Page 4 of The Locksmith’s Promise (The Promise Duet #1)

Sooner Rather Than Later

M aggie

One week later, closing in on dinner time Saturday afternoon, I took the bull by the horns.

The day couldn’t have been more perfect.

Sun shining, birds singing, the smoky tease of autumn floating in the air reminded me there would soon be weekend hikes and bonfires, the bustle of the fall festival, and a madcap rush to prepare everything we’d need for Christmas and the winter shut-in before the snow blew in.

Corwin had been spending his free time with Mikey and today was no exception. Up until now, it had been my dad picking him up.

Today, it was me.

Having an excuse to drop in to Miller’s place unannounced, armed with a box of treats no less, relieved much of the social pressure.

There was less anticipation as well as the possibility of backing out at the last second if I chickened out.

This time, I called Jenny at Buns and Biscuits ahead of time and placed an order for cinnamon buns, triple chocolate scones, and her famous giant oatmeal raisin cookies.

And if I nervously nibbled one as I made my way over to Miller’s place to surprise Corwin and finally meet Maxine?

Nobody had to know but me.

Pausing at the foot of the path to his house, the wind’s gentle fingers in my hair, I gave myself a firm scolding. There was no reason to be nervous.

Maxine was probably a perfectly lovely woman, Miller had been my friend since before I lost my first tooth, his son and mine had become best buddies over the summer, and he had made it clear he knew Corwin was Baxter’s.

And I had an entire box of creamy, buttery, sugary addiction to grease my way.

I sucked in a deep breath and made my way up to his front door.

Marigolds lined both sides of the path, flowed like a river of fire under the living room window, and nestled in pots perched on the steps leading up to the front porch. Bright orange and yellow, they contrasted beautifully with the blue shaker siding and white trim.

I grinned. Who would have thought Miller would live in such a dollhouse?

I rang the doorbell and waited somewhat impatiently. Now that I’d made the decision, any delay only fed my nerves.

I followed up with a brisk knock.

When Miller’s wife flung it open, her entire face brightened. “Hey! You’re Cor’s mom! Come on in!”

I couldn’t help but smile back. She was the petite pixie to Miller’s burly lumberjack. I handed her the box of treats. “I brought goodies.”

Miller’s home was light and airy, boasting exposed oak beams and thick, oak trim that extended a warm and welcome invitation to come inside and stay a while.

Lifting the lid, she breathed deep. “God, I love sugar,” she stated, her voice deepening.

She held up the box. “Look, babe! A girl after my own heart!” I followed her line of vision as she spun around to speak to a slack-jawed Miller and came face-to-face with an equally astonished Baxter.

“Bax,” I gasped as my stomach dropped to my feet.

I absorbed all of him in one glance. His mess of dirty blond hair was darker than I remembered, the clipped beard framing his beautiful lips was new, but those dark eyes I saw in my dreams were exactly the same.

They moved over my face ravenously before traveling down to my feet and back up again.

I darted a glance at the back door, on the other side of which Miller’s boys played with my son.

Our son.

Miller scrubbed a rough hand over his face before meeting my accusing stare.

He offered me a crooked smile. “I did say I would help you.”

Maxine moved toward her husband. “Help her with what?”

Nodding toward Baxter, he answered, “Getting her in touch with Bax.”

My eyebrows crashed together as I wrapped my arms around my torso, my thumb finding that bittersweet memory and stroking it through my sweater.

“A bit of warning would have been nice,” I replied icily.

Seemingly regaining his equilibrium, Baxter hitched his hands on his waist and aimed a sweetly disarming smile my way, the same smile that endeared him to Miller’s mom and every other woman with half an ounce of maternal instinct. “Why do you need a warning, Mags?”

Jenny and Miller were right. He was different.

Calmer.

My greedy eyes traveled over every centimeter of his face, mapping the lines and contours I knew as well as my own, and the ones my fingers had yet to trace.

They tingled even now with yearning.

Drawn like a magnet, I took a hesitant step toward him then stopped.

He was a grown man now, comfortable in his skin.

God, his skin.

I flashed back to that first night.

His hot mouth trailing over my stomach.

His hand grasping the back of my knee and wrapping my leg around his lean hip.

His heavy thighs spreading mine wide as he slowly entered me for our first time.

My first time.

Braced on his elbows, hands cupping my face, his eyes held mine as his long body rolled against me.

His deep voice.

“Okay, baby?”

Maxine elbowed Miller sharply in the ribs and tore my mind from the past. “You could have given me a heads-up!”

“Ow,” he frowned down at her, rubbing his ribs. “It wasn’t my story to tell!”

She rolled her eyes. “How’s that working out for you right now?”

I met Baxter’s intent, curious gaze and flushed hotly.

Miller glanced up at me and offered a crooked grin. “I’ll just take the missus and give you some privacy.”

With that, he ducked. Popping his shoulder into his wife’s gut, he threw her over his shoulder.

“Oh my gosh,” she scoffed, hanging upside down. Slapping his ass, she laughed. “You are such a neanderthal.”

“You love it,” he asserted.

Pushing off his back, she lifted her chin and leveled Baxter with her gaze as Miller carted her up the short set of stairs to their bedroom. “Don’t you scare her away! I need news from the outside—”

Miller slammed the bedroom door, cutting off the rest of her words.

