Maggie Moves On(57)

The rain had slowed to a steady patter on the windshield. It was the perfect afternoon to slow down.

“Got time for a detour?” he asked, pulling up to the first traffic signal at Kinship’s town limits.

She frowned. “Detour?”

“My source has something going on this afternoon until two. We’ve got some time to kill.”

“I could have finished cleaning the surround,” she complained.

His girl was wound tight.

“Trust me. You’ll like this.”

“You always say that just before you try to talk me into something I don’t want to do.”

He slipped his fingers through hers and brought the back of her hand to his mouth. “And you always have a good time once you’re smart enough to give in.”

She sighed and then perked up. “Five bucks says I won’t like it.”

“I will take that bet, and maybe I’ll be gentlemanly enough to buy you a coffee with my winnings. Now, be a sweetheart and text my mom back and tell her we’ll bring coleslaw for the cookout Sunday.”

He handed her his phone.

“What do you mean ‘we’?”

“You and me, Mags. You and me.”

“I don’t know what kind of ‘see where things go’ you’re used to. But you can’t force me to meet your family.”

“You’ve already met Michael,” he pointed out. “That means my moms are not going to be patient for much longer. It’s only a matter of time before they just drop by the house. Besides, I already told them I’d bring you.”

“Mom or Mama B?” she asked.

“Mom,” he said.

Maggie typed up the message he dictated and hit send.

“How often do you all get together?” she asked.

“As a group? Once every week or two. But we mix it up with smaller get-togethers all the time.”

She shook her head. “I don’t know if I could do that. Have a family obligation every week? I’m just not much of a social animal.”

“Says the woman with 999,150 followers,” Silas pointed out.

She gave him a small smile. “That’s a different kind of social.”

“I’ll say it is.” He turned off Lake Street into the downtown.

“Where are you taking me?” she asked, peering through the rain-spattered window.

“Right here,” he said, pulling into a parking space and pointing at the storefront with gray cedar shakes. “Kinship Mercantile,” she read from the sign above the door. “I hate it already. You should give me your money now.” But he saw the way her eyes lit up when they locked on the cheerfully jumbled window display. Cloud-thin throws and overstuffed pillows with sayings like LAKE LIFE IS THE BEST LIFE perched on a whitewashed oak pedestal table.

“Let’s give it a few minutes. Let a man have a fighting chance,” he said, reaching over her and opening her door.

It smelled like sage and lemons when he pushed open the glass door of the shop. The swift rush of pride hit him, just like every other time he stepped foot in the Mercantile.

“Nope,” Maggie said, shaking her head. “I don’t see anything that interests me. I’ll wait in the truck.” But she was already picking up a stoneware dish glazed the exact color of Payette Lake on a sunny summer day. “Oh. Look at that.” She put the dish down and was drawn farther into the store to a rustic curio cabinet showcasing handwoven table linens.

He let her browse and headed toward the register.

“Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in—your dead-to-me uncle.” Nirina, his baby sister, took after Mama B in the high cheekbones, big smile, and hair-styling creativity departments. She had the Wright eyes, and her skin was exactly halfway between Mama B’s dark and Emmett Wright’s Irish pale. She was rubbing a ringed hand smugly over her rounded belly.

“Niri, have a heart. I come bearing gifts,” he said, stepping behind the counter to give his half-sister a hug.

“I don’t want any gift from you unless it’s—”

He cut her off and jerked a thumb in Maggie’s direction. “I kidnapped my new boss. Thought you might like to meet her.”

Niri’s eyes widened. The beads of her bracelets clicked when she interlaced her fingers under her chin. “Is that?”

“Uh-huh.” He nodded.

“You’re the best brother in the universe!” she hissed. Then threw her arms around him for a quick, hard hug. “Holy shit. Okay. I’m gonna get Kayla. Do not let that woman leave.”

That was high up on his agenda.

Nirina dashed off toward the back office, nimble on her feet for five months pregnant.

He headed back to Maggie. She had one of the airy, featherweight throws tossed over her shoulder, the blue serving dish was tucked under her arm, and she was studying a smaller version of the pedestal table at the front of the store. “Find anything you like?”

“Nope. Not a thing,” she said, then looked up at him guiltily. “Ugh. Fine. Here. Hold this. And this.” She unloaded everything into his arms and dug into her purse. “Here’s your dumb five dollars. Now, go buy me a coffee and leave me to explore every inch of this place.”

“You like it?” he asked.