I freeze with my menu halfway to my face. “What makes you think I ever wanted to murder him?”
Maeve raises an eyebrow. “Because the last time his name came up, you looked like you wanted to set him on fire and roast some marshmallows. And that was before you had to work for him. I can’t imagine Noah has become better because Ezra’s told me he’s a menace.”
“Well, things change,” I mutter, picking up a menu to hide my face and feeling Maeve’s eyes boring into me.
“What kind of things?” she asks, her voice dropping to that conspiratorial tone that always makes me feel like we’re teenagers sharing secrets instead of adult sisters who barely knew each other growing up.
“Work things,” I reply vaguely. “We had a big project deadline. We’re getting along better now.”
Maeve’s eyebrows shoot up so high they nearly disappear into her hairline. “Better? As in, you no longer want to strangle him with his own tie?”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” I say, but my voice lacks conviction even to my own ears. “He’s still demanding and difficult and completely unreasonable about coffee.”
“But?” Maeve prompts, leaning forward.
“But nothing,” I insist, grateful when the waiter appears to take our orders. I request a sandwich I’m not even hungry for, my stomach still in knots from this morning’s interaction with Noah.
When the waiter leaves, Maeve pins me with that look—the one that says she’s not letting this go. “Something happened.”
“Nothing happened,” I protest, but the words come out too rushed.
“Bea,” she says softer. “This is me you’re talking to. I know when you’re hiding something.”
I fidget with my napkin, twisting it into a mangled spiral. “We worked late on a project. That’s all.”
“Hmm.” Maeve takes a sip of her water, studying me over the rim of her glass. “And?”
“And nothing,” I insist, but the heat crawling up my neck betrays me. “We submitted the plans. They were approved. End of story.”
“So why are you blushing?”
“I’m not blushing,” I snap, pressing my glass with cold water to my cheek. “It’s hot in here.”
Maeve slowly leans back with rapidly widening eyes and a slightly open mouth. “Oh my gosh. You like him!”
“I do not!” The words come out too loud, causing the couple at the next table to glance our way. I lower my voice to a harsh whisper, shooting them an apologetic smile. “I don’t like Noah King. He’s arrogant and demanding and makes my life hell.”
“And yet,” Maeve says, tapping her perfectly manicured nail against the table, “you’re defending him. Just like Ezra said you did yesterday.”
I freeze. “Ezra told you about that?”
“Of course he did. We’re married. We tell each other things.” She tilts her head, and her expression softens. “He said youwent full mama bear on him when he suggested you might need protection from Noah.”
I groan, burying my face in my hands. “I wasn’t defending Noah,” I insist, though the words sound hollow even to my own ears. “I was standing up for myself. Ezra was treating me like some delicate flower who couldn’t handle a grown man having a bad day.”
Maeve’s smile only widens. “And that’s the only reason you went off on my husband? Not because you didn’t like him suggesting Noah might be dangerous?”
I take a large gulp of water, buying myself some time to come up with an answer that doesn’t insult her husband. “Noah’s not dangerous,” I say finally. “He’s just intense.”
“Intense,” Maeve repeats, rolling the word around like she’s tasting it. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”
Our food arrives, saving me from having to respond. I focus on my sandwich with far more attention than turkey on rye deserves, but Maeve isn’t letting this go.
“You know it’s okay if you do like him, right?” she says, her voice gentler now. “I mean, it’s complicated with the whole family situation, and we all know something happened in Maupiti that you refuse to talk about, but?—”
“Nothing happened,” I cut her off, setting down my sandwich with more force than necessary. “Noah is my boss. That’s it.”
“Bea—”
