She held a palm out in front of her. “I was joking. Cash, don’t you dare lay a hand on me.” She backed up the steps, keeping her eyes on him.
“What kind of man would I be if I didn’t follow tradition?” His eyes danced.
“The kind who isn’t really married.”
“Oh, I’m married. Got the paper to prove it.” He moved closer, taking the steps with measured movements, his arms out like he was going to pounce. “And I’m taking my woman home.”
For a brief moment, Maggie wondered what it would be like to allow herself to want this, want him. To be swept away in his arms and whisked off to their honeymoon suite. The bliss of it all was too much to bear. Knowing that they could have had that together and instead she didn’t trust him created an ache in her chest.
Before she could fall all the way into the sadness, Cash lunged forward, throwing her over his shoulder.
She screamed and kicked in surprise. “Cash Diamante, you put me down!”
“Can’t do it, darlin’.” He smacked her backside. “I gotta do this right.”
Fury surged, and she pounded on his back, feeling proud when he involuntarily grunted. Good. She hoped it hurt. He kicked the door open and plopped her onto her feet, letting go before she was stable. These red heels might be the death of her.
“You’re despicable,” she spat as she stumbled toward the kitchen. Her goal was to get in there and tell him everything he’d done wrong. There was no way he’d been able to remodel the whole room in the amount of time she’d given him. If it was done, then it was shoddy work.
Cash chuckled behind her, the sound grating on her last nerve.
She went through the family room, noting that the window openings were bigger with plastic covering the openings.
The kitchen opened up in front of her, and she stopped so fast Cash bumped into the back of her. Grabbing her upper arms, he kept her from flying forward by pulling her against his chest.
She leaned into his hard body, needing the support because she couldn’t seem to breathe. The room was so beautiful. “Cash.” His name came out in a whisper of awe—not at all what she was going for, but there was nothing she could do about it.
This kitchen was everything she’d ever dreamed of having. The exposed red brick was the perfect backdrop for the off-white cabinets that gleamed in the sunlight filtering through the massive windows.
“Those windows aren’t original.” She wasn’t reprimanding him, but thanking him for giving more light to the space.
He let her go, nudging her slightly in the process. She stepped forward and ran her hand over the granite countertop. The smooth surface begged her to knead bread and roll out pie crusts. She wanted to lay across it in a hello hug.
The floorboards creaked lightly under her feet, an endearing touch as it spoke of the care of those who’d installed it and also those who’d refinished the surface with care. There was a tinge of lacquer scent, which she’d soon drown out with the smell of roast and carrots and cookies and tarts. Two sinks dotted the huge island, one on each side, with matching dishwashers; a third brass farmhouse sink sat under the window.
She opened a cupboard, expecting it to be empty but finding a stack of white dishes. “What in the world?” She opened another one, finding pastel-colored mixing bowls. A drawer revealed dishcloths and towels. A KitchenAid mixer. A rolling pin. Mixing spoons. Spatulas. Flour. Sugar. Spices. Olive oil.
The state-of-the-art fridge had all the essentials. She scanned the room and found the old baby-blue refrigerator near the back door. It hummed loud enough to be the background soundtrack in a movie theater. Inside were old-fashioned soda bottles.
Tears filled her eyes.
Cash stepped forward. “Mags?”
“It’s perfect,” she choked. “The whole thing is exactly like I pictured it, you big jerk.”
Before the tears could fall and give away how truly touched she was by Cash’s huge gesture, she shoved past him and ran out the front door.
“Maggie?” he called after her.
“I’m going to town to pick up a few things.” She didn’t look back. She had to get away from all this—all of Cash. Her once-upon-a-dream life was here, right here under her fingertips, and she couldn’t allow herself to be a part of it. Because once the house was done, once Cash was in the clear with the lawyers and city and such, he’d walk away.
Just like he’d done before.
And if she let herself fall for him again, then she’d never get her heart back.
Chapter 8
Cash bolted out of bed, his body responding to the high-pitched fire alarm before his brain woke up. He darted to his window, ready to throw himself out when he realized that this was his house and no one else was going to save it. They were out in the sticks and the house was a variable dried branch, primed and ready to go up in flames.
