Page 9 of Reluctant Surrender

I’ll knock it down.

As I raisedmy fist again, there was the telltale sound of the metal bolt sliding to the side. The door swung open in the next instant and Maggie stood before me, eyes wild with annoyance, her hair messed up from sleeping, and mascara smudged across her cheek.

She was dressed in a white tank top and short pajama shorts that her ass cheeks probably hung out of.

“What?” she demanded, digging the heel of her hand into her left eye.

“What?”

“Yes. What are you doing here? What do you want?” She dropped her hand and yawned.

“You were supposed to text me when you were ready to leave,” I reminded her.

She blinked a few times, as though she were rewinding the previous night in her mind. The smell of whiskey still clung to her.

“Did you drive yourself home?” My blood ran hot thinking about what could have happened to her.

“No.” She shook her head. “Carol drove me. Tiffany drove my car.” She ran her hands over her hair, pressing down the mess. “I think.”

“You think?” I took a step toward her, gently pressing her shoulder until she backed up and let me inside.

After kicking the door closed, I glared down at her.

“I’m sure she did.” She turned away from me, walking to the kitchenette to her left, giving me a prime peek at her ass cheeks creeping out of her pajama shorts. “She did. I remember now.”

She picked up a bottle of water from the counter that separated the kitchenette and the living room. While she downed the water, I surveyed the place. One of the blinds was broken on her front windows. The furniture that she’d brought with her from the studio apartment looked out of place, too big for the small space.

“How’d you find me anyway?” She screwed the cap back on the water bottle.

I stuffed my phone into the back pocket of my jeans. “Did you think I wouldn’t be able to?”

“I didn’t think I’d need to hide from you,” she snapped back. “You didn’t have to come all this way.”

“You were supposed to get me so I could take you home last night,” I reminded her again, moving to the kitchen counter. Another glance at the stove with two burners, the fridge that would be better suited in a dorm room than an apartment, and I clenched my teeth.

“I had my friends.”

“You sure you just didn’t want me to know you were living here?” I asked, gesturing to the apartment. “What happened to the studio?”

She tucked her hair behind her ears and firmed her jaw. “Nothing happened to it. It’s fine.”

“Why are you living here instead of there?” I asked more directly.

“It’s cheaper.”

“There’s no way in hell Amelia wouldn’t have told Christian about your move.”

She blew out a heavy breath. “Look. I know your brother is married to Amelia and he’s all about making her happy right now, which means he wants to be sure I’m all set up and fine. But I don’t need a babysitter. I’m doing just fine all on my own.” She grabbed the water bottle again; the plastic crinkled beneath her death grip.

“Oh, it looks like it,” I said, staring at the cigarette burn in the carpet at my feet.

“Don’t be such a snob.” She downed the rest of the water and tossed the empty bottle into the open garbage can a few feet away from her.

“How did you go from living near the lake to living here?” I grabbed hold of her arm when she turned to walk away again. “Tell me. Now, Maggie. You’re already in a shit spot because of what you pulled last night.”

Her eyes filled with heat at my warning of what was to come.

“Look. Just because I joined you when you went to New York for Amelia and Christian’s wedding doesn’t mean you have the right to keep hounding me like this. I’m not your problem. I’m not anyone’s problem.” She yanked out of my grip, staggering back a step before she righted herself.

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