Page 41 of Bossy Hero (Redleg Security #8)

Chapter 40

Oh look! The consequences of my actions

Maddie

January - Clearwater, FL

T o quote one of Alan’s favorite phrases, I’m getting too damn old for this shit.

Huh. Wasn’t that Danny Glover’s catchphrase from Lethal Weapon ? Alan must be a fan since he uses it so often. One could argue it’s become his catchphrase as well.

My body aches from head to toe. Sleeping on the fold-out sofa is only partially to blame.

Side note—there isn’t a mattress topper in existence that could make it comfortable for this many nights in a row. I’m looking forward to sleeping in Sawyer’s expensive bed tonight.

Wait . That sounds bad. I’m staying in his guest room. On second thought, since my daughter officially married him, it’s become her guest room too.

Anyhow. Where was I?

Oh yeah . Constant pain is the story of my life these days.

My jaw and neck hurt from the prolonged strain of clenching my teeth. As for my shoulders, they’re so full of tension that my knots have knots. My stomach does too; so that’s fun for me.

I’ve had enough experience living in fear to know these aches and pains are the fallout from being stuck in fight-or-flight mode. When you’re this scared for this long, your body starts to break down. Especially at my age.

The closer we get to the twentieth of January—also known as D-Day —the higher tensions have gotten for everyone. Redleg is a pressure cooker. And the lid is defective and mere seconds away from blowing the roof off.

Well, it’s two days away if we’re splitting hairs.

And now Alan’s about to leave me.

Not permanently. Just for the next few days.

Sawyer’s traveling with Alan and the team to the Port of Miami, and I’ll be here to help Sammy with my grandbabies while he’s gone.

I still can’t believe my daughter gave birth to two babies. In my mind, she’s still a precocious child herself. And now she’s a wife and mother.

Not sure I’ll ever get over the memory of Alan holding little Logan while I cuddled Laci, showing them off to the rest of the Redleg family in the hospital waiting room. By far the most memorable Christmas we’ll ever have.

I skim my palms up Alan’s chest, settling them on his broad shoulders. “What are the chances of you coming back here to sleep with me tonight when you’re done working?”

He shakes his head, an air of reluctance surrounding him. “It’ll be very late. We’ve got a lot to do.”

I bat my eyelashes. “Well, the babies will probably keep me up most of the night. So it’s not like you’d be waking me.”

“We’re leaving for Miami at zero-dark-thirty.”

My lips bunch over to one side as I fight off a pout. “Fine. I’ll just be here, all lonely in this big, comfortable bed.”

“Weren’t you the one who said you needed a break?”

“Not from you. I only wanted to get away from the chaos of Redleg.”

Truth time—that’s a tiny white lie.

When I told him we needed space from each other, I was in the middle of a menopausal episode, sweating buckets from every pore in my body and struggling with some lingering PTSD-esque panic. The stress of D-Day was wreaking havoc with my hormones like a witches’ brew bubbling over. So when he was hovering like a damn umbrella, I sort of screamed at him.

He laughed, saying it was more of a grizzly roar than a scream.

Handsome buttface.

Those without a uterus have it way too easy. Unfair.

I’m unsure where to lodge a complaint about this injustice, but after the Lenkov mess settles, doing so is my number one priority.

But back to the point. Now that I’m emotionally stable—or stable-adjacent—I don’t want to sleep by myself. I haven’t spent a night away from him in months. With it about to happen, I’ve realized I’m ready for the commitment he’s been gunning for since... well, since he met me, assuming his words can be believed.

And they can.

I should tell him before he leaves. He deserves to know. I’ve drawn it out long enough.

The mocha of his irises sparkles with golden flecks as he burns his gaze into me.

I want to blink. However, I also feel closer to him this way, so I keep my eyes open, letting him see everything. “Are you doing the brain probe thing right now?”

He nods, an impish grin eating up his entire face. “Can’t help it. You’re so open with me lately.”

“What do you see when you look at me like this?”

“So damn much.”

I tip my chin upward, offering him a kiss. “How incredibly vague of you.”

He joins our mouths, and his arms encircle me tighter than usual. As my lips part for him, he doesn’t dominate the kiss or demand entrance. Instead, he tenderly touches his tongue to mine. Just the slightest graze to connect us without opening the door to lust, as is often the case when our tongues get involved.

