“This way,” Maggie—who has been following me around, watching me like a hawk the entire time—says. She walks down the hall and I follow, dragging my supplies with me. Daisy, who has been sitting at the kitchen table reading a magazine and smirking at me while I work, doesn’t follow. Caroline and Jasmyn have only occasionally popped their heads out of their rooms to sneak a peek, but I haven’t seen either of them in fifteen minutes. At the end of the hall, near the living room, Maggie swings open a door on the left. I walk in bracing myself for another pig sty but don’t find one.
The room is simple—a double bed with a vintage quilt, an old wooden desk, some floating shelves with neatly stacked books, and a ridiculously oversized bean bag chair near the bay window and the door to the balcony. Even the throw rug beside the bed looks like it was recently vacuumed. “Whose room is this?”
“Mine. Bathroom is over there.” Maggie points to a closed door next to an open closet. I walk over and pull it open. It’s truly the smallest bathroom I have ever seen. It’s barely bigger than a phone booth.
“I don’t even think I can fit in here to clean it,” I mutter and try. I am basically touching everything the second I step in there. My calf is touching the toilet bowl, my hip the sink and my shoulder the shower curtain for the teeny stand-up shower. I turn awkwardly to face the door and she’s standing in it, so she’s basically right on top of me. I try to take a step back, but there’s nowhere to go and I hit the sink with my butt and stumble to the side and basically trip into the shower, almost ripping down the shower curtain.
“Careful clumsy!” Maggie scolds.
She moves into the space with me which is impossible, only she does it anyway, and now I’m not just touching every surface in the bathroom, I’m touching her too. More importantly, she is touching me. Her chest, covered in what I now know feels like a very soft, very thin T-shirt, is brushing against my bare chest. Her left arm grazes my hip and as she bends down and reaches for something under the sink, her long silky hair ghosts across my belly and her shoulder skims the front of my boxer-briefs and my dick. Maggie Todd just touched my dick.
“Okay this is insane,” I blurt out jumping back and stumbling out of the small space. I almost fall onto her bed in the process and manage to readjust the suddenly expanding bulge in my briefs as I right myself.
My dick is still tingling from the brief brush of her shoulder. I cannot get hard over this girl. Not her. Anyone but her.
She’s giggling behind me. “I’m amazed you play hockey as well as you do, because you seem about as coordinated as a baby deer on a frozen pond.”
“Why the hell would you try to get into that postage stamp of a room with me?” I ask her as I slowly turn around making sure my body parts are all behaving before I face her. “How do you even function in that space?”
“I manage.” She tosses something at me and I catch it a second before it’s about to smack me in the head. “There are those lightning fast reflexes the local paper raved about last year.”
“You read about me a lot, do you?” I mutter and smirk at her before looking at the thing she tried to assault me with. It’s a box of Lysol bleach wipes.
“I clean the bathroom with these. It’s easier than trying to cram a mop in there and there’s only like a foot of tile anyway,” Maggie explains as she steps back out of the bathroom and makes a grand gesture for me to enter again. “And unfortunately I had no choice but to read about you and hear about you last year. Your rookie season was all anyone talked about. Local kid leads the entire division in shorthanded goals. NHL scouts itching for him to enter the draft, blah, blah, blah.”
I feel my chest inflate just the slightest despite her “blah, blah, blah” part. “Yeah well, I worked my ass off. And all that hard work will be blown out of the water if you post that picture anywhere.”
It only takes three wipes and a minute and a half to clean her bathroom, not just because of the size of the space but also because it wasn’t very dirty to begin with. I wipe the floor last which is basically six large porcelain tiles and scoot my way out as I do it. When I turn to face her she’s the color of marinara sauce again. I cock my head to the side. “What’s got your face all tomatoey again?”
“Nothing. It’s just actually kind of stuffy in here.” She barges past me to the three windows that make up her bay window and tugs open the middle one. I have the brief, startling revelation that she might be on fire this time because she liked the view—of me. But I don’t have time to use that egotistical thought to tease her again because I have real problems to solve.
