“Says the guy who pelted me with water guns upon his arrival.”
“To be fair, I did not expect you, Magoo.”
I detect her lips quiver with a smile, even in the shadows.
“You said you were worried about getting in trouble.”
“I think I already am,” I mutter. “Coach Hammer said if any one of us does anything to jeopardize our time here, if we mess around or mess up, we’re all off the team. The guys and I made a pact. Called it the Playbook.” My lips quirk because, in any other circumstance, I’d totally break the rules, but I’m loyal to my teammates. They’re my family. Maggie too.
The corners of her lips dip. “Explain exactly how going to raid the kitchen like two kids at a sleepover is not asking for trouble.”
“It’s only trouble if we get caught.” I tap her elbow with my elbow. “But the kind of trouble the coach was talking about is, er, the lady kind.”
“Well, good thing Brandi is an ocean away.”
“Brandi who?” I echo the text I sent from Maggie’s phone.
“Ha ha,” she says dryly.
I could never flirt with Maggie the same way I did with the Brandis of the world. Maggie makes me feel different. I don’t care about Brandi. I sound like a jerk, but I’m not exactly sure who Brandi is—there are loads of girls and team groupies—they call themselves the “Bruiser Babes.”
Maybe Hammer put Brandi up to it to test me.
My resolve is like iron, though Maggie has the ability to melt even the strongest metal...and maybe hearts too. But a staggering thought hits me, which could break mine. Is she dating someone?
Maggie could never be one of “Declan’s Damsels” and not because she’s lacking anything. No, she’s gorgeous and smart. A babe for sure. She can spin circles around Brandi and any woman I’ve ever dated. That’s why our friendship has endured all these years. Why, even after all this time apart, we pick up right where we left off. Well, almost. I’d argue we picked up...and then some.
“Maybe Wolf gave Brandi my number.” So many of those women were after one of two things: a moment in the spotlight or money. Sounds callous, but time and time again, they’d proven it to be true. So, I made it a rule to keep things simple, superficial, and brief in my dating life. Feeling used lost its appeal rather quickly.
“Come on, it’s ice cream o’clock. I bet there’s some around here,” I whisper.
“I prefer cake these days.” Maggie wears a pout.
“Ice cream and cake go perfectly together.”
She rolls her eyes.
But before she can protest, I say, “Come on, I think I passed the kitchen on my way up here.” But I take making My Magatha smile seriously.
“What about the strict rule of you not being allowed in kitchens? That it was a federal law.”
My heart dips briefly, but I won’t think about that now. Not ever if I can help it. I grip Maggie’s hand, meaning to pull her along because I imagine she’ll try to scurry back to her room. I expect her to jerk her hand away, but it slides perfectly into mine and stays there.
My voice is rough when I say, “Rules were meant to be broken.”
Retracing my steps becomes an exercise in concentration because that crackling fills my ears and my chest. When was the last time I felt this way? I know exactly when because it was the only other time.
After a few more turns, I manage to find the kitchen, despite my better sensibilities. When I press the door open, Maggie lets go of my hand, leaving me suddenly cold. Maybe I don’t want ice cream. Perhaps I prefer cake too.
17
DECLAN
Although the old manor house is like taking a step back in time, the kitchen is modern. The polished stainless-steel glints in the light filtering through high windows. It’s nothing like the kitchen that made me avoid them so many years ago.
“Let’s see here. Where do they keep the desserts?” I say in a low voice.
We stop in front of a giant walk-in freezer.
