“Like you’d sit in a corner in any room. I’ve been out with you enough to know that’s a lie.”
I scoff. “It is not.”
From the corner of my eye, I see her head whip in my direction, and I smother a smile. Finally, I’ve got her fired up and out of that sad, pensive state I hate to see her in. She’s happiest when she’s living loud.
“Kermit Jackson.Youare the definition of a social butterfly. You couldn’t sit in a corner and observe”—she quirks her fingers in air quotes around the word—“if your life depended on it.”
She’s not wrong. It’s not my normal MO. “Magnolia Simmons, I can be a good plus-one when I need to be. Also, I thought we agreed you’d never call me that.” Like the two peas in a pod that we are, we both hate our first names.
We reach the stop sign, and I glance at the clock. It’searly enough that we’ve got time for a side quest. I don’t even ask if she’s down for it, because I know her.
“No way.” She huffs a bark of sardonic laughter. I’m not sure if she’s talking about my name or that I can be a good date, but I don’t like that she doesn’t have confidence in me. “I bet you leave your dates sitting alone at a table while you grab more rounds and then conveniently get distracted chatting it up with all the people you run into. Then your poor date sits there for an uncomfortably long period of time. Alone. While you socialize.”
That’s… oddly specific. “Mags.” I drop my voice low, making it as sultry as possible. “I can promise you that if I am out with a woman, she’s not going to be left sitting alone. At any point.”
Who the fuck did this to her? Someone in her past obviously hurt her feelings. The leather of the steering wheel creaks under my tightening grip.
“No, you only make sure to date women who are as social as you,” she fires back, completely immune to my sex-voice. “And the point I was trying to make was that I. Don’t. Want. To go. To the reunion.”
“How about a marriage party instead?” The question barrels out of my mouth before I can stop it. What the fuck? I know better than to invite her to something like that. People will start making assumptions about us. My chest grows uncomfortably tight.
She looks at me all horrified—or maybe confused—and I scramble to figure out how to recover.
“My chief got married, and there’s a party next Saturday to celebrate.” Thank fuck this road is curvy as hell and I can’t take my eyes off it long enough to look at her. Blindly, I crack the window. Cool air flows in, relieving the suddenly stifling atmosphere insidethe Jeep.
“Most people call it a reception, not a marriage party.” She’s back to teasing, giving me shit, and some of the pressure squeezing my chest eases.
“I’ve got to go. My whole department will be there. Hell, all of the Newman guys will be there too.”
She’s quiet for a moment, then asks, “Jules?”
“Yeah, and I’m sure Rosie will be there too.” A little ray of hope flutters to life. It wouldn’t be terrible to go if she went with me. I just don’t want it to be weird between us.
She’s quiet for a few minutes while we navigate a series of turns that have us climbing the mountain. This is classic Maggie. She takes a minute to think about what she wants. And then once her decision is made, she’s either all in or all out.
It’s refreshing to spend time with her rather than dating someone who hedges and plays coy. I know where I stand with Maggie at all times, and it’s double the fun to try to change her mind.
“Okay, I could use some fun,” she finally says. “But it’s not a date-date. It’s just a good excuse to dress up and eat some bougie free food. Plus, I secretly adore weddings. I’m in love with love and the idea of finding that one person you can’t live without.”
I don’t know what the hell she’s talking about, but it doesn’t matter because we’re pulling up to the gravel lot, and I can escape this conversation before she spouts off more about love.
“What are we doing?” she asks, glancing around the lot like she’s not paid attention at all during the drive.
“Thought we might get some miles on the AT.”
“You and your mountain-running obsession.” Her eye roll is epic, but still, she’s piling out and grabbing her pack. “I didn’t bring enough snacks for the Appalachian Trail.”
“I got you, boo.” I can’t stop the grin from spreading across my face as I meet her at the back of the Jeep. “How about if I promise pancakes at that little place you like when we get done?”
We step onto the trail, and anticipation floods my veins. There’s an itch under my skin, and all my nerve endings flare to life as I look up at the switchbacks. The need to sprint up this mountain is calling to me.
“Nice try. They’ll be closed by then.” She shifts the straps of her pack, taking out her trekking poles. “Okay, I know you want to run. I’ll meet you at the outcropping at the top. Don’t even give me that shit about not leaving me alone on the trail. If I remember correctly, this is an out and back.”
Which is exactly why I chose this section. Maggie is the only person in the world who knows about my wildland plans. She always frowns when I talk about it, so I don’t think she approves, but she at least gets it.
“I’m a big girl. I can hike alone. Go, do your thing. I need some quiet time anyway.”
I’m torn between staying with her and leaving her to do my thing, and my indecision must be showing because she makes a shooing motion. Impulse has me leaning in to press a quick kiss to her cheek. There’s not another soul out there who gets me like Maggie does.
