painful and when I looked into his pale blue, blind eyes, unknowingly to River, they blamed me for everything. I hardly saw Kate, but when I did, I saw the destructive life she was leading. When she tried to commit suicide two years ago, I blamed myself for that too. River and Kate have always had this close connection, and when he stepped up to deal with Kate, I was grateful. I don’t have that special bond like they do, and if I tried to help her, I knew things would only end up worse. River quickly took action, and I was relieved I didn’t have to. I know River thinks it’s because I’m weak or incapable, but if he only knew the magnitude and weight of what I carry each and every day.

I cover up the Mustang, get in my car, and drive to work. I park in my designated parking spot and take the elevator to my floor. I flip on the lights as I walk to my office, then I unload my briefcase, boot up my computer, and get to work. A few hours later at nine Caleigh walks into my office with a fresh cup of coffee and places it on my desk.

“Good morning,” she calls cheerfully.

“Good morning, Caleigh,” I return.

She places the overnight messages on my desk, then has a seat in a chair across from me with her notepad and pen. We go over today’s schedule, then she gets to work with what I’ve asked her to do. Before long, a slice of searing pain lodges above my left eye. I remove my glasses and remind myself to make an eye appointment to get new glasses. It’s been a while, and I’m sure the prescription needs to be adjusted. I squint my left eye closed and continue to work through the pain.

After a few hours of working nonstop, the faint smell of baked cookies fills the room. I look up and see a sight for my sore left eye. Still squinting, I see Maddy standing in front of me holding a container of food and a small white bag.

“Sweetness,” I utter.

Instead of her eyes fading a shade like they normally do, they dilate as her mouth opens in a hushed gasp.

I look at my watch and determine I have plenty of time to stop at a store downtown and splurge on one of my weaknesses—fine chocolate. My next client requested my famous chocolate chip cookies, and these cookies deserve nothing less than the finest chocolate. I make my purchase, then start to head back to my van. The window of the shop next door calls my attention. A handcrafted, thick, dark brown, leather band with hammered studs catches my eye, and I immediately think of Stephen and his dark brown leather office chairs. I look at my watch, and I still have a little time before I’m due at my client’s house. I walk inside and ask the lady behind the glass showcase how much it is. My heart sinks when she tells me the price, but it’s seriously calling Stephen’s name, and I have to get it for him. I don’t usually make frivolous purchases, let alone two in a matter of five minutes, but I make up my mind and purchase it.

I set my two purchases on the seat next to me in my van and head to my next client’s house. While I prepare their meals, I bake three dozen chocolate chip cookies for them. There’s almost nothing better that the smell of chocolate chip cookies baking in the oven. They’ll never know that I purchased a special ingredient out of my own pocket just for them, but knowing how much they will enjoy them is good enough reason for me. As always, I over prepared meals for them. I look at my watch and bite my lip.

Should I?

I could bring lunch to Stephen and drop off the bracelet while I’m there.

I pack up my supplies and prepare Stephen a lunch. I place all the clients’ food in containers and place them in the refrigerator. Before I place the cookies in a large container, I snap a photo of them. I take one last look around to make sure I have everything, then grab Stephen’s lunch and lock up the client’s house.

I get back in my van and drive to Mason Group. What am I doing? I must be crazy. Well, I am crazy, and I’m already here, so I might as well just do it. I grab his lunch, the bag that contains his gift, and enter the building. The second I’m off the elevator, Caleigh’s eyes find me. Her face lights up with her toothy grin, and as I approach her desk, she stands and steps toward me. I take a step back, fearing another anaconda hug is in my future. She raises her hands indicating she got the message, then she takes a step backward.

“Go ahead in,” she says, then she sits back down at her desk.

I walk into Stephen’s office, and I immediately notice he’s not wearing his glasses again. He’s sitting behind his desk working on his computer and the closer I get to him, I notice he’s squinting one of his eyes.

After a few minutes, his eyes come to mine, and he looks at me with his signature deep, penetrating stare.

“Sweetness,” he says.

Did he just call me sweetness? No one has ever called me a nickname before. I’ve never been special enough to anyone for them to give me a nickname. I don’t think,
hey brat,
or
whatever your name is,
or whatever other derogatory names my foster parents called me, exactly qualify as nicknames. I can’t help it. My mouth opens, and I gasp.

He stands and walks around his desk toward me. I follow him with my eyes until he’s standing directly in front of me. He leans in and softly kisses me on the cheek. The intoxicating aroma of his cologne goes straight up my nose and wraps around my brain, temporarily knocking me senseless. I can’t help it, I close my eyes and take a deep inhale not wanting the moment to end. I open my eyes, then he pulls away, and smiles at me. I gasp yet again, and this time there’s a roller coaster belly roll to go with it.

“I brought you lunch,” I say like a robot, holding out the container.

