Maggie Moves On(34)

Okay. Clearly she was hungry. She’d raged her way through lunch and now needed finger steaks—whatever the hell they were—stat.

“Hey, Mags,” he said with a warm kind of familiarity. He didn’t touch her when she stopped in front of him, but she felt the sparks ping-ponging back and forth between them.

“Silas.” She wasn’t feeling mad or pissed or scared anymore, she realized. She was feeling…interested. Maybe there was something to that whole “talking about your feelings” crap?

“Did I ever tell you that my heart skips a beat every time you walk toward me?” Silas said, flashing her a slow, panty-melting grin.

“You should probably get that checked,” she said lightly. “Could be something serious.”

“Oh, I sure hope so,” he drawled.

Oh. My. God. “Feed me, Wright,” she ordered.

He opened the door and ushered her inside. Rough and rustic was how she’d describe the place. There was wood everywhere. Gray-washed oak on the floor and U-shaped bar. A more natural finish on the rafters and beams. The back wall of the restaurant was all glass with doors and windows that opened onto the multitiered deck bigger than the restaurant itself. Beyond the tables and umbrellas with their handful of patrons was the sparkling waters of Payette Lake.

“Hey there, Sy,” the bartender called out as they passed.

“Hey, Pete. You got my five bucks?” Silas asked.

“How about first round’s on me?” Pete offered.

“Even better,” Silas told him. “Come on, Mags.”

“Do you have a gambling problem?” she asked. “You sure seem to make a lot of bets.”

“Life’s more interesting when there’s something at stake,” he said, leading her to one of the deck doors at the back and opening it for her. The smell of lake water and citronella hit her, and for just a second, she was twelve years old all over again. Memories, short but sweet, swirled around her like a favorite sweater.

She stepped outside just as a breathy voice called, “Sy!” A woman—a girl, really—in an apron jogged up to him, her long, blond ponytail swinging. Her flawless cheeks were flushed pink, and she had the biggest, bluest eyes Maggie had ever seen. This was exactly the kind of girl Maggie hadn’t been in high school. No acne, voluminous hair, and an overflowing self-confidence that compelled her to bound up to the cutest guy in school and expect him to like her.

“Heard you and Michelle broke up.” Bubbly Blonde hooked an eyebrow expectantly.

Silas looked at Maggie and then back at Bubbly. “We did,” he said.

“You should have called me. Didn’t I tell you to call me if you two ever split for good?”

“Well now, that wouldn’t have been fair to Michelle,” Silas said. He looked at Maggie again and then took her hand. “Or Maggie. Mags, meet Arabella. Bella, meet Maggie.”

“Hi, Arabella. It’s nice to meet you.”

Arabella wasn’t nearly as excited to see Maggie. “Oh. Hi,” the girl replied flatly.

Score one for the late bloomer. Maggie Nichols had something the cool girl wanted. Being in such a position of power made her feel magnanimous.

“Don’t worry,” Maggie said with a wink. “I’m only in town for a few weeks.”

Hope must bloom eternal in Arabella, she guessed, because the girl brightened.

“See you around, Bella,” Silas said, dragging Maggie away.

“I like your shoes,” Arabella called after them, pointing at Maggie’s boots.

“Thank you.”

It wasn’t crowded on the deck. Just a few couples enjoying the early start to their evening and a group of twenty-somethings talking over each other about their white water rafting. Silas pulled her to a table on the upper section of decking. The lake, an unbelievable blue-green, stretched out before them in a bowl of gently rolling hills.

“Well, that was fun,” she teased, taking a seat and snatching the drink menu out of its holder.

He shook his head. “I do not know what’s gotten into that girl. I’ve known her since she was born practically.”

The bourbon barrel porter on the list caught her eye. She slid the menu across the teak table to him and leaned back in her chair. “I could hazard a guess.”

“I really don’t want to spend our third date talking about other people.”

“Third date? Things certainly seem to be moving along,” she quipped.

“You’re taking things slow and being respectful,” he explained. “But if you play your cards right tonight, I might just let you kiss me.”

Maggie’s quick inhale sucked saliva into her lungs, and she started coughing.

“You all right?” he asked.

She nodded, still coughing.

“Totally. Fine,” she rasped.

Well, the cool-girl thing had been nice while it lasted. It was good to remember that deep down she was still the kind of gal who would choke on her own spit in public.

“Can I get you a water?”

Her eyes were watering too much to make out the server who had heroically appeared. At least it wasn’t Bubbly Arabella.

“Two waters, Sean,” Silas said.

“And a bourbon porter,” she managed to gasp between coughs.