Chapter 9 MAEVYN
“Maevyn!”
Ugh, so close yet so far. I plaster a smile on my face as I turn to meet Lydia and her gaggle of perfectly manicured mums.
“Good morning,” I say, fiddling with my bangles. “What can I do for you?”
“I noticed you signed up to be a chaperone for camp next month, but you didn’t list a second person.”
“Do I need to bring a second person? I thought that was the point of me signing up… one more person to help?”
“Surely Aurora’s father wants to be involved, too?” Would it be too hostile to smack the smug look off her face?
“Well, he’s not—”
“We also need some more people to contribute baked goods for the fundraiser in a few weeks. Shall I put your name down for that, too?” Lydia cuts me off, pulling a pen and notebook from her handbag.
Yeah, if you want food poisoning, you can put me down for baked goods. I can’t bake for shit.
I remember seeing the email come through last week for their community day, but it was when I was getting ready for a set at The Matchbox. I completely forgot to go back to it.
I nervously adjust the strap of my bag on my shoulder. “Remind me of the details for that one again.” I chuckle. “I’ve been busy with work this week.”
“Our annual community day raises funds for a local charity of the students’ choosing. We host a raffle and bake sale. It’s always done very well in the past. Parents just love to get involved.”
Dear God, just beat me over the head with your world’s best mum tiara. Who has time for all this shit?
“Amazing.” I beam with zero authenticity. “I’ll donate a spa package for a local salon, and I’ll be sure to send Aurora to school with some treats.”
I’ll just figure something out with Claire and Liv. Anything to get this woman off my back.
“That’s the spirit we love,” Lydia says, arching a well-groomed brow. Damn, they’re fierce. I’m low-key impressed. “I’ll add you to the email list for updates.”
“Great.” Not.
“And you’ll send me her father’s details for the camp sign-up, yes?”
“Oh, of course,” I say with an exaggerated, obnoxious chuckle. “Right away.”
“Excellent.” Her smile is as fake as her nails as she spins on her designer heels, groupies falling in step behind her, while my stomach falls out of my arse, because… Whoops.
“W-wait! Lydia!” I call out, but she just throws a hand over her shoulder, waving like a queen.
Ah, fuck. That’s gonna be awkward to fix. I really should let people meet my sarcastic side in small doses first. Surely, she got that I was joking; otherwise, where the fuck am I going to find a fake dad? I pull out my phone and send a quick text to Pres.
ME:
Where does one find a fake baby daddy? And no, you don’t get to ask any other questions.
I stomp around my car, slamming the door and dropping my head against the steering wheel with a groan.
I sooo don’t need this kinda mess. Dammit, Maevyn, why can’t you hold a conversation like a normal person?
Oh, right, cos that sounds super boring.
Ugh, this is a problem for later. I put the windows down as I make the drive over to Parlour Tricks.
The warm air circles around me with every deep breath in and out.
I am peace. I am calm. I am—motherfucker, I can’t escape this guy!
My jaw hangs as I pass Westley’s ute parked in front of Parlour Tricks and pull into the car park behind the building.
It’s been five days since our balcony run-in.
We’ve seen each other in passing, but he hasn’t been back outside the last few nights.
It bugs me that it almost feels like I’m waiting for him.
Listening for the sound of his door sliding open, the deep rasp of his voice saying some playful little remark.
I walk around to the front doors instead of the back. My denim jacket is twined through the straps of my bag, knocking against me with every step.
I drop onto one hip, bangles clanging as they rest against my side. “Can’t get enough of me at home, you have to follow me to work too?”
I see the smile through his beard as he continues screwing a gold plaque into the painted pink bricks.
“Good morning to you, too, Trickster.”
My face contorts. “I beg your pardon?”
“Yeah, I haven’t quite figured you out yet.” My eyes get distracted by the flex of his forearms as he keeps turning the screw. “But I will.”
I flick my hair over my shoulder, trying to hide the obvious way the guy intrigues me. “Not sure what you think you need to figure out about me.”
“Everything.”
I sway over to him, eyes locking on the toolbelt before they crawl up to his handsome face. “You couldn’t handle everything, builder boy.”
He shoves the screwdriver into his toolbelt—that thing has no business being so attractive—and twists to face me, our chests almost touching. “Now that’s a challenge I’d happily accept.”
“Too bad I’d never play the game with you.”
“You wound me.” He holds a hand to his chest, giving me a fake look of sadness, but all it does is highlight how large his hand is.
“Ha! Liar.” I shake off the image of what those hands could do in another time and place as I walk behind him, heading to the doors.
Sage and apple dance in the air around me like a caress on my skin as he leans in, speaking low into my ear. “Flirt.”
My hand rests on the giant door handles before pulling them open, fire sizzling through my veins. “Thief,” I happily bite back.
“How did I earn that name, by the way?” He tilts his head curiously, while I take a moment to stare.
He’s wearing the green checkered flannel again, paired with work boots and beige cargo pants covered in flecks of white and grey from whatever mess he’s been working with. It’s unexpectedly sexy imagining a man working with his hands. No, not man. Westley.
“If there’s a misunderstanding we need to clear up, I’m more than willing.”
Against my will, I’m squeezing my legs together. I don’t want to tell him where the name comes from. It wasn’t even meant for him to hear. Muttered to myself in frustration that the guy kept hijacking all my thoughts, like a damn thief.
I’m ready to tell him I was just joking when I watch his face go from curious to sheer panic.
“Fuck,” he breathes out as he looks over my shoulder. I start to follow his gaze, wondering what he’s looking at, when he pulls my attention back with hurried words. “What would it take for you to play along with whatever happens in the next few minutes?” he says right beside my ear.
“Huh?”
“Name your price,” he says more urgently.
