“Why’s that?”
She shrugs. “She’s not a one-night stand kinda woman.”
I want to discover every detail that makes Maggie tick.
“Listen, I promised my sister I wouldn’t get involved in whatever is going on between you two.” Sadie scopes out the dance floor, like she’s looking for someone. “That’s the only way she’d come out with me.” I feel abutcoming along. “But I’m getting laid tonight. So I’m taking off and I just want to make sure you aren’t here to take advantage of her.”
This woman’s outgoing personality is nothing like her sister. Over the years I’ve watched Maggie from the sidelines. She’s always been brought to my attention due to our grandparents quarrel. From what I’ve seen, she quiet, but not shy. Kind and giving, but not a sucker. Participating in The Sugar Cookie Fundraiser every year is an example of where her heart is set.
“Listen, she’s been hurt before. I don’t know what your end game is. Just sex. Marriage. I actually don’t care. There’s nothing wrong with either. All I ask, is you don’t hurt her. Don’t give her mixed signals. Tell her exactly what you want and what you’re offering. Don’t be another asshole in her life that drags her through the ringer just to spit her out torn to shreds.”
My jaw tightens and my stomach knots. Not because Sadie is laying out some pretty fucking obvious courtesy points. But because of the asshole in Maggie’s life who didn’t abide by them. I want a name. Is he local? Is that why she left? Is he from the city? I’d like to shove my fist down his goddam throat.
“I’m not going to hurt her. You have my word.”
A timid smile lifts her lips. Timid is so unlike her. “Good, cause then I’d have to hurt you.”
I chuckle. “Alright. I’ll consider myself warned.”
“Alright.” She rises to her tiptoes. “Now if we could just get a damn drink.”
We get a drink. And then another. Sadie’s good at keeping them coming. I can tell Maggie doesn’t drink like her sister. Sadie throws them back barely fazed. Meanwhile, after a couple shots, Maggie’s smile comes easier and her laughter louder.
“Ohhh, I love this song.” Maggie slides off the stool with an upholstered back.
Or rather slips off. Her hands catch the bistro table to steady herself. Both Sadie and I reach to catch her.
Maggie smiles up at me unfiltered. “Stupid heels.”
“Yeah, blame the heels.” Sadie winks at me.
“Should we get another shot?” Maggie waves her hand in the air.
Sadie catches it and lowers it to the table. “No more shots for you.”
Maggie pouts at her. “You’re the one who said to relax, let loose, have a drink.”
“I said to let loose, not drink the bar empty.” Sadie holds her sister’s face in her hands. “You’re drunk.”
Maggie cups her sister’s face to mimic her. “I’m not drunk. Let’s go dance.” She grabs my hand. “You too, hunky cowboy.”
Sadie groans. “She’s going to regret this in the morning.”
“I regret nothin’!” Maggie leads us to the dance floor.
Her dance moves have shifted to air punches, head-banging, and trying all the popular moves such as The Worm and the Macarena. Sadie’s not shy about her mission to find a single guy. She abandons us once again for some random dude. It’s all good. I’ve gotten used to catching Maggie when she stumbles. Actually, I enjoy it. Her laughter is infectious. It’s been a helluva time since I’ve gone out. Tonight’s been fun and easier without our bickering grandparents. We drink. We dance. We joke and laugh. The night skips by in a flash.
“My feet hate me.” Maggie climbs a stool. Her shoes hit the floor and she rubs the souls of her bare feet.
I’m jealous. I’m so fucking jealous. I can’t help myself.
“Let me.” I don’t wait for a reply and lift her foot to my lap. The stool spins so she’s facing me. She looks unsure at first. Then I cup her foot with both of my hands. I dig my thumbs into the arch of her foot.
Her eyes flutter closed. “Oh god, right there,” she moans through the music. “Yes, yes ...”
My dick twitches. Obviously, I’m not planning on taking her to bed with the amount of alcohol she’s consumed. But it doesn’t mean her small sounds don’t arouse me.
The bar around me vanishes as my attention zeroes in on Maggie. With each stroke of my thumb, she sighs and moans small delightful sounds of pleasure. I watch her under my hooded eyes. The subtle lights play across her silky skin. She slinks further into the stool. Fuck, the idea that my touch is responsible sends all the blood flowing south. The deeper I apply pressure, the longer the tantalizing sounds escape her parted lips. And the harder my erection tightens in my jeans. Her bliss is my bliss. And I’m fucking blissful.
