And yeah, he was laughing. But the sound of laughter in his heart was bittersweet. Mud or no mud, Carolina was pure clean from the inside and out, nothing ugly tainting her life-the way a whole lot of wrong things irrevocably colored his.
By evening, the unflappable Maguire seemed to be in a downright snarly mood. Carolina could see he’d had a great time with Tommy, and the boy loved every minute with his older brother. She liked Tommy’s caretaker, Shannon, even if she hadn’t quite grasped how an ex-wife of Tommy’s brother-someone who wasn’t remotely blood kin-had gotten the parenting job. It didn’t really matter. It was obvious the boy was thriving under Shannon’s care.
When Shannon and Tommy-and the behemoth dog-left after dinner, Maguire’s pretend-upbeat posture sagged. He disappeared in the library for a while. She had dinner with Henry, who groveled for more brownies, and urged her to have patience with Maguire.
There was nothing to have patience about. He was just…unhappy about something, unsettled. He spoke to her, spoke to Henry, had dinner, said the right things. It was in his eyes that something was wrong.
He’d closed up like a clam in a storm.
Both of them still had jet lag. When his eyes closed, watching the news, Carolina thought maybe exhaustion was the only thing going on, and heaven knew, she crashed soon after.
The morning brought sunshine-and an extraordinary surprise out the back door. When she looked out, she found Maguire and Henry both outside, even at this early hour, holding coffee and circling the surprise like lions guarding a hunt.
As fast as she could pile on clothes, she chased downstairs and outside, shrieking all the way, leaving the door open and not wasting time on a coat, no matter what the temperature.
It was a joke. Her asking for a ride in a ’53 MG. Something on that silly list she’d made when she first came-it seemed like years ago-nothing that she remembered or ever expected to be taken seriously.
The baby was candy-apple-red, with fat fenders over her front wheels, a running board, a front hood that gleamed like a mirror. She’d only seen one once before. Didn’t know what a Mark IV was from a TD or any other label like that…she’d just sat in the one car that her grandfather had worked with, and fell in love.
Both men turned at the sound of her screams, and for the first time in a solid twenty-four, she caught Maguire’s real grin. He opened the bitsy door, motioned her inside into the old, black leather seat.
“Where did you guys
“Don’t ask. Just next time, ask for world peace, or something that’s easy to come by.”
Henry started tsk-tsking at her bare feet and lack of coat, being the fastidious old mother hen that he was, but the car was so one-of-a-kind adorable. Only after another few minutes oohing and aahing did she notice the duffel bag in back.
“We’re going to be gone for twenty-four hours. Not far. Not sure how far we can trust the car-but Henry’ll be here, home, ready to send out the Mounties if she’s not in the mood to run well.”
“You mean I can actually
“I don’t know,” Maguire murmured. “Can you? I mean, I’ll be glad to take the wheel if you’re afraid of it-”
“But I can?”
Maguire spun a circle as if searching everywhere in sight. “Do you see anyone stopping her, Henry? Of course, maybe we should have crash helmets before letting her behind the wheel. And a quick course in what a clutch is for-”
“I grew up on jalopies, Maguire. I know what a clutch is. My grandpa used to restore old cars.”
“So that’s how you knew about this baby?”
“Yeah. He found and fixed up an old MG for a neighbor.” She could see both he and Harry were in lust. They should look at women the way they looked at the car. They stroked. Drooled. Looked with reverence. Praised every body part. Revered.
Which gave her plenty of time to yank on clothes and shoes and a jacket and run back outside. Maguire was already installed in the passenger seat.
“I thought maybe you’d let me drive,” he said.
“Maybe in the next life. This was my fantasy. Not yours.”
“But I didn’t know about this car until you brought it up.”
“Not my problem.” She sank into the old leather, savoring the adorable dash, the tiny wheel, the long sleek front.
“What happened to my frugal, unselfish, can’t-accept-anything-for-herself woman I met a week ago?”
“You ruined her, Maguire. Until you, I had no idea being corrupted could be so much fun. Snap on your seat belt. Oh. There are no seat belts. Then just hold on and pray, big boy, while we see what she can do.”
She hadn’t forgotten Maguire’s moodiness the day before. He hadn’t, of course, mentioned that anything was troubling him, because Maguire wouldn’t. Not to her. Not to anyone, as far as she could tell.
Carolina was increasingly aware that her place in Maguire’s life had been carefully, completely, sharply defined by him. Once she was “better,” as he called it, he had every intention of disappearing-back to his life, whatever he did, whoever he did it with. If she felt something more, it was her problem. She’d cracked his armor when they made love, but he hadn’t willingly opened his heart to her. Even an inch.
Possibly that was why she made the first turn on two wheels. She didn’t want to give Maguire a heart attack exactly. More like an attack of the heart.
Within two miles, she’d mastered the four gears and aimed for some nice, steep, curly mountain roads.
“Does the phrase ‘oh, my God’ make you think we should slow down a little?” he asked over the wind.
“Nope.”
“Hey. Where is my shy, softhearted school-teacher?”
“That was then. This is now.” She had to shout to be heard above the wind. “Maybe you don’t find out what a girl’s made of until she has the chance to get behind the wheel, Maguire.” She glanced at him, but only a millisecond of a glance. The steep road had no guardrails, every swinging turn and swerve creating blind spots. Like falling in love with him, she thought. There were unknown dangers behind every turn. Reckless dangers. Worrisome dangers. But damned if her heart wasn’t racing with the thrill of it.
“Carolina.” He was white-knuckled, holding the dash and door. Laughing. But definitely holding on. “Do you think there’s a prayer we could return the car in one piece?”
The car, yes, she thought.
But her heart had already been cracked, hard.
And if streaking mountain roads at breakneck speed was what it took to make him laugh, she wasn’t about to put her sensible shoes back on now.
Whatever time she had left with him, she was determined to give it everything she had.
Chapter Nine
It took enormous motivation to get her to park the car, but then, Maguire prided himself at being able to occasionally achieve the impossible.
She started yelling at the top of her lungs.
While she was occupied, Maguire crawled out of the old MG and kissed the cold, damp ground. He was that grateful to be alive. He wanted to give himself credit-Carolina most distinctly was not depressed or despondent, the way he’d first found her. The sound of her shrieks was damn well worth gold. And he was going to enjoy them. After kissing the ground. He hadn’t been sure she was even listening to his directions, much less following them. The last ten minutes he’d been praying with his eyes closed.
“Maguire! Quit that! You weren’t that terrorized by my driving!”
“Oh, yes, I was,” he said feelingly, in no hurry to get off his knees.
He hadn’t been afraid of anything since he could remember, but he was starting to be mighty afraid of Carolina. She was doing just what he wanted her to do-becoming strong, becoming happy, standing up for herself more and more. It was just…
