by MJ Duncan
She was considering grabbing a quick shower when she glanced out the window behind her bed and saw Maeve pulling up the drive in a white Audi SUV, and she bit her lip as she realized she did not have time for that. Butterflies swooped and dove in her stomach as she hurried to change, and she was just buckling her belt when the doorbell rang.
“One minute!” The cottage was small enough that she knew her voice would carry well enough to be heard on the porch, and she combed her hands through her hair as she started for the stairs.
Joss rolled her sleeves as she padded down the winding staircase in her bare feet, and could not contain her grin when she stepped into the foyer and saw Maeve standing on the other side of the screen door, hands behind her back as she looked anywhere but inside the cottage. Joss’ mouth went dry as she drank in Maeve’s sinfully tight jeans and fitted red scoop-neck tee, and she swallowed hard when Maeve’s piercing green eyes landed on her. A small, shy smile curled Maeve’s lips as their eyes locked, and Joss had to remind herself to breathe as the flicker of hope she often tried her best to ignore roared to life, stealing the breath from her lungs.
“You made it,” Joss said, as she opened the storm door and waved Maeve inside.
Maeve nodded. “Of course.” She pulled her hands from behind her back, and Joss’ heart leapt into her throat. Maeve had brought not only a bottle of wine, but also a small bouquet of wildflowers. “These are for you.”
“I…” Joss cleared her throat and shook her head as she took the gifts, feeling more confused than ever about where, exactly, they stood. Wine might be a perfectly acceptable hostess’ gift, but, in her mind, flowers carried an entirely different connotation. Maybe… the little voice inside her head murmured even as she told Maeve, “Thank you.”
Maeve ducked her head as a light blush crept over her cheeks. “I know you said to not bring anything, but—”
“They’re beautiful,” Joss interrupted, her stomach fluttering at the pleased smile Maeve gave her response. “Would you like to come in?” She waggled the bottle of wine. “We can crack this while we wait for everyone else to arrive…”
“That sounds wonderful,” Maeve murmured.
You got that right, Joss thought as Maeve brushed past, and she took a deep breath as she turned to follow.
Ten
Joss set the flowers Maeve had brought onto the counter that separated the kitchen from the great room and picked up the corkscrew she had set out the night before. She twisted the bottle of wine to study the label as she removed the foil cap. A rainbow-hued grasshopper was striking on the flat black label, and the vineyard’s name was inscribed beneath it in an elegant silver script. “Spectrum?”
“It’s a small vineyard in Washington state.” Maeve tucked her hair behind her ears as she sat down on a barstool. “My brother still keeps in touch with a friend of his from law school who knows the owner.”
“Wow,” Joss murmured.
Maeve shrugged. “Yeah. Anyway, every once in a while Liam will just send me a case of their Merlot because he knows I love it. Although, they’ve recently released a Pinot Noir that’s absolutely divine and has basically become my new favorite.”
Joss nodded, feeling a little like an idiot because she knew pretty much nothing about wine beyond the fact she did not really care for whites. She tossed the foil cap aside and fit the levered corkscrew on top of the bottle, pushing the handle down to drive the metal screw into the cork. “Sounds amazing.”
“It is,” Maeve assured her with a smile as she crossed her legs. “Next time I get a bottle, I’ll have you over and we can share it.”
The offer, much like the smile curling Maeve’s lips, was so unequivocally genuine that any lingering anxiety Joss felt about their missed coffee date that morning was immediately forgotten. Joss adjusted her grip on the corkscrew and shoved the handle up, away from the bottle, yanking the cork free. “That would be great.”
Maeve rocked forward on her seat to grab the stems of two of the wine glasses on the counter and slide them closer to Joss. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.” Joss poured a generous amount into each glass, and clinked hers against Maeve’s before she lifted it to her lips. “Cheers.”
“Salut,” Maeve murmured as she watched Joss take a sip. “What do you think?”
