31. Maggie

Maggie

A fter the best sex of my life, I enjoyed the best meal of my life. Maybe it's because I had a hand in cooking it, or maybe it's because I was so relieved to know he wasn't running away from me.

Our issues aren't solved. We still need to figure out what Don is planning and how to stop it. But at least my secret is out. We're cuddled in his bed together, the sheets tangled around our feet. The room is bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun filtering through the blinds, casting long shadows across the walls. It's warm enough snuggled against his naked body. My fingers trace a path up and down the rough ridges of his abdomen, feeling the warmth of his skin. The soft, sparse chest hair is the perfect amount—not too much, but enough to remind me he's a man.

"Do you need to go?" Grayson asks, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through his chest.

I sigh and lift my head, my hair falling like a curtain around my face. "Yes." I don't need to add that I don't want to go. He knows this. I'd love to spend the evening wrapped around him, falling asleep in his arms.

"When do I get to see you again?" he asks softly, his hand brushing along my forearm, sending tingles up my spine.

Because I don't know, I don't answer. "I can come to you?" he adds, a hint of hope in his voice.

"And we'd have the same problem. You have to be back in San Diego for work." His hand stops moving, and he shifts so he can sit up, the sheets rustling beneath him.

"I need at least a phone call a night. Preferably naked." I love how desperate he sounds. Oh, I know he's attempting to keep his voice steady and his face impassive, but I can see it—the small twitch of his brow, the tiny tick of his jaw. He doesn't want me to leave at all. Me either, Grayson, me either. I get up from the bed and start dressing, the fabric cool against my skin. He watches without speaking, his gaze following my every move.

When my clothes are on, I let out a long breath. "We have the thing next week, right?"

"Yes. You do. I can meet you afterward."

I return to his side of the bed and kneel down, the mattress dipping slightly under my weight. "And I'll stay the whole weekend?" I ask hopefully.

"I won't let you leave," he says, his voice as serious as I've ever heard it. It would be creepy if I didn't want that too. "Tell me, does this demanding thing work on the rest of your harem?" I tease, because if I don't, I might just quit my job and be his live-in sex queen.

He growls and grips me by the waist. I'm pulled over until I'm straddling his naked body, the warmth of his skin seeping through my clothes. "Naughty woman. You know you're my only one."

I lean over and whisper near his ear, my breath hot against his skin. "Would you starve without my taste?"

He makes a feral noise that has heat pooling in my clit. My sexual appetite is insatiable around this man. I try to get up, but he bites onto my shoulder. Hard. I yelp and smack his chest, the sound echoing in the quiet room. When I lean back, he's smiling before he puts both hands behind his head. "You better go. I don't want you on the road too late."

My fingers tap a final time on his chest, feeling the rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my touch. I'm going to miss snuggling on this wall of muscle. Climbing off, I smooth my hair. I want to say something. Something insane. Ridiculous. Scary. Far too soon. "I'll miss you," I say instead. The words almost feel hollow compared to the other phrase I couldn't manage.

He stands, not caring about the fact that his bits are still exposed, his confidence making me smile. Our lips meet on my silent gasp. His kiss is demanding, passionate, and melts me. When he pulls back, the intensity in his eyes is nearly blinding. "I'll miss you too." For a split second, I think he's holding back the same words.

But he turns and flops back onto his bed. "Go before I lock you in," he says, not meeting my eyes.

If only I could let him. Without another word, I slip out of his apartment, the door clicking shut behind me. Every nerve in my body is begging me to go back in. But I don't. I have a job to do. One that means getting Gray his son back. The sooner I can get it done, the better off he will be. And right now, that's all I care about.

***

My week passes in a blur of phone calls, messages, and work. I know I'm running myself ragged. Sleep is nearly impossible without Gray. It's insane that I've grown so used to having him by my side. But he's addicting. There's a way about him, a smooth energy that radiates from his person that I need. Cooking at his place last Sunday was one of the best days of my life.

He taught me to make spaghetti. Like actually turn tomatoes into a sauce. I'm being dramatic, but it was magic. I want it again. I want him to teach me all the meals. To flirt with him in the kitchen. To wash him in the shower after he's given me orgasm after orgasm.

