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Her gaze fell to the red tulips on the small nightstand beside her bed. They’d arrived a few hours earlier. A classy arrangement in a beautiful crystal container. There was no card, but she knew who’d sent them. It was a simple gesture but one that meant more than Cain could know.
Tulips had been her mother’s favorite.
After straightening up the mess of makeup in her small bathroom, she slipped into the delicate black sandals and straightened the corner of the comforter. The bed was a king-size monstrosity and filled a good portion of her room. It had come with the house, as had most of the furniture. The mismatched sheets she had didn’t exactly fit properly, but it had never been an issue.
Because she’d never had a man back to her house before.
Maggie bit her lip. Should she change them? Did it matter?
She took a step toward the bed and froze as the doorbell ripped through the silence of her home. Her heart beat a furious rhythm, and her skin rippled with another wash of heat. She shivered from a violent chill and hated the way her stomach tightened, full of nerves.
For one second she considered staying put, pretending she wasn’t home. What if people started talking? What the hell had happened to her need to lay low and blend in?
The bell sounded again, and she closed her eyes. Was it so awful to want something special for herself? To want Cain as much as she did? Her resolve faded as the doorbell echoed once more.
“Don’t be a coward,” she whispered, and followed the fading echo of the bell out to the small foyer. Her tongue darted across her lips nervously, and she yanked the door open before she lost the nerve.
She was sure the birds still sang, that Mrs. Johnson’s lawn mower still mowed, and the laughter from the children a few doors down still echoed in the street. And yet she heard nothing.
Everything faded away like fog rolling across the road in the early morning. Just like in the movies. There was nothing but Cain. He was larger than life, and in that moment, she could acknowledge wholeheartedly he was the sexiest man she’d ever laid eyes on.
His long legs were covered in faded denim, while casual Doc Martens adorned his feet. He wore a white button-down shirt. It was formfitting and emphasized his wide shoulders and tapered waist. His sleeves were rolled up, and his tattoo peeked out at her, a vibrant picture against his darkly tanned skin.
Her eyes slowly traveled up to his face, and the breath caught in the back of her throat. His hair was still damp as if he wasn’t long from the shower, and the slow smile that spread across his mouth left her weak. It spoke of secrets and desires and promised all sorts of naughty things.
Shit.
“Hey.” His voice was husky, low.
“Hi,” she answered, and took a step back. “Do you want to come in or…” Maggie didn’t know what the heck to say. She hadn’t been on a first date since she was sixteen. But back then things had been different. Expectations were so not what they were tonight.
“I think we should just go.” His eyes glittered, and his smile was full-on devastation. “You look…” His eyes caressed her body with one hot look, and he leaned down close near her ear. “Amazing.” His breath tickled the side of her neck, and Maggie’s mouth went dry. She swallowed, a gut reaction, but nearly choked.
“Let me grab my bag.”
She knew his eyes followed her, and it took a lot of willpower to walk in a calm, controlled manner. She grabbed the small bag Raine had dropped off with the shoes. “Okay, I’m ready.”
Cain smiled and stood to the side. “I hope you’re hungry.” Maggie nodded, but as her belly rolled once more, she doubted she’d be able to eat at all.
She turned the lock and followed him to his SUV. He opened the passenger door and stood back, though his fingers caressed her bare back as she stepped inside. He leaned across and secured her seat belt, and from the wicked look he gave her, Maggie was pretty sure it had just been an excuse to rub his arm across her breasts.
She’d barely been able to contain the hiss that slithered along her tongue.
She fingered her small bag nervously as Cain backed out of the driveway. Luke Jansen was on his front lawn, tossing a ball to his golden retriever, Shelby, though his gaze was fixated on the SUV.
Maggie waved, and Luke paused, ball in hand, his expression hard. He didn’t return her wave.
“He’ll get over it.”
She glanced at Cain. “Sorry?”
“Jansen. He’s got a thing for you.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that. I mean, he’s asked me out a few times, but it just…he’s not…”
“He’s not for you?”
She fingered the edge of her skirt. “He’s nice enough and all, but no”—she glanced at him—“he’s not my type.”
