Hold Me Fast (McCullough Mountain Book 7)

  “But that doesn’t mean we have to get married.”

  “No, it doesn’t. But I’ll be wantin’ to see you naked sooner or later and I’m not sure I know how to deal with such a chaste man.”

  He scoffed. Chaste? No. Shaking his head, he said, “Women don’t typically voice their sexual appetites the way you do, Maureen. I don’t know what to say when you say stuff like that.”

  “Oh, but it’s okay for you to be sayin’ you want to put your lips all over me?”

  “I’m a man. It’s different.”

  “That’s another thing, Frank. I may be the sort of woman that wants to stay at home and raise a family, but I refuse to live by some double standard. If you want to reference my breasts, you bet your arse I’ll be talkin’ about your cock.”

  “Where on earth did you come from?” He’d thought Colleen was the crazy one. Clearly he was wrong.

  “Center County.”

  It was getting dark and he was on the verge of losing his mind. “What is it you want from me, Maureen? I don’t have the strength to fight with you and I’d never forgive myself if one of those tears fell.”

  “I told you, it’s allergies.”

  “Just be straight with me.”

  She was silent for a long moment, some subtle insecurities showing through her impenetrable façade. Quietly, she confessed, “I like feeling wanted by you.”

  “Is there any question that I want you? I’ve made my feelings clear on the subject.”

  “You don’t say a lot, Frank. I could talk a preacher to death, but you’re quieter than a church mouse sometimes. I’m not always sure what you’re thinking.”

  “Ah, well, mostly I’m thinkin’ how beautiful you are. Sometimes I’m counting the different shades of red running through your hair. Other times I’m thinkin’ how crazy it is that I’ve fallen for you this fast. And every now and then I’m thinkin’ how quickly you could make me lose control.”

  “But you never lose control. You’re always there, fixing my flat tire or rescuing me from the law.”

  “I can’t help that you’re a calamity,” he teased and she smiled.

  “I am that.”

  “Let’s not fight then. Never doubt that I want you, Maureen. I do. But a little temperance never hurt anyone. We have the rest of our lives to make love. No sense in rushing into it, when everything’s still so new to you.”

  “I suppose your right. I’m just afraid I’ll wake up one day and you’ll be gone.”

  “Where would I go?”

  She shrugged. “Everyone’s leaving these days.”

  Tipping her chin up he met her stare. “I promise you, I’m not going anywhere. Tell me you believe that.”

  She studied him for a long moment. “Is it too much to ask that you put it in writing?”

  He laughed. She always surprised him and he knew, with her there would never be a dull moment. “Come along then.”

  Leading her out of the truck and back to the tree they’d picnicked under, he pulled out his knife. Choosing an area where the bark was somewhat smooth, he chiseled out their initials.

  M.O. + F.M.

  Forever

  “Will that suffice?”

  She smiled. “It will. Thank you.” She leaned up and placed a kiss on his cheek.

  God help him if he ever broke his promise. He was pretty sure she’d win in any fight. “I’ll take you home now, love.”

  “Okay.”

  And just like that she was content again. He was coming to realize dealing with Maureen was like dealing with a hot ember. Sometimes it looked mistakably cool, but one little jab and it was red hot again. He’d keep that in mind, because the woman certainly knew how to scold. He could only imagine how hot she’d burn in his bed.

  Chapter Four

  On the morning of July twentieth Maureen awoke with a sick feeling in her stomach she couldn’t shake. Her breakfast didn’t sit well and she turned down lunch. She’d helped her mother around the house all day, waiting for Frank to finish at the lumberyard, but no matter what she did, her stomach remained in knots.

  “Do you want some ginger tea, dearie?” her mum asked.

  “No. I’m not nauseous. I don’t know what it is. Tension maybe, but God knows what I have to be tense about.”

  “He does and soon enough he’ll tell you. You’re guts likely givin’ you a wee warnin’, dearie.”

  Her mother had always claimed to have a bit of a third eye, believing that most women possessed some sort of psychic instinct. Maureen was more likely to believe she suffered from gas. But then she heard the sirens.

