by MJ Duncan
She had learned a lot about Maeve over the past week of coffee and conversation, but she always said goodbye wishing she had just a little more time to spend with her. Maeve was funny and smart, with a quick wit and the most infectious laugh Joss had ever heard, and even the extra minutes she gained with Maeve by setting her alarm earlier and earlier each day were not enough to quench her need for more. None of their conversations revealed any hint where Maeve’s proclivities lay, but the more time Joss spent with her, the more she was forced to admit that it did not matter. She was crushing, hard, but even if friendship was the end-all-be-all of their burgeoning relationship, it would be enough because she just genuinely enjoyed spending time with her.
But there was still that little part of her that could not keep from foolishly hoping…
“Good morning,” Joss said as she stopped beside what she had come to think of as her chair at the table. She did not bother to glance at George, who was already making her way inside the house in search of a drink of water and a couch to sleep on.
Maeve relaxed in her seat and tilted her head in a way that was comically similar to the way George had done when Joss had happened upon her moments before. “Good run?”
“It was.” Joss pulled out her chair and picked up the travel mug that was waiting for her as she sat down. She had been so surprised when the mug was waiting for her two days after they first had coffee together that she nearly tripped over the last step to the patio, but now the sight of it filled her with happiness because it meant Maeve enjoyed this time they spent together as much as she did.
“Good.” Maeve smiled and sipped at her coffee, if one could even call it that. Joss had learned when she had offered to get Maeve a refill the day before last that Maeve liked her coffee to not taste anything like coffee. Three heaping scoops of Swiss Miss and a generous dash of milk more than covered up the bitterness of the brew, turning what was actually really good coffee into nothing more than a caffeinated hot chocolate.
Joss nodded and turned her head to the side as she yawned. “Sorry.”
“Late night at the store?” Maeve asked sympathetically.
“Not really,” Joss admitted, shaking her head. “Scott closes on Fridays. I was just up late reading this annoyingly brilliant novel…” Her voice trailed off as she smirked at Maeve. She had been hesitant at first to admit to Maeve that she had started reading her books in case Maeve was uncomfortable about the idea of somebody she knew in real life reading her work, but she had been forced to fess up three days before when she could not stop yawning because she had stayed up into the murky pre-dawn hours finishing Fire—the second book in Maeve’s series.
“Ah. Good. So my evil plan to turn the world’s population into a horde of sleep-deprived zombies is working.” Maeve’s eyes twinkled with amusement as she pulled her right foot up to rest on the seat of her chair. “Are you still reading Ash?”
It was a surreal experience to be able to sit down and discuss a book with the woman who wrote it, and Joss sipped at her coffee as she shook her head. “I finished it at like two this morning,” she shared as she barely stifled another yawn.
“And?” Maeve prompted.
Joss cradled her coffee mug in her hands and shook her head. “I can’t believe you ended it like that. If I had to wait a year for the next one, I’d be beyond pissed about that cliffhanger.”
Maeve laughed. “Quite a few people were. It was glorious.”
“You are twisted,” Joss muttered.
“Yes, well, I’m a writer,” Maeve pointed out with a dismissive shrug. “It’s all part of the deal, I’m afraid.”
Joss chuckled. “I see.”
“Seriously though.” Maeve leaned forward in her seat and rested her arms on the table. “I’m interested to hear what you thought about it.”
“It was amazing,” Joss said, shaking her head as she tried to organize her thoughts on the story. She had fallen almost immediately in love with Maeve’s main character, Faith Ricci, a decorated detective in the Chicago Police Department who had made a name for herself by capturing a serial killer that had been tormenting the city for years. Faith was one of the more well-rounded characters Joss had ever read, deeply nuanced and layered, with a dedication to her job that was both admirable and tragic in the way that it kept her almost painfully isolated from the world. Her only friend was the District Attorney—an equally dedicated woman named Greta Thrash—who took it upon herself to make sure that justice was served to the criminals Faith apprehended. “The case was riveting, which the bags under my eyes attest to, and I was half-tempted to drive up here and smack you when the book ended with Greta being abducted at gunpoint from the parking garage at her office.”
Maeve grinned. “I’m sorry.”
“No you’re not,” Joss retorted, waving off Maeve’s wholly unrepentant smile with a frustrated hand. “Just promise me that Faith gets her back and I’ll forgive you.”
“Faith gets her back,” Maeve promised. She bobbed her head from side to side for a few beats before adding, “Eventually.”
Joss pointed an accusing finger at Maeve. “You do realize that is not at all encouraging, right?”
“I know.” Maeve nodded. “But you can rest assured that I love them both too much to do any lasting damage to either.”
“Good.”
“Everyone else is fair game, however,” Maeve added.
Joss shrugged and crossed her legs as she relaxed back in her seat. “I can handle that. So, how’s the editing coming along?” Maeve had been positively adorable in her relief and excitement about having finished the first draft of her manuscript Tuesday morning when Joss stopped by to return George, and had seemed eager to begin what she called a “quick structural edit”—whatever the hell that was.
Maeve smiled a small, self-satisfied smile and nodded. “I finished them earlier this morning, and sent the manuscript off to my editor for her to do a more thorough job about thirty minutes ago.”
