Catch of the Day (Gideon's Cove #1)(40)

“Chantal, remember how you were telling me I should check out Malone?” I blush and take a bite of my cheeseburger to cover.

“Oh, Christ, I wasn’t serious,” she says. “He’s all wrong for you. Not husband material at all, if you know what I mean.”

“No, no. I know that.” I don’t, actually, but for some reason, I don’t want to admit to my…whatever it is that Malone and I are doing together. “No, I was just wondering if you ever…you know. Hooked up with him,” I ask, dreading the answer.

Chantal sucks up some milkshake through her straw, managing to look quite  p**n ographic as she does, something I’m sure she practices. “Nope. I haven’t. Not yet, I should say, and not for lack of trying, mind you,” she says easily.

My shoulders drop in relief and, I admit, pleasure. “He turned you down?” I ask, surprised—Chantal could fill the bleacher seats at Fenway with the men she’s entertained.

“Well, sort of. I mean, I flirt with him, because he really is pretty hot in that ugly guy way, but he just kind of smiles and drinks his beer. I think he’s g*y.”

Doubt that. “He smiles?” I ask.

“Well, maybe not. But there was this thing once, long time ago now, back when we were still in school…” She stops and drops her eyes, her thickly mascaraed lashes shielding her expression.

“What?” I ask, leaning forward.

“Well, it was nothing. I gave him a ride. Someone had roughed him up…this must’ve been when I was a senior, because I was driving my dad’s Camaro, I remember, and Malone was out walking by the blueberry plant, and I pulled over and drove him home.”

“Really?” This little nugget of history fascinates me, picturing Malone as a youth. “Did he say what happened or anything? Did you guys talk?”

“Not that I remember,” Chantal answers, chewing thoughtfully on a fry. “I just gave him some tissues for his lip, because it was bleeding. For a while, I thought he might have had a crush on me…you know, we had this little secret between us, and he was a year or so behind me in school, but nothing ever came of it.” She drains the last of her milkshake. “Still, that brooding thing he’s got going on is pretty steamy. Don’t you think? Or, no, I forgot. You like them all sunshine and light and goodness. And speaking of, there goes Father What-a-Waste.” Chantal’s voice drops to an unmistakable purr as Father Tim walks past, throwing us a wave and a smile as he goes about his business. “God, he’s delicious.”

“Now, now. You know he doesn’t like us to talk like that,” I say primly.

“Mmm. But he is, isn’t he?” she purrs, smiling widely.

I laugh, unable to resist. “Yes. He is.”

“I SLEPT WITH Malone,” I tell my sister later that day.

“What?” she shrieks, dropping the baby’s plastic bottle. “Jesus, Maggie! Give a person a little warning here!”

Being the one with the news packs a certain wallop. It’s definitely been Christy’s life that has grabbed the most headlines, aside from my own embarrassing forays into the Catholic church. And so dropping this choice little nugget is, I admit, incredibly satisfying.

It’s showering outside, a gentle, nourishing rain that patters in the gutters and against the lead-paned windows of Christy’s house, deepening the three inches of mud that already blankets the great outdoors. Violet is sleeping, Christy is tidying, I’m lounging.

Christy sits down across from me and takes a sip of her now-cold tea. “Let me warm this up,” she says, sticking her mug in the microwave and pressing some buttons. “I want to hear every detail. And Violet better not wake up, because she’s going to have to wait.”

I tell her, starting with the kiss when he drove me home and ending with waking up alone this morning.

“Wow,” she sighs. “This is…wow. And I have to say, I told you so. Remember?”

“Yes, I do. Well done.” I salute her with my mug.

“So…Malone. He’s really…well, what’s he like? What do you guys talk about?”

I blush. “That’s a good question. Of course, it’s only been a couple of days. We haven’t talked much.”

“Oh, really?” Christy purrs. “So. Okay. He’s sexy, we knew that. I love the scruffy ones.”

“You do?” I ask. Will is quite tidy and clean-shaven.

“You always want what you don’t have,” she tells me with a wink. “More about Malone, please. What else?”

“Okay, well, we covered the great in bed part. Incredible kisser. Doesn’t talk much. That’s all I know.” I sigh. “He really hardly talks at all, Christy.” I frown and trace the rim of my cup. “To tell you the truth. I’m sleeping with a guy I really don’t know very well. It’s a little slutty.”

“Is that how he makes you feel?” Christy asks, mirroring my frown with one of her own.

I think about that. “No. He makes me feel…beautiful.”

Christy’s frown morphs into a smile. “Oh…that’s nice,” she sighs. “Beautiful is good.”

I smile, too. “Yes, it is. I just wish…”

“What?”

“Well, I just wish he was more…talkative. More like…” I wince but tell my sister the truth. “More like Father Tim.”