Christmas Eve at Friday Harbor (Friday Harbor #1)(26)

“I’ll come back for it later.”

Having rung up the other customers, Elizabeth approached them. “Mark, I’ve been trying to convince Maggie to meet Sam. Don’t you think they would have a good time together?”

Holly’s face lit up at the suggestion. “You would like my uncle Sam a lot,” she told Maggie. “He’s funny. And he has a Blu-ray player.”

“Well, those are my two requirements,” Maggie replied with a grin. She glanced up at Mark, whose face had gone expressionless. “Would I like him?” she dared to ask.

“You don’t have much in common.”

“They’re both young and single,” Elizabeth protested. “What else do they have to have in common?”

Now Mark was wearing a distinct scowl. “You want to be introduced to Sam?” he asked Maggie.

She shrugged. “I’m pretty busy.”

“Let me know when you decide. I’ll take care of it.” He gestured to Holly. “Time to go.”

“Bye!” the little girl said brightly, coming forward to hug Maggie again.

“Bye, Holly.”

After the pair had left, Maggie glanced around the shop, which had cleared out for the time being. “Let’s have lunch,” she told Elizabeth. They went to the room at the back of the shop and sat at the table, keeping their ears tuned for the telltale jingle of the bell on the door. While Elizabeth unwrapped the sandwiches, Maggie unscrewed the top of the thermos. An enticing scent wafted upward—toasty, rich, and cedary.

Maggie inhaled deeply, closing her eyes to concentrate on the heady fragrance.

“Now I understand,” she heard Elizabeth say.

Maggie opened her eyes. “Understand what?”

“Why you weren’t interested in meeting Sam.”

A breath stuck in her throat. “Oh…I…it has nothing to do with Mark, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“I saw the way he looked at you.”

“He’s involved with another woman. Seriously involved.”

“It’s not over till the ‘I dos’ have been said. And Mark brought you coffee.” This was stated as if the gesture was of incalculable significance. “It’s probably the equivalent of Dom Pérignon.” Elizabeth cast a covetous glance at the thermos.

“Would you like to try some?” Maggie asked, amused.

“I’ll go get my mug.”

The brew was already creamed and sugared, a flow of light steaming caramel pouring into their cups. Silently they raised their coffees in a toast, and drank.

It wasn’t just coffee…it was an experience. Smooth, roasted, buttery notes gave way to a velvet finish. Strength and sweetness, no trace of bitterness. It warmed Maggie down to her toes.

“Oh my,” Elizabeth said. “This is delicious.”

Maggie took another swallow. “It’s such a problem,” she said dolefully.

The older woman’s face softened with understanding. “Being attracted to Mark Nolan?”

“He’s off-limits. But whenever I see him, even though we’re not flirting, it feels like we are.”

“That’s not a problem,” Elizabeth said.

“It’s not?”

“No, it’s when it stops feeling like flirting that it becomes a problem. So go ahead and flirt—it may be the only thing that’s keeping you from having sex with him.”

Eight

On Halloween, Mark insisted that Sam be the one to take Holly to the activities in Friday Harbor, including a film show at the library, trick-or-treating at local stores, and a children’s party at the fairgrounds. “Make sure to drop by the toy shop to see Maggie,” Mark added.

“You sure?” Sam asked doubtfully.

“Yes. Everyone wants the two of you to meet, including Maggie herself. So go for it. Ask her out if you like her.”

“I don’t know,” Sam said. “You have that look on your face.”

“What look?”

“The look you get just before you kick someone’s ass.”

“I’m not going to kick anyone’s ass,” Mark said calmly. “She’s not mine. I’m with Shelby.”

“Then why does it feel like asking Maggie out would be rack jacking you?”

“It wouldn’t be rack jacking. I’m with Shelby.”

Sam had laughed quietly and scratched his head. “Your new mantra. Okay, I’ll check her out.”

Later Sam returned home with Holly, who’d had a wonderful time during the Halloween activies, and had filled an entire plastic pumpkin bucket with candy. Ceremoniously, they spread the candy on the table, surveyed it with admiration, and Holly chose two or three pieces to eat right then.

“Okay, upstairs to the bathtub,” Mark had said, bending down to let Holly climb onto his back. “This is about the grimiest, stickiest little fairy I’ve ever seen.”

“You don’t believe in fairies,” Holly said, giggling, as he carried her up the stairs piggyback.

“I do, too. I’ve got one right here.”

After drawing her bath and putting a clean nightgown and towel on the closed lid of the toilet seat, Mark went downstairs. Sam had just finished putting the candy into a large Ziploc, and was straightening up the kitchen.