Fairytale of Headley Cross by Clare Revell Read Free Book Online Page B

from the display by the checkout and giving it to him.
    Maggie’s mind went back to Carson and what he’d said about robbing the bank. Stealing wasn’t simply big things like banks; it was little things, too. Even so, she couldn’t imagine him doing anything that bad. She shook her head. She didn’t even want to imagine him with a gun, never mind using it.
    Her Carson wasn’t that man. He was the man who preached on a Sunday, helped organize the nativity. The man she knew stood up for her and took a beating for her. He wasn’t a thug with a past that her father would hate. A past that she was—
    Something niggled in the dark recesses of her memory. Something she’d tried very hard to forget. She forced her mind to change track and packed the groceries into her own cloth shopping bags. She’d included a few things that Carson could cook from frozen, but wasn’t a meal on a plate.
    Her phone rang as she reached the car. “Hello.”
    “Margaret.” Her heart froze. Only one person called her that, aside from her mother. And that was only with her middle and surname attached when she was in trouble.
    “What do you want, Wesley?”
    “You do know who you are getting involved with, don’t you?”
    “I’m not involved with anyone.”
    “Really?” His tone mocked her. “Carson Armitage is bad news. Stay away from him, or else.”
    “I have to go.” She hung up and shoved her phone into the bottom of her handbag.
    When she arrived at Carson’s she was still stressed. She pulled half the shopping from the boot of the car and headed up the path. She dumped the bags and rang the bell. She was halfway back to the car when she heard the door open.
    “Playing thunder and lightning, are we?” Carson’s voice carried his customary laugh.
    “We called it knock down ginger, and we never left gifts,” she tossed over her shoulder. She lifted the last two bags from the car and locked it. She glanced nervously behind her before heading back up the path.
    He studied her with his normal careful gaze. “Are you all right? You look anxious.”
    “Maybe I am a little. Work is flat out right now, but it’s Wesley. He just won’t accept it’s over and keeps calling.”
    “Want me to have a word?” He kicked the door closed behind them.
    “No, he’ll get the message eventually.”
    He looked at the bags she had in addition to the ones he carried. “However much did you buy?”
    “I got enough to feed you for a couple of weeks.” She smiled. “Figured I’d teach you how to make spaghetti bolognaise tonight.”
    “That sounds good. You’ll stay to share it, I hope.”
    She paused briefly, and then nodded. “That would be good, thank you.”
     
     
     
     

6
     
    Maggie had never had such an enthusiastic pupil. Carson learned quickly and was blessed with an ability to find humor in almost any situation. And he wasn’t a half bad cook. She glanced over at him. With sleeves rolled to his elbows, flour coating his hands and tanned forearms, all he really needed was an apron and a hat. Surprisingly he had a light touch when it came to pastry, and had taken her teasing about being in the wrong profession in good nature.
    Carson wiped his forearm across his brow, smearing flour over his face. “Am I doing this right?”
    “No, you missed a bit.” She giggled.
    He looked down at the counter, glancing over the neatly rolled out pastry. “Where? It looks fine to me.”
    “Here,” she laughed and smeared the flour across the one clean part of his face.
    “Oy.” He chuckled and grabbed her wrist. Twisting her lightly against his firm body, his right arm tightly around her waist, he proceeded to wipe his left hand over her face. “There. Now you’re just as messy as I am.”
    Maggie froze, her breath catching in her throat. Her pulse pounded in her neck. Fear rippled through her. “C-C-Carson…”
    “I’m sorry.” He let go of her. “Are you all right? I didn’t hurt you?”
    She wrapped her arms around