“I should have known,” I mutter.
“What?”
“I should have known you’d have a big-ass guard dog to match your big-ass guard dog personality.”
Maggie scoffs. “Lotta good she does me. Lucy’s the biggest coward I’ve ever met. Aren’t you, sweetie?” she coos to the dog, rubbing on her belly. Lucy writhes in pleasure.
“So you don’t have any kids?”
Maggie stands and the dog cowers behind her legs. “It’s just me and Lucy here.”
I drop to my knees and extend a hand. “Come here, sweetie.”
Lucy howls in half excited whine, half terrified cry.
“We’re still getting used to each other,” Maggie explains. “I adopted her from the shelter when I moved back to town last month.”
I’m still waiting with my hand out, but I flick my eyes up to Maggie. “Most people would have gotten a puppy.”
“That’s why Lucy needed me.” Her eyes go soft as she studies her dog and she adds, quietly, “I needed her too.”
Finally, Lucy edges toward me.
Maggie gapes. “You’ve got to be freaking kidding me!”
I shrug. Lucy drops to the floor at my feet, rolling to her back so I can rub her belly. “Dogs like me.”
“Lucy’s afraid of everyone. Even my mom.”
“Maybe your mom’s scary.”
She snorts. “You have no idea.” Then she grabs my hand and pulls me up. “I can’t have her liking you more than me.”
Her face is inches from mine and something’s nagging at the back of my mind again. Do I know this woman? Maybe I saw her around town during my rare visits to my river house before this year, but the recognition, the déjà vu I feel when I look at her is something more.
Her skin is fresh and clear. Freckles scatter across the bridge of her nose. And I swear she smells like clean laundry hanging to dry in the summer sun.
Fuck. I’m in trouble.
“Let me take you out sometime, Maggie.”
“I don’t play games.” She says it in a husky whisper that makes me think of lazy Sunday mornings in a warm bed, the sun slanting in on us as we explore each other’s bodies.
“Who said I’m playing a game?”
“Isn’t that what dating is?” Her eyes drop to my lips. “If I want something, I take it.”
“And you think you want me?”
A smile spreads across her face. “Why don’t you come find out?” She cocks her head and walks toward the hallway.
I follow like a smitten fool.
She leans against a doorframe and pulls her tank over her head, revealing creamy skin, heavy br**sts in a simple black bra. No lace. No frills. And so damn sexy. I can still feel the weight of them, slick with pool water, her pebbled nipple against my palm, her breath quickening against my neck.
“Maggie, what are you doing?”
“I haven’t figured out all the details yet, but I figure we can play it by ear. We have”—she glances over her shoulder to the clock—“approximately five hours before I need to play the good daughter for a family brunch at my mom’s house.”
The shirt drops from her fingers to the floor, and I groan involuntarily as she moves to the button on her jeans. I stop her hands with one of mine.
“Oh, sorry.” She looks up, laughter in her eyes. “Did you want to do it?”
She has no idea. I could do it. I could f**k her today and forget her tomorrow. No one would be surprised. Half the world thinks I’m a selfish asshole, so why not prove them right?
“I’m not going to sleep with you, Maggie. Not yet.”
Her eyes narrow. “I told you I don’t play games. I’m not about that.”
“And I don’t make a habit of screwing women who are hung up on other men.”
“I don’t see any other men here, do you?” Her lips curve in amusement.
She shimmies out of her jeans, watching me as she steps out of them. She’s in nothing but her bra and a black scrap of thong. I fist my hands against the temptation to trace the curve of her hip, tighten my jaw against the need to press my open mouth against the flat of her belly.
Grabbing the doorframe, I take a deep breath.
“I’m going to jump in the shower.” Maggie pulls the tie from her hair and a thick curtain of red falls around her shoulders. “I’d love some company, but you do what you must.”
She disappears around the corner and I count backwards from ten.
Ten. Nine…
Ancient plumbing squeals and the shower kicks on. I imagine her under the spray, all that soft, pale skin slick with water.
Eight. Seven. Six…
It would be so easy to follow her, so easy to pretend I didn’t see that pain in her eyes.
Five. Four…
But I’m so damn drawn to her already. She has this magnetic pull on me.
Three. Two…
This lust is so powerful it nearly has me snarling with need.
One. I won’t slide inside of her while her mind is full of another man.
Been there. Done that.
Turning around and walking out the door is on my top ten list of hardest things I’ve ever had to do.
Chapter Three
Maggie
My eyes are heavy. Even amidst the constant chitchat of the Thompson family luncheon, I can’t stop yawning.
Before I left my house for brunch, I found Asher’s number on my kitchen table, a note scribbled under it.
