The Mischievous Mrs. Maxfield (45 page)

I glanced at Brandon at the mention of ‘Stuwee’ and saw him suppressing a smile as he came over to my side and put an arm around my shoulders. We were drawing some attention from some of the people busy bustling about in preparation, and I gave a friendly smile to every onlooker I met eyes with.

“He’s fine, I’m fine,” Susan reassured her husband before turning to us. “We wouldn’t have been if it weren’t for this wonderful couple here. Come, Al. You have to meet them so we can thank them properly.”

The mayor stepped forward and extended a hand to us. “It’s so nice to meet you both. My name’s Al Campbell and I can’t thank both of you enough for helping my wife and son.”

“It’s all good,” Brandon said as he shook the man’s hand. “I’m Brandon Maxfield and this is my wife, Charlotte.”

Al’s hand automatically swivelled to shake mine but his eyes were glued on Brandon as he blinked rapidly in surprise. “Maxfield? Wait, Brandon Max... You mean you’re Brandon Maxfield? Of Maxfield Industries?”

Brandon nodded. “Yes. That would be me.”

Al’s eyes widened before he broke into a grin and turned to his wife excitedly. “Honey! My God! Do you know who this is? Just one of the most powerful men in the state, if not the country! He owns and runs Maxfield Industries! Advanced AgriTech is one of their companies. They supply all of our farm equipment! Well, they pretty much do for the rest of the world!”

I gave Brandon an amused sideways glanced and saw him blushing. 

“Um, actually, my father owns Maxfield Industries,” he clarified. “I’m just—”

“You’re one family. It’s all the same,” Al interjected with a dismissive wave. “You’re the man running most of the show now anyway. How’s your father, by the way? Heard he had a bad attack or something. I hope he’s doing okay.”

“He is, thank you.”

Al nodded thoughtfully. “He’s a good man. Very down-to-earth type, you know? Even though he’s rich and all that. He used to visit the farms south of the state when I was younger. Even stopped by here once. He wanted to see what farmers really needed to work efficiently. He wasn’t just building things for the sake of selling them. He wanted them to work well to help the smaller people like us.”

And once again, Martin deserves another ring on his halo.

Brandon smiled at the mayor broadly. “That does sound like my father. Thank you.”

Al returned his smile and glanced at me then his wife. “Listen. It’s noon and the sun is hot and it looks like you could both use a little bit of recharging. We have a lunch buffet set up in the town hall for all the volunteers. It’s nothing fancy but please, have something to eat and drink. It’s the least we can do for you for all your help. The summer pageant will be on its way shortly, just down at the promenade. We can get you front row seats there if you’d like to stay for a little bit.”

I felt Brandon’s arm tense around my shoulders as he hesitated but I slipped my own around his waist and squeezed him lightly in reassurance.

“We could use some lunch but as much as we’d love to stay and enjoy your wonderful summer festival, we’ll have to get going if we’re to make it to the campgrounds in time. Thank you though, for your hospitality.”

Al beamed and nodded. “Not a problem at all. Come on, follow me and we’ll get you both comfortable. It’s nice and cool inside with the air-conditioning. Don’t worry about your car. Ned will look after it.”

Three hours later...

“I can’t feel my arm,” I told Brandon as I shifted a sleeping Stuart against my shoulder. The slight movement caused the baby to stir a little, his chubby arm lifting up to rest against my chest, his drool moving on to the newest spot on my shirt. I already had a couple of damp spots on it.

Brandon slowly rubbed the baby’s back, which we’d discovered to be quite successful in encouraging him back to sleep every time he stirred. “Do you want me to hold him?”

I raised my brow at him. “Do you know how to hold a baby?”

He smiled. “I was eighteen when Mattie was born. I held him a lot when he was just a baby.”

I’m not sure I want to see him holding a baby. I may never recover. 

But Brandon extended his arms and I found myself lifting Stuart over to him. The baby stirred again and started whimpering but Brandon quickly rose from the bench and started bouncing him a little in his arms, rubbing his back soothingly. The baby rubbed his face against Brandon’s chest until he found a comfortable spot and settled in, his eyes fluttering close again, his little pink mouth closing to a pout.

I swallowed hard, fighting to control the sudden speeding up of my heartbeat.

The sight of the sleeping baby in Brandon’s arms had the impact of a sledgehammer to my heart.

