She shrugged, like anyone would have done the same.
He laughed, totally taken aback, then returned his attention to Zoey and said, “I think Hufflepuffs are the best, anyway.”
Zoey nodded in very serious agreement. Then added, “And Ravenclaws.”
Brodie glanced over at Maeve with a smile on his face that had none of its usual mischievous flirtation, but instead just genuine warmth. “And Ravenclaws,” he agreed.
Maeve wanted to run to her own bedroom and lock the door. Why couldn’t she have been on shift tonight? Bring on the patients, the stress, and the overtime. Anything was better than dealing with that smile.
She left Brodie sitting in the chair by Zoey’s bed, reading in various voices that made her daughter snort with laughter, and busied herself downstairs, determined to put a stop to her wandering, wayward thoughts.
All of a sudden, a voice right close behind her said, “Okay?”
She jumped.
Brodie was grinning at the fact he’d managed to startle her.
Maeve found herself pinned between the kitchen counter and the six-foot, broad-chested Brodie, smiling like life was all one big, hilarious, flirtatious joke.
Maeve chucked the cloth she’d been using to wipe the surfaces over by the sink, then raising her chin, said steadfastly, “I just want to make clear that we’re not doingthis.”
He reached to pick an apple from the bowl on the counter behind her, his arm almost but not quite brushing against her. “Doing what?”
“This. Us,” she said, pointing between them.
He half smiled as he took a bite. “I know,” he said, chewing and smiling at the same time. Then he turned and sauntered away to get his sweater that he’d thrown over a chair.
Maeve breathed out, aware of the fine line between relief and embarrassment. Was it all in her head? He was so cool and collected, it was difficult to tell.
Brodie started to walk to the front door but paused in the hallway and came back into the room. “By the way,” he said, taking another bite of apple, “Logan invited you to lunch on Sunday.”
It was her turn to frown. “Why?”
Brodie cocked his head, chewing with slow amusement. “My mom wants to see you and Zoey. We thought it was better in more neutral territory.”
Maeve’s eyes widened in horror. “Oh, Brodie?—”
“Don’t worry, she’s okay. And anyway, I’ll look out for you.” He paused, eyes glinting, as he added, “But not in any,this, us,kinda way.”
Before Maeve could respond, he chucked his sweater over his shoulder and wandered out, that wicked, cheeky grin back in place.
ChapterThirty
Logan and Bella’s house was out of town, surrounded by acres of lush grass and trees that shivered in the breeze, pines as high as the eye could see, pointing like arrows up to the sky. The house was pretty traditional on the outside, but inside—Maeve gasped out loud when she saw the view out the wall of windows of the rolling, unadulterated landscape. It was nice to have a distraction from the nerves. “This is a beautiful house,” she gushed.
“Better now it’s got some furnishings,” Bella replied, looking archly at Logan who shrugged as if he’d never really got the hang of home decorating.
Then Martha came in through the open bifold doors, glass of lemonade in her hand, and said, “Maybe you’ll buy some furniture soon, Brodie?”
Maeve felt her whole body tighten with trepidation at the sight of Martha, statuesque and beautiful in wide olive-green pants and a wraparound black shirt. Brodie went, “Ha-ha, very funny.” Then, placing his hand gently on Maeve’s back in a quiet gesture to say that it was going to be okay, he added, “Maybe I already have.”
Martha seemed surprised at that and said, “Really? What have you bought?”
Brodie dropped his hand, reached for a glass that Logan offered him, Maeve felt both the loss of the supportive touch, and more able to breathe with it gone. “Okay. I haven’t actually bought anything, but I do acknowledge that some pictures on the walls might be good.”
The others laughed. Martha raised her brows in fond disapproval, then turned to Maeve and said, “Hello, Maeve, sweetheart? How are you?” With a big wide smile, a little like her son’s and in turn a little like Zoey’s, that made Maeve instantly relax a fraction.
“I’m good, thank you, Martha.”
