The Dragon’s E-Mail Order Menage

Chapter 4

“Trust me. This won’t seem like such a weird setup in a few days.”

Maggie, her eyes still shut tight in what was rapidly beginning to seem like a futile attempt to stay asleep for just a little bit longer, could still hear those words of Levi’s ringing in her head like the loudest bell ever to ring in the history of bells. Those had been some of the very first words he had spoken to her and he had delivered them with a confidence that told her that he absolutely believed, without a shadow of a doubt, that they were true.

She marveled at that, his complete certainty that the words he spoke were the right ones, that he knew her well enough to know a thing like that in the first place. She couldn’t help laughing to herself a little bit thinking about it now. Was it confidence or arrogance? She didn’t really know, couldn’t really tell yet. But there was one thing she did know, and that was that it wasn’t Levi’s confident words that had kept her in this fancy house perched on one of the hills right on the outskirts of Santa Fe.

It had been Hudson, his sweetly hopeful face and the feel of his fingers on her bare skin. She had felt a jolt of electricity when he touched her that she had never felt at a man’s touch before. In all the years of her being “Damon’s girl” (those were his words, not hers; it had always made her cringe a little bit to hear herself referred to that way), all of the times that he had passionately caressed her, he had never given her the kind of electricity she had felt just in that smallest of touches from Hudson.

She wasn’t entirely sure what to make of it. She wasn’t the kind of girl to believe that magic happened in everyday life. She knew that maybe it was a little bit strange for a dragon shifter to not believe in magic, but it was true whether it was strange or not. She hadn’t created her profile because she believed she was going to fall out of her old life and straight into some kind of a fairytale.

She didn’t expect that she was walking into true love or love at first sight or any of that nonsense. She only knew that she wanted an adventure, that she felt far too young to resign herself to a life of settling with every day predictable, every day exactly like the last, forever and ever ‘til death do us part. She had wanted adventure and she was pretty sure she had a better chance of getting it here, with these two men who were still pretty much strangers, than she did of getting it at home.

Home. Her eyes shut even tighter and her nose wrinkled when she thought of her home. The scene that had unfolded when she had announced that she was leaving was still painfully fresh in her mind and she could not seem to stop herself from thinking about it. It was just like all other things that you would rather put away in the back of your mind in a lockbox after which you would unceremoniously throw out the key so that said box could never be opened again.

Those were the things that forced their way back into your consciousness over and over again. It was a sick trick the brain played on a person, just to remind that person that she was not the one calling the shots. The things you wanted to get rid of the most were the things that you would never be able to forget.

True, the scene at the family farm had only happened a few weeks ago, but she had no doubt that she would remember it for all of the rest of the days of her life. When she was on her deathbed, she would still have vivid memories of how that whole thing had gone down. And now that the thoughts had started making their nosy little feelers into her consciousness she couldn’t make them be quiet again.

She groaned and took the pillow from beneath her bed, shoving it down on top of her face as if blocking out the small amount of light that had managed to worm its way past her fantastic blackout curtains would be the same as blocking out the thoughts. It didn’t work, though. Not in the slightest.

Her mother had been cleaning the kitchen, something she did any time she was feeling angry or anxious or like any part of her life was in the least bit out of control. It had been late, much, much later than Rose Wallace was typically up and Maggie had known that it must have something to do with her. It wasn’t that she was being conceited or anything like that, she could just feel it. She could feel it in her bones.

She had always had that kind of a connection with her mother and, for better or worse, she knew when things were good and she knew when they were not so good. This wasn’t going to be so good, although she supposed she didn’t need any kind of connection at all to know that. She could see that Damon’s truck was gone and, knowing him, she had a pretty good feeling that he hadn’t slunk off quietly into the dark of night.

No, it was much more his style to make a big scene, a big show of things and she doubted very much that there was anybody in her family who did not now know what had taken place between her and Damon. Awesome. As so often happened in a family of the Wallace’s size, her business was not her own to tell.

She crept into the kitchen, part of her hoping that her mother would pretend not to hear her and simply let her pass on up the stairs and try to calm down enough to get a little bit of sleep. But this was not her lucky night and the moment the door opened and the floor creaked beneath her feet, her mother spoke.