A flash of something zips through my mind, but it’s gone before I can catch hold of it. It’s a recollection of sorts as if I’m inwardly working to solve a puzzle, and the missing piecealmostmakes itself known.
“I’m heading out,” Chantel says, luring me from my musings. She hangs up her apron, slips her tattoo-covered arms into her leather coat sleeves, and nods to where Jane and Matt juggle the tasks behind the bar. “They’ve probably got things covered if you want to head out now too, get something to eat before tonight’s event.”
I nod, though I haven’t exactly registered what she’s saying. “Okay,” I force anyway. “Thanks.”
“You all right?” Chantel checks reluctantly.
I blink, remembering that she’s probably in a hurry; Chantel’s taking her dad to the doctor. “Yes,” I blurt. “Of course, thanks. Tell your dad hi.”
“I will.” She’s halfway to the back door when she waves over one shoulder. “See you tonight.”
I decide Chantel’s right; it’s the perfect time to take a break. I tell Viv and her cute little family goodbye, head up to my office, and plunk into my favorite old armchair in the corner. It’s soft and worn, and it cradles me like an old friend. I pull open the drawer of the side table and eye the stash inside—two jars of peanut butter, one smooth and one extra chunky. I snatch the chunky, secure a spoon from the compartment alongside, and unscrew the lid as I set my thoughts back on the elusive puzzle taunting my mind.
At the first taste of the nutty sweet flavor, I sink deeper into the cozy chair, pry off my heels, and prop my legs over the armrest. The heater kicks on, enhancing the moment with a waft of warmth coming from the vent and floating over my toes.
“Mmm, yes.”This is exactly what I need. An escape from the pesky prodding in my head. The voices that tell me I’ll never have what Viv has. That I’m bound to be alone forever. Part of me wants to simply accept that fate and stop trying. But…
Tears sting my eyes. My throat gets achy and tight. I wish I wasn’t so afraid. Look at Kirsten—she was betrayed by the man who swore his life to her, and she didn’t let that stop her from letting Beau into her life. In fact, Kirsten told me that on New Year’s, the couple used theL-wordfor the first time.
A sudden tap comes to my door, followed by the sound of a man clearing his throat. “Maggie?” The voice, ocean-deep and sandpaper rough, summons an image of Braxton.
I sniff back my tears. “Yes?”
“If I’m interrupting?—”
“You’re not,” I lie. “Come on in.”
I turn to face him as he steps into my office.
Braxton Wheaton really is something to look at. The outline of his masculine arms, the span of his broad chest, and the appeal of his chiseled jawline, accented by a never-ending five o’clock shadow.
He smells like fresh-cut wood and leather, probably from that surprisingly attractive toolbelt. Man of wonders, that’s what he is. Successful operator of his own construction crew, talented specialist in private, custom jobs, and chivalrous umbrella guy who looks hot in the rain.
“Did you need something?” I ask, hoping my lashes aren’t wet with tears.
His focus darts between the spoon and the jar in my hand. “Um, no. I mean, yes, I’m almost done. I wondered if you’d like to walk through it before I leave. See if there’s anything you’d like altered as I finish up.”
“Oh, you’re…sure, just a second.” I set the jar and spoon down, grab my heels off the floor, and work on the task of fastening the straps. If there was a cloud over me before, it feels bigger and darker now.
“You’re coming back for tonight’s event, right?” I finish with one shoe and move to the straps of the next, sensing his gaze on me.
“You don’t want to disappoint your new fan club,” I add, but the truth is, I’m the disappointed one. I don’t exactly hate Braxton as much as I thought I did. And who knows—maybe ifwe had more time together, we’d discover there’s actually something there.
“Oh, I wouldn’t miss it,” he rasps.
I clench my eyes shut against the sudden urge to crumble. First, I run into Viv and Chad, catching a glimpse of what I’m missing—of what I might never have. Next, I find out that Braxton’s leaving just when I was warming up to him a little.
Slow footsteps bring him closer. My gaze shifts to his work boots as I finish fastening the second clasp and another waft of cedar toys with my senses.
His hand drops, and I realize he’s offering it to me.
It’s the second chivalrous gesture of the day, and I can’t help but swoon a little, which only shows how deprived I am of such attention.
I take hold of his rather large hand, appreciating the calloused nature of his skin…he’s a hardworking man, and I like that.
Once he helps me to my feet, Braxton tilts his head and drops his gaze. “Nice shoes.”
My face flushes with heat. “Thanks.”Holy Chemistry.It’s nearly explosive. Why now? Why, now that our time is through, does the chemistry have to become so…alive?