“Congratulations.” Joss smiled. “So what are you going to do to celebrate?”
“Laundry.” Maeve sighed. “And grocery shopping. And cleaning. You know, all those things I put off for the last week while I was doing this.”
“How exciting,” Joss chuckled.
“Right?” Maeve shrugged and sipped at her coffee.
Joss shook her head. “No.” Maeve’s answering laugh was throaty and rich, and she grinned. “You need to do something to celebrate.”
“I’m sure George will smother me with cuddles.”
“I’m sure she will,” Joss agreed. “If I weren’t working late tonight, I’d take you out for a drink or something.”
“That sounds like fun. Maybe some other time, then.”
“Yeah.” The small, lopsided smile quirking Maeve’s lips caused hope to bloom in Joss’ chest, and she cleared her throat softly as she shrugged and shook her head, like what she was about to say was not a big deal at all—despite the fact that she really, really hoped that Maeve accepted her offer. “Would you maybe… I mean, it wouldn’t be much, but I’m having some of the softball team over tomorrow night around seven for a barbecue since we have a bye this week—why don’t you come down join us?”
“I wouldn’t want to impose…”
“You wouldn’t be,” Joss assured her. “It’ll be a small thing, just some of the guys from the Brewers that I went to high school with and their better halves. I’ll appeal to their inner caveman and put them in charge of the grill, and we can just hang out. It’ll be fun, I promise.”
“Well, if you promise…” Maeve murmured, a playful glint flashing in her eyes.
“I do,” Joss said, trying to not look too eager. “Come on. Say yes.”
Maeve bit her lip and nodded. “Okay. Yes.”
Joss beamed as her heart swooped and her stomach dipped in excitement at the idea of spending the following evening with Maeve. “Excellent.”
“What would you like me to bring?”
“Just you. I already divvied up the menu between the team. It’s all taken care of.”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive,” Joss assured her. Her phone strapped to her bicep began to beep with her time-to-get-moving alarm, and she groaned. “I’m sorry. I need to go.”
“Don’t be.” Maeve smiled warmly as she stood with Joss. “What time should I come down tomorrow?”
“I’ll be home by six thirty, so anytime after then is fine.”
“Okay, then.” Maeve ran a hand through her hair and nodded. “I’ll see you then.”
Joss grinned. “Perfect.”
Nine
Joss checked her watch and sighed. She wanted nothing more than for her workday to be at an end so she could get home and get ready for the barbecue, so time was, of course, moving at a crawl. There were still over thirty minutes left before it was time to close up for the day.
“Okay. Seriously,” Scott said, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned against bookshelf she had been restocking in-between bursts of muscle-freezing anxiety. “That’s like the two-thousandth time you’ve done that this afternoon. What’s up?”
“Nothing,” Joss muttered, shaking her head as she pulled the book she had just placed on the shelf and moved it to its correct location two shelves higher.
“Are you nervous about tonight?”
“No.”
He chuckled. “Bullshit.”
Joss blew out a loud breath and groaned. “It’s nothing.”
“That look of frustrated apprehension on your face is not ‘nothing’,” he pointed out. “You look like you’re about to jump out of your skin and puke at the same time. It’s kinda scary.”
“Gee, thanks.” Joss rolled her eyes. For as much as it killed her to admit it, he was really not all that far off. “I’m just…”
“Freaking out,” Scott supplied with a knowing grin.
Joss swore to herself that she would fire his ass if he started singing “Joss and Maeve sitting in a tree” again like he had done his entire shift the day before after she had told him that Maeve would be coming to the barbecue. “I’m not freaking out. I’m just…” She groaned. “Seriously freaking out.”
“I knew it. Okay.” He clapped twice and nodded, then rubbed his hands together. “Why, exactly, are you freaking out?”
“You mean besides the fact that Maeve will be at my house in about an hour and that I promised her she would have a great time hanging out with me and a bunch of people she’s never met before?”
Scott grinned. “Exactly. Besides that.”
“What if she hates it?”
“Hates the cottage? Who can hate the cottage? That place is fucking awesome.”
“No,” Joss grumbled, smiling in spite of herself at Scott’s playfully horrified expression. “I meant, what if she hates the entire evening?”
“How could she possibly do that? We’re awesome!”
“If you say so, Heitz.”
“Look. Joss, baby, darlin’, it’ll be fine,” he drawled, his expression softening. “Everything will be great, I promise. Herold is in charge of bringing the hard stuff, Lennox is bringing the beer, and Green is bringing some of the wine they picked up on their winery tour thing last summer, so there’ll be more than enough alcohol to keep things loose. I’ll grill up some fucking amazing steaks, Michelle is bringing her salad that everybody loves, and Green’s husband is making his famous cheesecake. What can go wrong?”
“Everything.” Joss stared at him pleadingly. “Tell me this wasn’t a mistake.”
“Inviting Maeve to this little shindig was not a mistake,” Scott assured her in a gentle tone. “You were so excited yesterday, what happened? Did she say something when you saw her this morning?”
