“Yup,” Maggie said with a casual nod. “You did.”
“And you never thought to tell me?” Michael glared at her.
“Nope.” Maggie shook her head and grinned sheepishly.
“So I’ve gone through the past few hours with lipstick on my face?” Michael’s glare intensified. “And you never once thought to inform me?”
"I considered it," Maggie answered, with a small, sweet smile that was the most dangerous expression he’d ever seen on her. "But then I thought about it, and I decided not to."
"Why?" Michael asked with a sideways glance at her.
“Well, once upon a time, there was a nine-year-old girl who had a bunny that she loved very much,” Maggie began, and Michael rolled his eyes.
“Here we go,” Michael muttered. “Pack a bag, we’re going on a guilt trip.”
“The rabbit was her emotional support pet,” Maggie continued. “Until one day her brother made it disappear in a magic hat.” Her eyes narrowed. “Or so he told us…”
“Okay, I get it,” Michael held up his hands with a sigh. “You didn’t tell me about the lipstick because I didn’t tell you about Salty.”
“Oh, Michael,” Maggie leaned closer. Her perfume teased his senses as she lowered her voice. “That was just a taster of what’s to come. Unless you want to just tell me now what really happened to Salty.”
He shook his head and glanced in the window to ensure the lipstick was gone.
Michael let out a long, surrendered breath. He pulled a clean handkerchief out of his jacket pocket. He stepped to the side, into the soft shade of the bakery awning, and began to scrub at his cheek.
"Why are you so fixated on that rabbit?" Michael asked.
"Because it really devastated my best friend when he disappeared into your hat," Maggie reminded him. "And you know how I hold grudges, especially when someone I hurt has been wronged."
"How did we even get back onto the subject of that stupid rabbit?” Michael said in exasperation.
“It was your magic that brought it up again, Michael,” Maggie pointed out. “You should’ve known it would catch up with you again one day,” she teased him in a Godfather-type voice.
He rolled his eyes and shook his head again, his heart going crazy at how adorable she was and secretly pleased she’d kept their challenge alive. They used to have silly challenges all the time when they were kids. Granted, Maggie usually won, but…he was an attorney now and a lot older; he was sure he could take her on this one. Even with her sneaky, underhanded tactics.
He turned his cheek toward her.
"Is all the lipstick off now?" Michael asked.
"Yup," Maggie answered, grinning.
Michael narrowed his eyes at her distrustingly, then stepped sideways, angled himself toward the store window, lifted his chin, and checked his own reflection in the glass. Both cheeks were clean.
Maggie was laughing softly behind him.
"You didn’t believe me," Maggie observed.
“You just told me this is just the beginning,” Michael pointed out. “I wasn’t going to trust you.”
“Fair enough,” Maggie conceded.
He pocketed the handkerchief.
“Nice hankie,” Maggie pointed out. “I didn’t know they still made those. I thought they stopped in the 1800’s when they went out of fashion.”
“Funny,” Michael said, then did something he knew she hated. He tugged on a piece of her hair.
“Hey, don’t touch the hair,” Maggie hissed, laughing.