  Center County was spread over a large bit of land, but its population was small. When sirens rung, chances were you knew the person they were headin’ for. She quickly called her sisters to make sure everything was fine and then decided to take a ride. It was only natural to be curious when something happened in such a small community.

  She heard the sirens for a while, but then they silenced. She couldn’t locate where they were coming from. Every street she drove down showed no signs of distress. Normally, she wouldn’t care so much, but there seemed to be at least three sirens and one was an ambulance.

  Giving up, she pulled into the lot at O’Malley’s and found her sister inside. She hadn’t told Rosemarie or Colleen much about her and Frank, but thought now might be a good time. She had plenty of questions and the longer they dated the closer they came to crossing certain lines. Married or not, she was having sex with that man.

  “Hey, Maureen. Did you ever find out what the sirens were for?” Rosemarie asked as she took inventory behind the bar.

  “No. I drove all over town, but couldn’t find where they were coming from. I need one of those scanners.”

  “The last thing you need is a way to interfere with the police. I’m sure we’ll hear about it sooner or later. I just hope no one was hurt. I thought I heard an ambulance.”

  “Me too.”

  Rosemarie shrugged. “So how are things?”

  “Wonderful, I guess.”

  She laughed. “You guess things are wonderful? Shouldn’t you be sure before you upgrade from a general ‘things are good’?”

  “Can I have a soda?”

  “Sure.” She filled a glass from the tap. “Have you been spending much time with Frank?”

  “Some. He works a lot. I’m stuck home with Mum all day. Maybe I should try to find work, because who knows how long I’ll be waitin’ to get married and take care of a house of my own.”

  “Please. I can’t listen to any more bitching about mothers. You should hear what Colleen’s putting up with. Paulie’s mother is a critical nightmare. If she keeps it up she may move back home.”

  Colleen was now practically living with Paulie at his mother’s. They called her Italian Mary. “But the wedding’s in a week.”

  Rosemarie shrugged. “A mother-in-law can make a bride rethink a wedding.”

  Maureen frowned. Colleen would never leave Paulie. “Where’s Liam?”

  “He’s in the back going over some bills. Things will be a lot easier once Colleen and Paulie are married and on the mortgage with us. You know, you could be a partner too. Maybe Frank would like that.”

  “What the hell’s Frank got to do with it? He’s not my husband.”

  Her sister shook her head. “You’re so impatient. I’ll tell you I’ve known Frank McCullough all my life and I’ve never seen him take an interest in a girl like he’s taken to you. But I’ve also seen him struggle to keep up with you. You don’t have a filter, Maureen. Frank’s quiet. He hardly ever says more than two words. Getting him to say the right words is gonna take some time and forcing him is only going to make him clam up more.”

  “I’m not forcing him to do anything. He’s the one with it in his head that we have to be married to sleep together.”

  “I think that’s sweet.”

  “Says the woman having sex regularly.”

  Rosemarie arched a brow and pursed her lips. “Yo
u’re not even eighteen yet. Calm your burnin’ loins, woman. Jesus.”

  Maureen grumbled, crossing her legs. Burning loins indeed. That was probably why her stomach was in knots.

  The door suddenly burst open, startling both of them as Paulie rushed in. “Where’s Liam?”

  “In the back. What’s wrong?” Rosemarie immediately came out from behind the bar.

  “It’s Frank. Liam!”

  “Frank?” Maureen slid off her stool and followed Paulie to the back. “What about Frank?” Was there an accident at the lumberyard? The sirens.

  Her stomach tightened and she felt the blood rush from her face as Paulie, again, shouted for Liam. Unable to stay quiet another second, she screamed, “What the hell happened to Frank?”

  Everyone stilled, their panic-stricken eyes set on Paulie’s pallid face. He swallowed and rasped. “His father shot himself. He’s dead. Frank found him this afternoon.”

