Maggie Moves On(81)
“I’m yours to corrupt,” he promised.
“Keep your sexytime comments to yourself for a minute,” she said, opening her camera app. She stood and began to record their little viewing party. Silas made sure to wink at the camera when she pointed it in his direction.
“Holy shit!” Dean jumped out of his camp chair so fast that it toppled and collapsed. “What’s that number?” he demanded, shoving the phone in Cody’s face.
“Uh, 1,000,061?” Cody read.
“What?” Maggie asked shrilly.
Silas rescued her phone just before she was tackled to the ground and hugged by Dean and Cody. He hoped to God the video was still recording because this was a moment of magic.
“One million fucking subscribers!” Dean shrieked.
“You guys did it,” Cody said.
“We did it,” Maggie said, her voice muffled by the aggressive hugging.
Their live audience erupted, and Silas could feel the pride. Each feeling like they’d contributed to the success, each recognizing a personal stake in the game.
“I don’t know what one million subscribers means, but it sounds important,” Albert from Shitter’s Full Plumbing whooped, jumping on the growing pile of bodies.
Maggie managed to crawl her way out of the hug pyramid and make her way toward him, a smile wide and fierce lighting up her beautiful face. Silas tossed her phone aside a split second before she jumped into his arms. He swung her around, lifting her feet off the ground.
“Are you here for this, Mags? Are you breathing this in?”
She wrapped her arms around him, holding him tight. “Yeah. I am.”
Megan’s RV Life: #HotLandscaperGuy
RetroMama711: In love with this house! And the landscaper!
Starla14: Hate Maggie’s hair color. She looks so gross and washed out.
VeggieMarathoner: OMG, I read A. Campbell’s book Canyon Secrets when I was in high school! So exciting to be working on a piece of history!
29
Silas drummed his fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of Jimmy Buffett as he turned onto Maggie’s lane. The windows were down, the music was up, and the warm breeze carried with it more than a hint of summer.
Even Kevin, not the world’s most morning-appreciative dog, seemed in tune with the energy. His ears ruffled in the breeze, tail wagging as the truck neared the house.
This was the kind of day Silas lived for.
He had a plan. He’d made a few calls and run a few early-morning errands before heading up into the hills. He was going to make sure it was a day his workaholic girlfriend would remember, too. Since the episodes of the Old Campbell Place started airing, Maggie’d doubled down on her work schedule, seeming determined to keep things moving.
He also had the distinct feeling she was using it as an excuse to put a little distance between them. It was a song and dance getting her to spend the night with him. She’d only caved twice in the past week, and the last time was only because he said he’d stay at her place.
If she had thought a night crammed into a cot was going to scare him off, she was sorely mistaken. Since childhood, he’d spent half his summer nights camping under the stars. He could handle Maggie’s cot if it meant she was wrapped around him.
Only Jim’s van was in the driveway so far. Silas parked the truck in front of the garage and climbed out, with Kevin on his heels. He understood Maggie’s motives. Self-preservation and all that. What they had going on was scary as shit. It was deeper and wider, sharper and more intense than anything he remembered with anyone else.
The woman was underestimating the hell out of him if she thought he was just going to let her wall herself off. He wasn’t going to make it easy to walk away.
It was time to dial up the heat.
He climbed into the bed of the truck, muscled the tree to the tailgate, and then carried it to the side of the garage. Returning to the truck, he reached into the backseat and grabbed the second surprise. The flower bed along the side of the house was deep and shaded. The Japanese maples they’d planted stood sentry over hostas and hellebore, ferns and mosses. He tucked the patinaed copper-blue heron statue into a grouping of columbine and whistled Kevin away from the trash can he was sniffing.
“Let’s go sweep our girl off her feet,” he told the dog.
Up for the game, Kevin charged toward the house. It was really starting to take shape. The siding—a gorgeous and unexpected dark blue—was done. The windows that had needed it had been swapped for energy-efficient replacements that—miracle of miracles—actually opened, closed, and locked.
Maggie had spent the last two days sanding down the wood trim on the front porch, getting ready to start painting. He’d checked the weather and knew they were in for at least a four-day stretch of balmy, breezy days.
Kevin, in search of his kitten friends, nosed his way through the screen door, and Silas followed.
He found Maggie and Cody in the kitchen. It was a homey scene, despite the lack of appliances, cabinets, and light fixtures. The only progress that had been made was the installation of the French doors, once the right set was delivered…four weeks late. The room was most definitely cursed. But his girl was undeterred.
The upside of not having a kitchen to work on meant that Jim’s crew was finally focused on the en suite bathroom in Maggie’s bedroom.