Before that can happen, I have to get the case closed. I need to find Don. I need to arrest him and keep him away from Gray. But I promised I would be here today. When Grayson mentioned the volunteer event at the beach, I jumped at the chance. I love doing events like these. Partly because I was an at-risk kid.

Which is why I harangued both Harry and my sister to come along. Harry texted, saying he would be a little late, and Vanessa is always late. She hasn't even texted yet, meaning she's probably not awake.

Figures. I know she'll show up. Eventually. She's young. Only 22. So I'll give her a pass. At least until she's 25. Then she better learn some damn time management skills, or I might disown her. In order to be on time, I had to leave my house at six a.m. On a fucking Saturday. That was after meeting a CI that swore he saw Don at an Irish Bar in Pasadena. I spent the night sipping on a single warm beer, waiting for him to show again. I was hit on about fourteen times, and Don never did show up. Last time I listen to anything Pepe says.

The sun is already burning away the marine layer as I finally arrive at La Jolla Beach. Parking is a nightmare, of course, and I end up three blocks from the beach. As I walk down the hill toward the sand, surfers, scuba divers, and people walking their dogs pass me going both ways. Every one of them has a smile, a look of ease.

To them, it's just another day at the beach. For me, it's meeting my boyfriend's family for the first time. Without him here. Not only that, but at least one of them already hates me. Seeing Tilly today will be hard. We haven't spoken since talking with her grandpa at the prison. As I step onto the grass, I see the easy-up with their logo on it. "Wishes for Waves." Good name choice. There's already a group of about two dozen standing beneath it. I head that way, pep-talking myself as I go.

The air is humming with the excitement of the volunteer event. I can see people bustling around, setting up tents and organizing equipment. The salty sea breeze ruffles my hair, and the sound of waves crashing fills the air. My heart skips a beat when I see Shark Bait. He's already shirtless and looking fine. His skin is golden and dripping. He must have already gone into the water. Brave man. I can't imagine getting in without a wetsuit. The temperature is probably in the low sixties.

As I approach, I spot Tilly. When I give her a wave, she responds with a glare. Glad to see that hasn't changed. At least she's consistent. I let it roll off my back. Before I can dwell on it, Miranda appears at my side, all smiles and warmth. "Hey, bombshell. Love the wrap," she says, slipping her arm in mine.

"Uh, yeah." I give my dress a glance. It's flowery and not my usual style, but it's the beach. Dressing for it was a must. My bikini is underneath, but I don't want to show it off unless I absolutely have to.

"We're gonna be making lunch, but we don't have to start for a while," Miranda says, leading me toward a set of foldable tables and chairs. She lets go of my arm to sit, then gestures to the seat next to hers. I sit, and she immediately produces a flask.

"Jesus, Miranda," I say with a small giggle. She shrugs. "I'm not a kid person. This is how I'll deal." She takes a healthy swallow and tries to hand it to me. I give a little shake of my head, and she tucks it back into her purse hanging on the back of her chair. "So, anyone try to kill you this week?" she asks, her eyes following a cawing seagull as it soars past.

"Nope. Just a boring stretch of paperwork and sniveling informants."

"Sounds riveting," Miranda deadpans, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Yep." We fall into a comfortable silence until Miranda suddenly springs up from her chair, her movements sharp and full of energy.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she barks at a passing man. He's wearing aviator sunglasses, his long blonde hair pulled into a man bun with the sides shaved. He takes off his sunglasses and scans Miranda up and down, a smirk playing on his lips. "Andy, drunk already?"

"Fu—"

He holds up a hand as he tucks the glasses into his pocket. "Now, now. There are children present."

"They promised you wouldn't be here!" she yells, her voice rising above the murmur of the crowd. This is far more explosive than I could have ever imagined. I'm almost sorry I didn't bring my taser.

"And yet, I'm not an illusion." With a flourish, he starts to walk away but not before he slaps her right on the ass. Miranda lunges, and I leap out of my seat.

"Woah, there," I say, trying to calm her like a bucking bronco as I grab her around the waist. Still, her legs kick out. "Don't make me arrest you," I laugh, but she takes a deep breath, her chest heaving.