“Will you delete the damn picture now? From the Cloud too?” I ask. I want to get that photo deleted and get the hell out of here and go back to pretending she and her pesky little sister don’t exist.
“You’re getting paid for the cleaning. You want the photo gone forever, you gotta pay for that,” Maggie replies coolly as she sits on her bed, leaning back all casual, like she isn’t fucking with my entire life.
“You want your money back? Fine. But I can only pay you what Vickie pays me. She takes a cut, you know. I don’t get to keep it all and I’m broke, so I can’t give you anything more than I get,” I explain and grit my teeth because the idea of not being paid for this humiliation pisses me off.
I walk over and stand in front of her which I instantly realize isn’t a great idea. She’s now eye level with my junk. Her hazel eyes seem to grow two sizes and that alabaster complexion is changing color again. And she tries to stand up, but I’m too close and she ricochets off my chest and lands on her back on the bed. I can’t help but laugh, which clearly annoys her, so I swallow down the last bit of my chuckle and take a step back. Pissing her off isn’t going to help me.
“You want the picture, you’re going to have to give us half your booth at the farmer’s market,” she announces as she stands up again, this time without calamity.
“I’m sorry, what?” I wasn’t expecting that but as soon as she announces it, I realize I should have been. “When? This Sunday?”
“Yep.” She nods firmly and puts her hands on her hips. “And every other Sunday of the season.”
My jaw drops. “You’re fucking kidding.”
“I don’t kid about business, Adler,” she replies, cool as a cucumber again. I angrily grab my feather duster off the floor and point it at her, about to tell her off, but then she pulls the phone from the back pocket of her jeans and snaps another picture. I lunge for it but she’s much more graceful and catlike than she was a minute ago and she manages to leap onto the bed and off the other side. Her fingers are busy punching things on the screen as I dart across the room to try and grab it again.
Maggie quickly drops it down the front of her shirt, probably tucking it into her bra. I freeze and she smiles. “If you go for it I will punch you square in that pretty face of yours. And also, it won’t do a lick of good. I just emailed it to myself.”
Argh! I hate this woman.
“The entire season? That’s bullshit,” I argue even though I know there’s no point. I have to give her what she wants. “My family needs the money from this more than yours. That’s a fact and you know it.”
“We lost this market because my dad’s recovery isn’t as quick as we’d hoped and he couldn’t go to the sign up and sent ornery and apathetic grandpa Clyde. And this summer, my darling but unreliable uncles forgot to sign up,” Maggie confesses. “So we need it more than you think.”
“Town gossip is that your family’s done an excellent job of moving to goat milk from the dwindling cow milk industry, despite what happened to your dad. And that you sell your specialty honey to a chain of organic stores based out of Boston,” I tell her, folding my arms across my chest. “Not that I was paying close attention but other farmers talk—a lot. That’s also why I know you must know the situation my family is in with the lost crops and the cider press causing a fire in the barn.” I sigh and run an exasperated hand through my hair.
She shifts from one
foot to the other. “Can you get dressed?”
“Sorry. I guess you’re not used to seeing men’s bodies,” I mutter and start toward the door to her room because my pants and tank top are still on the floor in her front hall. “At least not really good ones.”
“Wow. Conceited much?” she demands as she follows behind me. “And what the hell is that supposed to mean anyway?”
“I saw your little police officer boy toy this morning,” I reply and start to pull on my pants. I turn to face her as I do them up. “And he’s definitely been to the donut shop a few too many times.”
“It is so not your business but as I said before, he is not my boyfriend,” she says and crosses her arms. “But regardless, your comments make you just as much of a vain jerk as I thought you were.”
I smirk. “Tell yourself whatever you want, Firecracker, but I noticed you didn’t take your eyes off me the whole time I was cleaning.”
“I wanted to make sure you did a good job and didn’t steal anything,” Maggie shoots back.