Joss shook her head. For the first time in a week, she had not seen Maeve and George during her morning run—a fact that was undoubtedly contributing to her rising panic. She knew that Maeve had a busy, important life beyond their informal, impromptu coffee dates and that there was no reason for her to expect her to be there every single morning, but knowing that did not lessen the worry that had been twisting her stomach in knots from the moment she ran out of the woods to find Maeve’s lawn and patio deserted.
“No.” She sighed and shook her head again. “I didn’t see her today. Which is why I’m worried that she’s regretting accepting my invitation and is trying to find a way out of it.”
Scott smiled and gave her shoulder a light, reassuring squeeze. “She was probably sleeping. Not everyone enjoys waking up at the ass-crack of dawn every day like you do. Never mind the fact that she was probably working herself to the bone to get her manuscript ready to send to her editor. Hell, I slept for almost eighteen hours straight after I submitted my last manuscript. It’s brutal.”
“I’m sure it is, it’s just…”
“You like her.”
Joss closed her eyes and nodded. “Yeah.”
“You think she’s gorgeous,” he sang. “You wanna kiss her… You wanna…”
“Shut up, Gracie Lou,” Joss laughed, smacking his arm. “And thanks for talking me down.”
“No problem. Somebody’s gotta do it.” He checked his watch and then tilted his head at the door. “Look. It’s almost six and we’ve been dead today—why don’t you head home and make sure everything’s ready for tonight. I’ll lock up here.”
“I can’t—” Joss started to argue.
“Go, Perrault,” Scott said, grabbing her by the shoulders and turning her toward the front door. “I got this.”
“Scott…” Joss rolled her eyes as she began obediently marching with him.
“Joss.” He arched a brow in playful challenge when she stopped beside the front counter to glare at him. “Don’t make me throw you out.”
“You can’t throw me out. It’s my store. I’m the one who signs your paycheck.”
“Whatever. Just get the hell out of here.” He gave her a light shove. “I’ll lock up, swing by my place real fast to pick up Michelle, and then we’ll be out to help with whatever you need.”
Scott’s expression was determined, and Joss sighed. She would continue to worry no matter where she was; at least at home there would be nobody around to witness it. “Fine. You win.”
He gave a small fist-pump and nodded. “Good.”
“Six thirty?” Joss asked as she hovered in the doorway, not quite ready to be alone with her thoughts just yet.
“At the latest,” he promised.
Joss took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay.” She paused with one hand on the handle and added, “Thanks.”
Scott smiled. “You bet.”
She sighed under her breath as she pushed the door open. An elderly couple in matching tan Bermuda shorts that was discussing where they wanted to go to dinner later that evening were just on the other side, and she flattened herself against the doorframe to let them enter. They smiled their thanks as they walked past her, and Joss swallowed hard as she turned to leave.
“Time to get this over with,” Joss muttered under her breath as she glanced both ways before jogging across Summit to the lot where she always left her car.
If the lack of traffic on Main Street as she drove out of town was any indication, the next week was going to be a slow one for business, but Joss could not summon the energy to worry about what that meant for her profit margin as she turned off the main thoroughfare and onto her driveway. She stopped at the mailbox at the end of the lane to collect the mail she had forgotten the day before, and tossed it all onto the seat as she shifted the car back into gear and made her way home.
Evening shadows had already draped themselves over the cottage by the time Joss pulled to a stop in front of it, and she took a deep breath as she killed the engine and pulled her key from the ignition. She glanced around at the woods as she climbed out of the jeep, somewhat calmed by the familiar musical chatter of the birds hiding in the lush, verdant foliage surrounding her and the sound of the breeze rustling
the leaves overhead. She took another slow, deep breath as she stood beside her car, letting the rich scent of dirt and pine and nature chase away some of the anxiousness that had plagued her all day, and let it go slowly.
You have no reason to be so nervous, she told herself as she made her way up to the porch. It’s just dinner with old friends and a new one. Maeve hasn’t called or texted to say she won’t be able to make it after all, so she’ll be here.
Joss left the front door open so that the breeze could filter through the open, screened half of the storm door as she made her way through the small foyer into the living room. She had cleaned from the moment she got home from work until she went to bed the night before, which meant that there was really nothing for her to do to get the place ready for her guests that would be arriving soon. She hesitated for only a moment before she set her keys on their usual shelf in the unit behind the couch and made her way up the spiral staircase to her bedroom. She flicked on the lights as she stepped into the loft, the recessed lights set in the beams overhead bathing the cozy space in gentle, golden light, and chewed her lip nervously as she opened her closet.
If it were just the team coming over, she would not have bothered changing from the jeans and heather gray UCLA tee she had worn to work that day, but she wanted to look good for Maeve, who only ever saw her in her running clothes. Joss scanned the clothes hanging up in front of her and laced her fingers on top of her head as she considered her options. She wanted something that was nice but still casual enough to not look like she was trying too hard, and eventually settled on a black silk, long-sleeved button-down shirt she had worn with her favorite charcoal suit back in LA. The shirt was anything but casual, but the worn, faded jeans she pulled from the built-in dresser below the hanging clothes more than balanced it out.