I clear my throat.“Shall we?”
When his eyes flit back to mine, he lifts a flirtatious brow that sends tingles clear to my toes.
“We shall.”
11
Braxton
Maggie Modella is not playing fair.
Those are the only words running through my mind as I trail the woman through her shop. She shrugs into her trench coat without removing her apron, which, for the record, looks incredible on her. I turn my head as she cinches up the straps and spot a familiar form heading out the door. Not many men are as tall and lanky as my cousin, Chad.
The guy’s hand moves to the small of his woman’s back while she bounces a toddler on one hip. Yep, that’s him and Vivian, all right. Looks like they’re happy.
Yeah, until they get divorced like my brothers did.Seeing all three of my brothers’ marriages fail has done a number on me. Sure, my own parents are still married, happily even. They have the type of marriage that gives onlookers hope. So why couldn’t my brothers make it work? And why, when we had such a charmed upbringing, did Blaine fall into addiction so hard it killed him?
That jaded question sears into my brain as I lead Maggie to the caboose and pull open the door. I motion for her to step inside first.
She does, moving her gaze about the space while slowly walking toward the far end.
I know I should be pointing out features and highlighting the details I put into my work, but I can’t get my mind to shift. Stupid grief. It sneaks in when I least expect it. Hitting me with Blaine’s loss like it’s new once again. He was here. And then he was gone.
I tried, but I couldn’t save him. Beau tried, Luke and Liam tried. Mom and Pops, sheesh, no one tried harder than them. No one prayed harder, cried louder, or ached deeper than they did at Blaine’s tragic downfall.
“Braxton?”
I blink and scan the place until my eyes land on Maggie.
She trails delicate fingers over the frame I installed around the custom mug case. “This is gorgeous,” she says approvingly. “Even better than I imagined. I can’t wait to put mugs in all the slots.”
The mug case is one of my favorite features. I allow it to pull me from my musings. Nine square feet of wall-spacehouses fifty-four mug cubbies within a refurbished wood frame.
It feels nice to have clients appreciate my work. But for some reason, it feels extra nice to have Maggie do it. I’m vulnerable right now. Needy. And after the dream I had the other night—one I can’t stop thinking about—I’m drawn to her more than ever.
The rain, which was barely sprinkling during our short walk here, pours hard once again. I watch Maggie move slowly about the space, one hand tracing the exposed ridge of her ivory collarbone above the loose trench coat collar. She seems thoughtful today, too, I realize, and I can’t help but wonder what’s onhermind. Does she have a Blaine-sized hole in her life as well? A hurt she can’t quite move past?
I grin as she oohs and ahs over things like the outlook booth—something I’m exceptionally proud of, and the built-in cabinet that doubles as a coffee bar which I placed strategically beneath the built-in mug case, a piece she strides back to with another sigh.
I walk over to admire it once more myself. Yet in the quiet space, with Maggie standing as close as she is, something else gains my attention—the growing, palpable chemistry in the room. Buzzing, pulsing, swelling around us.
Pops always told me, ‘If you want to make a touchdown, you first have to see yourself catching the ball, gaining the yards, and dodging every opponent in your way.’Visualization has been key for me in building a business and then stepping away from the daily grind to do the type of work I enjoy most.
And despite Beau’s warning, not to mention Maggie’sapparent aversion to me, I’ve been visualizing a moment like this.
“I’m sorry for getting angry over what you said about Jeb,” Maggie says, surprising me. “I’m starting to see that…well, I still think he did a great job, of course, but…”
“I should have been more sensitive,” I admit.
Our shoulders touch, and the raindrops grow louder. Or maybe it’s just the heightening of all my senses at once. It’s as if I’m more aware of Maggie than I was before. More aware of the list of things that set her apart from other women, making her more intriguing and impossible to ignore.
Pretty soon, our time together will come to an end. That fact has kindled a desperation of sorts, urging me to seize the moment despite Beau’s objection. Despite myownobjections. Feeling a closeness, an unspoken connection, I blurt an ever-pressing question that’s been weighing on my mind.
“Do you ever wonder what it’s like to just let yourself fall for someone without being so…afraid?”
As soon as the words leave my lips, I realize how assumptive they are.I’mthe one who’s afraid to dive in too deep; who’s to say Maggie struggles with the same thing?
She searches my face, her hazel eyes holding secrets I’m dying to know. Hurts I suddenly want to fix. Passions I long to discover.
