“I heard you were back in town,” Darren said as he followed Mac outside.

Mac kept his back to the other man, planning to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Darren snickered. “You and Maddie Mattress, huh? Have you ever seen knockers quite like those?”

Screw the benefit of the doubt. Mac spun around and plowed his fist in Darren’s doughy face.

Knocked to the dirt, Darren flopped like a fish out of water. Blood poured from his nose. “What the hell?” he sputtered. “What’s your problem?”

Mac reached down with one hand and hauled Darren to his feet. Speaking right into his fat, red face, Mac said, “What you did to her—that’s my problem.”

Darren tried to wriggle free. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do.” Mac tightened his hold. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

Darren wiped at the blood on his face and winced when he connected with his bloody nose. “I’ll have you arrested.”

“No, you won’t.” Mac released him abruptly, and Darren stumbled backward. “Do you have any idea what you did to her? What your stupid-ass-she-rejected-me-so-I’ll-make-her-pay crap did to her life?”

“I rejected her.”

“Rewriting history now?” Mac raised an eyebrow. “She didn’t want you, so you trashed her all over town.”

“That’s not what happened.”

“My brother Evan confirmed her account. Right now he’s contacting everyone else who was involved.” The bead of sweat that appeared on Tuttle’s brow pleased Mac. “You married, Darren?”

“Yeah,” he muttered, sending a nervous glance at the office where the receptionist watched them anxiously through the window.

“That your wife in there?”

“So what if it is?”

“What version of this story you want her to hear? Mine or yours?”

“Are you threatening me?”

“You bet I am. Here’s what you’re going to do.”

Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Mac returned to Maddie’s bearing a handful of wildflowers he’d picked by the side of the road.

She was on the floor with Thomas, who was engaged in a battle with the baby gym propped over him. When she saw the flowers, her eyes went soft with emotion. “They’re beautiful,” she said, getting up to find a vase. “What’s the occasion?”

Mac came up behind her, nuzzled her neck and planted a kiss on her warm skin. “To say thank you for the best night of my life.”

“Oh.”

“What?” he asked. “It wasn’t good for you, too?”

“You know it was.”

“But?”

She turned to him, her face unreadable. “I can’t stop thinking about the things your mother said.”

Mac wanted to scream with frustration, but he showed her none of that. “Forget it. She can’t get to us unless we let her, and I have no plans to let her.”