  Rosemarie gasped and Liam cursed. Maureen grabbed onto the back of a chair as her knees gave out. Why? Why did this happen? He’d only just lost his mother. Should she go to him? She didn’t know what help she’d be. What did someone say in a situation like this?

  Oh, God.

  “We have to go, Liam. He’s all by himself at the house.”

  She didn’t even know where his house was, only that it was somewhere up on that mountain. Liam stood and kissed Rosemarie. Maureen was still deciding if she should join them as they left. Too late. They were gone.

  “Maureen? Maureen, are you okay?”

  Her sister’s voice pricked at the fog filling her mind, but she was too lost in worry to answer. A small glass was shoved in her face. “Here, drink this.”

  Whatever it was it smelled like gasoline and tasted like fire. She coughed as it burned through her esophagus. “Are you trying to fuckin’ kill me? What the hell is that piss?”

  “Are you okay?” Her sister asked, pure concern in her eyes.

  The knots in her stomach traveled upward forming a terrible lump in her throat that grew into something painful. She gasped and a sob slipped out. “He only just buried his mother.”

  “Oh, honey.” Rosemarie pulled her into her arms and held her tight. “He’s a strong man. He’ll get through this.”

  Restless, she shouldered her sister off. “I don’t know what to do. Do I go to him? Should I call him? I don’t have anything to wear to a funeral. I don’t even know where he lives!” she cried, losing more control of her emotions with every frantic word.

  “Shh… we’ll figure it out.” Her sister nudged her into a chair and slid her another shot. “Drink that.”

  “I don’t want it.”

  “Trust me. You do.”

  She tipped back the shot, this time finding the flavor a bit more tolerable, the burn slightly pleasant. “What should I do, Rosemarie? Tell me what grown women do in situations like this.”

  “Well,” her sister started, pouring a shot for herself. “I suppose we cook. He’ll be drinkin’, that’s for sure. Liam said he had a hell of a time after his mother died. We might as well make some casseroles to sop up all the booze.”

  Her only condolence was that he was closer to his mother than his father. Perhaps this wouldn’t hurt him as much.

  She loved both her parents, but losing her mum would destroy her. Strange, that after all her father had done for his family her heart still belonged to the woman that nurtured them on a regular basis. Mothers always got the most love. Maybe that was why she wanted to be one so badly.

  She sat with Rosemarie until late that night, making grocery lists for recipes they’d be making. Colleen showed up a little after seven, but even she was not her usual upbeat self. Liam called the bar around nine, but the only report Rosemarie got was that Frank was “not well.” When asked if he thought it might help for Maureen to go to him, he said no.

  It hurt, more than Maureen would ever let the others know. She refused to make this tragedy about herself, yet knowing he wanted his friends and not her, broke a part of her heart.

  Frank didn’t have any brothers or sisters. He only had his friends. Maureen couldn’t imagine her life without her sisters and perhaps there would be a time when she’d want them over Frank. It was moments like this that she realized what Frank had been trying to say. She didn’t have the life experience to understand certain things yet.

  It wasn’t her fault. Experience would come. Moments like this were all part of becoming an adult. Realizing not every bit of adulthood would be free and fun gave her pause and she finally saw the value in a little patience.

  Her mother always told her God would someday punish her with a child sharing all her sins. Maureen didn’t believe such nonsense. On the other hand, if that was true she’d likely mother the most impetuous girl Center County’s ever known. She shuddered at the thought. Maybe God would let her practice on some easy children before giving her the difficult ones. Either way, she’d love them all.

  The following day her mother helped her prepare one recipe after another. They worked in silence, Maureen’s worry taking her words away and hiding them far from her voice. Typically, she wasn’t a quiet girl, but nothing seemed worth saying on a day like today.

  As they wrapped up the dishes her mother quietly asked, “Do you love this boy, Maureen?”

  She folded the foil over a dish of chicken casserole. “How do you know when it’s love?”

  “I suppose you just do. I think it’s when you can’t stomach the thought of a life without that person, but it might be different for everyone, dearie.”

  Maureen used a marker to label the casserole. “Then yes. I love him very much.”