Call me when you’re ready for that date.
“Isn’t this fun?” my mom asks me now. People are milling around with low-calorie mimosas and chattering about Krystal’s wedding, but the guest of honor is fashionably late, as always.
Fun? It is the final day of a torturous three days. Rehearsal dinner Friday, Krystal’s wedding yesterday, and today a lunch at the Thompson house with people so distantly related it would be legal for us to marry in most states. Fun would have been Asher joining me in the shower. I stayed under the spray of the water for a solid twenty minutes before accepting that he wasn’t going to join me. Sadist.
Mom folds her arms. “I wanted to talk to you about your date last night. Some scruffy bum with piercings is the most respectable man you could find for your sister’s wedding?” She shakes her head. “Where’d you even find him?”
I shrug. “Just wandering down by the river.”
“You’re not funny,” she hisses.
I bite my tongue. I came home to begin Operation New Me, which includes a better relationship with my mother. She doesn’t appreciate my “sass,” as she calls it.
Gran waddles toward me. The scent of her makes me smile. Lavender soap and whiskey. “I had a vision during my meditation yesterday.”
Mom nudges Gran. “Your devil games aren’t welcome here.” She produces a tube of lipstick from her pocket. “Just one coat, Margaret. People will think you have no self-respect.”
Granny slaps at her hand. “Leave the girl alone!”
I roll my eyes.
“Maggie,” Granny continues, “your past is going to visit you and bring your future as a gift.”
I try to look interested. I love Gran, even if I think her brand of spirituality is a little kooky. “That’s…profound.”
“Are you seeing anyone, Maggie?” My mother’s voice is low, the whisper reserved for talk of scandal—like premarital cohabitation and non-procreative sex. “Are you even trying to find love? Or do you intend to continue fornicating with random men outside the sanctity of marriage?”
“So if I were married I’d have your blessing to fornicate with random men? Maybe I should reconsider my stance on marriage.” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. I’m batting zero on the New Me plan.
“Margaret Marie!” Mom’s scowl is so fierce, it threatens to bust through the Botox. “Watch your mouth this instant! I do hope you still go to confession.”
“Maggie’s on a spiritual journey, Gretchen,” Granny defends.
I frown. That’s what Gran says about her crazy clients, and I don’t want to be categorized with them.
“You need to let her find her own way,” Granny continues. “But Maggie, your aura does seem terribly dark. You should come to my office sometime this week and we can do a cleansing.”
“My aura can’t help it, Gran. It feels fat in anything but black.”
Granny grins. “Clever girl.”
I’m quickly reaching my fill of family togetherness.
“So, Maggie,” Aunt—Sally? Sophie?—asks, “you’re getting married, right? When is your wedding, again?”
The other aunt shoots the first a hard glare. “Don’t you remember?” Then to me, “Did it bother you to see him marry someone else, dear?”
I grit my teeth.
“It must be hard to see someone you once planned to marry fall in love with your sister.”
As if mentioning her summoned the devil, Krystal bursts into the room, bringing the hot breath of Indiana summer with her.
“I’m so sorry I’m late!” she says, waving a hand in front of her red-tinged cheeks.
A bright-eyed blonde claps her hands. “Of course you’re late after your wedding night.”
Krystal smiles at her friend and shakes her head. “Will and I never made it official yesterday. It just didn’t feel right to let someone else control our day. We appreciate everything you all did this weekend, and we hope you’ll join us when we try again later in the summer.”
The chatter screeches to a halt. Damn it. Now they’re all staring at me.
My sister Lizzy comes over to stand by my side.
“I’m so happy for you both,” I manage, but I can’t bring myself to exhale until they stop looking at me.
When everyone finally returns to their conversations, Granny leans over the table. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Gran. It really doesn’t bother me. My relationship with Will is over, and I’m okay with that.”
Granny nods, but it’s clear by her expression that she’s unconvinced.
“You’re really okay?” Lizzy whispers this time.
Across the room, Hanna gives me a pitying half-smile.
“Okay, no,” I admit. “I’m not fine. But only because I don’t want people looking at me like Hanna is right now.”
One of Krystal’s friends is asking about her wedding night in a stage whisper as clear as her wriggling eyebrows. “We’re going to wait until it’s official,” Krystal says with a hand pressed to her chest.
“That’s my girl,” my mom says with an approving nod.
I stifle the urge to snort. Maybe Krystal hasn’t had sex with Will, but she’s no virgin.
***
“You need to settle a bet for us,” Lizzy tells me as our server settles three chocolate martinis on our table. “Was that Asher Logan you were dancing with at the wedding last night?”
