Page 6 of Raise The Bar
I feel myself stiffen but manage to remain focused on the magnolia blooms I’ve been admiring.
“Did you not know?” she asks, closing in on me like a lioness who’s sniffed out a wounded gazelle. “I saw him last weekend at some bar in the West End with a blonde that you could have babysat when you were in high school. I didn’t speak to him, of course, because I’m far too loyal. I’m Team Magpie, all the way.”
It comes as a bit of a shock, but not an unpleasant one. Mark spent months trying to get me back. He called and texted me to the point that I had to block his number. When he started showing up at my work and at Betty’s apartment, I told him I would involve the police if he didn’t leave me alone. It worked and the past four months have been a blissful Mark-free zone. If anything, I feel bad for the next girl he dates.
“That’s sweet, April, but it’s good to hear Mark’s moving on. I left him, remember? Feel free to say ‘hi’ to him next time you run into him.”
Failing to get the reaction she so desperately craves, April huffs out something about needing to be somewhere better before giving us both exaggerated air kisses and breezing out on her seven hundred dollar heels. We stand together watching her go and breathe a synchronized sigh of relief when she disappears from sight.
“Why do I always have a bad taste in my mouth after I see her?”
“It’s calledThe April Effect.” June giggles, throwing an arm around my shoulder. “Let’s go gargle a glass of wine or two and see if it goes away.”
Two hours and two glasses of wine later, I’m making my way home on foot after saying goodbye to my sister. We’ve grown much closer in the past six months. I had managed to hide how unhappy I was for months when she first moved home. She had been busy with work and I always put on a happy face when we hung out. Coming clean to her when I left had been hard, but she’s been a pillar of support ever since.
Remembering Winnie’s homework assignment, I decide to pop into a local bookstore on my way home. I fight the urge to pick up a new release by one of my favorite authors, remembering that her last book upset me so much I had sobbed myself to sleep. I head straight to the Romance section, admiring the brightly colored display tables along the way. I find two of the three books Winnie “prescribed” me and buy them without reading the back covers. Immensely proud of myself, I practically float the rest of the way home.
When I reach my apartment, I dig into my oversized designer bag for my keys and find that they are not in their usual pocket. I check again and then proceed to search the rest of the bag. Nothing.
Shit. I close my eyes and picture the apartment key sitting on my counter at work. I’ve been meaning to add it to my work keychain ever since Betty gave it to me. I could go back to work to get them, but I’ve been walking in these sandals for most of the day and I already feel the beginning of a blister on my right heel. I knock on the door hoping Betty is home but knowing she’s likely out shopping for the week ahead. No answer. Remembering that Josh has our spare key I practically sprint down the hall to his apartment.
I knock three times and hope against hope that he’s at home. On top of everything else, the wine has made its way to my bladder and I desperately need to relieve myself. I sigh in relief when I hear the deadbolt turning.
“You have NO IDEA how happy I am to see you,” I exclaim happily as the door opens. Only it’s not Josh looking back at me.
“It’s awfully nice to see you too, Maggie,” Callum answers with a low voice and a cocky grin.
Chapter 3
Callum
This woman is fucking flawless.
To be fair, I don’t know her well enough to say that. She could have any number of personality defects or moral faults. If I were to spend more time with her, I may discover that she chews tobacco or has a gambling problem. Maybe she’s a stingy tipper that lies on her tax returns. Hell, for all I know, she hates puppies and doesn’t brake for the elderly. But that’s not what I’m talking about.
Maggie stands in the doorway, her brown curls messily piled on top of her head. She’s dressed casually in a baggy Red Sox t-shirt and denim shorts that show off her gorgeous legs. Not a speck of make-up on her face, just smooth, rich brown skin and full, kissable lips. Her eyes are what get me every time. They’re the loveliest shade of brown with flecks of gold that light up when she smiles. I think back to the last time I saw her, her gold dress making them even more visible. Her eyelashes are extra long and lush as if they need to be in order to protect those perfect eyes.
Like I said.Flawless.
Clearly I am not who she expected to see. Her expression morphs from shock to wariness and given the circumstances of our last meeting, I can’t blame her.
“Josh isn’t here. He left with Betty about an hour ago. I don’t know when they’ll be back.” I step to the side. “Do you want to come in?”
“I’m locked out of my apartment and Josh has the spare key.” Her face flushes with the admission and she doesn’t meet my eyes. Her feet remain rooted in the hallway.
“It happens.” I wish she’d look at me. “I don’t know where he keeps the key, but I can help you look?”
“Sure.” She breezes past me at a break-neck pace. “Let’s split up.” She rushes into the bathroom and closes the door behind her.
Okay, then. She’s definitely still upset about New Year’s Eve.
How many times had I wished that evening had gone differently. If I had known she was going to be there, I definitely would not have brought a date. Hell, I hadn’t been able to get her out of my head since our brief introduction back in the fall. Laying eyes on her for the first time temporarily rendered me speechless. Actually speechless. And if there is one thing I never have difficulty with, it’s talking. It’s kind of my thing. The way she smiled at me? A kind smile that asked for nothing in return.
Something about this girl stuck with me. When I’d asked Josh about her he’d told me she was in a long-term relationship. I never dreamed I’d find her alone, looking the way she did, on a holiday where it’s customary to kiss random people at midnight.
I’d come close to kissing her that night. The scene has played in my head too many times to count. Her body, leaning in. Her hooded eyes and full lips. Her face turning up to meet mine. But then we were so rudely interrupted by my date.
God, you’re an asshole. That wasn’t her fault. Sasha and I met through a mutual friend last year and hooked up a couple of times. She was in town for the holidays and asked to meet up. We were two people who got along well and occasionally had sex. No feelings, no strings.