Not this time, though. There’s nothing but adoration and love flowing between us. It’s warm and soft, comforting like your favorite worn blanket. The kind you can’t bear to throw away, even when it’s seen better days.

Because it feels like home.

When we break the kiss, only our lips separate. The rest of our bodies remain lined up as close as can be. Neither of us wants to let go.

“I’ve never felt this way before,” I confess, unable to stop the words tumbling from my mouth. “I didn’t think a love so consuming was possible. Certainly not at this stage of my life.”

Keeping hold of me with one strong arm around my waist, he uses the other to swipe a few strands of hair out of my face. His hand lingers against my cheek, caressing my scar. “I know.”

“You’re a man of many words tonight. Have you always been this verbose, and I’ve simply never noticed?”

The skin at the corner of his eyes crinkles, and something resembling heartache crosses his face in a flash. It’s there and gone in a breath. “I’ve said the wrong thing too many times before, always spoiling moments like these. And I don’t want to do that tonight.”

He doesn’t give me any further explanation. Not that I need one.

It’s true that he tends to jump into the deep end with both feet, assuming I’m finally ready to swim with him. And I haven’t been.

Until now.

I skim my palm over his shoulder, cupping his nape to keep him close to me. I need him to hear every word I’m about to say and see the earnestness in my expression.

“Alan, I want you to ask when you get back.”

He knows what I mean instantly. No hesitation.

I watch him eagerly, waiting for his face to brighten as he processes my words. Sadly, it doesn’t happen. Instead, his entire face hardens like it’s cast in stone.

“Don’t do that, baby,” he warns, his voice rigid.

A gasp escapes me, and my chest tightens. “Why not?”

He shakes his head, sealing his lips so firmly they lose their red hue. If he wasn’t keeping me pressed against him, I’d worry he was angry with me.

My instincts take charge, and I scramble to smooth things over. “I thought you’d be happy. But it’s fine if you don’t want that anymore. I know things change. It was?—”

“Stop it,” he whispers in a voice like silk. “Maddie, my feelings for you haven’t changed. If anything, I want you even more.”

“Then I don’t understand why you’re?—”

He silences me with a chaste kiss. “As long as I’ve waited for you to be ready for someday , I don’t want it because you’re scared of losing me when I go on this op. This is too big of a decision to make with fear clouding your thoughts.”

“Alan, that’s not what’s happening.”

I hold his stare, hoping he’ll see the sincerity of my words.

Either he doesn’t see it, or he doesn’t believe it.

“Not like this, Maddie.”

Well, well, well. If it isn’t the consequences of my actions. I pushed Alan away for too long, and it’s come back to bite me. I’m getting what I deserve.

And it stinks.

Fortunately, I have a balm for my aching heart in the form of these adorable silky feet and the baby boy they’re attached to.

I fasten the last snap of Logan’s onesie and hover over the changing table, bringing his foot toward my face. Making obnoxious cooing sounds, I rapid-fire kiss the smooth skin along the arch of his foot.

Ah . That’s better.

Mostly.

My heart still stings a bit, but nothing that a baby cuddle won’t cure.

I scoop him up from the table, wrapping him in my arms. “Let’s go see what Mommy’s doing. Maybe she needs Grandma’s help. I hear sissy fussing.”

When we get into the living room, Sammy’s struggling to get her daughter latched on for a feeding.

“Need help, darling?”

“I don’t think she’s hungry. Just fussy.”

“Gas, maybe?”

“Well, that’s rather rude of you,” she quips, moving Laci to her shoulder for some back pats. “Putting the baby’s digestive woes on blast.”

I join them on the couch, keeping Logan snug against me. His little head fits perfectly in the crook of my elbow.

Sammy studies me, her lips pursed and a brow arched. “What gives? Considering the perfect little bundle of happiness you’re holding, you seem down today. Something wrong?”

My breath hitches. “Yes, sweetie. I have the boyfriend blues.”

“Aw, Mom.” Her lip juts into an overpronounced pout. “Worried about Miami? I can relate.”

“Are you upset with Sawyer for going?”

She glowers at me. “We’re talking about you, not me.”

