“When was the last time you had sex?”
The question, and the sudden shock of her voice ringing out over the silent, charged air, startled a laugh out of him. “It’s been a while.”
“What does that mean? Like, it’s been two weeks or it’s been two years?”
“It’s been…” He thought back to the tourist Sawyer had been harassing him about. She’d left town after last year’s Mermaid Parade. “About a year.” Probably not a great look, but he was beyond caring.
“Really?”
He kind of liked that she was so shocked. “When and with whom do you think I’m having sex? You live across the street from me. You’re in my bar all the time. You’re in my face all the time.”
She cracked up. “Point taken.”
“What about you?” Did he really want to know, though?
“About the same. You remember my production of Grease last summer?”
“Yep.” She’d been one of the Pink Ladies in that one, the beauty school dropout with the blue hair. She’d rocked that hair.
“Well, let’s just say Danny Zuko was really good at the hand jive.”
It was his turn to crack up. “Ah, so you do sleep with your leading men.”
“Only the ones who aren’t douchebags,” she joked, but then she grew serious. “No, not really. I usually have a policy against it. It’s kind of gross to be in charge of someone, even in a small-potatoes theater like mine, and get involved with them. But I don’t know, Danny Zuko was persistent. And hot. He was quite a bit older than I was, too, and unlike a lot of actors, he had no problem taking direction from a younger woman. So…” She shrugged.
“But you and Pearl are always comparing Tinder matches.”
“Yeah, but that’s just a hobby. I never actually meet up with any of them.”
That was…pleasantly surprising. “How come?”
She shrugged. “It never works. You can’t tell through a screen or through DM if you have chemistry with someone.”
Did they have chemistry? Would she have slept with him if they didn’t? “Hey, I wanted to apologize for something.”
Shit. He did want to apologize, but his mouth had been faster than his brain. He actually wasn’t prepared to apologize for that. He needed to…practice that one.
But handily, there was more than one thing he could stand to apologize for.
“Yeah?” She rolled over, and she was kind of hugging herself.
“You’re cold,” he said, and before she could protest, he grabbed a quilt he had folded at the foot of the bed and shook it out over both of them. He settled himself on his side, facing her but not touching her. “You remember when we had dinner in Bayshore?”
“I’m still full from it, I think.”
“You remember afterward, we were talking about the town grant? I offered to look at yours.”
She snorted.
“I didn’t mean it the way it sounded, all condescending. I was trying to be nice. Anyway, I’m sorry. But you were right. If anything, when it comes to grants, it should be me asking you for help.”
Another snort. “That’s not going to happen. You’re going down, my friend.”
He laughed. He also didn’t miss that she’d called him “my friend.” “We’ll see about that. You have no idea how community-minded I’ve been lately while you’ve been in rehearsals.” She shook her head, but she was laughing. “What are you going to do with the money on the very off chance that you win?” He tried to make the question casual, but he really wanted to know how bad things were.
“Not have to close the theater.”
God. It still killed him to hear that she was seriously entertaining the idea of closing the theater. “That’s kind of vague.”
He thought she was going to take offense, but she surprised him by saying, “It is, isn’t it?” She squinted at him like she was trying to decide what to say. “I didn’t get a grant I’d been counting on last year.” She blew out a breath, as if that had been a hard admission—which he got. The rest came in a single, rapid-fire sentence. “I haven’t been paying myself and I was looking at having to default on the mortgage and lay off Richard and Marjorie this fall.”
Aww, shit. Well, there was his answer to how bad it was.
“Holden was supposed to be my Hail Mary,” she went on. “And he was. He is. If I sell out the rest of the run, which looks likely, I’ll avert immediate disaster. But if I win the grant, I can actually get ahead for once. My proposal is to use it to create some fundraising infrastructure—a consultant, direct mail and social media campaigns, that sort of thing. The idea—the hope—is that an initial influx of cash will help create a more sustained flow of income.”
“You have to have money to make money.”
“Exactly. Although I’m not sure why I’m telling you all this.”
“Maybe because we just slept together and you’re feeling uncharacteristically vulnerable?” He was teasing, but not really.
She did one of her little eye rolls. “What about you, on the extremely slim chance that you win?”
“I found a location that I really want for the restaurant, but it’s for sale, not for rent. I’d budgeted several months’ rent into my plan, but not a down payment on a purchase. For that I’d need to mortgage the bar building.”
“Ah. The weight of family legacy.”
She saw the problem immediately—of course she did. “Yeah. I’ll still need a mortgage even if I win the grant, but it won’t have to be very big. It won’t mean losing the bar if the restaurant fails.”
“Does your dad own the bar building?”
“Nope. He passed it on to me. I just don’t want to…mess up what he made. What my grandpa made. I don’t want anyone to lose their jobs.” He chuckled. “Even Carter, who I’m perpetually on the verge of firing anyway.”
“And here I thought your main motivation with the grant was that you just didn’t want me to win it.”