The wine was smooth and crisp, fruity without being overpoweringly so, and Joss nodded as she swallowed. Though she was not a wine connoisseur, even she was able to tell that it was exceptional. “It’s great.”
A delighted look flashed across Maeve’s face as she, too, took a sip. “I’m glad you like it.”
“I do.” Joss set her glass on the counter and turned to retrieve the crystal vase that had once belonged to her mother from the cupboard above the fridge. Her mother had loved fresh-cut flowers and her father had loved spoiling her, and Joss could not remember a time growing up when this vase had not been overflowing with flowers. She sighed softly at the memory, and shook her head as she took the vase to the sink to rinse it off.
“Do you need help with anything?” Maeve offered as Joss turned back toward her, drying the vase with a cornflower blue dishtowel that had been sitting beside the sink.
“There’s nothing to do.” Joss set the vase on the counter beside the wrapped flowers and smiled at Maeve. She had never been a flowers kind of girl, she always thought it was a waste to spend money on something that was already in the process of dying, but she had to admit that the wildflowers Maeve brought were beautiful. “These are gorgeous. Where did you find them?”
Maeve smiled. “I was down in Vail this morning checking out the farmer’s market and art show because I’ve heard so much about it, and there was a vendor there selling these bouquets. I know you said I didn’t need to bring anything, but I couldn’t just show up empty-handed, so…” Her voice trailed off and she shrugged, as if it were no big deal.
Joss bit her lip as she forced herself to ignore the way her stomach sank at Maeve’s explanation. She should have known that the flowers, like the wine, were nothing more than a “thanks for having me over” type of gift, but she had still hoped… She blinked hard and picked up a pair of scissors to trim the stems. “Well, they’re beautiful.”
“I’m glad you like them.” Maeve’s eyes lingered on Joss’ face for a moment before she turned on her seat and looked around the cottage. “Your home is incredible. It’s much so much bigger than it looks from the outside. I love it.”
“Thanks,” Joss murmured without looking up. She took a slow, deep breath to try to re-center herself as she placed the flowers into the vase. She spent more time and energy than was necessary on the arrangement, using the task as an opportunity to get her head back on straight. Maeve was her friend, and she would do her best to enjoy the evening. When she finally looked up, she saw that Maeve was standing in front of the bookcase in the living room. Maeve’s expression was intrigued as she sipped at her wine and studied the titles lining the shelves, and Joss wondered what she thought about her choice in reading materials. Joss tried not to notice the way Maeve’s hair curled enticingly around her shoulders or the way her jeans hugged her ass as she made her way out of the kitchen with the flowers. The kitchen counter would be too full later with food to allow room the bouquet, and the only other place the vase would fit was on the coffee table in the living room. She caught Maeve’s eye through the open shelves as she set the vase onto the table and arched a playful brow, determined to keep things light and friendly. “No judging.”
“I would never.” Maeve waved her glass at the shelves. “So you’re an urban fantasy girl, huh?”
“Yeah.” Joss placed the vase in the center of the table, giving it a small turn so that the overhead lights caught the ridges in the crystal, and wiped her hands off on the seat of her pants as she straightened. “How about you? What’s your favorite outside your particular genre?”
“I actually read very few crime novels. Or mysteries, for that matter,” Maeve admitted with a
small shrug.
Joss arched a brow in surprise. “Really?”
“Really.” Maeve smiled around the rim of her wine glass. “I spend so much time lost in my own head thinking about that kind of stuff, that when I do have time to read, I just want an escape.”
“Okay. That makes sense.” Joss tilted her head as she looked at Maeve through the open shelves. “So, what’s your fictional poison, Ms. Dylan?”
Maeve bit her lip and blushed as her gaze dropped to the books that separated them. “Which one is your favorite?” she asked, changing the subject.
“Depends on the week.” Joss edged past the sofa and around the end of the bookcase. Joss grinned at Maeve’s embarrassment as she leaned against the end of the bookshelf. “How about you?”
Maeve shrugged. “I read a little bit of everything,” she answered evasively.
