Page 33 of 6 Clues Your Nemesis Loves You

“This fucking town,” she grumbles.

Don’t I know it. I love how small and quaint Windfall is, broken-telephone gossip train included. What I don’t love is Maggie’s tense features and formal demeanor. “I’m sorry about your breakup.”

She stares at me blandly. “No, you’re not.”

Accurate. “Harrold wasn’t right for you.”

“Harrison.”

“Once again, name’s not the point. But you’re right. I’m not sorry about your split. Now I can ask you out to dinner for tonight.”

She crosses her legs and sits straighter. “I’m busy tonight.”

“How about tomorrow?”

“Also busy.”

“Does Tuesday work, or any other calendar day that ends with a ‘Y’?”

She crosses her arms too, all of her crossed and barred to me. “I’m washing my hair those days.”

I squint at her, unsure why she took my advice to ditch her loser boyfriend but isn’t taking my advice to go out with me. Then I remember Delilah’s clues. Maggie’s afraid of you. She doesn’t do commitment. “Remind me again why I scare you?”

“I already told you.”

“Right, yeah. I’m too exciting and too much fun. I sound horrible,” I say with exaggerated disgust.

A laugh slips past her stony expression. Her worried eyes dart over my shoulder. I turn to see what she’s looking at. Delilah, of course, who’s mouthing something to her. I’m not an expert lip-reader, but I think she’s saying, Tell him. Or maybe she’s saying, Sell shrimp. I don’t know.

When I look back at Maggie, she’s fiddling with the handle of her empty coffee mug. “I know you think I’m acting weird. I mean, I am acting weird. And trust me when I say I don’t like being this way—dating guys I think I like, but not feeling what I want to feel. What I should feel. Then you come along and you’re so”—her agitated fiddling increases—“you. You’re all I think about, but jumping into anything with you means opening up and being honest.” She dips her head, her voice quieting. “There’s just a lot to wade through, stuff I never talk about. Most of it sets off my tendencies to dislike myself, which can get really ugly.”

Delilah was right. There’s more under the surface pulling Maggie’s strings. Upsetting truths that seem to be stressing her, but she just said I’m all she thinks about. Coincidentally, she occupies a large portion of my mind. Guess that leaves me one option.

“If that’s the case, let’s uncomplicate things. Forget the date. Let’s be friends, nothing more. But real friends this time, spending time together, hanging out, even if it’s in public. Let’s get to know each other properly, no expectations of anything more.”

The last part’s a lie. I have ginormous expectations, but I don’t like seeing Maggie upset. I’d rather be friends than nothing at all.

She taps her fingers on her mug. “No expectations?”

“You can expect to have fun with me, but it won’t be sexy fun.”

“It better not be.” Her glare would be intimidating, if it weren’t for the tiny lift of her lips.

“There will be no skinny-dipping or salacious dares,” I promise.

A blush descends to her neck, her pale skin always a direct conduit to her emotions. I give myself mental props. I have no intention of putting the moves on Maggie unless she says she’s ready. Never again will I cross a stated barrier with her. I am, however, not opposed to reminding her of my last dare, hoping she pictures the two of us flushed and panting, my release streaking her stomach.

“We can be friends,” she says, her tone laced with huskiness, “but no flirting.”

“Got it. And now that we’re best friends, I have a favor to ask.”

She purses her lips. “It better not have anything to do with my family’s pond.”

“Jesus, Maggie. I just agreed to no flirting, and there you go bringing up the pond.”

She rolls her eyes.

I settle into my seat and this new banter. My newfound freedom to joke and tease Maggie, without worries over her relationship status. “Des and I purchased the abandoned conservation camp at Huntington Pass. It’s home base for our business, and the cabin’s a wee bit of a disaster. At least, it was. I’ve cleared out the dead animals.” And the live ones. “Bleached the shit out of the place. I’m starting to paint it this afternoon and could use some help.”