Peggy had spent three years working in retail as a personal shopper so she’d dealt with an abundance of attitudes, which she’d divided into three neat categories.
Number one: the tourist. The women who came in without a hot cent to spend, but couldn’t quite hide their guilt over wasting her time. They did that upside-down smile, shoulder scrunch as they sent her running out into the store to pick up designer labels that would never make the cash register ding. But although they didn’t help Peggy out in the commission department, they were her favorite, because they treated her like an equal and tried to set her up with their sons. Which Peggy never took them up on. Except for those five times.
Number two: the professionals. These women knew exactly what they wanted and didn’t bother looking up from their phones while rattling off sizes and label preferences. Not fun appointments by any stretch of spandex, but the easiest, by far.
And then there was number three: the hell creatures. A retail worker’s worst nightmare, these women took great satisfaction in making others bust their asses. They had no idea what they wanted, but they knew it wasn’t that ugly thing. Peggy had spent many hours attempting to appease hell creatures, wondering why she was wasting her college degree fitting women for outfits in which to kill everyone’s buzz at a party. Oh, she could guess the reason—if she were into psychological self-diagnosis. Which she was not.
Especially as she stood on Elliott’s porch, still reeling over his assumption she’d spent the last three years married. And how she’d done nothing to correct him.
Not only had he sent her packing, but he’d lived through her wedding day without giving it a second thought. He really hadn’t wanted something serious with her. The dreaded confirmation should have been enough to send her diving back into the Suburban and leaving Ohio in the dust, but instead, Elliott’s lack of action had the opposite effect. Before she left this town, he was going to question his indifference. Regret it. That’s why she was there. No getting caught in emotional rat traps.
Closing her eyes on a calming breath, she reached out to ring the doorbell. Noticing the black spot glaring back from beneath her fingernail, she tucked it into her fist and knocked instead.
When Alice Brooks opened the front door to Elliott’s new house, it took Peggy less than ten seconds to categorize the preteen. However, Alice was in no way typical or expected; the Plinko disk, bouncing back and forth between two options, neither of which felt right. Huh. A tourist disguised as a hell creature. Peggy hadn’t even been aware those existed.
Alice looked Peggy over from top to bottom, then hid half her body behind the door frame. The move was self-conscious, especially when paired with a fifty-watt glare. “Who are you?”
“I’m Peggy. Didn’t you father tell you I was coming?”
“Yes.” She stared down at Peggy’s boots. “You don’t look like a teacher.”
Peggy fluffed her hair. “Maybe my students just got lucky.”
While the redhead examined her a second and third time, Peggy tried not to be obvious about doing the same. During the whirlwind of senior year, she’d only been to Elliott’s home on two occasions. Both of those times, Alice had been staying with her aunt, so Peggy had only ever seen the young girl in pictures. Photographs on the fireplace mantle she’d managed to snatch a glance at while Elliott was in the bathroom or getting them drink refills in the kitchen.
At the beginning of her relationship with Elliott, the topic of Judith Brooks—Elliott’s deceased wife—had been broached carefully. Over time, he confided just enough about their marriage for Peggy to understand they hadn’t been close. The specifics of Judith’s death, however, were as public as possible. One afternoon in winter, while Elliott was coaching football practice, Judith had slipped on a patch of ice on the driveway, hit her head, and gone into a deep coma. It lasted six months, the woman’s health deteriorating, before Elliott had been forced to make the painful decision to take her off life support.
On the drive over, Peggy hadn’t known what to expect, finally coming face-to-face with such a huge part of her ex-lover’s life. As a college senior, she’d feared the possibility of being jealous over a child created with another woman. But Peggy was relieved as hell to feel nothing but sympathy for this young girl who’d spent the last four years without a mother. At least when Miriam passed, Peggy had been a self-sufficient adult (well, mostly) with siblings to lean on for support (just kidding).
Peggy put a warm smile on her face. “Are you going to ask me in, or should we run lines out here on the porch?”
Alice rolled her lips inward and stepped back, giving just enough room for Peggy to enter. Against her chest, she clutched a stapled bunch of papers, the words The Music Man in a bold, heavy font on the front. “Do you even know anything about this play?”
“Negative, Captain.” Peggy set down her purse on the entry table with a flourish. “I am, however, quite an actress.”
“You look like one. You look like Kim Steinberg,” Alice grumbled, stomping farther into the house and giving Peggy no choice but to follow, trying as hard as possible not to stop and peruse family photographs along the way. No, she was too busy realizing she’d been categorized, same as she’d done to Alice.
