She shakes her head, but it ends with the corners of her mouth kicking up. “You’re forgiven. For last night,” she’s quick to emphasize. “But that injured-soldier card is already getting pretty worn. Be careful you don’t overuse it.”
I cross my heart and hold up my hand in a silent pledge. “Now, I’m not usually the hugging sort, but I’m feeling emotional this morning. Bring it in.” Leaning over the bar, I motion for her to meet me halfway.
She tries and fails to hold on to her pique. “Ugh. Why do you make it impossible to hate you?”
Breathing her in when she puts her arms around me, I love thezingof awareness at the same time I curse it. This would all be so much easier if I didn’t still love her. If I could bring myself to tell her to stay as far away from me as humanly possible.
But I can’t.
A hard knock sounds at the front door, followed by a bellow of, “Little pig, little pig, let me in!”
Earl’s at the entrance. He’s wearing a bright red windbreaker and a polo shirt sporting the Omni Royal emblem. His stark white mustache is nearly touching the glass as he peers inside.
“Excuse me.” Maggie dons her best exaggerated Southern belle accent. “It appears I have a gentleman caller.”
Snickering, I watch her round the bar. When she unlocks the door, Earl hurries inside, complaining and rubbing his arms. “I feel the cold like a thin man.”
“Probably because youarea thin man,” Maggie tells him. “Sometimes I wonder if you stuff rocks in your pockets to keep a stiff breeze from blowing you into the next parish.”
Earl skids to a stop when he sees me at the bar. He checks his watch, then checks the clock on the wall above the bar. Bon Temps Roulerdoesn’t officially open for another twenty minutes.
“What areyoudoing here?” he demands.
Obviously, I’ve intruded on his alone time with Maggie.
“Came to see you, Earl,” I tell him.
“Ah, shucks. Folks will say we’re in love.” He takes a seat at the bar and waves Maggie off when she starts to add cream to the cup of coffee she pours him. “Black for me this morning, Maggie. I ain’t taken a decent shit in two days.”
She grimaces. “So that was an overshare. What is it with everyone in my life oversharing lately? Do I have a big sticker on my forehead that reads ‘Tell me all your secrets’?”
“Huh?” Earl frowns at her.
I cock my head, wondering who’s been sharing what.
“Never mind.” She waves us off.
Shrugging unconcernedly, Earl mumbles, “This getting old is about as fun as a fried-egg fart.” He blows across the top of his coffee before taking a sip.
“You’re not old.” Maggie pats his shoulder. “You’reseasoned.There’s a difference.”
He chuckles. Then his smile is quickly replaced by an eager leer when she pops the top on a green Tupperware container. “Please tell me you made sweet potato biscuits this morning,” he begs.
“I made sweet potato biscuits this morning,” she tells him without missing a beat. “I know they’re your favorite.” She pulls the tub away when he reaches for it. “But I don’t know if you should be eating them given you’re, ahem, gastrointestinal issues.”
“Don’t tease me.” He makes agimmemotion with one hand and she easily relents, letting him fish out a biscuit. He dunks it straight into his coffee. After taking a bite, he makesmmm-mmmnoises. “Marry me, Maggie darlin’. Let me make an honest woman out of you.”
Her giggle hits me in the heart. “I’m way too stodgy for you, Earl. You’d be bored of me in a minute.”
“Not if you made these every morning,” he insists, dunking his biscuit again.
Maggie lifts the Tupperware in my direction, a silent offering, but I wave her off. My appetite has disappeared of late.
Earl finishes his biscuit in three bites, then he hits me with a no-nonsense stare. “So what’re youreallydoing here this morning?”
“I brought Maggie some flowers.” I point to the roses.
“It’s his way of apologizing for standing me up last night,” she adds.
