Leo Maddox (3 page)

“Um… Showtime,” she whispered to him. “I think she's coming this way.”

So did that explain Robby? Maggie brought him here to make Clara jealous? I'd all but forgotten about the crush both twins used to have on their ex-stepbrother bastard. My heart rate spiked and my fists clinched under the table. I didn't know who to hate more. Maggie for bringing Robby. Robby for being born. Andrew for having his hand wrapped around Clara's waist. Or Clara for being blind enough to fall for Andrew Wellington's bullshit. But I had to reevaluate that thought because I still don’t think Maggie knew exactly who was sitting beside her.

“Calm down, Leo,” Maggie said, noticing my rage. “You're too drunk to get in a fight with her. Let me do the talking. I promise I'll handle it.”

Handle what?
Nobody could
handle
Clara. It was one of those things I loved and hated about her. I shot Maggie a nasty look before finishing off the remainder of my water, wishing it wasn't water.

Clara paused at Maggie's side. She never once took any notice of me. Why would she? She really couldn't care less about me. She only saw her sister. Andrew on the other hand, with his beady little eyes, stared venomously at me. It creeped me the hell out. I tried to ignore him and instead studied Clara. Up close I noticed her hair had grass in it.
Had Clara been rolling around in grass?
A nasty image of her and Beady-Eyes having sex on the golf course popped into my head. I synched my eyes closed.
Kill me now.
But wait... Reed's mowers collected the grass clippings. Nobody could possibly get that much grass in their hair by sheer accident alone. My eyes flew open. Something didn't add up. Clara wasn't in love with Andrew. That's for damn sure. She just wanted to give the impression that she was.
Why?

“Hi, Maggie,” Clara said to her sister, her voice polite. Friendly, even. “How's it going?”

As if she hadn’t noticed her sister's presence until just then, Maggie leaped out of her seat like she'd been probed in the ass. Her wine spilled in the process. Clumsy butterfingers tried to catch the glass before it fell to the floor, but she stumbled and almost fell into Robby's lap. The glass shattered and Maggie pretended not to notice. Was this her idea of
handling
things?

“Glad you decided to show,” Maggie said. “Nice hair. Did you dye it with Kool-Aid?”

My stomach hit the floor.
Really, Mags?
Of all the insults, she comes up with Kool-Aid? I hated when she and Clara fought. But if she was going it do it, she might as well come up with better material.

Clara let out a bored sigh, the weak comment rolling off her thick skin. “Seriously?” she said. “Is that the best you can do? Kool-Aid. No, I found a five-year-old to color it with crayons. He gave me a good deal. Why, you want his number?”

“No,” Maggie muttered. Her mouth opened, as if she had more to say, but she quickly closed it.
Poor, Mags.
She was drowning. Verbal warfare wasn't a talent of hers. And when she tried all she managed to do was look like a fool. Me on the other hand... I could
handle
these types of situations with ease.

So, despite all my big plans for this evening, I fell right into my usual behaviors. I jumped straight to Maggie's defense. Without hesitation, I got my ass out of my seat and moved around the table to face Clara.

“Clara.” My voice came out strong and steady. And that trait of mine, the one my dad called a talent, reared its ugly head. “What Maggie’s trying and failing to say…is that none of us are buying into your bullshit. You look calm and composed on the outside, but I know that’s not how you really feel. You’re starting to sweat. You’re regretting letting Andrew stick his disgusting tongue down your throat, and all that grass in your hair didn't get there by accident. Whatever you're trying to prove, this isn't the way. I can see right through you—and so can everyone else.” And then I added a plea I normally wouldn't. One that was more for my own sake than for Clara’s. “Clara, please. Stop this.”

The girl I’d known my whole life didn't even flinch at my words. In fact, they only seemed to bore her more.

“That's a little harsh, Maddox, even for you,” Andrew told me through gritted teeth. “Do you even know where you’re at? Why don't you crawl out of Maggie's ass, go find yourself some coffee, and mind your own damn business for once in your life.” He rested one hand on my shoulder. “This isn't your concern, bro.”

I saw red. I swatted Andrew's hand off my body. “It's more my concern than it will ever be yours,” I barked at him. “And I'm not your
bro
.”

“Leo,” Maggie urged. “Stop it. He's not worth your time. People are watching.”

“I don't care who watches. And yes, this is worth every bit of my time.”

Appearing out of nowhere, Robby—whom I forgot existed for a moment—shoved his large body between Andrew and I. “I love a good show, but this isn't the place,” he said. “If you guys are determined to make it happen, then let's go outside. I'll even play referee.”

My anger refocused on Robby. I hated his face. I hated the way he’d left Maggie behind all those years ago. “This isn't your problem, Dan. Now,
back off!
”

“Calm down, Maddox. I’m not your enemy.”

“No way,” Clara breathed. My words hadn't gotten a reaction out of her, but Robby’s somehow did. She swallowed hard, daring a better peek up at him. Doing what Maggie couldn’t, Clara noticed him for who he really was. It caused her face to turn stone-cold. Then she turned and marched out of the room without saying another word to anyone.

Andrew raced after her.

Dean visibly relaxed, but the tension inside me only doubled. “What are
you
doing here?” I spat at him, no longer willing to keep up with the charade. “You must have some brass balls. After all these years, I can't believe you dared show your face again. Do you have a death wish or are you just that stupid?”

“What's going on?” Maggie asked, still confused. “What are you talking about, Leo?”

Robby sighed. “Maggie sought me out, not the other way around,” he told me. “I'm living in the area again and followed her here tonight for nostalgia purposes. But you're right, I shouldn't have come.”

“Um, could someone fill me in here,” Maggie begged. “Please? And Leo…stop looking at him like that.”

