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Liv took a breath. “That it was an unhealthy relationship. I explained that he didn’t have a frame of reference and that’s why he perhaps couldn’t see it, because they’ve been together since they were eighteen.”
Maya nodded. Whatever had happened between her and Sam in the past didn’t matter anymore. And as much as she’d wanted him to suffer in his relationship with Cat at the time, she didn’t feel that way any longer. Weirdly, she just wanted him to be happy. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
Liv shook her head. “All any of us can do is support him. Offer a sympathetic ear. Then hopefully, one day, he’ll see the light.”
Waiting round the corner from Sam’s house, Maya felt like she was in a spy movie. She scooted down in her seat, watching the odd person walk past and pretending that she was tailing them. “The name’s Bond. Maya Bond. I’m a rubbish spy who tells the enemy their full name the very instant she meets them.”
The passenger door opened just as she finished her sentence and Sam shot her a bemused smile. “What’re you doing?”
She scrambled to sit straight. “Nothing. Definitely not pretending to be a spy.”
He climbed in with a laugh. “Who’re you spying on?”
Maya narrowed her eyes and gestured along the street. “See the guy in the overcoat? Suspicious. What’s he got under there?”
Sam leaned over, and she held her breath because he always smelled so good and it made certain areas a bit tingly.
“Probably a huge woolly jumper.” He leaned back, buckling in. “On account that it’s like, minus five outside.”
Maya shot him a look. “Party pooper.” She started the engine as he flashed her a grin. “Right. Stick the address in the satnav, old boy, and let’s be on our way.” She eyed him with a raised brow as he typed it in. “Are you wearing that tiny apron under your jeans?”
Sam stopped typing in order to laugh. “Stop imagining what I’ve got on under my clothes, you perv.”
Maya pulled away with a shrug. “It’s not my fault that you assaulted my eyeballs when I was innocently sitting on my friend’s sofa the other week.”
He was smiling. “Many apologies for such a terrible sensory experience.”
With a sigh, she placed the back of her hand onto her forehead. “Sadly, I cannot unsee what I have seen.” She made the sign of the cross, and Sam laughed hard. The ability to elicit that response from him was something she didn’t want to relinquish. Especially when, from what Liv had said, laughs sounded a bit sparse in his relationship with Cat. Maya just wished she didn’t find him so attractive because it was a lost cause. Lost at sea, many years ago, never to be seen again. And probably scoffed by Moby Dick for good measure.
Seeing him in his naked-butler outfit (if you could call a tiny apron an “outfit”) certainly had not been a “terrible sensory experience.” Plus, despite the associated embarrassment, she’d enjoyed seeing the spectacle of him another couple of times since then—courtesy of the excellent hydrotherapy-spa suite. God bless Ben.
She shot Sam a side glance. He was taking out a bottle of water and starting to sip it. Suppressing a grin, she kept her eyes forward. “Have you got your balls?”
He coughed on the water, nearly spitting it out in the process. “What?”
“You know,” she said, staring ahead and keeping a straight face. “The shiny little ones I gave you to put on your apron.”
Sam raised his eyebrows. “The baubles you mean?”
She shrugged. “Balls. Baubles. Same diff.”
He laughed. “I’ve got them, thanks. They’re a nice festive touch.”
“As long as no one’s literally touching,” Maya waggled her eyebrows at him.
He shook his head, smiling. “It happens.”
“Does it?” Maya screwed her face up. “Ew.”
“Hey,” he said, arching a brow. “The idea of touching me can’t be that gross.”
Shoving aside that idea before she got overexcited, Maya shook her head. “I don’t mean that. I mean it’s out of order for random women to touch you.”
“Ah, okay. I don’t need to be affronted.” He settled back into his seat. “Don’t worry, it’s usually only a pinch on the bum, and at least tonight I’ve got a bodyguard with me. Did you bring your superhero outfit?”
“In the back,” she replied without missing a beat. “Superaccountant, that’s me. If there’s any trouble, just call and I’ll come running in with some mental arithmetic that’ll make their eyeballs spin.”
He chuckled, and even that platonic response made her heart swell and skin come alive with delicious sensitivity.
