16. Thursday
CHAPTER 16
THURSDAY
S he would have gotten away with it, too, if it weren’t for those pesky keys.
“McArthur,” Daniel croaked groggily through the open door of the sunlit bedroom.
The jingling had woken Daniel up as she gingerly searched for the correct pocket in the pants he’d so carelessly kicked across the kitchen floor the night before.
“Morning, Becker.”
“You’re the real love ‘em and leave ‘em type.”
“I’m going to be late for breakfast.”
“We have breakfast here.”
“Ours is better.”
“Says who?”
Maggie finally fished her keys and her phone out of the mess of powder blue polyester. When she stood up, Daniel was leaning against the bedroom door frame, eyes half open, wearing nothing but boxer briefs and a sleepy half-smile. His dark, curly hair sprang out in all directions, but it only made him look appealingly mussed. Unfair. Maggie’s curly mop had probably puffed into one hundred percent frizz overnight.
“You want to take it up with Chef Chuck?” she asked.
“Not especially.”
“That’s what I thought.”
Daniel’s smile broadened, showing off his toothpaste advertisement teeth. “Had a good time,” he said, sounding a little shy as the sleep was wearing off.
Looking at him, bathed in the morning light, she felt a sudden urge to go smooth down the curl sprouting up from the crown of his head at a diagonal. She really needed to get out of there before any more damage could be done. Because Maggie McArthur didn’t stay the night. She always slept in her own bed. And she always slept alone.
“I still won,” she shot back, then turned and walked herself to the front door.
“If you say so,” he called after her.
Humidity hadn’t yet descended like a blanket the way it did most July days, leaving the morning crisp and refreshing. Still, without cover of darkness or any reason to be at Oak Ridge this close to dawn dressed in a now very wrinkled yellow jumpsuit, Maggie walked quickly through the empty tennis courts and past the woodshop. She took the long way around the main hall, making her way through the dewy ankle-high grass back to her aunt’s truck, which she’d left in the main lot near the gym. She unlocked the driver’s side door manually, put the key in the ignition, and grimaced as the engine sputtered loudly as she coaxed it to life. Still, when she pulled on to the main road, she was satisfied that no one had seen her.
She’d overslept. She hadn’t even meant to stay the night, and she’d overslept. Worse, he hadn’t even asked her to stay. It wasn’t like she could tell herself that she’d been trying to be polite, that she hadn’t wanted to hurt this sweet man’s feelings. She’d just been so pleasantly drowsy, lying there against Daniel’s chest, his fingers combing gently through her hair, that she’d fallen asleep. She’d done it unprompted. By accident.
Oh god, she’d been cozy .
Creeping into the Blue Harbor parking lot, hoping not to attract attention with the crunch of gravel under her wheels, Maggie glanced at the dashboard clock. She saw, with relief, that she still had time for a run. She needed to shake off this slightly jittery, unsettled feeling. It was probably just lack of sleep.
Which had been very, very worth it.
Fifteen minutes later, she was racing down her favorite trail, filling her lungs with the damp, early-morning air. When the opening drum beats of “Semi-Charmed Life” by Third Eye Blind played through her earbuds, she turned the volume up and tried to focus only on the explosive strength in her legs, the satisfying thud of her shoes compacting the soft dirt, and the tingling sensation of the sun awakening her skin, burning away the night before.