“Some day I will figure it out,” Joss teased.
Maeve smirked and lifted her glass in a silent toast. “Good luck with that.”
“I don’t need luck.” Joss winked at her. “I have receipts.”
“That’s assuming I’ve purchased books at your store,” Maeve retorted.
Joss laughed and held a hand over her heart as if wounded. “You don’t buy your books from me? That’s very un-neighborly.”
“I make you coffee every morning,” Maeve pointed out. “Which is actually beyond neighborly, if you were to stop and think about it, so…”
“You’re right,” Joss conceded with a small bow. It was beyond neighborly, which is why she was so damned confused. Besides the flowers Maeve had brought her today—which seemed to be nothing more than a hostess gift—there was nothing in their interactions that gave her any indication where Maeve stood. Was everything between them just friendly gestures, or was it something more?
She ran a hand through her hair and sighed. God, I really hate this second-guessing shit.
“Knock, knock,” a familiar voice called out as the storm door was yanked open, and Joss frowned as she looked at the door. How had she not heard Scott’s car pull up?
“Gee, come on in.” Joss shot Maeve an apologetic smile and shrugged. “Have you met Scott Heitz?”
“I believe so, yes,” Maeve murmured as they watched Scott all but dump the ridiculously massive salad bowl he had been carrying onto the kitchen counter.
“Maeve, right?” Scott asked, smirking at Joss. “I’ve heard so much about you. It’s nice to finally meet you properly.”
If looks could kill, he would be dead after that comment, and Joss grit her teeth as she glared at him.
Maeve, however, smiled like he had just paid her the world’s best compliment. “Really? And what have you heard?”
Scott looked at Joss, who was standing behind Maeve, vigorously shaking her head at him, and laughed. “Not much. Just that your dog is awesome and that you make good coffee.”
“Well,” Maeve drawled, sounding almost disappointed as she shot Joss a curious look, “that’s all true.”
Scott nodded. “I bet.” He looked around the cottage. “Where is George the linebacker, anyway?”
“George,” Maeve replied with a small laugh, “is at home, getting some good use out of the dog run that she pretty much never uses.”
“You have a dog run?” Joss’ brow furrowed. In all the times she had run past Maeve’s house, she had seen nothing that even remotely resembled a dog run. “Where?”
Maeve pushed her glasses back up her nose as she turned toward Joss with a smile. “It’s next to the garage. You can’t see it from the back of the house.”
“Oh,” Joss breathed. She had not realized until this moment how close they were standing, and the intoxicating scent of Maeve’s perfume sent her heart beating up into her throat.
Christ. I. Am. Fucked, Joss thought to herself as her gaze dropped of its own volition to Maeve’s lips.
She was snapped back to reality by Scott, who was standing behind Maeve where only Joss could see him, waggling his eyebrows suggestively and miming running his hands down an especially curvy woman’s body before smacking said imaginary woman on the ass.
“Joss?” Maeve asked, glancing over her shoulder at Scott, who gave her the most guilty-looking finger-wave as he leaned against the counter.
“Sorry.” Joss cleared her throat. “Scott was just being a dork and distracting me. You were saying?”
“I wasn’t,” Maeve murmured, her head tilting just a little to the left as she looked at Joss.
It was clear that Maeve knew she was missing something, and Joss shook her head. The last thing she needed was for Maeve to push and for Scott to make little comments that would spill all her secrets. “Sorry,” Joss apologized again. “It’s nothing. I promise. Scott just thinks he’s funny…”
“I’m hilarious,” he declared.
“Yeah, you just keep thinking that,” Scott’s wife, Michelle, interjected as she ambled into the house. “Hey, Joss. Thanks for having us all over.”
“My pleasure,” Joss replied with a smile. She looked at Maeve and added, “Maeve, this is Michelle Heitz.”
“It’s lovely to meet you,” Maeve said, holding out a hand.
“You too,” Michelle replied breathlessly, looking absolutely starstruck as she shook Maeve’s hand.
