Catch of the Day (Gideon's Cove #1)(39)
“Thank you, Maggie,” he says gently. “You have a gift of making people feel very special. You know that, I hope.”
I smile, feel a warm squeeze in my chest. “Thanks, Father Tim,” I half whisper.
After we hang up, I go into the bathroom and look at myself in the mirror. I like my face. It’s not beautiful, not really, but it’s nice enough. Pretty. A pleasing, friendly face. And to hear Father Tim confide in me, tell me I have a gift…well. I like my face even more. Of course, Christy’s face is exactly like mine, but that’s a minor detail.
There’s a knock at the door, and I jump.
It’s Malone, his face as cheerful as the angel of death. Irritation, nervousness and attraction flutter around in my chest as I open the door. “Hi,” I say. “Hey. How are you, Malone? Oh, what a nice night, isn’t it? I thought maybe it was raining.”
He stands there, looking at me as if assessing my babble, then deigns to speak. “Hi.”
“Hi,” I echo in full idiot mode. “So. Want to come in?”
He steps inside, immediately making my apartment seem even smaller than it is. Colonel slips off the couch and comes over to greet my guest, wagging gently. “Hey, boy,” Malone says, bending down to pet Colonel’s head. Colonel licks his hand and goes to his doggy bed in the corner and begins his nightly ritualfive turns in a tight circle, followed by intensive sniffing, followed by the actual lying down. I watch him intently so as not to have to look at Malone, who is staring at me. Don’t say anything, Maggie. Let him go first. Keep your mouth shut.
“Can I get you a beer or some coffee or something, Malone?” I ask. My inner self rolls her eyes at me.
“No, thanks,” Malone says.
“Okay, well, um, do you want to take off your coat?”
He takes it off and hangs it on a hook. The silence stretches on.
“So, Malone, what are you doing here?” I ask. “I mean, it’s a little late. Almost eleven.”
“I wanted to see you,” he says, and there’s a softening around his mouth. My stomach squeezes gently in response. God, I’m such a slut.
“Well, you know, Malone, I do have a phone. And I am in the book. Maybe you could call next time.” My prissy tone doesn’t fool me; even now, I’m kind of hoping he’ll take me on the kitchen table. He steps closer, and my heart rate kicks up. Oh, yes, the table…
“Line was busy,” he murmurs, his scraping voice sending tremors to my joints.
“What? Oh. Yes. Yes. That’s right. I was…on the…you know…the phone.”
He takes my hands in his and pulls me closer, studying my mouth. I can feel the heat from his body, smell his soap and laundry detergent and a faint, salty smell. Resisting a strong urge to lick his neck, I swallow. “Who were you talking to?” he asks, just when I want him to kiss me the way he did last night. He raises an eyebrow, waiting.
“What? Excuse me, I mean?” My voice is tight.
“Who were you talking to?”
“Um…Iwell, I think it was Father Tim.”
Malone’s eyes meet mine.
“Yeah, you know, I’m on all these committees and stuff. At church. Church committees.”
His eyes return to my mouth, his tangled lashes lowering. Lashes like that are just not fair. “That’s nice,” he mutters.
“Malone,” I whisper hoarsely, then clear my throat. “You think you could drop the chitchat and kiss me?”
CHAPTER TWELVE
SO WHEN I wake up in the morning, alone again, I really have no one to blame but myself. I’m as clueless as I was yesterday. Perhaps I should make a list and mail it to him, because that man does something to my brain. Things to Ask Malone. 1. Are we seeing each other or just sleeping together? 2. Do you like me at all, or is this just a physical thing? (Unfortunately, I suspect the latter…at least on my part.)3. Can you tell me about yourself so I don’t feel like you’re a total stranger? 4. Why don’t you ever come into the diner?
Oddly enough, it’s the last thing that bothers me the most. The diner is a surprising little treasure in Gideon’s Cove. For the first few years that I ran it, I worked a second job over at the hospital, filing medical records from four until ten each night so that I could sink some money into the diner. It took me almost four years to completely restore it. I pulled up the linoleum that Granddad put down over the tile floors, painstakingly retiling the areas that needed it, scouring the grout with bleach until my hands were raw. Reupholstering the seats in their original red vinyl took some money, and I had to buy the bigger oven so that I could bake all the homemade goodies that we’re now known for. I’d like Malone to see it, to have that pie that I promised him.
Chantal comes in for lunch, something she does every Thursday, and because Judy is in a rare mood and actually working, I sit down and have lunch with the resident expert on the men of Gideon’s Cove.
“These fries are the best in town,” she says, popping another curly, spiced delicacy into her mouth.
“The only fries in town,” I correct her with a smile. When Chantal’s not busy seducing some man (or any man), she can be quite pleasant.
“You want to go to Dewey’s tonight?” she asks. “I could use a drink.”
“Um…well, no, I’d better not. I have stuff to do.” It’s true. Laundry. Bills. Possibly Malone. And speaking of tall, dark and not exactly handsome, I risk a question.