“Uh-huh,” I say but what I’m really saying is “bullshit” and she knows it.
The door to Daisy’s bedroom cracks open and her head pokes out. I lied when I said to Maggie at the police station that I can’t tell them apart. I was just trying to annoy her because I remembered when she was little she hated how everyone confused them. It likely didn’t help that Daisy skipped second grade and was in the same year as Maggie. But despite the obvious resemblances as soon as I came back from school in Minnesota and saw them at the Biscuit in the Basket I could totally tell them apart. Daisy is pretty but Maggie is stunning. The type of girl I would totally pursue if it wasn’t for her personality.
Now Daisy raises an auburn eyebrow and gives me a snarky glare. “You’re hot. Big deal. You’re ugly on the inside where it counts for girls like us. Now can we get back to the business? Do we release the photo or are we partners at the booth?”
“Eavesdrop much?” I snap at her because that inside remark stings.
“She has ears like a bat,” Maggie explains. “She can hear you whisper through a closed door on the other side of the house. It’s her super power.”
“What’s yours? Blackmail?” I scowl but then I relent because I have no other choice. “Fine. But if our grandfathers end up killing each other I’m going to make sure that the police know it was your fault. And if my gramps disowns me, that’s on you too.”
“Tell your grandfather the police changed their mind and mandated that we share the booth to keep them from being charged,” Maggie tells me. “That’s what I intend to tell Clyde.”
“Wow. You’ve planned this whole thing out,” I remark. I’d be impressed if I wasn’t so outraged.
“I had to think of something to take my mind off you being naked in my house.” Maggie shivers like she’s traumatized and despite the fact that I give less than zero fucks about what she thinks, it still kind of stings.
I’ll be damned if I will let her see it though, so I just roll my eyes. “Whatever. Delete the photos. Now.”
Maggie holds out the phone and I watch her delete the images. “But they’re staying in my email until the farmer’s market season is over, and then I will let you delete them yourself. I promise.”
“Your promise holds little value to me,” I reply because it’s the truth. “The Todd family is about as trustworthy as a snake in a tree in the Garden of Eden.”
“Yeah because the Adlers are a bunch of saints.” Daisy snorts and rolls her big brown eyes.
I pick up my mop and bucket. “I guess I have no choice but to say I’ll see you Sunday.”
“See you then!” Maggie grins and waves as I step out into the hall outside their apartment.
“Toodles!” Daisy calls out, a smile as equally fake and saccharine as her sister’s on her face.
“You two are my own personal version of The Shining twins, you know that?” I say. Their response is to slam the front door in my face.
What did I ever do to deserve this? It’s going to be the longest and worst semester of my life.
5
Maggie
Almost a week later and I’m still feeling great. It helps that the summer weather has wrapped its arms around September and refuses to let go. Midway through the month and we’re still in the midseventies with the sun down. I take a slow deep breath, filling my lungs with the smell of pine and grass that swirls in the night air, and smile.
“I didn’t think you’d come tonight, to be honest,” Jasmyn says as she links her arm with me and we climb the steps of the Alpha Zeta fraternity house. Her boyfriend, Rhys, is a member and they’re having a games night, which usually ends up with people dancing on the pool and ping-pong tables rather than playing on them.
“I need to celebrate my first hostile business takeover,” I say and wink. Daisy giggles as she and Caroline climb the stairs behind us.
“The first of many,” Daisy adds. “Only the next time we take something from the Adlers it won’t require half-naked blackmail pictures.”
Jasmyn reaches for the door handle. You can already hear the music pumping inside. “What are you going to take next?”
“Hopefully their farm when the bank forecloses,” Daisy replies and the door swings open and we step inside.
It’s a big, old, brown-brick two story. The rooms off the front hall are large and packed with people and games tables. Two ping-pong tables in the living room, an air hockey table in the dining room as well as beer pong set up on the table in the kitchen just beyond. The whole house smells like beer and sweat. It was midseventies outside but it’s mideighties inside thanks to all the bodies.