Joss groaned under her breath, remembering how Scott had reacted when he learned who Maeve was. Please be more composed than your husband, she pleaded silently.
Joss could tell by the way Maeve’s easy smile turned just a little tight at the corners that she was uncomfortable with how things were progressing, and Joss did not stop to think before she slapped her imaginary white hat on her head and rode in to rescue her. She caught Scott’s eye and tipped her head at the french doors in the kitchen that led to the deck. “Can you guys go make sure everything is set up outside while Maeve and I finish up in here?”
“Yeah. Sure.” Scott nodded. “Babe?”
“Of course,” Michelle agreed, looking more than a little disappointed that she was being called away as she turned to follow her husband outside.
“Sorry about that,” Joss apologized once Scott and Michelle were out of earshot.
Maeve’s smile softened as she reached out to run a light hand down Joss’ forearm. Her touch was so gentle that it sent chills down Joss’ spine, and Maeve sighed as she gave Joss’ wrist a light squeeze. “Thank you.”
“I…” Joss’ voice trailed off at the feeling of Maeve’s hand sliding from her wrist. A delicious shiver erupted at the top of her spine and tumbled slowly down her back, and she bit her lip to keep from visibly reacting to it. She wished she knew what had prompted Maeve to reach out like she had, but in that moment, all Joss really cared about was making sure she was comfortable. Having something beside her own tumultuous thoughts to focus on made Joss feel much more grounded and in-control, and she smiled at Maeve as she leaned in close and whispered, “Anytime.”
Eleven
“You’re drooling.”
Joss pursed her lips as she turned to glare at Scott, and rolled her eyes at his shit-eating grin. “No, I’m not.”
“No, you’re not, what?” a deep, rumbling baritone asked.
Joss groaned as she turned to look at Brock Green. Brock was a beast of a man at over six and a half feet tall, with flawless ebony skin and a big, kind smile she could not help but return. “Nothing.”
“Drooling over Maeve,” Scott filled him in, tipping his head toward the dining table in front of the large stacked stone fireplace on the deck.
The novelty of Maeve’s celebrity had waned well before the steaks had hit the grill, and she had seamlessly become part of the group, laughing and joking and trading barbs with the guys like she had known them for years. At the moment, Paul Lennox and Wesley Herold were at one end of the table, engrossed in their own little conversation, while Brock’s husband Drew, Wesley’s wife Kate, Michelle Heitz, and Maeve were having what looked like a light-hearted conversation amongst themselves.
Joss felt her pulse kick up as her gaze lingered on Maeve, drinking in the way she was relaxed in her chair, the fingers of her left hand playing along the side of her neck as she sipped at the glass of wine she held in her right. Her hair shone beneath the canopy of white fairy lights that were woven across the portico, and even from this distance Joss could see the light blush the wine had left on her cheeks. It was the first time she could freely appreciate how beautiful Maeve was without worrying about being caught staring, and the three glasses of wine buzzing through her veins made it impossible for her to pretend that she did not want to see if the smile tugging at Maeve’s lips tasted as good as it looked.
“Yeah, well, I can’t blame her there,” Brock drawled, jolting Joss back to reality with a playful elbow in the side.
Scott nodded. “Right?”
“You are both married. Knock it off,” Joss grumbled as she ran a hand through her hair, her eyes still glued to the slope of Maeve’s jaw and the exquisite fall of her hair.
“We are.” Brock smirked and added, “But we’re not blind.”
“Exactly,” Scott chimed in. “You should just ask her out already.”
Joss scoffed. “Yeah right.”
As if sensing she was being watched, Maeve turned toward them, her smile widening by a fraction as she locked eyes with Joss.
“Fuck,” Joss swore under her breath.
“You are so gone,” Scott teased.
“Shut up,” Joss muttered.
Maeve turned back to her companions and said something they could not hear, but it soon became obvious that she was excusing herself when she pushed her chair back and got to her feet.
“Here comes your girl,” Scott whispered in Joss’ ear.