"Are we arresting people already?" Harry's voice comes from behind me, and I let go of Miranda. She smooths her sundress, her face still bright red. But at least she's not running to attack Roger across our little camp.

"Harry!" I hug him like a kid who just saw Santa Claus. I can't help it. Being around all these people I don't really know is far easier with a partner, and Harry is always my partner.

When I pull back, I get a good look at him. He's already in board shorts, looking every bit the California surf bum. The sun glistens off his tanned skin, and his hair is tousled by the ocean breeze. "Damn, Harry, are you on the prowl or what?" He laughs, his tight abs flexing. It's a little disorienting—I had no idea he was hiding a six-pack under all those wrinkly suits.

"This is the real me. I'm a surf bum trapped in a cop's body, sweetheart." I laugh and walk him over to the group with Miranda pouting in our shadow. When we approach, everyone quiets. To my surprise, Tilly is the one to speak first.

"Hey, everyone, this is Detective Parker and Detective Ronalds. They're here to help out today," she says, offering me a small smile. It's the tiniest flick of her lips, but it's there—I nearly shout for joy.

"Call me Harry, or wave crusher for today," Harry says with a wink. The kids and some of the adults laugh. One of the parents gets his attention, and Miranda tugs on my arm again.

"More liquor, Maggie. You're my interference since Gray's not here."

While we head back to the food tent, Tilly and Tommy start walking everyone through ocean safety. The rhythmic sound of waves crashing in the background blends with the chatter of excited voices. I'm half-listening too. I've always wanted to try surfing; maybe with these guys around, I might actually find the courage to try one day.

We get to work, chatting as we assemble what feels like a mountain of sandwiches. The smell of fresh bread and deli meats fills the air around us, almost overtaking the salt in the air. Miranda talks about her fling with some B-list celebrity. From her description, it almost sounds like she's dating some sort of porn star. I keep that information to myself, though. Far be it for me to ruin her fun. Listening to her talk is a good time. It's easy, comfortable, and the time flies by as we prepare plate after plate.

At the front of the group, Tommy is now giving a surfing demonstration. He goes through the techniques with ease and confidence, his passion infectious. The kids listen intently, eyes wide with excitement, before they all rush to the water, boards in tow. When they are in the water, I see that Sam and Greg are already out there waiting. It almost looks like they've been holding a spot open in the crowded lineup for the group. Quite a feat with so many people already out there.

I guess having a professional surfer in their group is helpful. It commands a lot of respect in the water—even I know that.

A graying woman sidles up next to me, her eyes twinkling with mischief. Her skin is weathered, telling tales of long days spent under the sun. "So, this is the girl who's fallen for our Grayson?" she asks, her voice warm and teasing.

Miranda laughs, nodding. "Yes, Ma, this is Maggie. Maggie, this is Henrietta, Tommy's mother."

Henrietta smiles, turning to me. "And why exactly haven't we met yet? Is there a reason he's hiding you away?"

"I've just been so busy with work," I explain, but Henrietta waves it off with a laugh that crinkles the corners of her eyes.

"Oh, that's an excuse if I've ever heard one. We don't bite, baby."

Miranda rolls her eyes. "Don't call her that, Ma."

"Nonsense, I call all my kids baby. You should know this."

"I'm your kid?" I ask, carefully. Not quite sure if this lady is crazy or crazy sweet yet.

Miranda scoffs. "Don't fight it. I tried that for years. Doesn't work." If Miranda is saying to go along, I better do it. She's about my only friend here, besides Harry of course.

"Was the drive long, or did you stay at Gray's last night?" My face flushes at the implication. People surely know we're sleeping together. We're adults and in a relationship. It's the norm. But I don't really want to talk about it with this woman who claims we're all her children.

"Uh, I worked late last night, drove down this morning," I say, trying to keep my voice casual.

"Hmm," Henrietta says, her lips turning down.

"Is that bad?" I ask, wincing as I do.

"Oh, it's not. But it explains his bad mood this week." Miranda hums in agreement as Henrietta pulls a giant box of chips from under the table. She tries opening the box but fails to break the seal of the tape on the top. "You!" she shouts out. Several people look our way, but her finger is pointed at Harry.