“It wasn’t,” Hanna says. “Though he’s a dead ringer for him.” She hums and—
“Did you just lick your lips?” I narrow my eyes at my sisters. I can’t remember if he ever told me his last name. “How do you know Asher?”
Hanna’s jaw drops. “No way!”
Lizzy hides her smile behind her martini. “Apparently they’re on a first-name basis.”
With a French-tipped nail, Lizzy tucks a long lock of blond hair behind her ear. Tonight, she’s dressed to kill in a pale pink strapless, show-off-the-legs-that-go-for-miles dress. Next to her, Hanna is dressed a bit more modestly in a black capris and a lavender sweater set. She’s as drop-dead gorgeous as her twin, if in a different way. Since good daughters spend time with their family, martini night with the twins is part of Operation New Me. So far it’s been my favorite part of my ill-conceived plan.
“I just met him last night,” I explain. “How do you know him?”
The girls giggle.
“How do we know Asher Logan?” Lizzy asks.
“Asher ‘Sexy Beast’ Logan?” Hanna adds.
I fold my arms. “That’s what I asked.”
The girls exchange a look.
“She’s clueless,” Lizzy mutters.
“He was only the hottest lead singer in the history of rock bands,” Hanna says.
“But Maggie was always more into that angry chick music.”
I wave a hand in front of them. “Hello. Quit talking about me like I’m not here.”
Lizzy narrows her eyes. “You really didn’t know?”
“All I know is that he is the Rich Dude who owns the house next door to Mom.”
“Shut up!” Hanna’s eyes go wide. “Asher Logan lives next door to Mom?”
Lizzy’s eyes light up. “I take back every bad thing I ever said about New Hope.”
“If the Asher I was dancing with last night is the Asher you’re talking about, then yes, he owns the house next to mom’s. But I don’t think he lives there, or if he does I don’t think he has for long.”
Lizzy downs her martini. “This is so huge.” She waves to the waitress. “I’m gonna need another.”
“We need details,” Hanna says, leaning forward.
“I met him at Krystal’s wedding. He was down by the river and I thought he was a lost wedding guest.” I snort, realizing for the first time why he was really there. “But I guess he was just in his own backyard.”
Hanna grins. “Yeah, because Mom’s backyard is right next to Asher Logan’s backyard. God, this is epic.”
“What?”
“I should have known you’d have a big-ass guard dog to match your big-ass guard dog personality.”
Maggie scoffs. “Lotta good she does me. Lucy’s the biggest coward I’ve ever met. Aren’t you, sweetie?” she coos to the dog, rubbing on her belly. Lucy writhes in pleasure.
“So you don’t have any kids?”
Maggie stands and the dog cowers behind her legs. “It’s just me and Lucy here.”
I drop to my knees and extend a hand. “Come here, sweetie.”
Lucy howls in half excited whine, half terrified cry.
“We’re still getting used to each other,” Maggie explains. “I adopted her from the shelter when I moved back to town last month.”
I’m still waiting with my hand out, but I flick my eyes up to Maggie. “Most people would have gotten a puppy.”
“That’s why Lucy needed me.” Her eyes go soft as she studies her dog and she adds, quietly, “I needed her too.”
Finally, Lucy edges toward me.
Maggie gapes. “You’ve got to be freaking kidding me!”
I shrug. Lucy drops to the floor at my feet, rolling to her back so I can rub her belly. “Dogs like me.”
“Lucy’s afraid of everyone. Even my mom.”
“Maybe your mom’s scary.”
She snorts. “You have no idea.” Then she grabs my hand and pulls me up. “I can’t have her liking you more than me.”
Her face is inches from mine and something’s nagging at the back of my mind again. Do I know this woman? Maybe I saw her around town during my rare visits to my river house before this year, but the recognition, the déjà vu I feel when I look at her is something more.
Her skin is fresh and clear. Freckles scatter across the bridge of her nose. And I swear she smells like clean laundry hanging to dry in the summer sun.
Fuck. I’m in trouble.
“Let me take you out sometime, Maggie.”
“I don’t play games.” She says it in a husky whisper that makes me think of lazy Sunday mornings in a warm bed, the sun slanting in on us as we explore each other’s bodies.
“Who said I’m playing a game?”
“Isn’t that what dating is?” Her eyes drop to my lips. “If I want something, I take it.”
“And you think you want me?”
A smile spreads across her face. “Why don’t you come find out?” She cocks her head and walks toward the hallway.
I follow like a smitten fool.