I couldn’t even be upset with Miller. The truth is nothing could have prepared me to see Baxter again.

I released a shuddering breath and offered Baxter a tentative smile as I nervously tucked my hair behind my ear. “Looks like he found his perfect counterpart.”

An ancient pain flashed across his face and disappeared.

I swallowed tightly and forced myself to keep my eyes on his face.

Approaching me slowly, as one would a skittish colt, he held out both of his hands.

God, he looked so good.

He’d changed so much. Bigger, thicker, more muscular, but somehow taking up less space than he used to.

Tall and strong and no longer as haunted.

My heart ached for all he suffered, all we lost.

All he missed out on with the son he never met.

The realization hit me like a soccer ball to the gut. I’d hurt him just the same as everybody else.

If I hadn’t doubted, if I hadn’t feared he would be like his father, perhaps I would have tried harder.

I unwrapped my arms and placed my trembling hands in his, inhaling sharply as my heart stuttered to a stop at the first touch of his calloused fingertips.

Nothing had ever felt so good, so sweet, or so right as Baxter’s skin against mine. With everything that had changed in all the years we’d been apart, that truth remained.

He stared down at me, face grim, gaze locked on mine.

I blinked up at him. “Bax,” I whispered, searching his eyes. “You look so good. How have you been?”

He dipped his chin to meet my eyes, those dark pools pulling me in as they always had. “I’m good, Mags.” He offered a small smile. “Better now.”

“Are you married?” I blurted, my fingers clinging tighter to his.

What am I thinking?

His brow puckered. “No. You?”

I shook my head.

One smile and all my self-preservation flies out the window?

His frown deepened. “Anybody serious?”

I shook my head harder. “You?”

“No.” His brow relaxed, and his lips quirked to the side. “So, no crazy woman will try to yank your hair out, and no plaid-wrapped studmuffin will threaten to beat me up if I take you out for coffee.”

I’m just going to forget the fact he betrayed me and refused to pick up my calls?

I tugged my hands, but he held fast. “It’s just coffee, Mags.”

My blood pressure shot through the roof as the back door opened.

“I’ll ask my mom!” Corwin hollered, then began to laugh. “Jeff! Get back here!”

Corwin’s voice jerked my attention away from the very real threat looming over my hard-earned tranquility.

Our splash-painted ball of fluff ran through the kitchen into the family room, his little paws skidding across the hardwood.

“Jeff?” Baxter whispered incredulously, his grip tightening almost painfully as he stared at our dog.

I winced.

When Corwin jogged in, face wreathed with smiles, Baxter dropped my hands like they were on fire.

Staggering two steps back, he whispered, “Oh my God.”

The blood drained from his face and left his dark eyes standing out in stark relief.

Sliding his fractured gaze to mine, he raised his eyebrows. “Is he…”

I nodded, icy fear unfurling in my stomach. Was it possible he didn’t know? Didn’t get my messages?

Impossible.

Laughing, Corwin dropped to his knees on the floor, his multi-coloured perma-puppy wiggling around on her back as Cor took up the invitation to scratch her tummy.

Baxter’s dark eyes flashed with betrayal.

His voice shook. “We’ll be having that coffee, Maggie.”

I nodded, swallowing tightly.

What is happening?

“Sooner rather than later,” he warned.

Turning to face our son, he offered a small, deceptively calm, smile. His voice warbled once before evening out. “That’s a good-looking pup you’ve got there.”

Corwin looked up and smiled widely. “Thanks! Her name is Jeff.”

“Her?”

He shrugged. “Mom picked it. I wanted to call her bubbles, but Mom wanted Jeff.”

“It’s a great name,” he rasped. “I’m Baxter. I’ve known your mom forever. I haven’t seen her for a long time, and I didn’t know she had a child. It’s great to meet you.”

My face flushed with a heady cocktail of fury and remorse.

How could he not have known?

I realized what he was doing, and I didn’t blame him. If I’d just met my child for the first time at the tender age of ten, the last thing I’d want him to think was that I abandoned him.

My chest ached. Baxter was ten when his own mother left him with his bastard of a father. The parallels were painful and impossible to ignore.

Corwin, God bless him, stepped right up and extended his hand to shake his father’s hand. “Nice to meet you, sir. My name is Corwin.”

I swallowed my grief as they touched for the first time, Baxter’s eyes wide with wonder.

You should have followed up.

You should have tracked him down.

You should have given him a second chance . A third chance. A fourth.

Corwin’s startled gaze moved to meet mine when Baxter didn’t immediately let him go.

I cleared my throat. “Cor, Baxter is super important to me. He was my best friend growing up, the best friend I’ve ever had.”

At the sound of my voice, Baxter released him.

A strangled sound from the upstairs hallway caught our attention. Miller stood with his arms around Maxine who held her hand over her mouth.

Baxter jerked his chin up at Miller, then turned his face away. “I’ve got a few things to do, Mills. I’ll be back later.”

Chin dipping toward the son he obviously didn’t know existed, he rasped, “I’m really happy to meet you, Corwin.”

His lips tightened as he slanted me a hurt glance and a brief nod. “Mags.”

With that, he left.

And just as he’d done over a decade before, he didn’t look back.