Admit it. You’re always going to think of Brandon holding your son or daughter in his arms like this one day. You know that he will be a great father.

Great men usually were and despite the scheme that brought us together in the first place, I knew that Brandon was a good, generous and kind man.

The last three hours was an indisputable example.

Despite his initial reluctance, Brandon gracefully joined us for lunch, speaking to the mayor and some of the other people in the council who were also farmers and business owners in Plympton. He spoke to pretty much everyone who approached him, be it someone important or not. When some of the council people asked to have their picture taken with him, he just blushed and politely agreed to it.

When there was a small issue with a set on one on the floats parked outside the town hall, Brandon stepped in and helped the men put the collapsing corner back together.

When the mayor and other council members asked if he wanted to judge the pageant, he’d opened his mouth to say no—I could tell by the way he darted a glance in my direction—but when I smiled at him and nodded, he said yes. Susan was a judge as well so I ended up watching Stuart, whose usual babysitter was already volunteering in the parade. I sat right behind Brandon, who sat with the panel of judges out in the promenade where they had a stage set up and everything. I held Stuart in my arms and watched the half a dozen contestants go through the different sections of the pageant like the swimsuit, talent and question and answer categories.

When the young, sixteen-year-old Chelsea Conner was declared as this year’s Miss Plympton, Brandon and I were announced as guests of honor privileged with the task to crown her and the two runners-up. 

Since we were already late enough as it was, Brandon asked me if I wanted to see the parade which I did. I loved small towns because I never really grew up in one. There was something touching about knowing everyone and treating them like old friends and family. There wasn’t a lot of that in the big cities.

I mean, who entrusts their baby boy to total strangers there?

We stood on the sidewalk with Stuart in my arms as the floats did their procession, the newly crowned Miss Plympton on one, and the mayor and his wife on another. There was a marching band, the local football team and the cheerleaders, actors costumed in what might be historical town figures and little children in bright clothes holding flowers and balloons.

When the parade ended, Brandon and I made our way back to the town hall. In a town where everything along the main street was only a block away from each other, it wasn’t a very long walk at all.

“Susan and Al will be here in a few minutes,” I told Brandon as he sat back down again next to me. We were on a bench out on the town hall’s grounds where they had set up several event tents. We had found a shaded spot in the tent for the Jam-Packers’ Club—yes, they were a small club of town’s people who canned and packed jams, cranberry jam to be exact.

“Once we give them Stu back, we’ll be on our way.” I rested my cheek against his free arm before he lifted it up and rested it on the back of the bench so I could snuggle up against him. “I had fun though.”

“Me too,” he admitted, leaning down to rub the tip of his nose on the baby’s fine brown hair. “It wasn’t what I had planned but I’m glad we stayed for a little bit.”

I touched the baby’s hand, smiling and gasping softly when it stretched open and caught my finger with its five little ones. I glanced up at Brandon and found him smiling down at me.

My heart clenched.

This feels dangerous. Not only am I wishing for more than a year—I’m wishing for a happily ever after, babies included. 

“Well, look at you two. If you hadn’t been planning to have one quite yet, I recommend you reconsider.”

We looked up at Al’s voice and saw him walking toward us with Susan in his arm. They were both grinning at us.

“You will have a beautiful family, I’m sure,” Susan said as she reached for her son. “And considering that Stu doesn’t behave so angelically for just anyone, I’d say you’d be great parents.”

My cheeks grew hot as I struggled for something light and nonchalant to say but Brandon just laughed and kissed me on the temple as he helped me up to my feet. “I might just convince my wife to get to practice with me right away and often. So we’ll get it right.”

I threw him a mortified look as the three of them burst out laughing. “I’m not sure I want to overwork you that much, dear. After all, it’s about quality, not quantity.”

Brandon grinned, not looking the least remorseful. “Some can manage both with no problem, dear. I’ll apply myself as best as I could.”

I gave up on dishing Brandon back his double-meaning suggestions because I suspected that he would just keep going, and I didn’t really want to let the mayor and the first lady of Plympton into our bedroom affairs.

Half an hour later, with the backseat of our car loaded with cranberry-everything (because there were a lot of cranberry bogs there), Brandon and I made our way back to the highway to continue our route down to Sagamore where the Scusset Beach State Reservation was located.

