With Her Last Breath by Cait London Page A

told he’s going to be a father—like letting his wife ride behind him on a motorcycle without a helmet…just to let the wind play in her long hair.”
    She stiffened, hit by surprise; Nick’s wife hadn’t left him—she’d died. Maggie hadn’t expected the bitter Keep Off sign, the sudden chill in her pickup cab, or the silence.
    He was still grieving…. He’d lost his wife over a decade ago, and he still missed her.
    Maggie knew about grief. She’d had a lifetime of it, and now she’d just stepped into Nick’s. He’d been grieving the day she’d come to town; while he jogged, he’d been fighting the past, and still bristled against what he couldn’t change when he came down to the beach.
    She struggled for something to say, smoothing her mistake. “I’m sorry” wasn’t enough, not when one loved deeply. “Look, just don’t push me and everything will be fine. From what I hear, in another month or so, the summer people will be coming back. I’m hoping to pick up some business from them. By the end of the summer, I should have what I want and then I may move on. Or I may stay. But in either case, my life is my own.”
    She sensed that Nick was a patient man, one who wasn’t going to stop at her fences. His next statement proved her right: “What do you want, Maggie Chantel the woman, other than a paycheck?” he asked.
    More than anything, Maggie wanted her sister to be alive and happy, she wanted to see her mother cuddling her grandchildren…. She wanted to paste everything in her life back together the way it had been, but that was impossible.
    “I want to be left alone,” she replied firmly, pulling into the parking spot behind the restaurant. When she stepped out of the cab, expecting her dog to follow as usual, Scout hopped down on Nick’s side of the pickup.
    Rosa waved from the back porch and moved down the steps, holding a big soup bone in her hand. Scout took the present without hesitation, flopping down for a good chew session.
    Nick’s mother hugged Maggie. Unused to open shows of affection, Maggie stiffened. Nick was quick to notice, his eyes shielded with those black lashes. “I’ll just go up to my room now,” Maggie said.
    “Oh, you must be so tired. I heard you were looking for work—everyone is excited about the women’s classes at Ole’s. If you’re going to be up and going so early, we need to feed you breakfast. Go on up, and I’ll have one of my boys bring you dinner, a nice salad and walnut bread.”
    “Really, Mrs. Alessandro, I don’t need any more to eat—”
    “Call me Mom or Rosa. Of course you do. Is something wrong with your pickup, Nick?”
    Nick hesitated, looked at Maggie, and holding her stare slowly answered, “No.”
    “Ah.”
    That “ah” had a lot of understanding that Maggie didn’t want to know. But she did. Nick had wanted to ride with her, to spend time with her, and he couldn’t lie to his mother.
    Another tall, dark, and obviously Alessandro male came down the steps to loop his arm around Rosa and Nick. “Hi, Maggie. We haven’t met. I’m Dante, Nick’s good-looking older brother.”
    When another tall male appeared wearing a chef’s apron splattered with tomato sauce, Dante added, “That’s Tony. He’s married. I’m not.”
    Tony draped his arm around Dante’s shoulders, and the Alessandros stood smiling at her, a close, loving family.
    Maggie pushed away the offer, the haunting loneliness. Warm, friendly invitations usually meant questions, and she couldn’t afford their curiousity.
    Dante’s survey of her body said he was definitely interested. Tony’s grin was open and friendly, an older brother type, well satisfied with life and his wife, and aware of his brothers’ interest in her.
    A little on the plump side, Rosa seemed small beside the brothers. In the dappled, shaded parking lot, they were tall, lean, and gorgeous. Dante’s elbow was digging into Nick’s ribs, and they shared a slow look. Rosa watched her two