He jogs over, his movements fluid and easy. "Yes?"

"Be a dear and crack this for me," she says with a smile. Beside her, Miranda nudges her side with an elbow, giggling a little. I don't exactly understand why. Harry opens the box without much fuss, then winks at Henrietta.

Oh. Wait. Um, is my work dad flirting with the woman that's proclaimed herself to be my surrogate mom? Miranda is full-on laughing as Harry jogs away. "God, Henrietta, I did not know you had game."

She waves Miranda off. "I've learned a thing or two watching all you hussies flirt." While she organizes the chips by flavor, she continues, "Just go for what you want. It's easy."

"I want a giant house, two cars, four vacations to somewhere tropical with unlimited drinks, and maybe a cat that I barely see," Miranda says with a laugh.

"Hmm," Henrietta says back, like it isn't the first time she's heard Miranda's desires. "And what does Maggie want?"

Both women look at me, their eyes expectant. "Uh, I don't know, I guess."

Henrietta scoffs as Miranda pulls out her flask. The women each take a swig, and this time when it's offered, I take it. A tiny sip won't hurt, so I bring it to my lips for a small pull. Vodka burns my throat on the way down, leaving a warm trail. "Now, why don't you be honest with us?"

They both give me an expectant smile. "I, uh, guess I want more time with Gray." That much is true, but not the whole truth.

Their little interrogation is broken up when a soaking wet Tilly jogs up, droplets of water glistening on her skin. "How's it going?" she asks carefully.

"Be nice," Henrietta says under her breath. Tilly's face softens as she looks at me. "I was going to be, Ma, I swear."

"Good. We don't want to scare away the woman that's fallen in love with our Gray, now do we?"

"Oh, I don't—" All three women giggle at my attempt to deny it.

"And next you'll tell me you don't want him moving in."

"What?!" I cough out, my chest getting tight. I'm met with laughter. "No! I mean, it's way too soon?"

"Are you asking or telling us?" Henrietta asks. I blink rapidly, partly because I'm afraid to answer. Henrietta pulls the paper plates out and stacks them next to the chips. "You know…" she starts, her voice practically singing. "I bet all this fuss would calm down if Gray was living with a police officer."

Fuss? Does she mean the contract? I'm not under any impression that gangs wouldn't try to go after him just because he's living with me. But I also know it would help. Only a few criminals are dumb enough to attack a police officer at their home. $50,000 is a lot, but maybe not enough for that risk. Say what you want about the police force, but they do take care of their own. Especially in cases like this.

The idea is both insane and thrilling. My mind races with possibilities as I continue plating sandwiches. Could it really be that easy? "I'd love to see Georgie home. He's my one grandbaby that I don't have wrapped around my finger yet," Henrietta adds.

And George! Maybe it would be enough. Maybe Georgie could come home. "She's thinking about it," Miranda says, faking like she doesn't want me to hear.

I ignore them as I continue to get the food organized. My hands are shaking as I layer meat and cheeses until I feel a cold hand on my shoulder. I peek behind me to see Tilly smiling broadly. "For what it's worth, I think it's a great idea."

Fuck me. Why does that give me all the hope in the world? "But his work?" I ask, nearly whispering.

"He has a laptop. He can work in LA. Gives me an excuse to come up for meetings and shopping," Miranda adds.

I whip around, my chest rising and falling too quickly. "Are you guys really trying to get him to live with me?"

"Baby, he's so gone for you, and that man deserves it. We want to see him happy," Henrietta says. Nods follow her words all around. Eyes darting between them, I can't believe I'm even considering it. Henrietta laughs. "You think on it. Talk to him about it. I'm going to go shoot my shot." She fluffs her hair before lifting an extra large plate with two sandwiches and two bags of chips.

I watch in stunned silence as Henrietta walks the food over to Harry, placing a hand on his bare chest when she arrives. I nudge Miranda, nodding in their direction.

Miranda grins and shouts, "Get it, Ma!"

Everyone bursts into laughter, and even Harry chuckles, shaking his head. But as the laughter fades, I find my mind still stuck on Henrietta's suggestion. The thought of Grayson moving in lingers with me for the rest of the day, a tantalizing possibility I can't quite shake.