Page 65 of 6 Clues Your Nemesis Loves You

PS: Consider your no-flirting rules obliterated. I plan to tell you often and loudly that I think you’re [breathtaking] and [so damn sexy] and particularly [hot when you call me the bane of your existence]. I can’t wait for our date tonight.

A few seconds pass, then a few more. I stare at her closed door, suddenly nervous. Maybe the note was too much. Maggie made it clear she needs to take this slow. Yet here I am, blurting my obvious feelings before she even opens her door. I should’ve left the letter on her Jeep this morning, as she would’ve expected. Given her time and space to feel the complicated emotions I inspire.

Great first move, idiot.

Finally, the door opens.

Maggie is decked out in a polka-dot hair wrap and a white dress covered in tiny cherries, upping her fifties sexpot status to pass-out levels. Her neutral expression is tough to read, but my reaction to her is undeniable.

I sway to the side and lean on the doorframe. “How do you expect a man to function when you’re wearing that?”

“How do you expect a woman to function when you write her notes like this?” She holds up the letter, her voice a bit shaky.

“Too much?”

She doesn’t answer. Her attention drifts to the flowers and gift I brought. “What’s all this?”

Yep. I went overboard. “Just something for the friend I’m taking on a date.”

She rubs her red lips together. Instead of taking my tokens of affection, she gives me a flirty once-over. “You look edible.”

I glance down at my tucked in blue-and-white plaid shirt and worn jeans. “E and Delilah say everything I own is hipster. Best I could do was try for non-sloppy hipster.”

“First.” She runs her hand down the front of my shirt, ending by tucking her fingers inside the waist of my jeans. “This shirt makes the blue in your blue-gray eyes brighter, and your eyes always do me in. I also know what’s going on under these clothes, all those hard, lean muscles from your rock-climbing and outdoor work. You could wear a velour sweatsuit, and I’d still be undressing you in my mind all night.”

She seems to be ignoring the gifts I brought, but the muscles in question flex and preen. “Noted on the velour sweatsuit. I’ll make sure I wear one next time we go out.”

She snatches her hand back. “I was joking, explaining how hot you are with the use of theoretical ugly clothes.”

“No, no. I think, deep down, purple velour gets you ready.”

Her face pales. She knows I’ll do it. Embarrass the hell out of myself, if it means garnering a laugh from her and others. “Please don’t,” she pleads.

“You prefer pink?”

Glowering my favorite glower, she finally yanks the flowers and box from me, accidentally popping off the box’s lid in the process. One look at the movie inside and she bites her lip.

“I went out on a limb,” I say, “assuming you still have that old VHS player.”

“I do, and thank you.” Her voice is quiet, but she doesn’t meet my eyes. Abruptly, she turns and walks toward what must be her kitchen. “I’ll just put the flowers in water,” she calls. “Then we can go.”

A moment later, she’s sashaying back to me, her posture straighter, a calculated gleam in her eyes. She locks her door and leads me down her front steps. “I didn’t get you a physical gift, but I thought you might want to know I’m on the pill, and I’ve been tested since dating Harrison.”

I nearly stumble over my feet. “Are you trying to get me in a car accident?”

She gives me a cheeky look over her shoulder. “We’re not even in your truck yet.”

“But I’ve been tested too and have never slept with a woman without a condom, which I’m pretty sure is what you’re suggesting and, FYI, might be the best idea you’ve ever had.” As is the fact that she was serious about not taking the physical aspects of us slowly. “Now I’ll be thinking about sinking into you bare as we drive and will for sure ram into the first moving object that passes my truck.”

Except my steps slow.

I’m beyond ready to consummate my feelings with Maggie. I’m thrilled she feels the same, but that’s twice she’s diverted to flirting and sex talk when we’ve veered toward emotional moments. Protection tactics, likely. She’s using the physical aspect of our attraction to avoid the deeper feelings she’s not ready to explore.

I frown, unsure if tonight’s date is too soon. But she was open about wanting to push her boundaries with me. If she didn’t want a proper date with dinner and romance, she would have said no.

I drive us to Carlino’s Trattoria and am not disappointed by the atmosphere. Intimate lighting. White tablecloths. Soft music. There’s even a red rose laid over Maggie’s plate.

The second we sit, I take her hand in mine. “You look gorgeous.”