Peggy took in the homey living room. It was huge, with oversized pieces of furniture to match. A low, square coffee table covered in the contents of a spilled Jansport backpack. Old wooden floors that probably creaked in the same pattern every time someone walked across them. The only thing missing was actual décor. No trinkets. No clutter. Clean and organized in a way that called to mind the man of the house. Putting those thoughts aside, Peggy focused on the forlorn-looking girl who continued to send her covert looks. “Who is Kim Steinberg?”
Alice flopped down onto the dark green leather couch. “She’s a bitch,” she said on a rush of air, then covered her face with both hands. “I don’t know why I said that. She’s actually nice to me, most of the time. It’s just really hard to be nice back when she’s so good at everything.”
“I can see how that would be annoying.”
“No, you can’t,” Alice spat, her soft nature from a moment earlier gone the way of the dodo. “I can’t believe my dad sent you here. You’re like a Barbie doll. It’s like he wants me to feel shitty about myself.”
“Look, I’m—” Way, way out of my depth. What had she been thinking? Offering to sweep in like a hero when she had no experience with young people, apart from the kids who sat in the waiting room coloring while she shopped for their mothers. Hoping for inspiration, Peggy scanned the room, landing on a copy of Seventeen Magazine, still halfway inside the backpack. On the cover, an overly tanned teenager who she didn’t recognize smirked back. Bingo. If there was one thing Peggy knew, it was men. Around her neck, the foursome of engagement rings seemed to grow heavier. “Okay, so this bitch Kim is the female lead. Who’s the guy?”
Alice was obviously trying to hide her smile over Peggy’s use of the word bitch and failing. “What guy?”
“Come on. There’s always a guy.” She perched on the couch’s arm. “You didn’t memorize your lines, so—forgive me—I doubt you have a passion for acting. So. It’s a dude.”
“Justice Frick. He’s the other lead, who I don’t exactly have to kiss, but…there’s like a nuzzle in the second act.”
“Frick?” Peggy slipped down fully onto the couch. “That’s his last name?”
“Yeah.” Alice shook her head. “Slick Frick.”
Peggy sucked in a breath through her nose. “Oh my God, that’s awful.”
“I know.” Alice’s smile was grudging, but she no longer appeared determined to disappear into the couch cushions. While the girl formulated her next move—her choices narrowed down to either letting Peggy help or kicking her ass out—Peggy studied Elliott’s daughter through fresh eyes. Her shoulders were hunched, as if trying to hide herself, fingers picking at the hole in her jeans. A pang sharpened in her throat when an image of her sister popped up. The similarities between Alice and Rita were too there to ignore, and not for the first time since leaving her sister in New Mexico, the loss hit Peggy like a bus.
“Are you, like, crying, or what?” Alice squawked, surging to her feet.
“No.” Peggy was horrified when her voice hitched. “Maybe a little.”
“Why?”
“Everyone is just leaving me. You know?” The words burst out, like bees leaving a hive that had been smacked by a baseball bat. “Rita, Aaron. Miriam.” Elliott. “They don’t think I’m smart enough to have hurt feelings, because they’re a bunch of assholes.” She used the back of her hand to swipe away the annoying moisture leaking from her eyes. “They’re not assholes. I don’t know why I said that.”
They both smiled at having issued nearly identical sentiments only moments apart. Alice left the room briefly and returned with a box of tissues, which she set down beside Peggy’s thigh, before stepping back, dragging nervous hands over the sides of her jeans. “So. You really know how to make a situation about you, huh?”
Peggy’s burst of laughter felt like a balloon popping inside her ribcage. “You’re pretty funny, Alice.” She gestured to the script, laying haphazardly on the coffee table. “Are we going to learn these lines or what? The clock is ticking.”
Alice snapped the elastic hair band circling her wrist. “I hope you’re a miracle worker.”
“Miracle worker, I am not.” Peggy stood and squared her shoulders. “But if you’re after a nuzzle from Slick Frick, we can get you there.”
Alice’s lips twitched. “Where did you come from?”
Again, the rings hanging against her collarbone seemed to heat.
Some say heaven, some say hell.
Peggy’s smile faded when she remembered that by the time she left, Elliott would be firmly in one camp.
* * *
Elliott idled his truck to a stop in the garage, focusing on the green tennis ball that hung from the ceiling so he could pull in precisely two feet from the wall. Just enough space to walk from the driver’s side to the kitchen entrance, but not so much that the automatic garage door wouldn’t shut.