“No, no.” He was pretty sure her idea was going to win out on its own merits. Which might not be the worst thing. He wanted to win, but he also didn’t want the theater to close.
“It’s interesting that we’re talking about this calmly and rationally instead of yelling at each other,” she said.
“Well, as noted, I think maybe the fact that we’re in bed naked is a factor in that.”
“But we’re still competing, right?”
He supposed they were. “May the best man win.” He stuck his hand out.
She ignored it. “I am not a man.”
“I am aware.” Extremely aware. “It’s just a saying.”
“It’s a sexist saying.”
“May the best person win?”
She still didn’t shake his hand. “I should go.” She made no move to get out of bed, though.
“Or you could stay.” Please stay. “We forgot about the match.”
“It’s already almost three. Rain check? I’m super tired.” She let loose a huge yawn.
“Have a nap. I’ll set the alarm, and you can sneak out the back.” Assuming they were still hiding this. Whatever this was.
She looked at him for a long moment before saying, “Okay.”
He wanted to take her into his arms. Or at least for her to shake his hand over his May the best person win pronouncement.
Instead they lay there side by side and stared at each other until they both fell asleep.
Doing a walk of shame in Moonflower Bay was a fraught activity at the best of times, given the prying eyes everywhere. Doing it dressed as Beatrice from Much Ado about Nothing was a whole other level of shame. Maya could only hope, as she slipped out the back door of the bar, that there wouldn’t be too many people around. Pearl would be up, starting the day’s pies, which she still did even though she’d retired from the customer service side of the bakery, and she often left the kitchen door propped open. But it must have been Maya’s lucky day because the bakery was all closed up. She didn’t see a soul as she power walke
d along the backs of the Main Street businesses.
Safe. She breathed a sigh of relief as she unlocked the kitchen door of the Mermaid.
And ran right into Eve and Sawyer.
Dammit. The Mermaid wasn’t a bed-and-breakfast. There was no reason for Eve and Sawyer to be up this early.
But what did Maya know? She was never up this early, on account of her job. How did she know what her friends’ morning routine was?
Eve raised her eyebrows. “Well, hello there.”
“Hi. I was just…out for an early-morning walk.”
Eve’s eyes flickered down her body. Maya was wearing the Beatrice skirt and blouse and carrying the corset. She gave half a thought to claiming she’d been with Holden, but Eve would never buy it.
Holden. She hadn’t even thought of him once since last night. Ben had managed to wipe her brain clean of all her worries. How had he done that?
Well, she knew how he’d done that. Her face heated.
Still, she had to make things right with Holden. But maybe not at six in the morning.
“You’re up early,” Eve said with exaggerated perkiness.
“Mmm,” Maya said noncommittally. She bustled past them, mimicking Eve’s fake-cheery tone and saying, “Have a great day!” She had no doubt she was going to have to face the music at some point, but she wasn’t going to do it in front of Sawyer, aka one of Ben’s besties.
“At some point” turned out to be a whopping thirty minutes later, when Maya responded to a knock on her door by opening it and finding not just Eve but Nora, too, on the other side.
“Ugh, just kill me now,” she said, swinging open the door to let them in and making her way back to the bed. She flopped onto it.
“Nah,” Nora said to Eve. “We should wait until after she’s told us her secrets to kill her, don’t you think?”
“Definitely,” Eve agreed.
Both women crowded into the tiny room and joined her on the bed. No one said anything for a few seconds.
“Would you believe I slept with Holden?” she tried.
“I would not,” Eve said.
She searched her mind. “Jordan? He was my mer-king last year.”
“Nope,” Nora said.
Maya sighed. But then was cheered when she realized she could tell them a partial truth. “Okay. We actually have this thing going where we watch football together.”
“What?” Eve said. “What are you talking about?”
“We watch Crystal Palace matches. The only way to watch them in Canada is through this app he has. So we call a truce and watch football together sometimes.”
“How long has this been going on?” Nora asked.
“Um, like…since last winter?”
“What?” Eve screeched. “That is quite the secret you’ve been keeping.”
“It’s not a secret.”
“Then why haven’t you told us?” Nora said.
“It never came up?”
“It never came up that you’re hanging out alone with Law at his place?” Eve said.
“Okay, listen. I didn’t want to get into it. Because it wasn’t how it looked.”
“How was it, then?” Nora asked.
“It was football! He has the specialized app for the bar!”
“Why don’t you just watch it at the bar?” Eve picked up the questioning. “Why are you watching it in his apartment?”
“Because…” She was digging a hole here. “It’s just…a thing we do.”
“You said ‘was,’” Nora said.
“Huh?”
“You said it wasn’t how it looked. Past tense.”
They were as bad as the town meddlers. “Okay, yes, we slept together.”
“Oh. My. God,” Eve said.
“In one sense, it’s not really that surprising, is it?” Nora said to Eve. “The way they’re constantly bickering?”
“I know,” Eve said. “There’s all this tension between them all the time. Still, it’s a tad surprising.”
“Hello, I’m right here,” Maya said.
