Page 80 of 6 Clues Your Nemesis Loves You

My heart thumps a relieved beat. “I’d love a picnic,” I say quietly, gathering her arms more firmly around me, wanting to lock them in place.

Holy fuck, do I have it bad for this woman.

I don’t say more about this morning, and she doesn’t embellish on her apology. She’s here. She planned a special lunch for us. That sentiment is all that matters.

She grips my hand and leads me to the tent but stops outside. “I need to organize. Give me a sec.”

“Okay, but if I get a better offer to eat the roadkill I passed on my way to town, I might take it. I suggest you’re quick.”

Mock glaring at me, she smacks my chest then disappears inside the tent.

“Okay,” she says a moment later and pokes her head out. “Your picnic awaits.”

Her crooked smile is too cute, equal parts nervous and excited. No longer wary or frustrated, I cram my big body inside the tent and yeah. There goes my heavy pulse again.

A checkered cloth is on the tent floor, as are a collection of my favorite foods: Smash Shack strawberry milkshakes, tofu tacos from the Hot Vegetarian local food truck, along with a couple of Delilah’s face-sized M&M’s cookies. There’s even a battery-operated space heater next to Maggie’s coat and gloves. The woman of the hour is sitting cross-legged at the far side, biting her lip, watching my every move. A wave of emotion pushes at my chest.

Calm the fuck down, heart. Now’s not the time to get carried away.

This is just lunch. An apology. Maggie hasn’t indicated she’s as deep in this relationship as I am.

I shove my hat and coat against the side and sit across from her. “I can’t believe you made all this yourself.”

She laughs. “I at least get points for driving around and picking it up, right?”

“You get all the points,” I say, my voice turning low and rough. The top two buttons of her blouse are undone, a tease of red lace peeking out. “I’m hungry for everything in here.”

Her nostrils flare. My body tightens with need, but we’re in a tent in the middle of town. Best if we keep things PG-13.

I lift my milkshake and hold it toward her. “A toast to you and this awesome picnic.” Smiling over our straws, we clink cups then sip our drinks, and yes, that groan I make is part lust for Maggie and part strawberry-milkshake heaven. “Tell me all about painting with your mom and your morning at work.”

She takes another long sip and sighs. “Do you want the bad news first or the painful news?”

“With options like that, how’s a guy supposed to decide?” I break off a piece of cookie and hold it out to her. “Let’s go with bad.”

Instead of taking the treat with her fingers, she leans forward and wraps those sexy lips around the cookie, sucking on my fingers before she pulls back.

PG-13

PG-13

PG-13

I blow out a measured breath. “You’re cruel.”

She winks. “As for the bad news, Mom knocked over the dark purple paint, which then ran through a rip in the drop cloth, and the carpet in Dad’s office is oatmeal.”

“Yikes.” I lift my cup again in salute. “Here’s to new carpeting.”

“And to the fact that my father doesn’t have a temper.”

We clink and sip. “Hit me with the painful news before we devour these tacos.”

She rubs the bridge of her nose. “The cidery has a plumbing problem. My seniors event is in five days, and the lunch was supposed to be there. As you can imagine, Shannon is not impressed with me.”

“But it’s not your fault.”

“Sure, but it’s my event. The one that needs to prove how organized and responsible I am after the last fiasco. She gave me her dreaded bland face and said, ‘Fix this, Maggie.’”