While the women gawked, Maisie and I shared a look. She arched a brow, and her mouth twitched like she was fighting a laugh. As our gazes held, I fought a growing urge to grin like a kid who'd just raided the cookie jar.
But hey, I was no fool.No need to give away the game, right?
Beverly said, "Sorry, gotta run." And with that, she bolted for the front with the other two women hot on her heels. Soon, with a cheerful jingle of the door, all three of them were gone.
Maisie stared after them for several beats. Then, she turned to me with a sheepish smile. "Sorry about that."
"Eh, don't worry about it." Now Ididgrin. "Happens to me all the time."
She laughed. "Yeah, I believe it." But then, her laughter faded. "I was little worried she wouldn't let go."
Interesting.
So she'd noticed the hand.
And she was right about the grip. Beverly's hand had been torqued tight enough to leave a dent.
Slowly, I realized something. If it had beenMaisiegripping my hand, I might not have minded. Hell, I might've welcomed it.
It was a nice thought, but that's where it ended.It couldn't happen.
I wouldn't let it.
I was here for only a month. No attachments. No complications. And no one-night stands to make me feel like an asshole.
And yet, thoughts of Maisie's hand in mine lingered like a middle school dream. I gave a silent scoff.What was I? Fourteen again?
I was still daydreaming when Maisie said, "But just so you know, Darleen's actually really nice." She gave a shaky laugh. "She might joke a lot, but it's not like she'd drag you into a Buick."
A Buick?At this, a nearly naked image flashed in my brain – not of Darleen, but of Maisie, sprawled out like a pinup girl in a vintage car ad. To nobody's surprise, I was in there, too. And let's just say there wasn't a lot of space between us.
The image wasn't half-bad, and I felt a tightness in my groin that sent off all kinds of warning bells.
Shit.
Maisie was still talking. "AndIdon't even have one."
I'd been too distracted by my own thoughts. "Have what?"
"A Buick." The blush returned, making her look cute as hell. "So, um, you're safe from me, too."
I almost smiled. "Yeah?"
"Sure. I mean…I've never even done it in a car." She froze, as if the sudden confession had surprised herself more than me. She stood motionless for a long moment before finishing in a low mumble. "They're not really allowed on the island, so…" She shifted from foot to foot before blurting out, "You know what?"
I was more intrigued than startled. "What?"
"The whole Buick thing…" She shook her head. "It's totally irrelevant."
And just like that, the mental image was back, stunning me into silence. Of course, it didn'thaveto be a Buick. It could be a bed. Or hell, a blanket on the beach. Regardless, the images kept coming, each one more dangerous than the last.
In front of me, Maisie looked ready to bolt. "So we should probably just forget I mentioned it." She gave me a smile that looked more like a grimace. "Deal?"
It was funny, but I didn't laugh.
I couldn't even if I wanted to.
She looked like trouble and sweetness rolled into one – messy ponytail, curves wrapped in that now-familiar shirt, and the kind of eyes that could stop a guy dead in his tracks.