She leans against a doorframe and pulls her tank over her head, revealing creamy skin, heavy br**sts in a simple black bra. No lace. No frills. And so damn sexy. I can still feel the weight of them, slick with pool water, her pebbled nipple against my palm, her breath quickening against my neck.
“Maggie, what are you doing?”
“I haven’t figured out all the details yet, but I figure we can play it by ear. We have”—she glances over her shoulder to the clock—“approximately five hours before I need to play the good daughter for a family brunch at my mom’s house.”
The shirt drops from her fingers to the floor, and I groan involuntarily as she moves to the button on her jeans. I stop her hands with one of mine.
“Oh, sorry.” She looks up, laughter in her eyes. “Did you want to do it?”
She has no idea. I could do it. I could f**k her today and forget her tomorrow. No one would be surprised. Half the world thinks I’m a selfish asshole, so why not prove them right?
“I’m not going to sleep with you, Maggie. Not yet.”
Her eyes narrow. “I told you I don’t play games. I’m not about that.”
“And I don’t make a habit of screwing women who are hung up on other men.”
“I don’t see any other men here, do you?” Her lips curve in amusement.
She shimmies out of her jeans, watching me as she steps out of them. She’s in nothing but her bra and a black scrap of thong. I fist my hands against the temptation to trace the curve of her hip, tighten my jaw against the need to press my open mouth against the flat of her belly.
Grabbing the doorframe, I take a deep breath.
“I’m going to jump in the shower.” Maggie pulls the tie from her hair and a thick curtain of red falls around her shoulders. “I’d love some company, but you do what you must.”
She disappears around the corner and I count backwards from ten.
Ten. Nine…
Ancient plumbing squeals and the shower kicks on. I imagine her under the spray, all that soft, pale skin slick with water.
Eight. Seven. Six…
It would be so easy to follow her, so easy to pretend I didn’t see that pain in her eyes.
Five. Four…
But I’m so damn drawn to her already. She has this magnetic pull on me.
Three. Two…
This lust is so powerful it nearly has me snarling with need.
One. I won’t slide inside of her while her mind is full of another man.
Been there. Done that.
Turning around and walking out the door is on my top ten list of hardest things I’ve ever had to do.
Chapter Three
Maggie
My eyes are heavy. Even amidst the constant chitchat of the Thompson family luncheon, I can’t stop yawning.
Before I left my house for brunch, I found Asher’s number on my kitchen table, a note scribbled under it.
Call me when you’re ready for that date.
“Isn’t this fun?” my mom asks me now. People are milling around with low-calorie mimosas and chattering about Krystal’s wedding, but the guest of honor is fashionably late, as always.
Fun? It is the final day of a torturous three days. Rehearsal dinner Friday, Krystal’s wedding yesterday, and today a lunch at the Thompson house with people so distantly related it would be legal for us to marry in most states. Fun would have been Asher joining me in the shower. I stayed under the spray of the water for a solid twenty minutes before accepting that he wasn’t going to join me. Sadist.
Mom folds her arms. “I wanted to talk to you about your date last night. Some scruffy bum with piercings is the most respectable man you could find for your sister’s wedding?” She shakes her head. “Where’d you even find him?”
I shrug. “Just wandering down by the river.”
“You’re not funny,” she hisses.
I bite my tongue. I came home to begin Operation New Me, which includes a better relationship with my mother. She doesn’t appreciate my “sass,” as she calls it.
Gran waddles toward me. The scent of her makes me smile. Lavender soap and whiskey. “I had a vision during my meditation yesterday.”
Mom nudges Gran. “Your devil games aren’t welcome here.” She produces a tube of lipstick from her pocket. “Just one coat, Margaret. People will think you have no self-respect.”
Granny slaps at her hand. “Leave the girl alone!”
I roll my eyes.
“Maggie,” Granny continues, “your past is going to visit you and bring your future as a gift.”
I try to look interested. I love Gran, even if I think her brand of spirituality is a little kooky. “That’s…profound.”
“Are you seeing anyone, Maggie?” My mother’s voice is low, the whisper reserved for talk of scandal—like premarital cohabitation and non-procreative sex. “Are you even trying to find love? Or do you intend to continue fornicating with random men outside the sanctity of marriage?”
“So if I were married I’d have your blessing to fornicate with random men? Maybe I should reconsider my stance on marriage.” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. I’m batting zero on the New Me plan.
“Margaret Marie!” Mom’s scowl is so fierce, it threatens to bust through the Botox. “Watch your mouth this instant! I do hope you still go to confession.”
“Maggie’s on a spiritual journey, Gretchen,” Granny defends.
I frown. That’s what Gran says about her crazy clients, and I don’t want to be categorized with them.
