MG sighed. “The doctor mentioned that. I thought she couldn’t have visitors.”
“She asked for me specifically. Apparently, she insisted.”
Right.
At least it sounded like Aunt Nedda was returning to her usual self. “What did she want?”
“She told me to give you this. She was quite insistent that I do it too.”
Temple handed her the very official-looking set of papers. She took it with a sinking heart, scanning the first page. Then she stopped, staring. “What is this?”
Temple’s smile became more pronounced. “I believe it’s the mortgage on this farm. That’s what it’s supposed to be, anyway. You should look particularly at the last page.”
MG flipped the papers over until she reached the end. At the bottom of the sheet were the words
Paid in full
with her great aunt’s shaky signature, along with two other signatures she didn’t recognize and a notary stamp.
She glanced back at Temple, shaking her head. “I don’t understand.”
“Your great-aunt is forgiving the balance of your loan. She wanted to make sure it was understood that you didn’t owe her anything more. Fortunately, the hospital had a notary public available since she insisted the signature be notarized. The other signatures are from the hospital staff who served as witnesses.”
The papers rattled in her hands. For a moment she was afraid her knees might give way. Then she felt Joe’s arm around her waist, holding her steady.
“Is Ms. Carmody any better today?” he asked.
Temple shrugged. “As I understand it, her condition is still very serious. And taking care of this loan took a great deal of her energy. On the other hand, I think signing off on the mortgage made her rest more easily.” He shrugged again. “Of course, I may be prone to sentimentalism myself.”
MG blinked. She’d never heard a more unlikely statement. “So I don’t owe her anything anymore?”
“You don’t owe her any money. That’s been taken care of.” He took a small leather case from his jacket pocket, handing her a card. “If you have any other questions, you can call me. Enjoy the rest of your Sunday.” He started to turn toward his car again.
“Thank you,” MG blurted. “And thanks for looking after Great-Aunt Nedda. I’ll try to see her later today.”
“I think that would be a good idea,” Temple said gently. “Seeing her, that is. The sooner the better, in fact.”
“Right.” She nodded. “I’ll get there as soon as I can.”
Joe opened two bottles of premium ale. It seemed like the least he could do under the circumstances. MG still looked like she was in shock, so he treated her carefully, sitting her down on one of the lawn chairs in the back yard before he handed her the bottle.
Her Great-Aunt Nedda was sleeping when they’d gotten to the hospital earlier in the afternoon. The nurse had let MG sit next to the bed for a few minutes, holding her hand, before she’d been shooed away again. Apparently, the chances of her aunt waking again that day were slim. He wasn’t sure how good the chances were that she’d wake up again some other day. On the other hand, she looked like a tough old bird. Sort of like Robespierre. He wouldn’t count her out.
“She gave me the farm.” MG sounded slightly dazed.
“Looks like it.” He kept quiet about all the other things that went along with that fact—that her Aunt Nedda should have forgiven the debt when her brother was alive, that she shouldn’t have used the note to torment her grand-niece. He figured MG knew all that, or she’d remember it in time.
She stared up at him. “I’m not sure what to do about all this. It hasn’t really sunk in yet.”
“Right now, you do just what you’ve been doing, I’d say. No reason to change because of this.” He knelt down beside her chair, placing his bottle on the ground at his feet.
“So I’m a chicken farmer, I guess. And a singer. And a cook’s assistant.” She blew out a breath. “All of that.”
He shook his head. “At the moment you’re a chicken farmer and a cook’s assistant. You may or may not be those things a year from now. But you’ll always be a singer.” He stroked his fingers along the line of her cheekbone. “And someday, you won’t be anything else.”
And I’ll be there to see it, God willing.
He touched one of her curls, letting the hair slide over his fingers like silk.
MG turned her head, pressing her lips against his palm. “Thank you,” she murmured.
“For what?”
She blew out a breath. “For giving me a job. For cooking me food. For helping me with my chickens. For standing by me during this whole thing with Aunt Nedda. For being here. For being with me. Most of all for that.”
Go for it.
“I love you, Mary Grace Carmody,” he said slowly. “And when you love someone, you’re there for them. That’s part of the deal.”
She stared at him for a long moment, her eyes wide. His chest began to ache from the tension in his shoulders.
Oh Jesus, too far too fast.
Then she leaned forward, sliding her fingers beneath his chin to bring his lips to hers. He tasted her, the warmth of her, the essence of her, more strange and wonderful than anything he’d ever tasted before. The moment hung suspended, out of time.
I’ll never forget this, feeling this.
She pulled back from him then, her eyes bright with tears. “That was beautiful. The most beautiful thing you could have said. And I love you too. And I’m not just saying that because you said it first. I mean, I know it sounds like that’s what I’m saying, but really it’s not.” She paused, closing her eyes. “And how exactly did we go from sublime to ridiculous in a matter of seconds?”
He let himself grin since life seemed to have slid back into focus again. “Darlin’ I’m a chef. Sublime and ridiculous are both part of my basic vocabulary.”
She opened her eyes again, malachite green. “What happens now?”
He glanced around the yard. The hens were scratching in the grass. Robespierre was strutting his stuff. Just like home.
“Well, I’d say the first order of business is to get some more furniture. My bed will help, and I’ve got a decent couch. But we could use a couple chairs. And sorry, darlin’, but that TV of yours has got to go. I’m thinking flat screen, maybe thirty-two inches.”
She frowned. “You want to live here? In the farmhouse?”
“Well, unless you want to live at the cabin, which doesn’t strike me as a great idea, although I could always be wrong about that.” He paused. “I guess I’m assuming this is okay with you. Is it?”