“I can’t believe you two are going to take over another farm,” Jasmyn says in awe. “I feel like I’ll be lucky to get a job at McDonald’s when I graduate.”
Daisy reaches over and wraps an arm around Jasmyn’s shoulders as we push our way toward the kitchen. There’s a loud cheer as a girl beats a guy on the ping-pong table to our left. “You can come and work for us when you graduate. If we can snag their farm, we’re turning it into an events venue.”
Jasmyn’s whole face lights up at the idea, which makes me smile. I love the idea too.
“They’ve got really beautiful land with a lake and yeah their barn is falling apart, but their farmhouse is huge and in good shape. It’s going to be a bed and breakfast and my uncles are going to make tiny container home-style suites and we’ll pepper them down by the lake and then add a gazebo for weddings and a barn we can turn into a hall for conferences and wedding receptions.”
“We’ll need more than one talented chef versed in farm-to-table food for the B and B,” I say, smiling, and Jasmyn smiles back.
“Don’t get my hopes up, but if you do take it over, I’m your girl,” Jasmyn replies as we enter the kitchen.
Caroline sighs and pouts as she leans on my shoulder. “My life is going to be so boring after college. You girls will all be working together and I’ll be in dental school staring at molars.”
I pat her head. “You can visit anytime.”
We’re about to turn left as we enter the kitchen but Caroline, who is leading the way, stops dead and we all bump into each other like dominos. She lifts a hand and points, but my eyes already see what she sees, what stopped her in her tracks. The two sets of French doors that lead out to the expansive, covered back porch are wide open and Tate Adler is playing ping-pong on the table out there—shirtless.
“That six pack looks familiar,” Jasmyn whispers in my ear. “I hate to say this, but he really is gorgeous.”
“He’s okay,” I mutter and wiggle past Daisy and Caroline to the kegs, which are on the other side of the kitchen island. I grab a red plastic cup off the island and start to pour a beer. A group watching the ping-pong match on the porch erupts in cheers and I can’t help but look.
Tate has both arms raised in victory and the biggest, brightest victorious grin on his face. The abundant muscles in his bare chest and abdomen
are taut and rippled and gleaming with a slight shimmer of perspiration. His dark hair is ruffled perfectly, and I notice for the first time the matching chestnut hued hair that dwindles its way down from his belly button to the top of his faded jeans.. And those damn V-cut muscles on either side that I was all hot and bothered by—against my will—when he was cleaning our apartment are on display again tonight. Ugh. I look up from his treasure trail, lock eyes with him and immediately look away, which is good because my cup was about to overflow.
Caroline grabs it from my hand and as she raises it to her lips she says, “You look parched. You should do something about that.”
She caught me checking him out but I refuse to admit it, so I feign innocence by blinking my eyes rapidly like I’m confused and then grab another cup to pour another beer. It’s almost full when another hand takes it from me. This time the hand is wider and bigger than Caroline’s and as the fingers brush mine there’s a roughness to them. A shiver runs down my spine without my permission. “Thanks, Firecracker.”
“That’s the second time you’ve called me that nickname and I like it even less than the first time,” I reply more calmly than I feel. Why am I suddenly rattled by him? I level him with an indifferent stare and he just smirks.
“It could be worse,” he says and pauses to take a sip of beer while I reach for yet another cup to fill. “I could call you Maggot like I used to in grade school. But that will make the time I’m about to have to spend with you even harder.”
“Why are you shirtless?” I ask and wrinkle my nose so I look disgusted.
“All your freckles turn into one big blob when you do that,” Tate replies and points to my face. Jerk. “And I’ve been playing ping-pong for an hour straight. Can’t seem to lose a match. Anyway, I got hot.”
“Yes you did.” Caroline nods and I glare at her.
Rhys, Jasmyn’s boyfriend, has walked up and is standing right behind Tate.
Blindsided: A Moo U Hockey Romance Page 5