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“I thought you wanted to add an app to track me. This is an entirely different level of stalking. Give. Me. My. Phone,” she spat out, stretching her hand out to me. I raised the phone over my head, knowing full well she’d need a ladder to reach it.
“How dare you, Lucas.” She jumped up, grabbing my arm and pulling in vain. I could play this game all day. I smugly stared down at the pair of awesome boobs Thomas wouldn’t touch. Ever.
“Who’s Thomas?” I narrowed my eyes, watching the fight leave her body like a deflating balloon.
“A friend,” she whispered.
“Well, this ‘friend’ thinks you have a date with him tonight.”
“Oh my God. I forgot.” She hit her forehead with her palm. “And he’s such a nice guy too.”
“I’m sure he is. Keep going.” Maggie worried her hands, walking back and forth in front of me. I had way too much fun watching her get flustered.
“The nanny agreement J.J. had me sign said I get Wednesday nights off, right?” She placed her hands on her hips, steeling her eyes on me.
“You do.” As I said the words, I couldn’t imagine her not being here.
Maggie had become such a part of my life—the baby’s, I meant—or us. Hell, I didn’t know the right pronoun. She’d given us every waking second over the last five days and deserved some time for herself. However, I didn’t want her alone in the arms of another man. Thinking about it made my blood boil.
“Then hand over my phone.” She scrunched her nose and tried to look mean, but it only made her more adorable. She might be feisty, but she wasn’t an angry fighter, probably because she won all the arguments.
“Please, Herb?” She switched gears, piling on the sweet talk.
“This guy, Thomas, doesn’t want to be your friend. I read the texts. His message was unmistakable. Hey, Maggie. I want to sleep with you. Well, that isn’t going to happen.”
“What are you, my father? I don’t have daddy issues. Sometimes I wonder if I’m better off without men.” She crossed her arms over her chest, highlighting cleavage worthy of motor-boating. “What’s the problem with me going out and having a good time? Maybe kissing away some of this sexual tension between us. No one’s touched me since you kept me from falling in the coffee shop. I’m going crazy here, Herb! Give me one good reason I can’t go out with him and I’ll cancel. Otherwise, I’m going to share my DNA with him tonight.”
“Like hell you will,” I growled, placing my hands on either side of her on the counter. I’d trapped her, and I didn’t want to share.
“You saying no won’t stop me.” I towered over her, causing her to lean back over the counter to meet my eyes. A breeze couldn’t blow between us; we were so close.
“Tell me,” she whispered, eyes begging for the truth. Confessing the reason would make everything harder, if that was even possible.
I bent down, dropping my mouth to her ear, finding the soft spot behind it. Her breath hitched. I smiled against her neck and breathed her scent in. She smelled so damn good.
“You see, Peaches, I want to be the one who kisses you. Tastes every inch of your skin. Hear you moan while I ruin you for any other man.”
Maggie fell to her knees, then ran her hands up my legs. She placed her small hand over my erection. Shit. I’d never felt this kind of desperate need for any other woman. I felt myself unraveling under her touch and couldn’t move away.
“This is what southern girls call whistling dixie.” A seductive laugh left her lips.
She started unbuckling my belt. The clanking of metal jolted me, letting my brain catch up with what we were about to do—in my kitchen—with her on the floor. What was I thinking? J.J. and my daughter were in the room down the hall. I couldn’t be this reckless. I placed my hand over hers to stop before it went any further.
Needing distance to think, I pushed away from the counter. She collapsed into a heap on the floor; shoulders caved inward. She resembled a bird with clipped wings.
I earned the award for the number one fucked-up asshole. I tilted my head toward the ceiling, hoping the scene would disappear, but she was braver than me and spoke first.
“Barclay would’ve gotten over us. It’s you who can’t let go of something, God only knows what, but it’s keeping you from living.” Her voice, pained by my hurt, pierced into me. It physically hurt. She was right too. Barclay wasn’t my stumbling point in the end. It was me, unable to give myself to her…or anyone else, for that matter. My feelings were trapped in a maze of past mistakes, and I didn’t know the way out. I’d never hated myself more.