They were no longer listening to her. “It’s probably not that much of a stretch for it to be sexual tension, right?” Nora said to Eve. “Jake said they had a massive blowout at the bar last night after we left.”
“I can hear you, you know.”
“So the next question,” Eve said, finally deigning to turn her attention to Maya, “is how long have you been sleeping with him?”
“Last night was the first time.” They looked like they didn’t believe her, so she raised her right hand and said, “I swear on the grave of William Shakespeare.”
Eve whistled, indicating that she’d gotten the message.
“How are you feeling?” Maya nodded at Nora’s belly, hoping to change the subject.
Nora swatted her. “Nice try. I feel like shit, but that is a topic for later.”
“Look,” Maya said. “It just happened. I don’t know any more than you do at this point.”
“Is it going to happen again?” Nora asked.
I sure hope so. “I don’t know. I left before he woke up.” She’d woken before the alarm, all tangled up with him, and she’d panicked, extricated herself without waking him, and bolted.
“Are you guys together now?” Eve asked.
“No!” Maya didn’t know much, but she did know that.
“So is this a ‘friends with benefits’ thing?” Nora made the air quotes with her fingers. “Because I think it’s well established by now that those don’t work in this town.”
Right. Eve had told Nora as much less than a year ago. “Yes, but you and Jake were friends. Eve and Sawyer were friends.” She looked at Eve. “Sort of. Eventually. Anyway, my point is you can’t be friends with benefits if you’re not friends to begin with.”
That momentarily silenced them. She seized the opportunity to say, “You know what? I hardly got any sleep last night. I’m not saying that’s not my own fault, but I have to be at the theater in a few hours. And I love you guys, but get out.”
Chapter Eighteen
The next time Law saw Maya was after her Saturday show, when she came into the bar and pulled out a stool like everything was the same as it ever was.
Which maybe it was?
She, dressed in her Beatrice costume with that damn corset all laced up like it hadn’t just been flung to the floor at his place forty-eight hours ago, was acting like nothing had changed.
So they were going to pretend that Thursday night hadn’t happened?
Of course they were. He’d known that yesterday morning when he’d woken to the six a.m. alarm he had set to find her already gone.
So. Okay. He could do that.
No, actually, he couldn’t.
But what could he do about it now? Here in his half-full bar with Karl sitting only three empty spots away from Maya? What could he possibly say? I am and have always been insanely attracted to you, so would you please at least acknowledge what happened?
“Rough night?” He set a glass in front of her and uncorked a bottle of her wine.
“You could say that.” As he poured, she picked up one of the wine menus. When he was done, her hand shot out and stopped him from retracting the bottle. They each held an end of it for a moment in a tug-of-war while she transferred her attention between the wine label and the menu.
He was about to be busted.
Which, fine. It wasn’t like this was a secret. She would have noticed the preferential treatment if she’d been paying any attention at all.
“This isn’t on the menu.”
“That is correct.”
“There’s a different Riesling on the menu.”
“Your powers of observation astound me.”
“Why isn’t this one on the menu?”
“It’s a limited release. If I put it on the menu, I’d run out.”
“So you sell it only to me.”
He lifted a shoulder and let it fall.
“And you undercharge me.�
�
“No, I charge you the friends-and-family rate.” Which wasn’t a thing, but whatever. He turned to evasive measures. “How’s the show been going?”
“The show has been going shockingly well. There have been a few blips, but Holden seems to perform better under pressure than he does normally.”
“So you and Holden are…”
She raised an eyebrow. “Are you asking if your little scene the other night drove a wedge between me and my star?”
“I guess I am.”
“He’s been a little frosty, but I think he’s mostly shaken it off. He’s still doing his thing, drawing the crowds. This was night three of a sold-out house. That has never happened.”
“That’s great.”
He was genuinely happy for her. But he didn’t need to express it like that. That would be giving away too much in the war he was going to assume they were still waging until he had evidence to suggest otherwise. So instead he went with a joke. “So probably you’re here to tell me you’re withdrawing from the grant competition because you don’t need the money anymore?”
He expected sass, but she leaned forward and whispered, “Actually, I’m here because I was wondering if you wanted to have sex again.”
Oh shit. He had to grab the edge of the bar to steady himself, he was so shocked by the question. The answer, however, was right there at the top of his consciousness: Yes, indeed I do. “Now?” he asked.
She mimicked his earlier half shrug but infused it with a big dose of coyness.
“Carter!” he shouted. He made an effort to lower his voice when Carter, who was scheduled to go home soon, looked over, alarmed. “Any chance you can close?” God, Brie couldn’t get here fast enough. If this thing with Maya was going to become an actual thing, he needed more nights off. Carter made a thumbs-up sign, and Law grabbed his keys and phone from behind the bar and made a “Let’s go” motion.
“But I’m not done with my wine.” Said the woman who had just implied that now would be her preferred time for getting it on.
He came around the bar, picked up the glass, and leaned over to whisper in her ear. “The nice thing about sleeping with the bartender is you can take your wine to go.”
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