It was a little past four when we arrived at the campsite. Check-in time was at one so we were well way behind schedule but Brandon negotiated our site back (which fortunately hadn't been given away yet) by paying a heftier fee. 

Our tent site was private enough, enclosed by a thick cluster of trees. 

That was when the real fun began.

Even though it was only about four-thirty by the time we got to the tent site, the skies had already darkened with a large front that had rolled in just in the past hour. It was thick and heavy with rain and the wind was gusting up quickly. The muggy heat had suggested thunderstorms in the forecast but it had been so clear earlier that we didn't really think it would happen.

We rushed to set up our tent. With Brandon’s last experience at it being about fifteen years ago and mine non-existing at all, it was harder than we thought. The wind was starting to whip around us that even the bugs and mosquitoes went away.

I was inside the tent unrolling the double-person sleeping bag when Brandon came running back with a bundle of firewood, which was as drenched as he was since the rain had started pouring down shortly after he left to fetch them. 

“Get in!” I yelled at him over the clap of thunder as I scooted back to give him room. “Dump the damn wood and get in here before you catch your death!”

“I’ll get water inside,” he protested, backing away. “I’ll be fine out here. It’ll pass, I’m sure—”

“Brandon, get your ass inside this tent right now or I’m coming out to drag you in myself!” 

He kicked off his shoes and dove inside the tent, zipping it close behind him.

“Strip!”

He looked up at me, smiling crookedly. “Now, that’s more like it.”

I gave as stern a look as I could manage. “Not what you’re thinking. I’m terrified of being inside a flimsy little tent that feels like it’s going to blow away any moment now if the storm doesn’t let up. I’m cold, hungry and reeking of a baby drool, sunscreen and bug spray cocktail. The last thing I’m interested in right now is getting naked and naughty with you.”

Brandon sighed as he pulled his shirt off and started working on his pants. I tried my best not to stare at his body but it was like trying to hold my breath under water.

“I’m sorry that my grand plan is falling apart. I seem to have an uncanny talent at failing at everything I try to do with you.”

I felt a pang of guilt at the tired, defeated look on his face, and I crawled over to him and slipped my arms around his neck. “Just because this isn’t exactly what you had planned, doesn’t mean it’s not fun. This may be a crazy day but it’s a crazy day I spent with you, and that’s what means the most to me.”

He smiled softly and kissed me softly on the lips. “For me too.”

We got him changed into dry clothes but since the thunderstorm still kept roaring outside, we had no choice but to get into our sleeping bag and cuddle, munching on some trail mix and talking.

“As much as I love how rustic this feels, I wish we could be somewhere a little warmer and more comfortable,” I finally said, my words muffled slightly by Brandon’s chest which I was pressed up against.

“We could be,” he answered. “I was just starting to wonder whether we should just give up the idea of the tent because the storm doesn’t seem to be letting up at all.”

“And where we would we go? Sleep in the car? Check into a hotel?”

“Actually, I do have a little cabin not too far away from here,” he said. 

“You do?” I demanded, pulling away from him so I could look at his face. “Why didn’t you say so?”

He sighed and lifted an arm under his head. “Because it didn’t quite fit the whole idea of taking you to a real camping trip. I was worried you’d complain that I’ve made it too fancy.”

“I’d take fancy right now if we could be sleeping somewhere that didn’t showcase the raw topography of the earth,” I quipped. “I might just sleep standing up in an outhouse right now.”

A laugh rumbled out of Brandon’s chest. “I doubt you could be that uncomfortable right now to prefer an outhouse.”

I stuck my tongue out at him. “How far away is the cabin?”

“A little less than ten minutes. But it’ll be fifteen minutes or more to take down the tent, if we’re really lucky, and get our stuff back into the car. And we’d be soaked.”

I scrambled to sit up and kicked the sleeping bag open. “Does the cabin have some towels and a shower? Or at least some running water?”

“Yes. It definitely has a toilet and a shower with hot water.”

Cheered up by the prospect, I reached for my army-green utility jacket which I’d worn over my tank top earlier, and shrugged it on. “Then we’re good. Even if we do get drenched for fifteen or twenty minutes, we can drive there in no time and jump into the shower. We’d be fine.”

“Should we wait a little in case the rain stops coming down in torrents?”

I grabbed my black combat boots. “We might be waiting a while and I’d like us to get to the cabin before it becomes completely dark. Come on, let’s get moving.”

