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“The Pilsbury incident?”
“I may have skipped reading the directions on a tube of cookie dough and been left with a charred log that set off the fire alarm and nearly smoked Greg and Jackie out of their house next door.” The burning heat that usually accompanies this story is a gentle warmth in the face of Maggie’s smile. What kind of magic is she weaving over me?
“So you let Jackie have all the credit at Sunshine because you don’t want people to know about how amazing you are?”
I shrug, avoiding her gaze by staring out the window behind her. “It’s more important for the winery to look good than for me to get credit. People love having ‘Jackie’s cookies’ on the charcuterie boards and the only person whose opinion I care about is Olive’s. And she loves to bake with me—that’s all that matters.”
The sound of Maggie sliding off her seat catches my attention. I’m on my feet as she moves clear of the table, my shoulders tense. Before I can say anything, Maggie limps close, one of her small hands resting against my chest.
“You deserve to take credit for everything you do around there instead of pretending to just be the hired help.” Her hand slides up to rest against my neck, gently pulling me down to her. “But I really have to pee, so we’re going to come back to this conversation.” She presses a soft kiss to my cheek before limping down the hall to the restrooms.
As I sit drinking my water, I realize that Maggie has been steering the conversation toward me most of the evening. Is she avoiding talking about herself on purpose? I want to know more about her, why she looks sad sometimes and what keeps that bright smile coming back.
The server brings the check and I pay it, just signing the slip as Maggie returns. “I hope you don’t mind. Do you want to get coffee or a drink?” I haven’t gotten to find out nearly enough about this woman. “You’ve heard all my deepest, darkest secrets. It’s only fair that you share some of yours,” I add, taking her hand in mine.
Maggie smiles at me, lighting up from the inside. “I’d like that. Not the sharing my secrets part, but the not-ready-for-the-evening-to-be-over part.”
“Have you ever been to Ground Kontrol?” Maybe sharing secrets while also pummeling each other over a vintage game of Mortal Kombat won’t be quite as uncomfortable.
Maggie tucks her hand into my elbow as I lead us out of the hotel and down the block. I let Maggie set the pace until I catch one too many people on the street eyeing her. Scooping her up in my arms, I hurry past the crowd gathered in front of the hotel. Maggie laughs, her arms slipping around my neck.
“Am I really that slow?” Her head nestles in the crook of my neck, her breath warm and ticklish against my skin. The air is wet with the usual late October drizzle, and a chill breeze whips between the tall buildings on either side of the street.
“Your boot needs to stay dry. And maybe I’m just trying to impress you with my manly muscles after admitting that I spend my free time baking with my seven-year-old.”
“You carried me up a fucking hill to your house, while I was bleeding all over you, then you proceeded to tend my wounds and feed me cheesy pasta. I don’t think it gets any more ‘action hero with a sweet side’ than that. Your cover was blown before I ever knew about the baking.”
We laugh, and Maggie teases me the rest of the way down the block until I set her down at the crosswalk. Ground Kontrol is just across the road, but there’s heavy traffic on the street. We wait for the light to turn, Maggie’s hands wrapped around my arm. I love the way she holds onto me, keeping me close. The street lights reflecting on the wet ground throw colorful light across her face, sparkling in the raindrops gathering on the edge of her hood.
“Kel?” Maggie’s looking up at me, lips parted and eyes reflecting the magic in the air around us.
In answer, I pinch her chin between my fingers, holding her steady as I lean close. My lips ache to touch hers as I gaze down at the beautiful woman who has already managed to worm her way past my walls. “Yes, Sprinkles?”
“Sprinkles?”
“Because you make everything better.”
With a laugh, Maggie wraps a hand behind my neck and pulls me close, her lips meeting mine with a quiet hum. The sounds of traffic and people on the street disappear as Maggie kisses me. A sense that everything is going to be just fine washes over me, the constant worry about my people receding from my mind as I get lost in Maggie.
I sweep my tongue across her lips, and she opens for me, her tongue tentatively reaching for mine. Her lips are soft and plump, deftly moving with mine as I deepen the kiss. My free arm wraps around her waist, pulling her closer. Her hands slide up my biceps, gripping me through my coat.
A car honks, startling us apart, and Maggie stumbles as she puts too much weight on her bad foot. I catch her before she falls into the street, and she laughs, eyes flicking back to my face.
“You really have to stop rescuing me all the time. It would be annoying if it wasn’t so damn hot.”
The light turns green, and Maggie pulls me laughing across the street. My mind is still rooted to the spot, to the moment Maggie kissed me and the weight of all the people who depend on me lifted from my shoulders and all I felt was the need to make her smile at me again.
It’s been ages since I’ve been here, but Ground Kontrol used to be a favorite haunt of mine and Nate’s before he left. The combination arcade and bar has vintage pinball and video games from our youth, in addition to decent drinks.
Maggie stops as we enter the doors, taking in the dark walls and LED lighting. “How did I not know about this place?”
I tuck her hand in my elbow and lead her to the bar. “They had to close for over a year during the pandemic, so I’m not surprised you haven’t heard of it.”
We order drinks and debate if we want to try pinball or Pac-Man first. Eventually, I follow her up the stairs to an area with both kinds of machines. We each take a pinball machine and drop in a quarter. Over the sound of electronic music and the tap of our flippers, our easy conversation picks back up.
Wanting to make sure the conversation isn’t dominated by me talking about myself, I ask her to tell me more about her sisters. The way Maggie’s face lights up while she talks about her older sister Daisy’s kids reminds me of how she was with Olive.
“You’re really good with kids, you know. Do you want your own one day?” I almost didn’t ask, and I instantly regret it when her face falls. The pinball machine plays the ending credits as her ball is lost—forgotten as she turns to face me.