“Mags,” I scolded. “C’mon, you’re smarter than your hair color. Okay then. I'll leave you two alone to figure this out.
Dean
, I'm sure you're just dying to reminisce about the good o' days, but after tonight, don't ever let me catch you here again. Not unless you want to find my fist in your face.” I turned to Maggie to say one last thing. “Always.”

And with that closing word, I left Maggie to figure this one out on her own.

G
rass. There sure as hell wasn’t grass like this in New York. I cut across Reed’s golf course, ruining my shoes in the process, moving in the direction of my house. Driving home wasn’t an option. My mind was too messed up for that right now. My hands shook and my heart raced. And for the life of me, I could not calm myself the fuck down. I couldn’t even think about Maggie and
Dean
…because the words I’d just spoken to Clara replayed in my head like a bad dream.

I can see right through you.
No, actually, I couldn’t see through Clara. I was very good at reading people. But not Clara. Never Clara. And was it physically impossible for me to be nice to her?
Dammit
. Why did we always have to end every conversation in a fight?

Wanting to scream, wanting to shout, wanting to curse the world—I settled on an apology. My feet changed direction and started moving my body toward Clara’s house. I had no excuses for my behavior. But I would apologize just the same. Clara might hate me for the rest of eternity, but at the very least I owed her an apology for all my asshole ways. Both past and present.

And then, as I was cutting through a predominantly wooded portion of the golf course, I heard a distant sound. Laughter, maybe? The noise sounded almost like Clara’s laughter. I froze dead in my tracks, listening hard, wondering if my mind was playing tricks on me. Because for a moment, I only heard crickets and nothing else. Then suddenly I saw a golf cart racing in my direction. It was Clara behind the wheel—Clara and no Andrew.

Holy shit.
She was coming at me fast.

There was only one option left. I could spend the rest of my life waiting, wishing, and hoping something would change between us. Or I could do something.
Would an apology win her over? Hell if I knew.
Probably not. I needed to do something drastic. So when her golf cart neared, I stepped out of the shadows and into her direct path.

Not my most brilliant moment.

I had not thought this one through. Because when the corner of that golf cart clipped my ass, it hurt like a motherfucker. Pain radiated down my leg and shot up my spine. The force of the impact knocked me through the air and face first into the grass. From the corner of my eyes, I watched Clara scream, swerve the golf cart, and come to a screeching halt beside my limp body.

“Are you okay? Are you okay?” she shouted, her voice filled with fear. I heard the soft sound of her feet stumbling through the grass and coming toward me. “Please don't die on me! I'm
so
sorry.”

What? Was she genuinely worried for me?

I cursed under my breath. Because, even if she was concerned for me, I needed to play up the pain. I didn’t want her knowing that I purposely stepped in front of her golf cart.
How crazy would that make me?

I felt her standing beside me, my face still buried in grass.

“Leo?” she suddenly demanded. Gone was the anxiety in her voice. And now I understood everything. She hadn’t known it was
me
she’d hit until this very moment. She’d been worried when she’d thought she’d hit some ‘innocent’ bystander. But me…hell, she loathed me so much that I was expendable.

“What the hell, Clara?!?” I barked, angry at her for not caring more. I deserved it, but it still hurt. I sat up, pressing my palms to my tender thigh. “You did this on purpose,” I snapped, saying whatever I could to push the blame onto her. Shit. We had the most dysfunctional relationship on the planet. Why couldn’t I ever break away from that?

“Yes,” she said sarcastically, her blonde hair windblown and her mascara a little smeared. “I tracked you down and ran you over on purpose. Next time you'll think twice before saying anything nasty to me. No, of course I didn't do this on purpose!” She ended her sentence by suddenly kicking off her heels and kneeling next to me.

I froze, stunned.

Her bare legs were lost in the long grass. Her black dress hitched up high on her thighs. And for a small second I saw a glimpse of the black panties she had on underneath. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t speak.
Why was she so fucking close to me?
Reaching for my hand, her fingers touched my skin. She attempted to peel my hand away from the leg that I was so desperately gripping. I didn’t budge, but now we were touching and my eyes connected with hers. “Let me see what I did,” she urged, her voice softer than it had been. Only once or twice before had I heard her voice soften like this.
Was it just for me that this sometimes happened?
That small change in her tone sent my blood pumping and my heart jackhammering.

For the briefest moment, I felt something between us.
Could she feel it too?

No, I decided. This wasn’t the first time I’d felt something spark between us only to have Clara ignore me or verbally jab at me in the very next moment.

“No thanks, I'm fine,” I muttered, swallowing hard, and drawing away from her touch. I was nervous as hell and I didn’t want her touching me. I wanted her to touch me because she wanted to touch me—not because I was hurt.

“Then you're going to have to take those off so I can see how bad it is.” She meant my pants. “I need to know if we should call 911 or get you to a hospital.” Suddenly, she reached for my belt, holding nothing back.

Holy shit!
I jumped straight to my feet. “Whoa there, killer,” I joked, forcing a laugh. “Let me buy you a drink before you take my pants off. Like I already said, I'm fine. You didn't hit me that hard.”

She groaned, pissed at me all over again. Whatever moment there may or may not have been between us a second ago, was squashed in an instant. “I know how hard I hit you and you can't be fine.”

I could show her fine. Testing out my leg, just to prove her wrong, I walked around in a full circle. Actually, my leg wasn’t too bad. A little sore, but I’d live. “See? Fine,” I said, patting my thigh. “Nothing's broken or bleeding. I'm going to have one hell of a bruise tomorrow, but other than that...I'm fine.”

“Stop saying the word ‘fine’,” she groaned.

“Stop pestering me and I won't have to keep saying it,” I replied.

From her knees, she let out a long sigh and glared up at me. “What were you doing out here in the first place?”