We were absolutely soaked by the time we got everything into the car and drove away.

The drive to the cabin wasn’t the easiest either. It was raining so hard visibility was an issue. We couldn’t even tell whether or not there were street lights along the road.

I could make out some houses that were lit as we passed them but we kept going deeper into a darker and more tree-shrouded stretch of road.

Brandon finally pulled into a tiny back alley, roughly paved and full of currently-wet sand, and stopped in front of a gate.

He hurried out and unlocked it, punching a code into the pin-pad sheltered inside a metal box by one of the concrete columns that held the gate together.

He jumped back into the car and steered it up the driveweay, stopping under a covered car pad behind the dark silhouette of a house that I couldn’t quite make out in the rain.

“Let’s grab our duffel bags and the cooler chest,” Brandon instructed as we climbed out of the car and rounded our way to the trunk. “We’ll come back for the rest later.”

I grabbed a couple of our bags and headed for the house.

A flash of lightning streaked through the sky, illuminating the outline of the cabin.

I stopped in the middle of the short path, looking up and blinking through the rain at the humungous structure in front of me.

If this is a cabin, then my house is a mouse hole.

I saved my questions though and hurried up the back deck with Brandon following closely behind me, hauling up the cooler chest and one of our bags.

He rushed past me and flipped open what looked like a switch panel on the side of the house. After yanking on a couple of levers, the house came to life. I could see the lights flicker on inside, shining against the windows. I could hear the furnace start humming.

Brandon pushed the door open and we stumbled into the stone-tiled floor of what looked like a mudroom.

I dropped the bags and gazed around the space. 

“Little cabin, huh?”

Brandon dropped his load on the floor as well, kicking off his shoes and pulling off his shirt. “I told you I thought you’d find it too fancy.”

I looked at him in disbelief. “It’s a freaking mansion!”

Lighting flashed outside again, and I saw the stretch of ocean ahead through the large front windows that practically filled the entire wall of the high-ceilinged living room across from where we stood.

“It’s more of a beach house than a cabin, I guess,” he said as he came up behind me, wrapping his bare arms around my body, his heat seeping through the cold dampness of my clothes. “But consider it our home in the next few days.”

“I can do that,” I murmured, closing my eyes as Brandon’s warm lips trailed along the curve of my neck. “I’m cold, Brand.”

“Let’s get you into the shower,” he said as he scooped me up in his arms and carried me down a hall to our right.

He flung open a door to what looked like a massive bedroom that still appeared cozy and inviting with the white paint, vintage nautical-inspired furniture, cool tones of light blue and green, and the low lighting from a couple of large lamps.

He set me down the moment we got into the bathroom, cranking on the shower before returning to my side to help me out of my wet clothes.

He threw them into the jet tub, continuing to undress me until I was just in my bra and panties.

Even though I was cold from the rain, a different kind of heat bloomed on my skin as Brandon’s dark hazel eyes focused on me, trailing a path down my body. 

Emboldened by the desire in his eyes and my own gnawing want, I unclasped my bra and flung it aside, moving my arms away from my chest and to my sides to grasp the waistband of my lace panties.

“Charlotte,” Brandon breathed in a thick voice as he stood back and helplessly watched me slide my panties down and kick them off with my feet.

I took a step closer to him, resting my hand on his bare stomach for a moment before moving it down to where his belt was.

Moving with increasing desperation, we fumbled with his belt and fly until his shorts were off, leaving him in dark gray boxer briefs.

“Shower with me,” I whispered to him before pulling his head down for a kiss, my hands slipping under the waistband of his boxer briefs and cupping his firm butt.

A soft groan escaped him as he pulled down his briefs and lifted me up in his arms, my legs wrapping around his waist. I could feel him hot and hard between my legs as he carried me into the spacious shower stall.

We said nothing as we washed each other—our heated kisses and frantic touches filling the space with a heat that burned hotter than the steam.

He grabbed a large, fluffy white towel from the rack on the wall and hastily dried our bodies with swift and deft hands.

“Charlotte, I want you,” he growled lightly against my ear as he picked me up in his arms and carried me to the bedroom. “Please, baby.”

He gently dropped me on the bed, quickly covering me with his large, hard body as he took my mouth with a fierce kiss. His intention was hard to miss with his erection pressed against my belly.