She nodded quickly. “Yes. Oh yes. It’s perfectly okay. In fact, it’s great. But I mean—here? At the Ritz?” She gestured toward the house with its peeling paint and slightly sagging porch.
Joe smiled. “Hey, darlin’, it’s a fixer-upper. Reminds me of home. A little paint. Basic carpentry. Maybe some plumbing and a bit of rewiring. Piece of cake.”
“And hot and cold running chickens.”
“There you go.” He ran his fingers along her cheek again. “And of course there’s you. That’s the main attraction. That you’ll be here with me.”
She closed her eyes. “If you keep taking my breath away, I won’t be able to talk.”
“Well, that’s a problem then, darlin’.” He leaned forward again, touching his lips to her hair, her cheek, her lips. “I plan to be taking your breath away for a good long time. As long as you’ll let me, in fact.”
She smiled up at him, running the tip of her finger along his nose. “Bring it on, Chef,” she whispered. “Bring it on.”
About the Author
Meg Benjamin is an award-winning author of contemporary romance. Her Konigsburg series is set in the Texas Hill Country. Book #3,
Be My Baby,
won a 2011 EPIC Award for Contemporary Romance. Book #4,
Long Time Gone
, received the Romantic Times Reviewers’ Choice Award for Indie Press Romance. Book #5,
Brand New Me
, won the Holt Medallion from Virginia Romance Writers and was nominated for Book Of the Year at Long and Short Reviews.
Meg lives in Colorado with her DH and two rather large Maine coon kitties (well, partly Maine Coon anyway). Her Web site is
www.MegBenjamin.com
and her blog is
megbenj1.wordpress.com
. You can follow her on Facebook (
www.facebook.com/meg.benjamin1
), Pinterest (
www.pinterest.com/megbenjamin
), and Twitter (
www.twitter.com/megbenj1
). Meg loves to hear from readers—contact her at
[email protected]
.
Look for these titles by Meg Benjamin
Now Available:
Konigsburg, Texas
Venus In Blue Jeans
Wedding Bell Blues
Be My Baby
Long Time Gone
Brand New Me
Don’t Forget Me
Coming Soon:
Bolted
Once they said goodbye forever. Now they want to walk it back.
Don’t Forget Me
© 2011 Meg Benjamin
Konigsburg, Texas, Book 6
Eighteen months ago, Kit Maldonado was so
over
Nando Avrogado, she left Konigsburg without a backward glance. With the family restaurant in San Antonio sold out from under her, though, she’s back to manage The Rose, an exclusive resort eatery outside town.
Dealing with a stingy boss, an amorous head chef, an understaffed dining room and planning her aunt’s wedding should have kept her hands full. But she realizes she might not be as over Nando as she thought.
As the town’s new assistant chief of police, Nando’s got enough trouble without sexy Kit fanning embers he thought had long ago turned to ashes. Every time he turns around, she’s there—and it doesn’t help that everyone in town wants to see them back together.
One incendiary kiss, and there’s no denying the force of their attraction. But there’s a mysterious and oddly familiar burglar who’s been lurking around Konigsburg, someone who isn’t above a little mayhem—maybe even violence—to cover his tracks.
Warning: Contains hot makeup sex, wedding madness, a hot chef, vengeful burglars, and unlawful abuse of a wedding cake.
Enjoy the following excerpt for
Don’t Forget Me:
He could think of a dozen reasons not to do this. Hell, he’d already thought of them. He’d been thinking of them as he’d sat in the bar. But here he was again. Moth to the flame. Lemming to the cliff. Preying mantis waiting for that final blow.
Which was a hell of an image to have when he held her, all soft flesh and swirling hair. When he smelled that intoxicating scent again, spice and honey and faint tuberose.
The singer’s voice followed them across the floor. “You don’t know me.”
He wanted to say something to her, something light and casual that would put this back in focus again, but his throat felt too dry for words all of a sudden.
The music began to swell toward the end, the final line, that final bit of heartbreak. “You'll never, ever know, the one who loves you so, cause you don't know me.”
The dancers around them came to a stop, the buzz of conversation rising.
Say something. Say anything!
He stared down into her velvet eyes, his mind suddenly blank. His arms were still around her, her body still pressed against him.
Her eyes widened in something that might have been shock as she took a quick breath. “I should go.”
After another moment he loosened his hold slightly. He couldn’t stand there holding her forever, no matter how much he might want to. “Okay. Did you drive?”
She nodded silently, her gaze never leaving his face.
“Then I’ll walk you to your car.” He turned slightly, letting his arm rest across her shoulders as he took her back to her table.
Docia flashed them a quick speculative look as Kit grabbed her purse. “Done for the night?”
“Yeah.” Kit gave her a slightly strained grin, then turned back toward the street entrance.
He followed her through the gate, wondering if he could risk putting his hand on her arm. She looked fragile all of a sudden, as if she might shatter with too much pressure.
At her car, she turned to face him. “Well…” she began.
He’d never know what she might have said—whatever it was, it didn’t matter. Instead he slid his index finger under her chin, tipping it up slightly, so that he could bring his lips to hers.
The shock of it almost sent him to his knees. The taste, the feel, months stripped away, memories swamping him. And yet not the same exactly.
He wrapped his arms around her, one at her waist, one across her shoulders, holding her tight against him as he angled his mouth against hers, plunging his tongue deep inside.
After a moment, he felt her arms lock around his neck. And then she was kissing him back, hungrily, her tongue rasping against his. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, hips flat against his. He felt her rise to her tiptoes, bringing the V of her legs against him.
He turned, pushing her bottom alongside the car, pressing his aching arousal hard against her. The small portion of rationality he still had was screaming, telling him to back off, while his body screamed to take it as far as he could.