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Hmm. So shewasgoing for that. And, of course, I have no idea—Maddox didn’t list special tricks he performs in the sack, and I have a feeling Jemma knows that.
Nerves are blooming in my stomach because Jemma is clearly suspicious, and I have to play this right. I shrug, saying, “I love everything he does in bed. But honestly, I haven’t thought about it the last few days. On Monday, I had to go to a reading of my late grandmother’s will.” Hopefully, if Jemma has an empathetic bone in her body, she’ll let me off the hook.
“Oh, sorry,” she says, clearly not sorry.
I’m up next in line, so I think about my order, although I don’t have to think hard because it’s always a raspberry mocha with one pump of raspbery. On his form, Maddox said he likes black coffee, but I grab my phone and shoot him a text to ask him what he wants, anyway. Then Jemma says, “So, Riley.”
I pivot toward her slowly, trying to suppress my annoyance. I’m beginning to hate this conversation. “Yes.”
“Don’t you love what he does to his coffee? Isn’t it the weirdest thing ever?”
Shit. Maddox didn’t list anything odd about his coffee order. Did he leave something out? Jemma’s pushing hard, and I suddenly have an irrational anger at Skye for not including sexual techniques and detailed coffee information on her “expert” list. It’s going to be the end of our ruseandour careers! Something in my stomach squeezes tight. Jemma would lovenothing more than have us canceled, shutdown, and bagging groceries in two minutes.
“Yeah, it’s out there.” I desperately check my phone to see if Maddox has responded.
He hasn’t.
My pulse kicks up when the barista says, “Next.”
I turn to Jemma and wave a hand. “Please. You go ahead.”
“No, no, no, you were here first—you go.”
“I insist.”
“No, I insist.” She shakes her head. “I can’t cut lines, it’s like…a thing for me.”
This is a test I’m about to fail. I look at my phone again, one last attempt in hopes that Maddox has written me back, but nothing.
When I get up to the barista, I lower my voice as I order Maddox’s and my coffees so Jemma won’t hear. This seems to work well until the barista yells out my drinks back to me.
From over my shoulder, Jemma says, “You may want to add a teaspoon of cinnamon to that plain coffee.”
I smile at the barista. “Yes, what she said.” I turn and thank Jemma.
By her face, she’s far too satisfied. “So, you don’t know how Maddox takes his coffee.”
I’m grasping for anything at this point. “You got me. New couple alert.” I laugh nervously.
She narrows her eyes. “That’s Maddox 101.”
I feign a smile. “Yeah, but I don’t know because he always brings me coffee in bed.”
She continues studying me for a long, excruciating moment as I fight the urge not to oversell it. She smirks, “I see. What a sweetheart.”
“Huge heart and huge appendages. As you know.” I wink.
The barista calls Jemma up to order, and I’m ready to get out of here. Maddox is still outside on his call, anyway, so this date is a bust.
I take my coffees to-go and leave with Maddox to the studio.
8
All In The Family
The sun hangs above the horizon when Maddox’s driver drops us and his bodyguard at our accommodations in the Georgia Blue Vine Mountains for the Winter family moon manifesting night. Our yurt is so cozy—a cross between a tepee, a tent, and a rustic hotel room with a clear tarp ceiling for sky viewing.
Since we have to play the couple in front of Maddox’s aunt and cousins, we’re going to hang out here until everyone falls asleep. Then Maddox will go to the private yurt he reserved. And since we’re both early risers, he’ll get up and come back before people wake. Clearly, Maddox’s rule about never sharing a bedroom through the night is no joke.
