Maggie Moves On(110)

“Why do kids scream like that?” she asked, still wearily rubbing her temples. “Keaton sounds like his arms and legs are being ripped off, and when you go running in to find out which body part was severed, he just smiles like it’s all a game.”

“Kids are jerks.”

“And Cody showed up half an hour after curfew last night and then acts like I don’t know exactly what he was doing in the backseat of the car we bought him,” she continued.

“Get it all out, Mags,” Silas advised. “Otherwise you’ll go geyser on someone or decide to add French doors to nowhere on the third floor.”

“I’ve got two weeks to finish and stage this place for the damn party.”

He wisely chose not to point out that she was the one who selected the date and could probably just as easily change it.

“I still don’t have a kitchen. How many things can go wrong in one room?” she railed. “I mean, are the ghosts of the Campbells mad at me? Am I cursed?”

“Probably not, but I can see how you might feel that way,” he said, navigating into town.

“I should have my next project lined up by now. Or at least I should have an idea of what I’m going to do next. I was supposed to squeeze in another house by Christmas.”

Silas bit his tongue. If he called her out on talking about moving on, when he felt like it was a team decision at this point, she might hit him with a shovel. And if he pointed out that maybe she wasn’t real estate shopping because part of her was thinking seriously about staying, he couldn’t be sure that she wouldn’t pack a bag and be gone by morning just to prove him wrong.

“Why are we at your house?” she asked as he pulled into the driveway and drove around the back of the house to the garage. “Silas Wright, if you try to get me to take a nap or have sex with you right now, I will post your phone number on my next episode.”

“I’m just picking something up,” he promised. “Stay put.”

He left her in the truck with the engine running and picked up the kayak and paddle.

“No. Nope. No way,” she said when he threw it in the bed of the truck and strapped it down.

He climbed in behind the wheel and threw the truck in reverse.

“I’m not getting in that thing. Not when I have a thousand things to take care of.”

“You’re getting in it if I have to tie you to it,” he said cheerfully. “You have one thing to take care of today. That’s yourself.”

“Don’t start giving me that ‘you can’t pour from an empty cup’ bullshit,” she snarled.

“A word of advice—don’t ever say that in front of my moms or they will corner you and spend a week lecturing you on self-care.”

He made a left and a right before pulling into the lot at the boat launch.

“I can’t believe you right now,” she said, crossing her arms. She sat there stubbornly as he unloaded the kayak, the cooler, and lugged both down to the water.

She had her arms crossed over her chest when he opened her door.

“Take me back to the house.”

“Nope,” he said, reaching across her and releasing her seat belt. “Come on, slugger.” He plucked her out of the vehicle, dragged a life jacket over her head, and threw her over his shoulder.

“I am going to kick. Your. Ass,” Maggie growled, enunciating each word.

He dropped her neatly into the boat, handed her a paddle, and kissed the hell out of her. She bit him on the lip—hard—but he kept right on kissing her. It didn’t take long before she forgot her mad and kissed him back. He teased her with teeth and tongue until she was limp and glassy-eyed before breaking the kiss.

“I’ll pick you up downstream,” he said, taking his hat off and plopping it on her head.

“I don’t have my phone!”

“Good.”

She looked at him like he’d just told her he burned down orphanages for fun. “What if there’s an emergency?” she demanded.

“There’s a walkie hooked to the cooler. Channel twelve if you run into any trouble. I’ll answer.”

“I meant what if there’s a work emergency.”

“Maggie, unless the house burns down or someone accidentally chops their leg off with a circular saw, there’s no such thing. I’ll pick you up downstream.”

“How? Where?” She was holding the paddle upside down and frantically stabbing at the water with it, trying to force the kayak back on land. It was adorable.

“You can’t miss it.” And with that, he shoved the kayak into the current and watched her float away.

“You are in so much trouble,” she shouted as she disappeared around the first bend.





41



“How do you steer this stupid thing?” Maggie asked no one as the river hurled her downstream. Silas was going to regret sending her to her death. She’d make sure of it. She’d haunt his ass.

“Uh-oh,” she said as the blue-green waters of the Payette River lined her up with a big, wet boulder that stuck out from shore like a menacing monster, crushing novice boaters for their insolence.

“Oh, no,” she chanted, thrusting one end of the paddle into the water. “Oh, shit.” It didn’t so much turn her away from the looming boulder as spin her around backward.