Catch of the Day (Gideon's Cove #1)(32)

“Thanks again, Malone. That was really—” My words are cut off, because Malone leans in and kisses me.

At first, I’m too shocked to think a damn thing. Malone! Kissing me! Of all the—but then it occurs to me that I’m kissing him right back, and it also occurs to me that Malone knows what he’s doing. His mouth is surprisingly soft and warm, and his razor stubble rasps gently against my skin. His hands cup my head, holding me steady, and I realize that my own hands are pressed against his chest. He feels deliciously solid, his heart thudding under my palm. His mouth moves to my jaw, and I breathe in the smell of soap and salt. Then he kisses my mouth again. My knees tingle and grow weak, and I grip his shirt, giving a little sigh. Then Malone pulls back, smooths his thumb across my mouth and looks down at the floor of my porch.

For a moment, I think he’s going to say something, but he doesn’t. He just gives a terse nod and heads down the stairs.

“Um…good night,” I call. He lifts his hand and gets into his still-running truck, then drives off in a most ordinary manner, leaving me dazed and stunned on my little porch. “Right,” I say. Perhaps I will wake up in the morning and find that this whole night has been just a bizarre dream. Those wiggly knees of mine are telling me different.

I go inside and kneel down to pet Colonel, who is waiting patiently by the door. “Hey, buddy,” I say. “How’s my pooch?” He licks my chin, then, satisfied that I am indeed home again, goes back to his doggy bed in the corner and lies down with a groan.

“Malone kissed me tonight,” I tell him.

Colonel doesn’t understand it, either.

CHAPTER NINE

I GET A CALL on my cell phone the next day while I’m at the diner, and for a brief second, I think it might be Malone. It’s not. Of course not, as he doesn’t have the number.

“Maggie, hi, it’s Doug,” says the caller.

Doug? Oh, Doug. “Hi,” I say.

“Listen, I’m so, so sorry about last night,” he says. There’s a pause. I wait to feel bad, but nothing comes. “I just panicked at the last minute,” Doug says. His voice is heavy with misery. “Maggie, I guess I’m not really ready to see someone.”

“That’s okay,” I tell him. I ring up Stuart and move the phone away from my cheek. “Everything okay today, Stuart?”

“Wonderful, Maggie.” He hands me his filled-out ballot, and I wink at him and resume my conversation. “Don’t worry about it, Doug.”

“No, it’s not okay. I completely chickened out and didn’t even call. I feel awful,” he says. I think he’s crying.

Some high school girls open the door in a cloud of giggles. “Sit wherever you’d like, girls,” I tell them. “Doug, hang on a sec.” I take the phone into the closet that serves as my office and wedge myself inside. “Hi. Sorry, I’m at the diner. But I can talk now.”

“I was all set to meet you,” Doug chokes. “I was actually in the car, but I just couldn’t do it. You sound like the nicest person—”

“Listen, Doug,” I interrupt gently. “It’s okay. To tell you the truth, I ran into an old friend and we had a really nice time.” A bit of a stretch, but the truth is rather complicated at this moment.

“Really?” Doug asks hopefully.

“Yes,” I say. I can hear Georgie making his exuberant entrance, Octavio singing quietly. “It sounds like you’re just not ready yet to meet somebody, and that’s perfectly fine. When the time is right, you’ll know it.”

Doug doesn’t answer for a minute, and I realize he’s crying in earnest. “Do you think so?” he asks thickly, confirming my guess.

“I sure do, Doug.” I pause. “From what you said, your wife sounded like a really great person. It’ll take some time for you to want to be with someone else.”

“I think you’re one of the nicest people I’ve never met,” Doug says with a choked laugh.

“If you ever want to get together as friends, I’d like that,” I tell him. I wonder if I’d be so generous if Malone hadn’t given me something else to think about last night.

Last night, I lay awake in bed for nearly an hour, wondering at the strangeness of humanity. Usually when someone is attracted to someone else, there are signs. Not so with Malone. In fact, I’d have bet my last dollar that he suffered through every minute of our bizarre dinner together. That he didn’t like me a bit, especially after I was so catty in the bar with Chantal that night.

Father Tim comes in at 8:30, right after Mass. “Maggie, I want to hear every detail,” he says, rubbing his hands together eagerly. “Oh, and I’ll have the eggs benedict today, I think. With regular bacon instead of Canadian, if that’s all right?”

“Sure. One Father Tim special coming up.” I smile and pour him some coffee, then go into the kitchen to put his order in. When I come out, Chantal is sliding into the seat across from the priest. Any male, no matter his profession, is open season for Chantal.

“Hey, Chantal,” I say.

“Hi, Maggie. What’s new?” she purrs.

I feel my cheeks grow warm at her question. Chantal hears everything. Did someone see Malone and me together last night? Were there any Gideon’s Cove residents at Jason’s Taverne? Did someone perhaps see us kissing? I wonder if he’ll call me and ask me out. I mean, why would he kiss me—the mere memory of it causes a flutter—if he didn’t want to see me again?