Page 32 of 6 Clues Your Nemesis Loves You

She doesn’t say more, and my mind is too tangled to pull at the knotted threads. Also, I didn’t orchestrate this dance to talk about my father. The song’s almost over, and along with it, my time with Maggie.

I refuse to leave here without saying my piece, especially after this unexpected talk. My honesty with her proves what I’ve suspected all along—even after so long apart, she knows me better than anyone. We still affect each other in inexplicable ways, and if I am the guy she once loved, she might be fighting these same feelings.

I slow my steps and lean toward her ear. “Thanks for listening. It means more than you know, but I have some advice for you too.” I run my tongue over my teeth, teetering on the edge of this cliff. “You should break up with your boyfriend.”

She tenses. “That is none of your—”

“You don’t love him,” I go on, making it clear the floor’s mine. “I’m not even sure you like him. And I’m right here—a man who knows when your smiles are real or forced. A man who unleashes all this wild energy you keep contained, and I want to unleash it. I want to spend time with you, figure you out again. Figure us out. And I’m not reckless, Maggie. I won’t hurt you. I just know what I want.”

I’ve never heard my voice this deep and shadowy. Possessive.

Maggie’s chest swells, her soft breasts pushing harder against me, and heat blasts up my thighs. Her eyes are beyond intense, darker and searching. My body is rigid enough to snap. I’m dying to kiss her. Lick into her mouth and steal my first taste of Maggie. The way she’s looking at me, her face flushed and eyelids heavy, I’m pretty sure she’s equally as hot for me.

But she’s in a relationship.

I dip my lips to her ear again and exhale against the delicate shell, eliciting a lovely tremble from her. “It’s time you quit living for everyone else and start living for yourself. When you’re ready to ditch your boyfriend and finally explore our connection, come find me.”

The second I finish, I tear myself away from her and stalk toward the exit. My blood’s thrumming too fast. My throat burns with desire. And Maggie isn’t single.

When I get outside, I’m shaky but also exhilarated. Whatever happens from here, I was honest and gave it my all. My heart’s firmly in her court, and our talk about my father made something else inside me click. Missing and loving my dad is tied to the past, not the present. Waiting to reply to him has only given my memories more power over me. If I want to move past this ongoing angst, I need to meet with him. Allow myself to feel whatever it is I’ll feel, then banish him from my life forever.

Before finding my truck, I pull out my phone and thumb to the Life Wrecker’s messages. I type before I can overthink it. Simple and to the point.

Me: I’ll meet you as long as I choose the place.

chapter eleven

I put my screwdriver down and maneuver the cupboard door, checking the new hinge I installed. Swings like a well-lubed charm. It’s barely nine a.m., but I’ve been working since the crack of dawn. I cross item number three off my to-do list, right between Fix leaky faucet and Replace cracked tile in upstairs bathroom.

Most of Mrs. Jackson’s farmhouse is worn-down, but there’s history in the trodden-on floorboards. Evidence of family dinners on the scuffed dining room table. It’s the style of no-frills house you’d see in a period ranching movie, but I love the realness of it, its humble bones and groaning creaks. The type of home where a person grows old.

Preferring not to test Mrs. Jackson’s kindness and lose this place, I open my laptop and check my investments. The bulk of my money is sitting pretty as always, untouched by me. The rest is disappearing faster than is comfortable on painting supplies, deposits for Littlewing’s construction work, my day-to-day needs, and upkeep on this farmhouse, even though I could ask Mrs. Jackson to cover the work. But I like doing the work. I like feeling as though this place is mine, even if it isn’t. The first real home I’ve had in eleven years.

I debate accessing a chunk of principal to take the financial edge off, but my fingers stiffen on the mouse. No can do. I move some money around instead and set up next month’s rent payment, mentally reviewing my upcoming earnings. Tight, but I’ll get by.

Time for a well-earned cup of tea.

I drive to town and head toward Delilah’s coffee shop, smiling at everyone I pass. I’m proud of my crack-of-dawn work and pleased I faced two big stresses last night—Maggie’s boyfriend issue and my father’s text. I’m looking forward to today’s group hike, but two steps inside Sugar and Sips, as the delicious smells of roasting coffee and melting sugar assault me, Sandra of the Eighties Perm blocks my way.

“Maggie broke up with her boyfriend last night.”

I discreetly fist-pump, my good mood improving exponentially.

She gives me a quick nod, like we’re in cahoots, then hurries off. Probably to go on a stakeout somewhere else, but I give myself a mental pat on the back. Seems grabbing that floating paper of hers earned me points. Having the town busybody on my side is an excellent resource.

As luck would have it, Maggie’s here, huddled with Delilah at a small table. Thanks to Sandra, I don’t have to wonder how my confession last night affected her or worry she’s going to shut me out. If she broke up with the limp-shaker, she must be as into me as I am into her. She’s finally ready to date a guy she actually likes.

I saunter to her table with an extra swagger in my step.

When she notices me, she startles, then frowns. I frown, unsure why she’s frowning. Basically, there’s a lot of frowning going on when we should be sharing sexy winks and come-hither smiles.

“Oh, wow. Would you look at the time?” Delilah resumes her role as worst actress ever, jumping up from her seat and doing an awkward shoulder shimmy. “I have to get back to work. So much work to be done with all the work in here. Feel free to take my seat, Lennon.” She gives Maggie an intense look and scuttles away.

I gesture to the now-empty seat. “May I?”

Her long-suffering sigh is a concern. “If you must.”

“I definitely must. Rumor has it you’re single.”