That’s her.
Baxter realizes it at the same time I do. He smiles just as she rounds the corner.
“Miss Lowe, fancy seeing you on a Saturday morning.”
She spares him a smile, then looks between both of us. “I had a not-so-good night.”
“I heard. I’m sorry about that.”
“No, I’m sorry for intruding.” She looks my way, her gaze solemn.
I don’t want her to feel that way. She’s always welcome here. Despite the night, I slept well knowing she was down the hall and within reach if she needed me.
Obviously, she didn’t.
“Coffee?” I ask.
“Yes, thank you.” She takes the stool beside Baxter.
I don’t mind turning my back to them as I prepare her coffee. He won’t try to woo her. Our conversation this morning let me know that much.
I’ve just poured her coffee when I realize I have no idea how she likes it. So I place the mug with creamer and sugar before her.
“Oh, babe.” She forces cheer into her tone. “You know I like my coffee one part cream with two cubes of sugar.”
She’s putting on a show for Baxter. If only she knew.
But I store her preferences anyway. I can’t help it.
It’s probably useless information now that she’s leaving in a week. But my brain has a special section for Maddie. I know herfavorite everything. The things she won’t touch with a ten-foot pole. And the maybes in her book.
I’m staring at her sip from her mug when my gaze shifts. I find Baxter watching me, an accusation in his gaze.
I glare back. Just because he knows I’m interested in Maddie doesn’t mean he can force my hand.
“Hey, Maddie,” Baxter says.
“Hmm?” She turns his way, her eyes brighter than when she first came downstairs.
“What do you think about a game of tennis since we’re both here?”
She glances at me. “That sounds like fun.”
Baxter eyes me. “What do you think about that, brother?”
I shrug. “Enjoy your game.”
His brows lift with surprise. He probably thought I’d throw a fit and he’d prove something.
I’m not worried about him anymore.
“Fine.” He climbs off the stool. “I’ll get the bats and balls.”
He’s gone, leaving Maddie and me alone.
She looks over the rim of her mug and meets my eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“Fuck, Maddie.”