  “You know, your father will come around once you turn eighteen.”

  “I don’t see what kind of difference six days will make.”

  It would be a busy week. Rosemarie called that morning to say the funeral, a small closed casket affair, would be Friday morning. Colleen and Liam’s wedding was Saturday. And Sunday was her eighteenth birthday. Who knew if Frank would even be in the mood to celebrate?

  “That should do it. You’ll need a truck to deliver all this stuff,” her mother announced, jarring up the last of the gravy.

  “Thank you for helping me prepare all this, Mum.”

  Her mother smiled. “Of course, dearie. That’s what family does. Do you want me to help you load it into the Ford?”

  “No. I’m going to call Paulie first to see if he thinks it’s a good idea for me to drop it off.”

  “Why wouldn’t it be? You’re his lassie. I’m sure he’d be relieved to see you—especially bearing dinner.”

  She swallowed. “Okay.”

  She didn’t have the nerve to ask for directions, afraid if one of the guys found out she was going there they’d talk her out of it. Rather, she drove to where he’d carved their initials in the tree and then sort of let herself get lost from there. Several times she’d decided to give up, but she was too confused to get off the damn mountain. She couldn’t quit if she wanted to.

  Just as it was getting dark she spotted a one-story house in the distance, small and in need of new siding. As she drove closer, she spotted Frank’s truck and relief stretched inside of her.

  She parked beside his truck and used a kerchief to blot some of the sweat off her nose. Though the sun was setting it was still humid.

  Deciding to leave the food in the car until she was sure he was home, she took the steps and knocked. The doorbell didn’t seem to be working and the steps were rickety. Lace curtains bluffed in the windows, likely chosen by his mother, but much of the male upkeep seemed overlooked.

  She knocked again.

  When he didn’t answer, she called through the open window on the porch. “Frank?”

  “What are you doing here?”

  Startled, she gasped and turned to find him standing by her car. “I…wanted to see how you were doing.”

  “I just hosed my father’s blood off the shed. How do you think I’m doing?”


  Her stomach shifted and her eyes rolled back. Suddenly queasy, she reached for the railing only it shifted unstably. Trembling, she folded her arms over her stomach. “Oh.”

  “Yeah. You should go.”

  He was being so short with her. “I brought you some food.”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “It’s casseroles. You can freeze them for later. My mum and I spent all day making them. They’re going to spoil if we don’t move them to the Frigidaire.”

  “Why are you doing this?”

  She frowned. “What…” Hurt he’d think she had some motive other than checking on him, she said, “What do you mean? I want to.”

  He shook his head. “Don’t you see, Maureen? The men in my family aren’t well. My mum, I swear she died of a broken heart. It didn’t matter how much I loved her. Her husband didn’t.”

  “Your dad wasn’t well, Frank. And I’m sorry for that, but you’re not him.”

  “Time will tell. I can give you all the sons in the world, but they’ll never make up for a husband that ignores you.”

  He was hurt and lashing out. She didn’t want to drop to his level, but at the same time, his words were cruel and got her Irish up. “Have you been drinking?”

  “I’ve had a few.”

  “Bottles or glasses.”

  “All of the above.”

  Frustrated, she pressed her fists into her hips. “Well, if you’ll help me unload the food I’ll leave you to it.”

  She marched past him and unlocked the trunk. Three boxes of casseroles filled the area. She reached for the lightest one holding mostly gravies and sides. “Will you grab the big one? I’ll get the door.”

  The crease in his brow smoothed. “You made all this for me?”

  It was silly, but all she could think to do. “A man’s gotta eat.”

  He nodded and picked up the largest box. The second she opened the door her nose twitched with the urge to sneeze. It seemed their house hadn’t been dusted since his mother passed. She followed him to the kitchen.

  The home was nice, but small. Actually, it wasn’t nice at all. She didn’t know how to label it, but it felt vacant, hollow, as if it were once a home but somehow lost its soul. The dining room table was covered with paperwork. “Are you working on something?”