Christmas Eve at Friday Harbor (Friday Harbor #1)(40)

Mark lifted his glass. “To the triumph of hope over experience,” he said, and they all clinked again.

Maggie smiled at him. A perfect toast, she thought, on what had turned out to be a perfect day.

After dinner and a dessert of pie and coffee and milk for Holly, they cleared the dishes, cleaned the kitchen, and put the leftovers in covered containers. Sam turned on the television, found a football game, and stretched out on a recliner. Full and replete, Holly snuggled in a corner of the sofa and promptly fell asleep. Maggie covered her with a throw blanket and sat next to Mark at the other end of the sofa. Renfield went to his dog bed in the corner and flopped down with a grunt of contentment.

Although Maggie didn’t care much about football one way or the other, she liked the ritual of watching a Thanksgiving game. It reminded her of all the Thanksgivings she had spent with her father and brothers, all of them hooting, moaning, and protesting the ref’s calls.

Alex came to the doorway. “I’m heading out now,” he said.

“Stay and watch the game,” Sam said.

“We’ll need help eating the leftovers,” Mark added.

Alex shook his head. “Thanks, but I’ve had enough family time. Nice to meet you, Maggie.”

“Nice to meet you, too.”

Sam rolled his eyes after Alex had left. “Spreading joy and sunshine wherever he goes.”

“With his marriage breaking up,” Maggie said, “it’s normal for him to go through a dark period.”

The brothers seemed to find this highly amusing. “Honey,” Mark said, “Alex has been in a dark period since the age of two.”

Eventually Maggie found herself leaning in the crook of Mark’s arm. His body was hard and warm, his shoulder supporting her head perfectly. She only half watched the game, the television screen a blur of color as she absorbed the feeling of being close to Mark.

“The mac and cheese,” he said, “was even better than I had imagined.”

“Secret ingredient.”

“What is it?”

“I won’t tell you mine unless you tell me yours.”

There was a smile in his voice. “You first.”

“I put a drizzle of truffle oil in the sauce. Now tell what you put in the coffee.”

“A hint of maple sugar.” He had taken her hand, his thumb stroking over the crests of her knuckles. The casual sensuality of his touch sent a deep, subtle quiver through her. She felt an equal measure of pleasure and despair, privately acknowledging that for a woman who had decided not to get involved, she had made a hell of a lot of questionable choices recently.

What was it Elizabeth had said?…That when it stopped feeling like flirting, that was when it became a problem. And it was impossible for Maggie to deny that it had gone beyond flirtation, far past the superficial. She could love him, if she let it happen. Deeply, passionately, ruinously.

He was the trap she had once desperately promised herself to avoid.

“I have to go,” she whispered.

“No, stay.” Mark looked into her eyes, and whatever he saw caused him to lift his hand to her cheek in the gentlest possible caress. “What is it?” he murmured.

Maggie shook her head and tried to force a smile, and pushed away from him. Every muscle tightened in protest as she left the warm comfort of his proximity. She went to Holly, who was still sleeping soundly, and bent to kiss her.

“Are you going?” Sam asked, levering himself out of the recliner.

“No need to get up,” Maggie said, but Sam came to her and put his arms around her in a brotherly hug.

“You know,” he said affably, “if you lose interest in my brother, I’m a refreshing alternative.”

Maggie laughed and shook her head.

As Mark walked outside with Maggie, he was filled with desire and liking and sympathy, all bound with a thread of frustration. He understood the conflict within her, probably better than she would have believed. And he found himself in the position of having to push her, carefully, into something she was determined never to be ready for. If it were merely a question of being patient, he would have given her all the patience in the world. But that wouldn’t be enough to get her past her fears.

He stopped her on the front porch, wanting to talk for a minute or two before they went out into the icy open breeze.

“Are you working at the shop tomorrow?” he asked.

Maggie nodded, not quite meeting his gaze. “It’s going to be pretty busy from now until Christmas.”

“How about dinner one night this week?”

That got her to look at him. Her eyes were soft and dark, her mouth edged with melancholy. “Mark, I…” She stopped and swallowed hard, and looked so woebegone that he instinctively reached for her. She stiffened, wedging her forearms between them, but he continued to hold her anyway. Their breaths mingled in puffs of steam.

“How come Sam got to hug you,” Mark whispered, “and I don’t?”

“Different kind of hug,” she managed to say.

Mark lowered his forehead to hers. “Because you want me,” he murmured.

Maggie didn’t deny it.

A long moment passed, and she unfolded and slid her arms around him. “I’m not what you need,” she said, her voice muffled in his sweater. “You need someone who can make a commitment to you and Holly. Someone who can be part of your family.”