I’m unprepared for how his proximity affects me. It’s the first time I’m getting to indulge in a proper look of his eyes, the specks of amber and bursts of grey around the middle, nestled in a sea of green. He looks past my shoulder again, and this time, I follow.
A woman is coming towards us, her head tilted to the side as if she’s trying to get a better look.
“Ohh, is there someone you’re trying to fend off?” I lean into him, regretting the heat that comes when his skin brushes against mine. “I don’t know, it might be more fun to see you suffer.” I shouldn’t be the only one here doing that.
“Please, I’ll do anything. Come on, Trickster? Just pretend for a few minutes.” I don’t know what makes me give in… Momentary lapse in horniness?
“Fine, my payment is pending until I think of something good.”
“Thank you,” he whispers quickly, just as the new voice reaches us.
“Westley?”
I pivot on the spot and lean into Westley’s side. His large, warm palm hooks around me, resting over my hip. This does not help with my efforts to avoid thinking about my neighbour in a sexual manner.
“Hey, Phoebe,” he says, his voice now cool, calm, and collected.
The woman, Phoebe, smiles at him. Her eyes search between us, and her expression falters for a second before she shakes it off. Clearly an ex.
“Hi, I’m Maevyn.” I step forward with my hand out in greeting.
Her blue eyes turn dim, the only part of her mask that slips as she steps forward, taking my hand in hers. “Nice to meet you,” she says.
Her brown hair is pulled back in a neat ponytail, and she wears a button-up blouse tucked into pristine blue jeans with shiny black loafers. There’s no judgement in her eyes as she takes me in, no doubt ticking off all the differences between us.
“It’s been a while, West. You look good.
” Ohh dear, the longing in that confession definitely feels fresh, and something in my chest squeezes.
Wonder what that’s about? “Anyway, I should get to my appointment.” She points to Parlour Tricks.
Fantastic. That’s not going to be awkward at all.
“I guess I’ll see you both at the wedding? ”
Wedding?
“You bet,” Westley says, and a cold sweat rushes over my body.
The glass door closes behind her, my baffled expression reflecting back at me, before I spin on my heel. “I’m sorry, what wedding will she be seeing us at?” I ask.
Westley’s hand drops from my waist as he lets out an exasperated sigh. “Relax. Don’t get your knickers in a twist.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “I’m not wearing any.”
I watch his jaw clench, and his eyes seem to glaze over. Point one to Maevyn.
“A mutual friend is getting married. I already asked Liv to come as my date.”
“How is that gonna work when you just passed me off as your girlfriend?”
He shuts his eyes and squeezes behind his neck. “I don’t know.”
“I do. It was meant to be some little stunt in the moment, and now I have to go to a wedding.”
“I’ll figure something out.”
Discomfort and defeat loom over him, just as my phone buzzes in my hand. I can see the preview of a message on the screen.
PRESLEY:
Oh, I’m sorry. That question comes under the paid tier in the friendship subscription. Please provide ALL the fucking details to unlock the answer.
A thought crosses my mind. Aurora’s camp. My own predicament… Maybe this can benefit us both.
“Or maybe we can help each other out?” I say as if it’s not that big of a deal. I don’t want him thinking I need him more than he needs me.
“With?”
“There’s a camp at Aurora’s school, and they expect all the parents to be involved in some way. Apparently, I’m meant to bring a second person if I put my name down to volunteer, and I don’t have one.” My distaste for the whole situation grows with every word.
He steps into me, hand finding my waist again, and the roughness of his skin shouldn’t affect me the way it does. “Was someone mean to you?” he asks, the words low and measured, with an air of authority sending heat rushing through my entire body, along with this weird pull to lean into him.
“Just the perfect PTA mums lording their powers over the little guys,” I say with a shrug. “It’s fine. I’ve got it under control.”
His eyes narrow slightly as he reads my face. The silence is filled with all his unspoken thoughts, and they almost radiate… concern. For me? That can’t be right.
“Well, what do you say?” I demand, pushing the feelings down. All of them.
“Okay.” He nods. “You pretend to be my girlfriend for this wedding, and I’ll do whatever you need for Aurora.”
I know he has his own motivations for wanting to play along, but his statement feels like protection over my daughter. For so long, that’s only ever been my job.
I squeeze my hand between us, palm flat and ready. “Deal.”
Westley looks down at my hand, then over my shoulder. “She’s watching,” he mutters, looking back at me. “Can I kiss your cheek?” Kiss? At my panicked expression, he doubles down. “I can’t shake your fucking hand. We’re meant to be dating.”
His voice slips into something strained and sarcastic. Ohhh, daddy’s got a dominant side? I’m filing that information away for later.
I quickly summon the other side of myself, the Maevyn full of sultry fire, who doesn’t get affected by men—by anything—and lay a hand on his chest.
“So testy.” I pout. “You’d better make it good for me. It’s been a while.”
His chest inflates under my palm as he flips his hat around so it sits backward. Thank God his hand is still on my waist, or I might’ve dropped on the spot. The hat clearly has superpowers.
His head dips as he slowly moves in and presses his lips to my cheek. They’re surprisingly soft. Warm and pillowy. His beard tickles my chin, and I imagine it in other places. My eyes close, and my pulse feels sluggish. What in fresh hell is this feeling? It’s nice.
“Put your number in here.” My eyes flutter open as the spell seems to break.
He holds his phone between us, our bodies still so close I can feel the tension as it fizzes on our skin, like fire popping on sparklers.
“We can talk more details later,” he says as I put my number in, still feeling slightly dazed.
The promise of seeing him later fills my body with every kind of feeling I’ve worked so hard to avoid for as long as I can remember.
Good thing I’m an expert at hiding.