Page 49 of 6 Clues Your Nemesis Loves You

“I would.”

She’s in my personal space, the edges of our coats brushing. We’re couple close. Nearly kissing with tongue close. She tips her face up to mine, and I’m not prepared for the sadness swimming in her eyes. “Wishes are for delusional kids. They don’t come true.”

She tries to walk past me, but I clasp her arm. “Everything okay?”

Keeping her focus away from me, she shrugs. “Just a weird day. Wanna grocery shop with me?”

What I want is to fuck her brains out. I also want to ask her what weird means, but my time with Maggie is a balancing act. Pushing too hard, too fast might scare her off. With the intensity of my life, I’m not sure I can handle losing her right now.

Taking her lead, I start walking. “Duke’s Market, here we come.”

Neither of us speaks as we stroll. Maggie and I can talk or not talk and it never feels awkward, but she still seems distant, stuck in her head. I’d normally crack a joke to make her laugh. Tomorrow’s agenda has sucked my humor dry.

Inside the market, I grab us a cart to share. “Front half is yours. Back half is mine. No intermingling.”

She stops and raises an eyebrow. “What if I want the back half?”

I make a show of checking out my back half. “So, you’re an ass woman?”

Okay, maybe not all my humor has evaporated.

She rolls her eyes. “Is your mind always in the gutter?”

“Around you, one hundred percent.”

Instead of telling me to grow up—her usual reaction to my antics—she laughs and actually checks out my ass. My butt cheeks clench in response. Since I’m a believer in equality for women, I give her a lingering once-over too, barely refraining from biting my fist. Those high boots with her slim red jacket are doing things to me.

Needing to cool my rushing blood, I start bagging some brussels sprouts. There’s nothing sexy about brussels sprouts. We stroll the aisles together, grabbing vegetables and groceries, discussing tonight’s respective meal plans—a burger and roasted veggies for me, a quesadilla for her.

At the beer and wine aisle, I consider the offerings. “Maybe if I drink for the next twenty-four hours, I’ll be wasted enough I won’t remember my meeting with my father tomorrow.”

Maggie joins me at my side. “Are you freaking out?”

“I believe I am.” My sleeping has gone to shit. My stomach thinks it’s a contortionist, folding in on itself. “Either that or I’ve contracted a terminal disease.”

Customers push their carts around us, many of them studying our intimate pose. Kindling for the gossip junkies in this town, but I don’t care.

Maggie doesn’t step away or continue shopping. She weaves her fingers with mine in view of everyone. “I think you’re doing the right thing. If you didn’t meet him, you’d always wonder what he wanted. This might be more upsetting, but at least you’ll have closure.”

“Yeah.” My tone’s noncommittal. I can only hope she’s right.

She runs her thumb over my hand. “You’ll see. The buildup is often way worse than the main event.”

“I don’t know.” Taking a cue from her affection, I drag my nail down the side of her palm. “Recent experience is teaching me the buildup can be as much fun as the main event.”

She blushes but doesn’t reprimand me for crossing her flirting boundary.

I angle my body, bringing us closer. Maggie’s tall enough that she comes to my nose. As teens, I somehow used to feel smaller than her, always trying to get her to notice me. I’m fuller now, broader and stronger. If I wrapped my arms around her, I’m pretty sure she’d feel safe. “Thanks for the pep talk.”

“You have to call me right after. Tell me how it went.”

“I will.”

“You better.” She chews her lip, then her eyes flick up to mine, hesitant and bashful.

I’m not used to Maggie being anything but brash and upfront. The sudden change has nerves tunneling through my gut. “What is it?”

Her palm turns damp, pressed to mine. “Will you go out to dinner with me? On a date tonight, instead of us both cooking alone?”