Once he’d switched off the ignition, he forced himself to wait, before climbing out of the driver’s side. Maybe if he hesitated to go in the house, he would finally convince himself he hadn’t rushed through the game films to get home. But the goddamn tug of anticipation in his gut at seeing the strange Suburban parked out front was undeniable. It was also manageable. Everything was.
Taking his ancient, beat-up leather satchel from the passenger side, Elliott climbed out of the truck and entered the house, wary over what he might find. God knew Alice was difficult in most situations, but over the course of watching the game film with the assistant coaches, he’d conceded to himself that sending over flawless and confident Peggy might not have been the wisest course of action. Alice was his daughter and he didn’t give a damn what she looked like. To him, she was beautiful. He suspected she didn’t share his opinion, however, and he didn’t have a clue how to convince her.
Voices from the living room brought Elliott to a stop, just inside the door. Peggy was encouraging Alice. One more time. Better. Once more through. He of all people knew Peggy could be persistent as hell when her mind was set on something, and he swallowed hard at the reminder of exactly how easily Peggy used to wear him down. Back when his life had taken an unexpected turn and she’d been his only sanctuary. Not anymore, though. His sanctuary was either an actual sanctuary or the field. There would be no deviating. Routine. Routine.
Elliott cleared his throat and listened to the voices cut off.
“Dad?”
He started to set down his satchel, pausing when he noticed a purse sitting in his usual spot, outlined by the familiar brick wall. With an unsettled kick in the stomach, he eased his own bag down beside it, staring at them side by side for a breath. “Yeah, it’s me.”
No sooner had he entered the living room than Peggy breezed past him, back the way he’d come. “I was just heading out.” She turned at the mouth of the hallway and sent Alice what looked like a heartfelt smile. “You got that first scene down. The rest will be easier now that you’re in character.”
Alice’s shoulders gave a jerky shrug. “Thanks. For coming over.”
“Okay.” Peggy seemed relieved. “It was fun, right? Yeah, it was fun.” She gave Elliott a fleeting look, then vanished down the hall, calling, “Bye,” over her shoulder.
Let her go. Let her go. Let her go.
“I’ll just be a minute,” Elliott said briskly, turning and striding after Peggy, the image of his daughter’s raised eyebrows making him feel like ten times a moron. He wrenched the front door open. “Hey.” Peggy spun around halfway down the porch steps and teetered, sending Elliott lunging forward to steady her. “Dammit. Why are you running off so fast?”
“Bet that’s the first time you’ve been annoyed by too much speed, huh, Coach?” Elliott’s lips tilted, like they hadn’t done in so damn long, and Peggy jolted, tearing her eyes away. She stared down at his hands where they circled her arms until he took them back. “Look, tomorrow is a different day. But right now…I just didn’t want you to think I’d volunteered to do this, because of us. Or what happened with us. One has nothing to do with the other.”
“I never thought that.”
“Thank you.”
Elliott nodded while performing a mental rundown of what she’d said. “What did you mean, tomorrow is a different day?”
Peggy rested her attention on his belt buckle, which was only a couple inches below her sightline, thanks to his position on the higher stair. “It means I won’t always run off so fast. Not if I want to give you the opportunity to catch me.”
He was fully erect before the challenge even settled between them, making it necessary to do something he resented. His hand dropped, took hold of his cock, and adjusted the aching flesh. In front of anyone, it would have felt like vulgarity, but he hated the excitement, the gratification that came from touching himself in front of Peggy. The way she clawed into his stomach and reached his basest instinct hadn’t changed with the passage of time. Lord, the absence of that rush might have made it even stronger.
“I won’t chase you, Peggy,” he rasped. “Nothing has changed.”
“Everything has changed.” She smiled so wide, a dimple popped up on her cheek. “This time, I’m only here through the weekend.”
To say he was surprised by the blatant offer was an understatement. Surprised and suspicious. The Peggy he’d known was loyal to a fault. Not the kind of person who would be so casual about fooling around on her husband. Added to that, she knew his faith would prevent him from coveting another man’s wife. Acting on it.
Elliott might have laughed if the throb in his groin wasn’t so painful. Coveting would be the least of his sins if he accepted her invitation. Kissing, touching, taking was where the real depravity would start. And he wouldn’t even admit to himself how badly he needed and wanted to say yes.
Hearing movement in the house behind him, Elliott gestured for Peggy to precede him toward the Suburban. As they walked, he steeled himself against the desire to grab her elbow, to make certain she wouldn’t slip on the driveway. His pulse ticked like a clock in his ears until they reached the street.