“Excuse me for being concerned for my daughter.”

Her eyes go for a roll around her head. “How silly of me to forget you’re incapable of thinking of yourself when someone you love might be upset. To ease your mind, I’m not mad at him. I’m proud of him for wanting to be there for his Redleg family when they face off with the devil. Big Al told him he wasn’t required to go, and Sawyer deferred to me entirely. I knew he’d regret it if something happened while he wasn’t there to help. So no, I’m not at all mad at him. But I am worried for his safety.”

“That’s very mature of you, darling.”

“Back to you. Are you upset because you’re worried about him? Mad that he went?”

I lift one shoulder in an uncertain shrug. “Yes and no.”

“ Hmm . So it’s something else bothering you.”

“You’re wiser than you look,” I tease.

“Trouble in paradise with the silver fox?”

I nod slowly, my eyes falling to the sweet boy in my arms. “Little Logan’s falling asleep,” I whisper.

“I’m not surprised. He’s had a busy morning of pooping, eating, and vomiting.”

“Sounds like Laci’s happier now.”

“She gave me a ladylike burp. Very demure.”

“Chip off the old block, considering her dad’s quite the windbag.”

“Hey, now. Don’t go projecting Big Al’s issues on my devastatingly handsome and utterly perfect husband.”

“Projecting, huh?” I flop my head to one side. “Perhaps I am.”

The corner of her mouth quirks. “What happened? He couldn’t get it up? Did you fall into the toilet ’cause he left the seat up? Was he drinking out of the milk carton? Scratching his nuts at the breakfast table?”

Leave it to Sammy to erase my sadness so easily. And with such vivid imagery.

“No, nothing like that.” I speak softly so I don’t disturb the babies. “I turned down Alan’s proposals too many times. Now that I’m finally ready to say yes, he says no. It’s what I deserve after all I’ve put him through over the years.”

How’s that for a truth bomb?

Her eyes widen like saucers. “Hold on. You asked Big Al to marry you? Today? And he turned you down?”

“Not exactly.” In an attempt to give myself the strength to explain, I place a kiss on Logan’s forehead. “I told him that when he gets back, he should ask me again.”

“And then he said no?”

When I’m done recapping the conversation, she rolls her eyes so severely that her head follows suit. “What is it with men thinking they know what we’re ready for? Sawyer was the same way.” She throws her voice into a deeper register. “You’re not ready for a relationship, Sammy. Blah, blah, blah, Charlie Brown’s teacher, wah, wah, wah.”

I fail to hold back my chuckle, and the movement causes Logan to shudder out the most adorable sigh.

Sammy notices it as well, and we both moon over him for a second before she asks, “What happened after Big Al told you no?”

“If I’m being honest, I wanted to rage at him. After the shock and sadness of his rejection wore off, I almost called him a dickhead. When he left the room, I considered throwing my shoe at the closed door.”

With a hanging jaw, she feigns scolding me. “ Mother, for shame. Anger solves nothing. You must learn to control your temper.” She can barely get through her BS without laughing.

“Didn’t you get suspended from the Sassy Parrot for throwing a plate at a line cook? Or was that someone else?”

She contorts her face into a mock sneer. “I did no such thing.”

“Liar.”

Tsk ing , she proudly says, “It was a pair of tongs.”

Leaning back, I arch my brows at her. I may be old, but my memory isn’t gone yet.

“And then a plate,” she finally confesses.

We share a giggle, the levity bringing me some much-needed comfort.

“Mom, I’m sure he’ll be down on one knee soon enough. Don’t worry about that. He loves you. Everyone can see it.”

“I know he does. That’s why I didn’t call him crude names or throw something at him.”

She glowers at me in mock condescension. “He’s not the kind of guy you should throw a shoe at.” Her face dances with mirth, and she adds, “However, you should totally toss your panties at him. Trust me. Works like a charm.”

“If my hands were free, I’d stick my fingers in my ears.”

“Oh, fun with panties is the best.”

I shake my head and give her a mom glare. “Enough, child. Some things are best kept to yourself.”

“Fine. Don’t take my advice. What do I know? I’m only happily married with two babies and a bed with built-in wrist and ankle restraints.”

“Kill me now.”