Catch of the Day (Gideon's Cove #1)(50)

“Jesus, Stevie, you’re such an ass,” I say, getting better control of my voice. “I wasn’t…there’s nothing…he’s a priest! Come on! Kissing! Jeez.”

“’Cause, Maggie, if you’re that desperate, I could help you out, babe. Show you a good time, if you know what I mean.”

“Jonah! Can you beat him up or something? That’s your sister he’s talking about,” I remind my brother, shooting another nervous glance at Malone.

“Shut up, Stevie,” Jonah says automatically, stuffing a fistful of popcorn into his mouth.

“I’m not dating Father Tim,” I say emphatically, my eyes darting between Malone and Stevie. “He’s a priest! Of course I’m not…you know. Oh, look, another run.” Thank God, I think, as the Red Sox divert Stevie’s tenuous attention.

It doesn’t divert Malone’s. He continues to look at me, the lines that run between his eyebrows and slash alongside his mouth harsher. I shrug as if to say, Stevie, what an ass, but I’m betting my face gives me away. Goddamned fair skin.

At the next commercial break, Malone extricates himself from Colonel and the couch. “Thanks, Maggie. Guys. I’m gonna go.”

“The game’s not over!” Stevie protests.

“Gotta get up early,” Malone says. “See you.” He grabs his coat and opens the door. I start to go after him, then stop.

“Okay, bye, Malone. Nice to see you,” I call out idiotically. He gives a curt nod and walks out, his feet thumping down the stairs.

“There’s an odd one,” Stevie says, glancing at the door.

“He’s not bad,” Jonah says mildly. “Hey, Maggot, got any more beer?”

Because my luck is pretty bad these days, the Devil Rays (the Devil Rays!) somehow catch up with the Red Sox, and the game goes into extra innings. It’s after eleven by the time the boys finally leave, full of popcorn, beer and woe. The minute they’re gone, I throw on my coat, stuff my feet into my wool clogs and call to Colonel. It only takes me a few minutes to get to Malone’s house.

There are no lights on inside, and the house is quiet. I knock softly, then wait. No answer. I knock again, a bit more loudly this time. After a minute, I hear Malone’s footsteps. Colonel wags as he opens the door.

“Hi,” I say.

“It’s late, Maggie,” he answers, looking over my head.

“Right. I’ll just be a minute. Can I come in? It’s kind of important. Plus, it’s cold. Got really chilly, didn’t it?”

I clamp my mouth shut against the automatic babble that pours out of me when I’m nervous and slip past Malone, who looks wicked sexy, if less than welcoming. He’s wearing a pair of jeans and a white T-shirt, and his feet are bare. Even so, he’s a good six inches taller than I am.

Colonel is panting after our walk, and without a word, Malone goes into the kitchen, takes a bowl down from the cupboard and fills it with water. He sets it on the floor, kneeling down to scratch Colonel’s ears as my dog drinks. “You’re a good crittah,” Malone says, our Maine designation for anything four-legged. Colonel wags in agreement, then goes under the table to lie down. Malone stands up and leans against the counter, folding his arms across his chest. “So what do you want, Maggie?”

I take a deep breath, distracted by the sight of his thickly muscled arms. How I ever felt Malone was unattractive is a mystery. I remind myself to focus, but before I can, I start talking. “Well, I just…I guess…” I guess I should have planned what to say, that’s what. “I just wanted to say, you know…Stevie, what Stevie said about me telling Father Tim that, um, you know…well, of course I’m not dating Father Tim. Of course. I mean, he’s a priest, right? So of course not.”

Malone purses his lips as if deciding whether to believe me or not, and the words continue to rush out of my mouth.

“We’re friends, Father Tim and I. He’s actually one of my best friends. We hang out sometimes. Well, I mean, he comes into the diner every morning for breakfast. Sometimes we go to a movie. Once in a while. Actually, it was maybe twice. There was a group of us, not just us two, of course…And I do a lot for the church, you know? Committees and stuff like that. But no dating. Obviously. Since he’s a priest.”

Malone looks at the floor, and I force my mouth shut and wait for him to speak. He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Look, Maggie,” he says quietly. “I live in this town, too. I hear things.” He looks back at me.

My nervous energy drains into the floor. “Right.” The clock over the fridge ticks loudly, reminding me that it’s almost midnight and Malone and I both have to get up early. “Well, the thing is, I did have a thing for Father Tim. And I did actually—” I swallow “—I did say that I loved him. While I was under the influence, I might add.”

Malone says nothing.

“So. There you have it.” I fiddle with the zipper of my coat, wondering if I just severed things completely with Mr. Happy here. As the silence stretches on, I feel a stir of irritation. “You know, Malone, I’ve heard things about you, too,” I say, a defensive note creeping into my voice. “And just because that’s the gossip doesn’t mean I believe it.”

His face darkens, but I continue anyway. “There was that thing about your cousin last year, right? I mean, people had a whole lot to say about that. But I didn’t jump to any conclusions or anything.”