The next-door neighbor paused in the act of cleaning out his gutter atop a ladder to watch Peggy cross the street. Little wonder. She looked about as out of place in his suburban area code, clicking along the asphalt in thigh-high leather, as a skyscraper might. The man waved hesitantly at Elliott and got the kind of glance in return reserved for players who’d literally dropped the ball.
When he focused back on Peggy, they’d reached the Suburban. As she turned the key in the door, it made a rusted protest and she winced a little, and at once it occurred to Elliott why the Suburban seemed especially out of place.
“This can’t be a rental car.” He stepped back and eyeballed the dented bumper. “Where did you get this thing?”
Peggy brushed her fingers over the side panel. “It was my mother’s.”
He absorbed that. “You drove from California to Cincinnati.”
“Yes.” Her smile was secretive and a little sad. “With a couple of interesting detours along the way.”
His stomach lurched at the idea of her solitary figure behind the wheel, air flowing through the open window to blow in her hair. “By yourself, Peggy?”
“Can I ask you something?” Elliott’s jaw clenched over not getting the answer he suddenly needed like oxygen, but he nodded, instead of letting on the importance. “When you received my wedding invitation…” Her golden brown eyes cut to the side. “Had the date already passed?”
Lying was a sin. A commandment. The fact that he didn’t even hesitate to break it was proof she was bad for his peace of mind. His path. He was already starting to divert his attention from straight forward. “No. The date hadn’t passed yet.”
“Oh.” She breathed the word, her already petite figure seeming to deflate in front of his eyes, but Elliott had no chance to absorb the blow to his gut. She moved like lightning, propping a foot on the steel runner and hefting herself up into the driver’s seat. “See you around, Coach. I’m late.”
“You said you didn’t have plans.”
“Huh.” Her smile was goofy but distant, as if she’d surprised herself by turning tail so fast. “I did say that.”
She started the Suburban, then ran both sets of fingers through her curls, lifting her shirt and exposing the skin of her belly. Elliott had no idea what possessed him to reach into the car and shut off the engine, but that’s exactly what he did. For the second time that day, he was about to come away from one of their encounters unsatisfied with the score. Disorder and confusion simply weren’t an option for him. “What are you doing?” she asked.
Elliott didn’t have an answer to that, so he went with the second most pressing thing on his mind. “Things with Alice seemed to go well.”
Peggy watched him closely for a moment, before alighting from the car. “Not at first, but we figured out a happy place.”
“Yes, it seemed that way.” He shifted. “How did you find it? This happy place.”
She molded her back and hips against the vehicle, a position which angled her thighs and pushed up her breasts. His palms started to sweat in response, fingers stretching and retracting on their own with the memory of how those swells felt in his grip. How they shook a little, her nipples spearing his palms, when they’d sinned on their hands and knees. A position that should be reserved only for prayer. “I think I kind of stumbled into the happy place, if I’m being honest,” she said, answering his question. “I probably couldn’t find it again if I tried. Someone once called me childish, though, so maybe that helped. Just a childish person relating to a child on her own level.”
Elliott ground his teeth together. “Said a lot of things I didn’t meant back then, Peggy. It was a bad time.”
“I was making a joke. You’re always so serious,” she said on a shrug, reaching out and patting his shoulder, letting her hand linger, thumb brushing the curve of his muscle. “Always. Especially before a game.”
“Peggy.” He gritted out her name. “I know what you’re doing and I won’t be persuaded. I won’t allow my shortcomings to rule me again.”
She snatched her hand back as if she’d been burned, but the blanching expression turned playful in no time as she climbed once more into the driver’s side of the SUV. “Tomorrow is a different day, isn’t it?” Before the door could close, she paused, appearing to wrestle with herself the way Elliott was doing with his guilt for being so harsh. “Alice is terrific. When she says hurtful things to you, she’s just being twelve. I said them to my mom. My mom said them to hers, too.” A flick of her wrist and the engine roared to life. “She’s going to be fine. You’re doing fine.”
Spikes dug into his chest. “Peggy—”
The slamming door cut him off. Hands on hips, head tipped forward, he watched her drive away, thanking God his life didn’t have an instant replay option. When Elliott turned toward the house, he stopped short, finding Alice watching from the front doorway, her face inquisitive. But she ducked out of his sightline, disappearing into the house so quickly, he didn’t even have a chance to take a step.
“Shit.”