Chapter Thirty-One

Maggie

I wake up the next morning, alone. The boys are up and Trig’s gone too. The embers in the fireplace lends a soft light to the room. Without Trig in the bed, I’m not sinking into the middle, but rest comfortably on top.

Last night, I’d enjoyed the most wonderful night of sleep. Trig held me close, not that he had much choice. Even if I’d been able to crawl out of the pit his weight created, I would have rolled back down. Sometime in the night, we’d both been awake and I asked him if I should go to my bed. He’d responded with a soft growl and tightened his embrace.

His scent lingers on the bedding. It’s strong and masculine and I might have to steal this pillow to sleep with every night. My body hums with desire as I think about the way his arms felt. It was clear he wanted me too. Any time I rubbed against him, I encountered his erection and my touch would elicit another rumble from him.

Smiling, I get out of bed and go upstairs. The house is quiet. They must have gone out, maybe to see the horses or jump in the creek for a morning swim. I shower and dress. School doesn’t start for a few days, so I have the whole day to do whatever I please. And whatever I please happens to be hanging out with Trig and the boys.

I never know where I stand with Trig. Was last night just a one-time thing? A whim? Did he kiss me and hold me just because the opportunity presented itself?

By the time Trig and the boys trudge back up to the house, I’ve worked myself into an almost frantic state, but the look in his eyes tells me that I worry for nothing. He climbs the porch steps two at a time and sweeps me into a brief but forceful kiss.

“Ew,” Thomas mutters.

Trig’s dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, but the boys wear swim trunks and have towels wrapped around their shoulders.

They file into the house. I follow Trig into the kitchen and lean against the door frame while he rummages in the pantry.

“Did you sleep okay last night?” I ask.

Emerging from the pantry with an armful of flour and sugar and a few other canisters, he grins at me. “Great. You?”

“I did. I think I like camping.”

He sets everything on the counter, lights the gas flame under a cast iron skillet and begins measuring ingredients. The way he measures doesn’t involve cups or spoons. He does everything by sight, scooping rough amounts and tossing everything into a bowl.

“You want to go camping with me again?” His voice is lower, so if any boys are nearby, they won’t hear the question.

“That sounds all right to me.”

“Me too,” he says softly, just as Seth wanders into the kitchen.

The six of us eat at the breakfast table, an immense, antique table that sits in a sunny nook, surrounded by bay windows. Trig’s made mountains of food - bacon, pancakes, fluffy scrambled eggs. The boys devour every last bit.

After breakfast, the boys want to play hide-and-seek in the barn. I haven’t stepped one foot into Trig’s barn and when they discover that, they insist I come play too. The rules are simple. You have to stay in the barn. Period.

We only have an hour, because Michael has to go to baseball practice.

The barn is big and musty. The first floor has about ten stalls, a feed room and a tack room. Upstairs is a hayloft. While Seth counts to twenty-five, I watch the other boys scramble up the ladder. It’s been a long time since I’ve played hide-and-seek, but I know enough not to follow the monkeys. They’ll giggle and give all of us away.

Trig’s disappeared. I wonder if he’s left us and returned to the house for a nap. As quietly as I can, I hurry into the tack room. Saddles line one wall, bridles hang from hooks on the other wall. Chaps hang on a hook beside the bridles. They must be Trig’s. I imagine Trig wearing jeans and boots and chaps - I’d like to see that.

I hear Seth finishing his count.

“Twenty-three…twenty-four…twenty-five. Ready or not here I come.”

The door behind me slams shut. A hand clamps over my mouth.

Trig speaks softly. “Don’t scream, or Seth will find us first.”

I nod and when he drops his hand, I bite my lip to keep from laughing.

The room is almost completely dark and I have to trust he knows where he’s taking me. Lifting me off my feet, he carries me to a table and sets me down.

“Hide-and-seek sure has changed since I last played,” I tell him.

He nudges my knees apart and pulls me towards him. His kiss is hot, nothing like last night. It’s urgent and forceful. He grips my hair in his fist and angles his head to deepen the kiss.

Somewhere above us, Seth’s voice breaks the barn’s silence. “I know you’re up here.”

I can hardly breathe and when his hands cup my breasts I arch to offer him more. He groans and strokes his thumb across my nipple. My breasts ache.

Upstairs, the boys shout and Seth whoops with glee. A moment later they come down the ladder and the sounds of them racing around the barn draw a curse from Trig.

“Usually Seth takes forever,” he mutters.

He tightens his embrace and we stay for a moment, holding each other until the inevitable bang on the door.

“Hey! No fair locking the door, Uncle Trig,” Seth bellows.

The rest of the boys join in and the pounding gets louder. Trig lifts me down, takes my hand and leads me to the door. He unlatches the hook.

“Shoot, who locked the door?” he asks.

Seth folds his arms across his chest. “The door was locked from the inside. It had to be you.”

Trig shakes his head and gives me an accusatory look. “Someone needs to explain the rules to Maggie. You can’t lock the door when you play hide-and-seek.”

We have time for a few more games of hide-and-seek. The barn darkens as the morning sky grows overcast. It’s a little creepy running around the barn in the dim lighting, but the boys love it. Trig doesn’t try to grab or kiss me again, but he’s having as much fun as the boys. Not once is he “it.” Apparently, he’s elusive.

By the time noon rolls around the skies have opened up and it’s pouring. Wes texts me to say they’re still meeting and to bring Michael to the clubhouse. Trig’s annoyed that Wes hasn’t simply cancelled the meeting. He’s not happy we’re leaving in a thunderstorm.

I’m putting on my jacket, standing by the front door. He wraps his hand around my arm.

“Let me take him, Maggie. I don’t want you driving in the storm.”

“You stay with the boys,” I tell him. “I’ll be fine.”

I smile and reach up to kiss him good-bye.