“You need to let her find her own way,” Granny continues. “But Maggie, your aura does seem terribly dark. You should come to my office sometime this week and we can do a cleansing.”
“My aura can’t help it, Gran. It feels fat in anything but black.”
Granny grins. “Clever girl.”
I’m quickly reaching my fill of family togetherness.
“So, Maggie,” Aunt—Sally? Sophie?—asks, “you’re getting married, right? When is your wedding, again?”
The other aunt shoots the first a hard glare. “Don’t you remember?” Then to me, “Did it bother you to see him marry someone else, dear?”
I grit my teeth.
“It must be hard to see someone you once planned to marry fall in love with your sister.”
As if mentioning her summoned the devil, Krystal bursts into the room, bringing the hot breath of Indiana summer with her.
“I’m so sorry I’m late!” she says, waving a hand in front of her red-tinged cheeks.
A bright-eyed blonde claps her hands. “Of course you’re late after your wedding night.”
Krystal smiles at her friend and shakes her head. “Will and I never made it official yesterday. It just didn’t feel right to let someone else control our day. We appreciate everything you all did this weekend, and we hope you’ll join us when we try again later in the summer.”
The chatter screeches to a halt. Damn it. Now they’re all staring at me.
My sister Lizzy comes over to stand by my side.
“I’m so happy for you both,” I manage, but I can’t bring myself to exhale until they stop looking at me.
When everyone finally returns to their conversations, Granny leans over the table. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Gran. It really doesn’t bother me. My relationship with Will is over, and I’m okay with that.”
Granny nods, but it’s clear by her expression that she’s unconvinced.
“You’re really okay?” Lizzy whispers this time.
Across the room, Hanna gives me a pitying half-smile.
“Okay, no,” I admit. “I’m not fine. But only because I don’t want people looking at me like Hanna is right now.”
One of Krystal’s friends is asking about her wedding night in a stage whisper as clear as her wriggling eyebrows. “We’re going to wait until it’s official,” Krystal says with a hand pressed to her chest.
“That’s my girl,” my mom says with an approving nod.
I stifle the urge to snort. Maybe Krystal hasn’t had sex with Will, but she’s no virgin.
***
“You need to settle a bet for us,” Lizzy tells me as our server settles three chocolate martinis on our table. “Was that Asher Logan you were dancing with at the wedding last night?”
“It wasn’t,” Hanna says. “Though he’s a dead ringer for him.” She hums and—
“Did you just lick your lips?” I narrow my eyes at my sisters. I can’t remember if he ever told me his last name. “How do you know Asher?”
Hanna’s jaw drops. “No way!”
Lizzy hides her smile behind her martini. “Apparently they’re on a first-name basis.”
With a French-tipped nail, Lizzy tucks a long lock of blond hair behind her ear. Tonight, she’s dressed to kill in a pale pink strapless, show-off-the-legs-that-go-for-miles dress. Next to her, Hanna is dressed a bit more modestly in a black capris and a lavender sweater set. She’s as drop-dead gorgeous as her twin, if in a different way. Since good daughters spend time with their family, martini night with the twins is part of Operation New Me. So far it’s been my favorite part of my ill-conceived plan.
“I just met him last night,” I explain. “How do you know him?”
The girls giggle.
“How do we know Asher Logan?” Lizzy asks.
“Asher ‘Sexy Beast’ Logan?” Hanna adds.
I fold my arms. “That’s what I asked.”
The girls exchange a look.
“She’s clueless,” Lizzy mutters.
“He was only the hottest lead singer in the history of rock bands,” Hanna says.
“But Maggie was always more into that angry chick music.”
I wave a hand in front of them. “Hello. Quit talking about me like I’m not here.”
Lizzy narrows her eyes. “You really didn’t know?”
“All I know is that he is the Rich Dude who owns the house next door to Mom.”
“Shut up!” Hanna’s eyes go wide. “Asher Logan lives next door to Mom?”
Lizzy’s eyes light up. “I take back every bad thing I ever said about New Hope.”
“If the Asher I was dancing with last night is the Asher you’re talking about, then yes, he owns the house next to mom’s. But I don’t think he lives there, or if he does I don’t think he has for long.”
Lizzy downs her martini. “This is so huge.” She waves to the waitress. “I’m gonna need another.”
“We need details,” Hanna says, leaning forward.
“I met him at Krystal’s wedding. He was down by the river and I thought he was a lost wedding guest.” I snort, realizing for the first time why he was really there. “But I guess he was just in his own backyard.”
Hanna grins. “Yeah, because Mom’s backyard is right next to Asher Logan’s backyard. God, this is epic.”