“Thank you. Is your lunch in the white bag?” he asks, looking at it. Suddenly, I feel stupid for buying him a gift, and I have serious second thoughts about giving it to him. Why would I be buying him a gift? Come to think about it . . . it’ll look mighty stupid next to his three-piece designer suit. “Maddy?” he questions, leaning down to look at me when I haven’t answered.

“No, I didn’t bring one for me,” I reply, as he takes the outstretched container.

“Can you stay?” he asks, taking a step toward me.

The smell of his cologne deliciously heads to my brain again and the roller coaster in my belly suddenly hits warp speed.

“No, I have another client I need to get to,” I answer, trying to hold my breath.

“What’s in the bag?” he asks, gently touching my hand.

“Umm . . . nothing,” I answer, taking a step backward, placing the bag behind my back.

“Nothing?” he asks. “Did you want me to throw it away for you?”

Although the thought of saying
yes
crosses my mind, it cost me more than I care to think about and that money would have added nicely to my camera fund. But, no, he can’t throw it away!

“No! Actually, um . . . it’s a gift I got for you,” I say, lifting it slowly, then hand it to him.

A sexy smile graces his face as he takes the bag.

“You got me a gift?” he questions.

“It’s nothing really. I was buying chocolate for my famous chocolate chip cookies for a client, and I saw it in the window next door. It looked like you, well, actually it looked exactly like you, so I bought it,” I say, then walk over to the windows and slightly draw the shades.

Stephen reaches over his desk and grabs his glasses, then puts them on his face. He takes the small white box out of the bag, then he has a seat in one of the chairs. I sit in the chair next to him and watch his face as he opens the box.
Please don’t be disappointed. It’s totally stupid and doesn’t go with anything you have.
He removes the lid, then looks at me when he sees what it is.

What’s that on his face? Displeasure? Disgust? Dislike? He hates it. He thinks it’s as stupid as I am. God, why am I so unbelievably stupid? I stand up, and decide to make a run for it.

“Maddy,” he calls, and I freeze. “It’s beautiful. The craftsmanship is remarkable,” he says, taking it out of the box. “Can you snap it on me?” he asks, holding it out for me.

That weird feeling of happiness brews in my stomach because I did something good and he likes it. I sit back down, take the bracelet from him, and snap it on his outstretched wrist. It looks completely dumb next to the monogrammed cuff of his white dress shirt, but the look of pleasure on his face makes me smile.

“Thank you,” he says, placing his hand on mine.

He gives my hand a warm squeeze, and I think I need to leave before I freak out.

“You’re welcome. I need to get going. Enjoy your lunch,” I say, stand, then walk to the door.

“I’ll see you later, Sweetness,” he says, stopping me cold.

Yep, I need to get out of here. Happiness, pleasing someone else, and a nickname . . . I may explode my guts all over his office walls.

I get back to
California Chef,
so I can unload my supplies, and I enter through the back door. I’m then greeted by the beautiful, glowing Nina as she exits her office. She’s six months pregnant now, and she’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.

“Maddy, there’s a woman waiting for you out front. She’s been here for a while now. She said she wants to talk to you. I told her I’d call you, but she didn’t want me to bother you, and she insisted on waiting.”

“OK. Thank you, Nina,” I say.

“I’ll put your supplies away. Go ahead and see what she wants,” she says.

“She’s not a client is she?” I ask, scared.

I hope I didn’t do anything bad.

“No, I’ve never seen her before,” she answers.

“I’m not in trouble, am I?” I ask.

“I don’t think so,” she answers.

I brush flour off my black pants and walk through the kitchen to the front of the building where we have a buffet style set up for clients to come in and prepare their own meals. I instantly recognize the woman as the mother I took photos of last night.

“Maddy,” she says, then her eyes instantly fill with tears. Oh no. Emotions. I don’t do well with emotions. “I had to come see you in person and tell you that the photos you took of my daughter, Hartley, and I are incredibly beautiful, and I honestly couldn’t stop staring at them. I have another daughter, Hartley’s twin sister, Hensley. I was wondering if I could book a photo shoot with you?” she asks.

“A photo shoot?” I question.

I get that happiness feeling again, and I find myself frozen. I see the woman looking at me, and as hard as I try, I just can’t say anything more.

“She’d be happy to,” Nina says, gently wrapping her hands around my arms from behind me.

“Oh, you’ve made my day. You don’t know how much this means to me. My husband, Ben, and I tried unsuccessfully for so many years to conceive children. Finally, we turned to in vitro fertilization, and we were blessed with twin girls. His birthday is next month, and I can’t think of a better gift to give him than breathtaking photos of the two little lights in his life.”

The room is spinning. I’m suddenly too hot. Nina gently squeezes my arms, but I still can’t move or come up with something to say to her.

“How does this Saturday sound?” Nina offers.

“This Saturday is perfect. Ben is playing golf with his college buddies. Can we do it at the same park where we met?” she asks, looking at me.

“That will be perfect. We’ll see you at noon this Saturday,” Nina says.